#let them be found family or friends pls

[freelancerwizard]

Crying and sobbing how the main cast of ffxiv is treated with love and respect to their growth, how they are given scenes to lovingly written and crafted to their character's journey - you see them grow, hate, love, accept death, accept life and love, and become your trusted friend until the end

wwwaaughhh

[asahicore]

cold hands - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader

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

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

word count. 39.5k 😂

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

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

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

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

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

Just to name a few:

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude, you’ll never guess what.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t believe them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon nods. “Good to know.”

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

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

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

Sunghoon can already feel it. The beginning of something.

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon smiles. “Probably, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There you guys are!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re on, Sim.”

“You’re going down, Sim.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon thinks he just fell in love.

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

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

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

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

“They really don’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Where’s that choir of yours?”

--

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

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

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

“You had time to bake?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I came to your concerts!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if they come back for them?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Better than Berta’s banana bread?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For sure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That makes sense.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’d be my pleasure.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

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

“Your mom must be really strong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don’t. 

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

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

He can hardly fall asleep that night.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was his first mistake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is easy. You’re making it hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was his second mistake.

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

yn.sim i’ll be there!!

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

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

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

“Your team jacket?” 

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

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

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

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

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

He was terrified—but infinitely excited, too.

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

“Okay.”

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

Your smile widened. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was when he saw you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. I was wondering where you were.” 

“You’re the one who came late.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Mh-hm.”

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

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

“It looks good. You look good.”

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “Okay. Where’s your room?” 

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

“Oh, that was Jaemin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve missed you.”

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon nods. “I know. It’s nice.”

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

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

“Just us two?” 

“Just us two.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “Basically, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“I should’ve filmed you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right. See you, Y/N. Sunghoon.” 

Back to no-nickname basis, apparently.

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

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

“Mh-hm.”

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you agree that I’m tall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You-what?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

“Looking for validation,” Sunghoon says.

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

“That’s smart.”

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

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

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

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

“Minjeong?”

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re like, nineteen…”

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

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

“Minjeong, I promise-”

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

“Okay.”

“And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Go inside.” 

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

--

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

yn are you still up for doing something this week?

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

She never lets things get serious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grab his hand; it warms him right up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you wanna come up?”

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

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

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

“Minjeong karaokes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re me,” he replies breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“I mean, me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, please.”

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re better than a dream.

“I feel great. Do you feel great?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

After that night, Sunghoon forgets how to act right.

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

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

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

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

He has never felt so awkward in his life.

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

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

“I haven’t!”

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

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

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

“Yes, after we had sex,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

“Minjeong’s out at karaoke tonight.”

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

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

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

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

“I was gone two minutes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hangs up and meets your flatmates’ worried eyes. 

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

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

“Have you guys tried saying something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So this has to do with your parents?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since I met her, basically.”

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

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

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

“How did you know, anyway?”

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

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

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

“I didn’t want to make things weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyone…”

“Everyone?!”

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

“So everyone.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Great.” Jake sighs. “Since when?”

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

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

“‘Cause of Heeseung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at you. Down bad, huh?”

“Shut up.”

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

“Seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t change the subject.”

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

“What would happen more than once?”

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

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

“Yeah, what did you think?”

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

“Well, we were.”

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

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

“Damn.”

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

Jake frowns. “Why not?”

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

“What are you scared of?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really, no.”

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

“Jay texted me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

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

“That’s different-”

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

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

“Of course I do! But I have to.”

“No, you don’t-”

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

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

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

“Again, that’s different-”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“You heard me,” you say coldly.

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

You glance at him. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

What was Sunghoon?

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

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

No, okay, it was definitely your fault.

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

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

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

“What is?”

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

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

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

“I don’t think I do, actually.”

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

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

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

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

“So you are going after him?”

“So you do like him?”

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

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

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

“And how have you gathered that?”

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

“I’m not-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you went home for a weekend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wasn’t any of your business.”

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

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

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

“Why can’t he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God forbid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not to them, it doesn’t.”

“Then forget them.”

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

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

“I wish it was.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what has it been about?” 

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

“I was waiting for you to say something.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I have too.”

“You think?”

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you need, baby?”

“You.”

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

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

“I’m not sure I do, actually.”

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

“That I can do.”

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

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

“I love it, Hoon.”

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

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

“Please what?”

“Need you. Need your dick, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feels so good, Hoon,” you moan.

“I know, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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[ellecdc]

girl girl hear me out YAPPER GF X REGULUS!! Pls pls pls like u could do anything u wanted with them!!! I have a few ideas (take any or none)

May be she just walks up to him one day like clearly wanting to befriend him cuz she has a lil crush and just starts yapping about how the great hall had her fave pastry for breakfast today and he's so confused but also intrigued and then she starts sitting next to him in classes and asking him to hang out at hogsmead and she just yaps and sometimes she thinks may be he zones out but then he'll bring up this super niche detail she mentioned last time like "hey what happened to that quill you forgot in the potions lecture?"

they r already dating and she worries she's too much energy and talk for him and tries to be quiet and he's just like r u sick? R u mad at me? What's wrong u haven't gone on a 30 min description/rant about ur day

3. May be someone else brings up she talks a lot and Reggie defends her?

you guys really love your bubbly/talkative readers with Regulus, don't you? (so do i); thanks for your request!

Regulus Black x yapper!reader who didn't think he was actually listening

CW: fem!reader, rolling thoughts, brief mention of difficulty making friends, people talking about reader behind her back, swear words (on ellecdc? nooo [sarcasm])

Your family said that you had an incessant need to fill silence from the moment you could talk. 

“If there’s a room with our daughter in it, you can be certain that it won’t be quiet.” Your mum had proclaimed as she beamed at you lovingly one day.

While it was certainly a trait that your family had always found rather endearing, you felt that it made it particularly difficult making friends once you began attending Hogwarts. 

But the friends you managed to make loved you for it, and they had often stated “you can call her what you want but you can’t call her boring.” 

That didn’t mean your other classmates appreciated your stories or tangents, though. 

Which is how you ended up serving numerous detentions for speaking during class or lectures and disturbing the students around you, and how you’d been cycled through numerous seat partners in potions class. 

And that is how poor Regulus Black ended up stuck sharing a worktable with the likes of you.

He didn’t seem to mind, though. And if he did, well, he certainly never said anything about it.

You were quite sure he tuned you out during your rambles, hardly ever sparing you a glance and keeping his eyes trained on his parchment in front of him as he took dutiful notes during lectures.

Couldn’t be you, however.

No.

You were too busy lamenting about the fact that you couldn’t get more than twenty feet to the mooncalf herd up the hill behind the quidditch pitch before they would all run off. They only came out at night, you see, and you wanted to take some photos of them. Some photos turned into midnight picnics, and picnics turned into sharing apple slices by means of throwing them towards the bug-eyed beasts and watching them argue over the slice until you threw another. But even after feeding them forty seven apples and counting at this point (Winky the house elf from the kitchen was not pleased with you), they still wouldn’t let you get any closer to them.

Your next course of action was to try a smellier and higher value treat; you wondered then if mooncalves could have tuna? Tuna was certainly smelly enough. Well, if you couldn’t entice the mooncalves, you’d certainly entice a cat or two. 

You wondered then if mooncalves and cats got along? Kneazles were nearly the same size as the poor beasts, but cats were much smaller. You figured cats would look at a mooncalf the same way they’d look at a goat. 

You’d seen a cat ride a goat once, not many people believed you, though. You’d have to learn how to make a pensieve one day just to prove it to everyone. You didn’t much care for goats, though; something about their square pupils seemed alien to you. 

Which seemed odd considering there were numerous beasts in the magical world that really were quite alien, yet it was  goats that did it for you.

And why were they always associated with the devil? Was it because of the square pupils? Do you think there’d be a book that explained that?

But you didn’t even realise that the period had ended until Regulus stood and collected his books, offering you a curt nod before leaving the classroom. 

Fuck….do you think he’d let you copy his notes? 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Merlin’s tits, she never stops talking! I feel bad for the poor sod stuck next to her; Black probably wants to avada himself every class. You heard a classmate mutter as you walked to your workbench, movements slowed as you lowered yourself into your chair and tried not to let their words hurt you. 

You were used to the comments, you were used to the sentiment honestly; did they think it was easy being you? Did they think you didn’t get tired of listening to yourself too? 

Of course you did, it was exhausting; your brain never stopped moving, and apparently, neither did your mouth.

But it did hurt a little, perhaps because Regulus had been quite gracious about it thus far. He had listened to you carry on about the astrological significance of space waste and how that was affecting the magic of the stars. He had listened to you bemoan about the positive impact that centaur migration had on local flora and fauna and how the fencing of fields and forests was going to cause unimaginable damage to the life cycles of such. He also had listened to your morose mooncalf story and the update the next day that you were able to order cans of tuna via owl to the castle.

And he’d not so much as bat an eye at you.

Certainly he’d have said something to you if you bothered him? 

Although, perhaps this was why Slughorn put him beside you, because he knew Regulus wouldn’t say anything; had Regulus done something to anger Slughorn? Was placing you beside Regulus less about you driving your seat mates crazy, but more about being a punishment for Regulus?

Well, you couldn’t imagine Regulus had done anything bad enough to deserve a full term with you as a potions partner.

No, you decided, you would not be his punishment.

So when Regulus entered class that day, and Slughorn read out the instructions for today’s potion brew, you resisted the urge to speak.

You were quiet when retrieving your potion ingredients, you were quiet as you checked and double checked the brewing instructions, and you were quiet as you waited for the potion to reach its boiling point. 

You actually thought you’d done quite well; you sort of wished you had started a timer, this may very well have been a record for you. 

Well, unless sleeping counted. Would sleeping count as being quiet? Oh gods, what if you talked in your sleep too!? You’d have to ask your roommates.

“L/N.” Regulus called as if it hadn’t been the first time he’d done so. “You alright?” He asked, ducking down in an attempt to meet your gaze as you watched a divot appear between his brows.

“Yeah? Why?” You asked, finding yourself furrowing your brows in solidarity; you found Regulus to be too pretty to look so worried. 

He shrugged his shoulders and straightened up, though the space between his brows remained divoted. “You’ve been awfully quiet, s’all.” He murmured quietly, and you were surprised to see a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You muttered perhaps pointedly; his eyes narrowing to match the furrowed brows. 

“Says who?”

Your eyes traitorously darted to the students who had been discussing your habits, and Regulus followed your gaze.

He rolled his eyes and muttered something in French under his breath as he turned his attention back towards your shared potion. “Those tossers are just mad that they have nothing of value to say.”

You more felt than heard a disbelieving breath escape your lips as you looked at Regulus in bemusement. 

He didn’t seem to notice though, as he continued to the next step in your potion and carried on. “Did the tuna work?”

You stared at him dumbly before your brain kicked back into gear. “I beg your pardon?”

“The tuna.” He repeated. “For the mooncalves?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started, giving your head a shake as you tried to find your balance you had long lost during this conversation. “Erm, no, but I did indeed attract a few cats.”

“Ah.” Regulus offered, smiling at you (or at the expected poof from the potion signifying that the two of you had brewed it correctly thus far). 

“Also, I found out why goats are often associated with the devil, but the book you’d be looking for is Biblical in nature.”

You stared at him with your mouth agape as he continued. “There’s a quote where that Christ bloke mentions something about separating people from one another just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. They’re used as a metaphor for the ‘bad’ or ‘inferior’ member of any group; it could also be understood as the divide between the pure and the wicked. I say goats got a bad rap, though.”

The next step in your potion brewing process was to allow the potion to simmer until it turned a milky white colour, so Regulus lowered the heat before appearing to remember something.

“I almost forgot…” He started as he began rooting through his book bag. “I asked the shopkeep at Brood & Peck, and she said this is a favourite of mooncalves; maybe you’ll have more luck tonight?” He asked as he held out a parchment of beast treats to you. 

“You’ve been listening? This whole time?” You whispered in awe as you took the bag delicately as if  he had just handed you a delicate china dish. 

His brows furrowed again as he searched your eyes. “Well…yeah? I’m rather invested now.” He explained just as your potion turned its intended colour. 

“Very good Mr. Black, Miss. L/N.” Professor Slughorn commented as he walked past your workbench. 

You were alerted to the fact that class was over when everyone’s potions were vanished with a pop and students started to pack up their belongings.

“You’ll keep me posted, yeah? About the mooncalves?” Regulus asked as he started walking backwards towards the door. 

“Sure.” You murmured, earning you a wide smile from the notoriously quiet boy. 

Yes… You’d be more than happy to keep Regulus Black posted.

[leclerc-hs]

do i wanna know? - cl16

pairing: brother'sbff!charles x gasly!reader summary: in which you consider vacation with your family and brothers friends torture OR you fuck your brother's bff on his yacht warnings: 18+, smut under the cut, badly translated French (pls correct me!), NOT PROOFREAD (if there’s mistakes let me know please!!!!) word count: 3.5k author's note: had so much fun writing this honestly. could honestly picture myself writing more about brother's bff charles. I feel like sneaking around is sooooo fun and makes it hotter. LOL. let me know your thoughts!!! xoxo love u all. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

IT HAS BEEN one week of pure torture. At least, that’s how you explained it as you texted your best friend. To which she responded, ‘torture and vacation don’t belong in the same sentence’.

You rolled your eyes, a wry smile playing on your lips as you contemplated her obliviousness. If only she knew! A full week spent in Charles’ company – scratch that – a mostly shirtless Charles, had left your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, unable to find their way back to coherence. 

“How could you be so stupid! Idiota!” You could hear the constant whining of your mother echoing in your ears, emanating from the dinette area of the yacht. Her complaints were like a relentless assault on your sun-kissed skin. Although “sun-kissed” was an understatement; you were borderline burned but would never dare to admit it.

“Maman, je vais bien!” I’m fine! You retorted, your voice carrying a hint of exasperation. With a sigh, you made your way back towards the bow of the yacht, where a stretch of sunbeds awaited you. Oh, thank heavens. There was absolutely no way you were returning home from this vacation without a good tan. Of course, you applied sunscreen diligently, but the sun was relentless out on the open water.

You collapsed onto the sunbed, feeling the plush cushion yield beneath the weight of your body. The sunglasses perched precariously on the bridge of your nose teetered for a moment before nearly tumbling off, saved only by a quick adjustment of your hand.

For a few moments, it was just you. You and the sun. You and the gentle breeze caressing your heated skin. You and the soothing sound of the calm waters, a tranquil melody that enveloped you in serenity. You were at peace. 

The bliss of solitude didn’t last long as you felt a shadow descend upon your body, as if a cloud had suddenly blocked out the sun.

“Mon ange, you are burned.”

Your eyes were shut behind the dark sunglasses, but you didn’t need to open them to know that voice. The voice sent a cascade of butterflies fluttering in your stomach almost instantly. Despite the burn creeping on your cheeks from the sun, a telltale blush threatened to give away the sudden rush of emotions stirring within you.

Slipping the sunglasses up onto your head, using them as a makeshift headband, allowing your eyes to connect with a mesmerizing shade of green. In that moment, time seemed to freeze as you were ensnared by the profound depth of those affectionate, verdant eyes. Green—the color that stirs a vibrant vitality within you, invoking a sense of renewal and energy. Their gaze penetrated your soul, igniting a whirlwind of emotions that swept through you like a gentle breeze through a lush, verdant meadow.

You observed as his gaze transversed your form, starting from your eyes, then descending along the curve of your nose, down to the graceful line of your neck and the delicate contours of your collarbones. His eyes lingered on your breasts for a fraction longer than usual, sending a tingle of awareness coursing through you, before swiftly returning to meet your gaze once more. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, hinting at a silent understanding or amusement.

As his gaze roamed over every curve of your body, you found yourself doing the same, unable to resist his magnetic pull. You seized the chance to drink in the sight of his shirtless body in that fleeting moment. Each droplet of water adhered to his bronzed skin like liquid diamonds, emphasizing every sinew and contour of his body. As he shook his head, droplets cascaded from his tousled locks, creating a mesmerizing dance as they landed on your burning skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. His hand moved through his hair in a fleeting gesture, as if trying to tame the wild strands, adding an irresistible allure to the scene before you.

“Elle est stupide.” 

It was as if a bucket of ice was dumped onto your body.

That voice, on the other hand, snapped you right out of the moment, your head whipping in the direction of your brother’s voice. With narrowed eyes and a quick motion, you lifted your middle finger in his direction, breaking the spell of the moment with a playful gesture of annoyance.

“Don’t be an ass, Pierre.” You mumbled softly before sitting up fully, feeling Charles drop down onto the vacant spot beside you. He turned onto his side, resting one arm under his head as he looked at you and your brother bicker. A smile tugged on his lips.

“I’m going to get the sun-tan lotion,” Your brother tossed a towel onto the other vacant spot, before retreating to wherever the lotion was. “Some of us aren’t complete morons.”

“Mon dieu,” In frustration, you grumbled to yourself before flipping over onto your stomach, burying your head into the crevice of your elbows. Your face pressed into the cushion of the sunbed as you sought solace from the annoyance. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Toujours là,” Still here. Charles whispered softly as he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against the nape of your neck as his finger delicately grazed the curve of your lower back, tracing intricate patterns with feather-light touches. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, a subtle reminder of his presence even though you couldn’t see him. You could almost sense the heat of his gaze penetrating the miniscule fabric tied to your body, leaving an indelible mark on your skin.

You turned your head to face him, still resting on your arms under you. A smirk, that never seemed to leave his face while in your presence, was still pulled onto his lips.

“Tu as l’air bien aujourd’hui.” You look good today.

“Aujourd’hui?” Today?

He nodded slowly, his fingers trailing up your spine until they reached the ties of your string bikini on your back. With a delicate touch, he toyed with the knotted bow, teasingly.

“Et les autres jours?” What about other days?

He rolled his eyes in a playful manner, clicking his tongue to make a ‘tsk’ sound in jest. “Tu es toujours belle.” You’re always beautiful.

He pulled his hands from your warmed skin, just in time for your brother to return, bottles of sun lotion in hand. He tossed one to Charles while demanding you to put some on.

“Putain, j’ai oublié mon telephone,” Fuck, I forgot my phone. And your brother was out of sight yet again.

“Charlie?” You put on your sweetest voice. “Voudrais-tu mettre la lotion?” Will you put the lotion on?

It was an excuse. An excuse to have his hands on you again. Not that you needed an excuse, he wanted to touch you just as badly.

He didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he silently applied the sun-tan lotion to your back, spreading it across different areas with careful strokes of his hands as he leaned over your frame, before gently placing his hands back on you.

His fingers slid across your back in slow movements, as if he wanted to remember what every inch of your skin felt like against his hands. His hands dipped down to your butt, barely covered by the bikini that adorned your body, kneading his fingers into the uncovered skin.

He sucked in a breath as you let out a soft moan from the feeling of his hands on you. The feeling of his hands massaging you.

Soft “oh’s” and “mm’s” escaped from your lips, stirring something deep within Charles. He could feel his self-control slipping away with each little sound you made, intensifying his desire with every breath you took.

He dropped a little pat to your butt, signaling that he was done, with a small cough. All you did was flip over, chest now in front of his direct line of eyesight and waited until he realized what you wanted.

“My front side needs some, no?” You could’ve sworn you heard a groan slip past his lips.

His hands slowly but surely made way back to your skin, trailing along your ribs as he made sure to miss not one inch of your skin with the lotion. His touch was tender, yet purposeful, as he ignited a trail of sensation wherever his fingers grazed. It was as if your skin was itching for more of him, while his fingers burned to touch every inch he could.

And although the air was hot, and the sun was beating down on you both. Your nipples pebbled beneath the thin fabric of your swimsuit, no doubt obvious to Charles, as if you were freezing.

“I’m done,” His voice dropped an octave, but his hands didn’t leave your skin. No, instead he carried his fingers to the small triangles of your white bikini top, daring his thumbs to trace over your pebbled nipples. You ached.

It wasn’t until Pierre reappeared that Charles abruptly withdrew his hands from you, swiftly dropping onto his back on the sunbed and feigning nonchalance as if his hands weren’t just groping you. 

-

“Lando!” you shrieked; your body slung over his shoulder as his arms held onto the back of your thighs firmly. “Pose-moi! Put me down!”

He twirled in circles on the back deck, his movements reckless, bringing him dangerously close to the edge of the water. With a mix of playful exasperation and genuine concern, your arms smacked his back, the impact echoing a mix of amusement and anxiety in the salty air.

“Put you down?” His voice carried a mischievous tone, a hint of devilry hidden. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could practically feel the schemes brewing in his mind, a silent promise of further antics.

“Don’t you da-” Before you could complete your sentence, the momentum carried both you and Lando overboard, plunging into the refreshing embrace of the water. As you emerged, laughter bubbled up, mingling with the gentle lapping of waves against the boat’s hull. With a mischievous grin, you scooped water in your hands, splashing it at Lando’s face, eliciting playful protests and further laughter as he grabbed for your body, pulling you flush against him.

“You still got a thing for him?” Lando’s eyes darted over your shoulder, towards the boat, where an unnoticed Charles was already gazing in your direction, his head cocked as if he was mildly confused and annoyed. Unaware of his presence, you rested your head in the crevice of Lando’s neck, the both of you continuing to frolic in the water, oblivious to the silent exchange occurring just beyond your awareness. 

You nodded your head once against his skin, a silent acknowledgment, before lifting it to meet his gaze. In his eyes, you saw a glint of mischief. “What?”

“Should we make him jealous?” His whispered into your ear, keeping your back to the boat, as his eyes stayed locked on whatever was behind you.

You shook your head, “He wouldn’t care.” 

“Does him not caring include him looking at me like he’ll strangle me with his bare hands?” He brought his eyes back to you, one arm settling on the back of your neck as your legs wrapped around him. 

“Pierre would kill you if he saw us right now.”

He tilted his head back slightly, his laughter resonating between you, causing his bodies to shake with shared amusement. “Pierre is the least of my worries, you muppet,” he chuckled, the sound rich and warm against the backdrop of the lapping waves. His fingers danced through the strands of your wet hair, his voice gentle and comforting. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” His voice carried a hint of excitement, igniting a spark of anticipation within you as you nodded.

-

When Lando claimed Pierre was the least of his worries, you couldn’t help but wonder how true that statement was. Still, you admired his determination not to let Pierre’s presence hinder his plans. There was a sense of resilience in him, a refusal to be shackled, and you found yourself drawn to that strength of character.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” What’s going on? Pierre pulled you to the side, his tone hushed. “Toi et Lando, c’est sérieux?” Are you and Lando a thing?

You’re not sure what had him questioning you. Maybe it was you wrapped around his body in the water earlier, or the food sharing at lunch, or the inside jokes and laughter on the sunbed together. Whichever it was, he couldn’t sit back without questions.

“Non, mais ça ne te regarde pas si c’était le cas.” No, but it’s not your business if it were. There was a subtle edge in your tone as you purposefully distanced yourself from Pierre, a flicker of defiance in your step as you strode back towards Lando on the sunbed.

“I think he’s coming over here now,” Lando whispered into the shell of your ear. “You know what to do?” He pushed himself up and off the sunbed before claiming aloud he needed some water.

And as if you wanted this your entire life, which you did, you knew exactly what to do. Charles was a few steps from entering the threshold of ‘close proximity’ when you flipped over to your stomach with a yawn.

“That was quick!” You remarked, your head turned, purposefully presenting your back to Charles once more. “Lan, will you untie the string on my back? I can’t reach it, and I don’t want the tan lines from it.” There was a sly undertone in your voice, far from innocent, as you heard a loud cough from behind you and sensed the shadow cast over your body, indicating Charles’ presence.

Although you feigned ignorance, the sensation of Charles’ hands brushing against the skin above the string tie was too distinct to be mistaken for anyone else’s. Each touch carried a familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine, a sensation that could never be replicated by another.

Charles pressed his knee into the cushion of the sunbed, slipping it between your legs as he leaned forward. His body loomed over yours, his fingers knuckles-deep into the cushion with your head nestled in between, effectively hunching over you in an intimate posture. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear.

“Let me be clear,” His voice was gruff.  “Ses mains ne te toucheront plus.” His hands will not touch you again.

You almost moaned at his words, but you had to stick to the plan. You turned your head just enough for your eyes to meet with his again. They were narrowed, and a much darker shade of green than earlier. 

“And why is that?” It was as if you wanted a death wish.

“Si tu veux que quelqu’un te touche,” If you want someone to touch you. He began, before pausing and trailing one finger down your spine and back up it until his fingers settled on the nape of your neck, “Tu me demandes.” You ask me.

And then he was up and out of sight, as if it was a figment of your imagination.

-

“Est-ce que j’ai dit que tu pouvais arrêter?” Did I say you could stop? He grunts harshly as his hips rut upwards into you, your walls fluttering around his cock so tightly. You couldn’t form words as a small whimper elicited past your lips. “Hm, mon ange?” 

Both of your arms are locked behind your back clenched in one of his tight fists. While his other hand grips your hip bone, controlling your movements. You were completely fucked out, your motions becoming lazy and lacking a pattern.

“C’mon fille douce,” Sweet girl. “Tu te sens tellement bien.” You feel so good. His words were edging you on, your pace increasing as you continued through the burn of your thighs working over his cock.

There was little to no room in the cramped cabin, leaving little room to maneuver, as your knees knocked into the side table earlier. The soft white comforter and few pillows that were once carefully arranged on the bed were haphazardly strewn about, adding to the sense of disorder. With only one light, casting a dim glow, the rest of the cabin remained cloaked in shadows, leaving the figure of him leaning against the makeshift ‘headboard’ which was little more than a wall, visible in the faint light. You could barely remember how you even got in this position. One moment, he was helping you find the spare cooler, the next your bikini bottoms were pushed aside as you straddled him.

“Think you’re so clever, hm?” He muttered, a grunt in between each thrust of his cock into you. “Lando?”

Your head lulled back, as Charles leaned forward to bring his teeth to your uncovered nipples, the triangles of your bikini top pushed to the sides, your breasts bouncing with each lift of your hips.

“It worked, didn’t it?” You smirked as he pulled his mouth off your nipples with a ‘pop’.

“Cherie, should’ve asked sooner.” He whispered, rolling you over so that you were beneath him now, pinned to the mattress. “Would’ve given you this sooner if you just asked.” 

His hand now covered your mouth, his fingers occasionally slipping inside of it to feel your tongue, attempting to muffle your small moans.

“Silence, mon ange.” 

You both could hear the rhythmic thumping of the music reverberating around the boat, blending with the sounds of laughter and occasional snippets of conversation. Amidst the vibrant ambiance, the occasional outburst of excitement or disagreement from a card game, worked in your favor of them not hearing you.

Your face was flushed red as he pinned you to the mattress, the slam of his hips filling the sound of the room. An occasional tear forming in your eye from the pleasure, from the need to come.

It was quick. One second his hips were slamming into you, the next they slowed, his head turned toward the door as if he could hear something you didn’t. Which he did. Footsteps.

“Charles? Are you down here?” There was a knock on the wooden door, the only boundary between the both of you and your brother. “Sais-tu où est ma sœur?” Do you know where my sister is?

And like the sick, twisted fuckhead Charles was, he continued rutting his hips into you. His pace much slower, but each stroke deeper, more precise. “Answer him,” His voice was so low, only you could hear him. You shook your head but look in his eyes was fierce as he cocked his head. You have no choice.

“I’m laying down,” Your voice quivered, as you tried to not moan in the middle of speaking. Charles dragged the pad of his tumb across his tongue, bringing it down to press against your already soaked clit. “I don’t feel well.” You heard the doorknob turn, but to your luck, it was locked. 

“Have you seen Charles?”

“Doing so well for me, Cherie.” Charles whispered into your ear, like he wanted to torture you. “Your sweet little pussy was made for me, hm?”

Yes. Yes it was made for you. Yes, you’ve seen Charles. His cock was inside of you now, his swim shorts weren’t even completely off, neither was yours. That’s how desperate you both were.

“Mon dieu,” You yelped before Charles hand slammed over your mouth in warning, before he flipped you over, your backside now facing him. “No! But if you find him, can you tell him I’m looking for him too?” You figured it was a sly move.

Charles leaned over your back as soon as Pierre’s steps retreated, peppering kisses to your spine, until his mouth was beside your ear. “Such a good girl, hm?” The drive of his hips was world-tilting.

“Squeezing me so tight,” He grunted. “Gonna give it to me?”

Your head nodded repeatedly, your body shaking, with each forceful drive of his hips into you. 

“Did you like that, hm?” He continued, “Almost getting caught with my cock deep inside of you?” You were losing your restraint, keeping your moans in was only getting more difficult.

You let out a whine as he continuously stroked your walls just right. You were too far gone to even announce that you were cumming. So, you came on his cock without a warning. But he could tell, just by the flutter of your walls around him and as your body collapsed face first into the mattress, as if you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your pussy gripped him tightly, and it was so warm, so gooey. “That’s it, mon ange.” He encouraged you as he pulled out, his own orgasm taking over him, releasing onto your backside, careful to not hit your bikini bottoms.

He fell beside you, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took as he met your eyes. “Mon dieu, we should’ve done that sooner.”

You let out a small laugh. Yes, you should’ve.

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN is the governess for Harry's children, and they cannot hide their growing affection for each other.

author's note: part one of governess!yn (who is my lil angel baby). after the love on good omens, i finally got my mojo back and i'm back with another work! pls be kind and definitely let me know what you think (and what you would like to see in part 2!)

word count: 12.4k of mutual pining (but they just don't know it yet), friends to lovers, employer/employee relationships going out of the window and meddling modistes!

WARNINGS: death during childbirth, child abandonment, parent death, death of a spouse (you have been warned)

let me know what you think of daisies here! mwah <3

YEAR ONE

“Noah!” YN called from where she sat on a picnic blanket on the house grounds, “Slow down, wait for your sister!”

“But Miss. YN,” The younger boy groaned, a second away from stomping his feet YN assumed, “She’s so slow.”

“Noah,” YN warned again with a tilt of her head, watching as the little boy stopped and waited for the even smaller girl behind him, “Thank you.”

YN loved her life.

Whilst YN had not had the easiest of upbringings in life, she had truly found her passion and calling in being a governess. The Styles household had not been the first family she had worked for – but they were her favourite. Noah, the six-year-old little boy, was bubbly, mischievous and had a penchant for teasing his younger sister made her life interesting every day. Honorah, who was just three years old was the complete opposite of her brother – quiet, sweet and the happiest little girl YN knew.

The family that YN had been with before were difficult to work with. There was an absent father and a mother who interfered with YN’s work too much for her liking so when Mr Styles asked her to come and work for his family – she did not even have to think about it. Mr Styles loved his children, but from what YN had heard – he had loved his wife too. Mrs. Styles had died during the birth of Honorah, and from what YN had experienced it had shaken the family.

YN had started working for the Styles about three months ago. Before, Mr. Styles had relied on his mother and his household staff to aid with the upbringing of his children. Unfortunately for them, his mother had been unable to continue helping in her old age and that was when they sought out help from YN.

“Miss. YN,” Honorah’s voice shook YN out of her daydream, “I picked this for you.”

“Thank you, Norah,” YN smiled, accepting the small daisy that the girl was holding out for her, “This is a lovely daisy.”

The girl sheepishly smiled, rocking on her feet slightly as she stood above the older woman. YN smiled, tapping the space on the blanket next to her for her to drop down.

“How about this…” YN smiled, pulling out some paper and pencils that she had packed in a basket and placing them in front of the girl, “I packed these for you, would you like to try and draw the daisy?”

Honorah nodded, accepting the paper and pencils from YN. The older woman watched with a smile on her face as the girl carefully placed the daisy down in front of her, her tongue slightly slipping out from her lips in concentration as she grabbed the pencil and started to sketch. In her peripheral vision, YN could see Noah chasing what looked to be a butterfly around some of the flowers in front of them.

YN loved the summer, and the Styles children did too it seemed. They had a perfectly good classroom spare in the house to use but when the weather was this lovely, YN saw no need to keep the children holed up within the four walls. They had completed spelling tests each earlier in the morning, and seeing as though it was a Friday, YN saw no need to overwork the children.

“Miss YN,” Noah screamed, running over to her with his hands clutched tightly in front of him, “I caught it!”

“You caught it?” YN’s eyes widened, trying to match the younger boy’s excitement, “What did you catch, Noah?”

“The butterfly I was chasing!” The younger boy’s words were followed by a giggle and a small shake of his shoulders, “It is tickling me.”

“That is probably because it is scared, Noah,” YN explained, placing the younger boy’s hands in hers, “Remember how small the butterfly is? Small enough to fit in your hand. Even though you are a little boy, you are big and scary to the butterfly.”

“Oh,” Noah’s face dropped, his shoulders dropping slightly, “I do not want to scare it.”

YN nodded, “Should we let it go?”

Noah nodded, accepting YN’s help when she cupped his hands and opened them and there was the butterfly. It immediately flew away from them, and Noah saw that as the opportunity to go chasing after it again, Honorah could not resist abandoning her drawing and running after her brother.

YN leant back on her hands lightly and watched as the scene unfolded in front of her. YN had come to terms with the fact that she would not have children of her own, and these two little ones filled that void. YN had been trained with people that she knew would not be the kindest of governesses and at most hated children and she swore she would never be like that. She had been dealt this life, but she was not going to let it change her.

“The last time he caught a bug it took us three hours to convince him to set it free,” YN jumped at the sound of Mr. Styles’ voice from the side of her, the man standing a few feet away from her with his hands in his pockets.

YN smiled, turning her attention back to the children, “I must admit I am surprised he gave it up so easily.”

Mr. Styles chuckled, his hand pointing to the blanket next to her, “May I join you?”

YN nodded, “Of course.”

She tried not to stare as he sat down. There was a decent amount of space between them, and whilst YN’s legs were curved to the side of her – Harry’s extended in front of him. YN would be lying if she said her employer was not attractive. Even with his mood which often reflected the tragedies he had experienced in his life – his features still stood out to YN. Mr. Styles was not shy about eye contact, and every time YN was under his gaze her heart fluttered – just as she was now.

YN looked out at the children who were now chasing each other around a tree, “They completed their spelling lessons an hour or so ago, and instead of keeping them indoors I thought this was a better way for them to spend their time.”

“I am in no position to criticise your methods, Miss YLN,” Mr. Styles nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips as he watched his son taunt his daughter from behind the tree, “If anything, this will ensure that bedtime goes smoothly.”

YN chuckled, watching as the children spotted their father and came bounding over to him. Noah immediately latched onto his father’s side, with Honorah wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Papa, did you see?” Noah’s beaming face almost shouted at his father, “I caught a butterfly! But I let it go because it was scared.”

“I did see, Noah,” Mr. Styles nodded, pulling down his son’s shirt that had rolled up at the back, “It was very nice of you to let it go.”

Noah nodded, obviously trying to suppress the smile on his face due to how his father was happy with him. Honorah, obviously feeling slightly left out of her father’s attention, picked up her half-finished daisy and passed it to him.

Even though YN knew the difficulties of making sure that each of the children had equal attention, Mr Styles did it so effortlessly. After YN’s first experience with a family, one in which she was sure that the father had no idea as to what his children’s names were – it was a lovely sight. He managed to ensure that each one of his children knew that they were loved, and he did everything he could to ensure that they did not feel the hole that the loss of their mother created.

“How about we go inside for supper?” Harry offered to the children, both of whom nodded their heads and scrambled to stand up.

YN took that as the opportunity to start packing up the things she had brought out with them and retire for the evening. Just as YN was about to fold up the blanket, Mr. Styles had already beaten her to it. He smiled at her as he offered the folded blanket to her, which she accepted with a nod of her head and placed it within the basket.

Just as she was about to turn and walk towards the house, Mr. Styles cleared his throat.

“Would you like to join us for supper?”

“Oh,” That stopped YN in her tracks immediately, “I… I should not…I would not want to intrude.”

“You would not be intruding,” Mr. Styles shook his head, “I am offering. There is no need for you to eat alone when you can dine with us.”

YN contemplated his words for a second or so before nodding with a small smile on her face, “Thank you.”

Walking side by side, the two adults followed the children as they ran ahead – a supper waiting inside for them.

For the last three weeks, YN had not eaten alone.

To anyone else, that may have not seemed a fate that would be something to be concerned about – but it was strange. It had started with the supper after the day in the garden with the children and had then been followed by an invitation to breakfast the next day.

YN supposed that it had been for ease, and even more so to allow for her teachings of the children to continue into the rest of the day rather than just to the previous allotted times. The only issue that YN had found with the new arrangement was how YN was being affected by the newly increased amount of time she was spending with Mr. Styles.

Throughout the day YN did not see much of him (just like before) as he tended to retreat to his study to take care of the estate and any other issues that may be presented before him. During mealtimes, however, Mr. Styles now took his place to the left of her at the dining table.

Their conversations never strayed far from the weather, food or most likely the children. Whilst it was strange for YN to join them for these meals, there was a slight comfort that was now found between the two of them. YN never saw Harry converse with friends or leave the house late at night to engage with mistresses which had been a favourite pastime of the previous husband she worked for. A part of YN just assumed that maybe he was lonely, and a conversation with someone that was above the age of six was something that he wished for.

There was also a side of YN that missed the quiet that eating alone gave her. It allowed her time to pause and think. Whilst she loved her job, and she loved the children more than anything YN often wondered what her life would have been like if things were different.

Similarly to the Styles children, YN’s mother had died in childbirth. She had known nothing of her but that information. Her father, a gentleman from the city had remarried almost immediately and his new wife had wanted nothing to do with YN – so she had been abandoned at an orphanage. It was only due to her father’s lineage (even though she had not the faintest idea of who he was) that she had not been made to work, and instead had been trained to be a governess.

YN often wondered what would have happened if that was not the case, if she had not been abandoned in the way she had. She could have been married and had children of her own by now. At the age she was (eight and twenty) the only way in which she could even register the thought of getting married was to a businessman in the village, and yet she did not venture into the village long enough for that to even be a possibility. These thoughts would swirl around YN’s head, just as they were doing now, but then she would be reminded of how fulfilled she was in this role and none of these thoughts would matter.

Whilst YN would often brush these thoughts out of her head, there was a slight comfort in imaging what her life could have been.

YN sat on the steps outside of the residence, a cup filled with tea next to her and the light summer’s breeze a comfort to her. It was deep into the night, and there had not been movement in the house for a few hours and YN was at peace. Dressed in just her nightgown and shawl, the only comfort to her being the silence and the night sky – YN was happy. This time, whilst it had become few and far between recently was the time that she cherished.

“It is a lovely night.”

YN jumped out of her skin at the sound of Mr. Styles’ voice behind her, just as she had done in the garden a few weeks ago. With a hand pressed firmly on her chest in hopes of calming her heart rate down, she turned to look at the man.

“Mr. Styles,” YN gasped, her hand still clutching her chest, “I am afraid you quite terrified me.”

“I apologise,” He offers her a smile, “I heard footsteps earlier and I thought it was the children, but then I saw you sitting out here, and I am now assuming it was you.”

“I apologise,” YN was quick to insert, unable to hide her embarrassment at the situation, “I had no intention of disturbing you.”

“I am most certain you did not,” He pointed to the space on the step next to her, as though asking her permission to sit down and she nodded, watching as he dropped down next to her, “In fact, you were very quiet, it is just me who is a light sleeper. Since my wife…I became the one who had to listen out for the children.”

YN’s body froze when she heard Harry mention his wife. It had been Mr. Styles’ mother who had initially told her about the death of Mrs. Styles. YN had never heard Harry even mention her. She had not a single idea as to whether he spoke to the children about her. She assumed that whilst he may not speak about her now, he must at some point speak to them. YN knew what it was like to have not met a mother, and she knew the pain that it causes and would certainly not ever wish that upon anyone else – especially not those darling children.

“We had another eventful day in the garden today,” YN explained, “I attempted to teach the children how to play pall mall with the old set I found but we instead ended up with a game of cat and mouse – and I am therefore not surprised that they are worn out.”

Harry chuckled, “My family and I used to play pall mall when I was a boy. I had hoped that I would get around to teaching them, but I never had.”

YN’s eyes immediately widened, “I apologise if I overstepped Mr. Styles – I was merely attempting to make use of the day.”

“No, no do not apologise,” Mr. Styles shook his head, “I heard their joyful glees earlier in the day – I would allow for anything to continue to hear those sounds.”

YN wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing them closer to her chest, “I know that I have given you this information before, but you do have two beautiful children, Mr. Styles.”

Mr Styles’ face beamed a smile, as though he was proud to be hearing such information. If YN had heard this information about her children she would not have been prouder to be a parent. Mr. Styles’ face reflected that.

“I wish I could take all of the credit but indeed I cannot,” Mr. Styles sighed, a hand running over his face, “Norah, is, well… she is exactly like her namesake. My wife was sweet, gentle, and kind. She was inquisitive, just as Noah is. Unfortunately for him, he may have inherited my unfortunate mischievous side which I had as a child.”

YN chuckled slightly before offering him a small smile, “It must be lovely to see her in them. To know that she is still here, in them.”

Mr. Styles hesitated. YN’s heart dropped, the fear that she had overstepped coursing through her veins.

“Mr. Styles, I apologise,” YN’s chest started to rise up and down, this time from the nerves rather than being scared, “I completely overstepped. I did not mean to offend you.”

Mr. Styles shook his head, “You did not, and please forget the formalities – call me Harry.”

YN nodded, “I am still sorry if I offended you, Harry.”

“You did not, YN, I can promise you that,” Harry offered her a smile which settled any of the woman that might have still harboured, “In truth, you are correct. Whilst she is no longer with us, I see her face every day. I see the aspects of her that I fell in love with day after day. Whilst it does not fill the hole of what we have lost, it offers a sense of comfort that I am more appreciative of than words could ever explain.”

A comfortable silence loomed over the two of them, the words that had just been spoken dancing around them, invading their thoughts. It was at this point that YN felt her sense of loss wash over her.

“I, uh, well…” YN offered Harry a sad smile, “My mother died giving birth to me too. I do not wish to bore you with the details, but I did not have a father looking out and loving me in the way that you do. Your children will be grateful in the future for that – I promise you.”

Harry nodded, “I am ever so sorry for your loss, YN.”

YN shrugged, “It was a long time ago now, Harry. Whilst I do not advocate the idea that wounds heal with time, I suppose that the effects of such become easier to deal with.”

“I tell them stories of her every night,” Harry offers her a small smile, “I will not allow them to forget her.”

“Then that is all that you can do.”

YEAR TWO

“I do so wish that I could dress you proper, Miss YN,” Miss Francis, the modiste, spoke as she continued to pin the dress on YN’s body.

YN chuckled, “I do not need them, Miss Francis. It would be a waste of an expense.”

The older lady sighed, continuing to pin the length on YN’s new-day dress. It was in a delightful lilac, trimmed with lace that around the cuffs and soon to be the hem.

“But you would look so gorgeous adorned in the latest fashions,” YN sighed but allowed Miss Francis to continue, “I do not know if you have heard, but Mr Jacobs’ son is looking for a wife.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “You know that I do not entertain myself with the idle gossip of the village.”

“Well, I for one believe you should,” Miss Francis stood up, her eyes focusing directly on YN, “You have done your duty as a governess, and I am sure the Styles’ are nothing but grateful for your service but there is a time where one must think for themself.”

YN shook her head, not allowing her words to infiltrate her mind at all, “I would never betray my role. Those children need me… Mr. Styles –”

“Mr Styles can find another governess at the drop of a hat,” Miss Francis sighed, “I am sure that if an advertisement went out today there would be a line from here to London hoping for the role.”

YN scoffed and shook her head, “We both know that is an exaggeration.”

“From here to Manchester, then,” Miss Francis corrected.

YN sighed and stepped off the podium, allowing Miss Francis to help her remove the dress on her body and return to the gown she had arrived in. Today the children had gone with Mr Styles to his mother’s house, something that they did every so often and allowed for YN to have a day just to herself. It was a rarity, and in some parts, YN was thankful to receive these days but sometimes she truly did just miss the children. She would also be lying if she said that she did not miss Harry.

In the last year that she had worked for him, she would say that their relationship grew to what YN would deem as a friendship, to more than just an employer-employee relationship. That in itself was something she cherished alongside the life that he had given her. They still ate meals together with the children, and more often than not in their alone time she would find herself in his company. Even if the room was quiet – they would be together.

To anyone looking in, their situation would seem strange. In all honesty – it was. But no matter how strange the situation, YN would not change it for the world.

“I am happy just the way I am, Miss Francis,” YN smiled at the woman, “I do not need to change anything.”

The older lady just scoffed, “Well, if you are ever to change your mind I would be happy to arrange a meeting.”

YN just shook her head, “I promise that shall never be the case.”

It was at this point that YN could tell that the older woman was slightly annoyed with her, “I shall send your gown to the Styles residence when it is ready.”

“Thank you, Miss Francis,” YN smiled, “Do not be too angry with me.”

“I am not,” Miss Francis shook her head, “I just wish that one day you realise your full potential, my dear.”

YN left the modiste with her brain spinning with the words that Miss Francis had said. It was not that she was taking account of anything that Miss Francis said about marriage because she knew that was not on the cards for YN. She had made her peace with that a long time ago. It was more so that YN was struggling to decipher what the older woman meant by saying that she had not met her full potential.

All of her life, YN knew that her only job in life was going to be a governess. The orphanage had made that very clear to her, and fortunately for YN – it was also something that she enjoyed. That was her potential. That was the start of it, and that was the end of it. There was nothing else that anyone could say to change that.

It began the age-old question discussion again. It started YN’s spiral as to when she would think about what life could have been like if certain things were different. Then, no matter how much she would imagine what her life could have been like – she always circles back to right now and how this was where she wanted to be.

Sighing, YN stepped out from the side of the building and onto the road in hopes of crossing it and continuing her journey home. Just as she was about to step out, a hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back by the side of the building. It was just as she had been pulled back that a carriage went riding past her, too fast for the speed of a normal carriage.

It was only then that YN realised that whoever the person was who had pulled her out of the way of the carriage had pretty much just saved her life.

“Oh,” YN sighed, her hand lifting to rest again on her chest – her heart rate rising once more.

“Are you okay, miss?” The saviour asked, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

For the first time, YN’s eyes turn to meet the man and they widen. He was tall, and the only word that YN would have to describe him would be rugged. But in between all of that ruggedness, he was handsome, and YN was not ashamed to admit that.

“I am fine,” YN offered him a small smile, “I… Thank you for that. I fear I was not paying much attention to my surroundings.”

“I gathered that,” YN’s eyebrows furrowed at him, “From the way you ignored my calls for you to stop.”

“I, uh, I did not hear you,” YN chuckles, “I was just…”

“Not paying much attention,” He chuckles.

It was then that YN realised that her hands were shaking. In the adrenaline of it all, she supposed that her near-death experience was finally catching up with her body.

“I… I, uh, thank you for… saving me,” YN nodded, pointing across the road, “But I must be getting home.”

“Allow me to fetch a carriage for you, miss?” YN shook her head at the gentleman’s offer.

“No, I cannot, but thank you,” YN gave him a small smile, “I would very much prefer to walk.”

“Then allow me to escort you,” The man continued to press, obviously not wanting to take her no for an answer, “Just to ensure you are out of the path of any other carriages.”

YN chuckled but again shook her head, “Sir, even if I was to say yes I know better than to accept offers from strangers.”

The man offered her a smile, “Well, that is an issue that is immediately fixable – Mr Jacobs, it is lovely to make your acquaintance Miss…”

“…YLN,” YN chuckles, realising by the second that this man was insanely stubborn, “But I assure you, Mr Jacobs, I am perfectly capable of walking myself home.”

“Well, Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs presses, “How about instead of me walking you home it turns out that the two of us are just walking in the same direction.”

YN tilts her head at the man, “I fear that may be worse.”

“Yes,” The man laughs, unable to stop himself, “I knew that the minute I said so.”

There must have been something that made it so that once Miss Francis had mentioned this man to her she would meet him. YN would not say that she believed in fate, but this was certainly an odd coincidence.

“Whilst I am not saying yes to your offer,” YN started, offering the man a small smile, “I suppose I cannot stop you from joining me if you do so wish, Mr Jacobs.”

“Very well,” He opened his arm out in the direction she had been walking in, “After you, miss.”

YN makes it obvious that she double-checks whether or not any carriages are coming down the road before she attempts to cross it. Her heart has calmed down, as well as the shaking in her hands but in all honesty she would rather curl up with a book and relax.

“Seeing as though we are walking in the same direction, would it be improper of me to ask you a question or two?” Mr Jacobs prompted from the side of her.

“I would say that I owe you as much,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile, “Seeing as though I could have been in a very different situation if it was not for you.”

Mr Jacobs laughs, “Yes, I must admit saving one from a carriage is a much better play.”

YN shrugged, “Ask away.”

YN was surprised. The conversation, barring the near-death experience, seemed to flow with ease. More often than not, YN found herself laughing. Whilst she loved the conversations that she had with Harry, and she would say that he was her best friend within this world – it was nice to converse with someone who did not necessarily know her.

Whilst it had been nice (as it always is) to play make-believe for a little while, she knew that the second the turn-off for the Styles estate came into view she would have to return to her reality.

YN stopped just at the turning, and Mr Jacobs had not anticipated this as he continued to walk. She cleared her throat, and that was when he stopped and turned around – his eyebrows furrowing at her stopped movements.

“This is me,” She pointed down the road.

He pointed down the road, “The Styles estate?”

“Yes,” YN nodded, lifting her hand to brush her hair out of her face, “I… I am their governess. I work with the Styles children.”

“Oh,” Mr Jacobs seemed to relax slightly, “An honest profession, I must say.”

YN just smiled, “I do appreciate you walking with me, and also not allowing the carriage to run me over.”

Mr Jacobs shook his head, “Do not mention it – I would do it over again if you needed.”

YN opened her mouth but shut it again almost immediately. YN just decided to offer him a smile instead.

“Well, thank you again,” YN pointed down the path, “I must go but I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, “As I wish you do too,” YN turned and started to walk down the path when his voice called out again, “Stay out of the way of any carriages!”

YN could not help the chuckle that left her lips at his words.

The second that YN had returned to the house she had dropped down in the drawing room and stayed there. The house was still silent, letting YN know that neither the children nor Mr Styles were back at the house, and surprisingly to her YN was thankful for that.

Near-death experience aside, YN had enjoyed herself. It was always a pleasure to see Miss Francis (even though she enjoyed meddling more than anything) but the real shock of the day had been her walk and subsequent conversation with Mr Jacobs.

The issue that YN found herself in was that the bridge between her thoughts and her reality had started to merge. From one conversation YN could not presume that she was going to marry the man and she was certainly in no place to do that – but she could not say that the prospect was not there.

YN could have been sat there for an hour, or maybe even five by the time that she was knocked out of her daydreaming. She had not even heard Harry walk into the room and it was only when he moved to stand in front of her was when she realised that he had returned.

“I have been looking for you everywhere,” He sighed, dropping down on the settee just next to her, “Did you not hear me calling your name?”

“I seem to be doing that a lot lately,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile but saying no more.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the state that she was now in which was very different from the one that he had left her in this morning.

“That was not ominous at all,” Harry stated as though it was the most obvious thing, but YN seemed to be paying no attention, “Are you going to give me an explanation at all?”

“I was nearly hit by a carriage today.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened, his body immediately leaning towards her, “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No, no I’m fine,” YN shook her head, leaning back on the seat she was on, “I am just…”

YN’s sentence trailed off and then she did not say a single thing. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed again, and he decided then that he did not believe her, “Are you sure you were not injured? You did not bang your head or anything?”

“Harry, I did not hit my head!” The exclaimed rather loud, earning a laugh from Harry from across the room, “I am perfectly okay.”

The silence washed over them again. YN’s eyes continued looking forward, out of the window and to where the trees were slightly swaying in the breeze. She could hear the children squealing throughout the rest of the house, and she was reminded that they were probably happy from spending the day with their grandmother.

“How was your day?” YN asked, still not looking away from the window, “How did the children enjoy it?”  

“They loved it, as they always do,” Harry shrugged off their questioning, “But, and promise me you will not be angry with me –”

“Harry, we both know that if you start a sentence with that I am probably going to be angry with you.”

“I know this but still, I have to ask,” Harry sighed, “Are you positive you are okay?”

YN went silent, her hands messing with a loose thread of fabric on her dress. Harry looked at her, still unable to figure out why on earth she was acting so strangely.

“Do you ever think of marriage?”

Harry’s mouth opened once, before shutting again. He then sighed, and then the realisation of what had been said washed over her and her eyes found his.

“Harry, I am so sorry,” YN shook her head, completely unable to understand why on earth she would have said that, “I should not have said that, God, I do not understand why I said it.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I must admit I was a little shocked but do not apologise. My mother had a lot to say about marriage earlier today.”

“She did?”

Harry nods with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “She just mentioned how beneficial it would be for Noah and Norah if they had a mother in their lives. And when I say mentioned, I mean brought up every other sentence.”

YN chuckled. She would be lying if she said she did not love Harry’s mother. She was lovely, and just a ray of sunshine. Whilst she had not experienced having a mother in her life, she did have some idea as to what it would have been like to have a meddling mother. She also had the experiences with Miss Francis, and she gathered that it must have been something like that.

“So, you have considered it?” YN asked, her fingers still pulling on the thread of her dress.

“No, I would not say that,” Harry shook his head, “I would not say consider, but rather had the idea in my head for a few seconds before removing it altogether.”

YN laughed, “I honestly do not blame you for such.”

“Have you…” Harry’s eyes found her, “Thought about it?”

“I do, sometimes,” YN shrugs her shoulders, “I would not say very often but sometimes I find myself doing the same as you. I think about it, and then I remove it from my brain.”

YN laughs, but Harry does not join her. Once she realises her laughter drowns out, she finds herself under his gaze. She should not be so surprised that someone she has lived with for almost two years now knows her so well, but it still shocked her. Just as it had done earlier on in the day, YN found herself unable to stop the increasing of her heart rate. It was silly. He had not even said anything to her, and yet she was completely and utterly a mess under his gaze. It should not be like this, and yet it was.

“It is not unnatural to think about marriage, YN,” Harry says, and YN can tell that every single word he was saying was sincere and he believed true, “Whilst as your employer I should be saying to you not to marry because my children and I… they need you, I cannot in good conscience say that. If marriage is what you wish – then nothing should stop you from doing so. As your friend, I would even go as far as to say that any deserving man would be lucky to have you as his wife.”

YN was silent, taking in his words with nothing but shock swirling around her head. To hear him say those words, as well as the look his face held whilst he said them shook YN to her core.

“Harry I…” YN shook her head, attempting to not focus on the tears that were starting to collect in her waterline and more so on her breathing.

Harry cleared his throat, attempting to mask the awkwardness that now loomed over them, “I apologise if I spoke out of turn, YN.”

“No, you did not,” YN shook her head, “And I appreciate everything you have said, Harry, I truly do but… today must have just been a lapse in my judgement. I would be lying if I said that I am not happy here because I truly am.”

YN’s face could not help the smile that crossed her features at the sight of the one across Harry’s lips.

“I truly do not believe that I could have asked for a better life, and you are the one I have to thank for that.”

Harry just nodded, “Whilst as your employer I am more than happy to hear those words, as your friend I am just delighted that I have managed to help you in this way.”

YN smiled, finally feeling as though whatever mood she had found herself in after today had been brushed off. She stood up, her eyes catching Harry’s as she motioned her head towards the door.

“Let us go find your children and get them ready for bed before they terrorise the rest of the staff.”

Harry laughs and stands up, following YN out of the room and towards the sound of children’s laughter down the hall.

YEAR THREE

“Noah, it is not appropriate to throw food at your sister,” YN warned from her seat next to Harry.

The little boy did not seem to care about her warnings and continued to load grapes onto his spoon and launch them at his sister.

“Noah,” Harry was the one to warn the little boy this time, “Pass me the spoon?”

Harry held his hand out for the spoon. Noah continued to hold the spoon, his eyes darting between his father and the grapes set out in front of him. Harry just raised his eyebrow at his son who sighed and placed the spoon in his father’s hand. YN watched as the boy picked up the grape and without his spoon launched it at his sister.

“That is it, Noah,” Harry shook his head, “If you carry on with this behaviour you will be staying here instead of going to your Grandmother’s house tomorrow.”

That was all that the little boy needed to drop the grape that he had picked up and sit up straight in his seat. YN pursed her lips in hopes of suppressing the giggle that was attempting to escape her lips at the child’s antics.

“How about the two of you go to the classroom and wait for Miss. YN?” Harry asked, a smile present on his lips, “I just need to have a quick word.”

YN nodded, wiping her hands on her napkin, and placing it on the table next to her plate. YN watched with a smile as the children started a race upstairs to the classroom. YN knew that they were going to be a handful today as they always were when they were going to see their grandmother. It was as though the excitement of waiting for tomorrow was too much for them.

“Is something the matter?” YN asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“I had a question to ask you,” Harry started, “It is about tomorrow.”

“Oh,” YN smiled, “Do you mean your birthday? Something about your birthday?”

Harry sighed, shaking his head and the girl giggled. YN knew that Harry did not enjoy his birthday and that made it ever so easy to tease him.

“It is unfortunately something about my birthday,” Harry sighed, “Even though I am not supposed to know, I do know that my mother is throwing a ball for my birthday tomorrow night. She has tried to for the past few years, and I asked her to wait, and she has.”

“That should be lovely,” YN smiled, “I have heard from others how enjoyable your mother’s balls are. I hope you have a lovely time, no matter how much you hate it.”

Harry shook his head, knowing that he would be unable to stop the girl’s teasing, “I was wondering whether you wanted to join me? At the ball?”

YN’s eyes widen. That was certainly not what she was expecting him to say. YN thought that she would do what she normally does when Harry and the children go to his mother’s house which was have a day to herself. She honestly would never have thought would be what he was going to say to her, and yet here he was asking her this.

“Harry I…” YN shook her head, “I… even if I did, I do not have anything to wear.”

“That is an easy rectifiable issue,” Harry sighed with a smile on her face, “I will take the children for a few hours this afternoon so that you can go and see Miss Francis.”

“I do not… how will she even manage to…”

Harry shook his head, “Please stop your worrying, there is no need for it. Do not worry about the cost or the timing for I am sure that Miss Francis will be happy to do this for you to attend the ball.”

YN just shook her head, “I shall be so out of place, Harry.”

Harry placed his hand on the table, leaning forward to offer a comforting look, “No you will not. You will be with me, and I am positive some of your acquaintances from the village shall be there. And even if they are not, it is my birthday, and you are my best friend, and I will not go unless you are there.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “You will upset your mother by doing that.”

“You will upset me by not coming,” Harry retorts quickly.

YN sighs, and nods her head, “Will you send word to Miss Francis that I shall be coming to see her later?”

Harry beams a smile at his friend and nods, “I will do so immediately.”

A few hours later YN was standing in front of Miss Francis with an already complete dress on her body. YN was shocked, and confused as to why there was an already complete garment ready for her but then she remembered Miss Francis’ penchant for meddling and the fact that Harry knew that she would not have been able to say no to him.

“When Mr Styles sent word of the ball a few weeks or so ago, I knew that this fabric would be perfect for you,” Miss Francis explained as she pinned the hem of the dress for the girl.

YN’s mouth opened in shock as the older woman’s words registered in YN’s head, “I saw you just a week ago to alter my winter dresses and you made no mention of the ball.”

The older woman’s face broke out in a smile, “Mr Styles wished for it to remain a secret and who am I not to oblige?”

Even though YN was pretending to be annoyed with the woman, she was sort of pleased that she had only been told about the ball the day before. Whilst the children had known they had been going to their grandmother's for the last few weeks and each day they had become more and more excited, YN would not have experienced that. If YN had found out about the ball at any time before today, she knew that she would have convinced herself not to go. Finding out so late and knowing that a dress had already been made for her – there was no way that she could convince herself not to do so.

“This gown is truly beautiful, Miss Francis,” YN smiled, “You truly have outdone yourself.”

“I have said to you all along my dear, if you allowed me to dress you in the latest fashions you could have suitors lining outside the door.”

YN sighed and shook her head. Since YN’s conversation with Harry last year after her near-death experience with a carriage, she had not even thought about marriage. When she had said that she was happy during that conversation – she had truly meant it. She was happy in her current situation, and she would not change it for the world.

But, seeing herself in this dress she would be completely and utterly lying to herself if the thought had not crossed her mind one more time. This could have been her life if things were different – these outfits, and balls could have been her day-to-day life. But, there were balls, and these dresses were now her day-to-day in this life and to her that meant everything.

“I must admit, Miss Francis, I am completely out of my depth with this entire thing.”

Miss Francis just shook her head, “Do not worry, my dear. There is no pressure on you, at all. At most, you will have a few drinks, some sweet, possibly a dance if you are lucky and that is it.”

YN sighed with a chuckle, “Goodness, I have not danced in years.”

Miss Francis placed a comforting hand on YN’s arm, “As long as you do not stand on your partners’ feet, I believe you shall be okay.”

“That is easier said than done, Miss Francis.”

The older woman aided YN out of the gown and into her previous outfit so that she could make the last amendments to her gown.

“If I were you, every time that you find yourself nervous, or without somebody to talk to I would just remind yourself of why you are there – because Mr Styles is your friend, and he wishes you there.”

YN reached out to grab Miss Francis’ hand and give it a gentle squeeze, “Thank you. If anything, I am lucky that you are my friend.”

Miss Francis held up her finger as if to delay that thought for a second and moved into the back room. She came out with a wooden box in hand, unlocked the clasp and passed it to YN.

“This belonged to my mother. It was a family heirloom of sorts,” Miss Francis explained, “I always thought that I would pass it to my children, but that never came to be. I wish for you to have them, and to wear them tomorrow.”

YN gasped as she opened the box, placing her hand on her chest as she peered at the matching diamond necklace and earrings that were inside. YN had seen the jewellery that many members of society wore, and whilst this was not like that – YN preferred it more. The earrings were modest, with a tiny diamond falling from a gold stud and the necklace matched. It was beautiful, and it was timeless.

“Miss Francis, I do not know what to say,” YN shook her head, “I cannot accept this.”

“You can, and you will,” The older woman nodded, “You are the closest thing that I have to a daughter in this world, and this is your first ball, and you deserve to show yourself off.”

YN chuckled through the tears that were collecting in her waterline, shut the box containing the jewels and wrapped her arms around the older lady. Miss Francis laughed in obvious shock at the girl’s antics.

“I do not know how to thank you,” YN muttered into the woman’s shoulder.

“Do not thank me,” Miss Francis shook her head, “Just promise me that you will have a good time and enjoy yourself.”

“I promise,” YN nodded.

YN had never felt more out of place in her entire life.

She knew that the way that she had grown up was different to those in society, but being surrounded by them in the way she was truly allowed YN to realise how much of that was true.

YN did not even know where to begin.

That was how she ended up standing, hovering by the wall as people mingled and danced around her. She had arrived with Harry earlier in the day but had left the family alone to celebrate with each other. Once she had joined the festivities of the ball, she still had not seen the birthday boy. Of course, he could have been anywhere in this room and YN would have missed him entirely due to the amount of people there.

With a sigh, YN’s eyes fluttered around the room until she spotted Harry and his mother walking into the room. YN would be lying if she said that the smile adorned on his face did not cause a matching one on hers. He truly did look happy. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were red, and YN wondered whether or not he had some liquid courage before joining the party. YN could not blame him and chuckled to herself at the thought.

“Miss YLN,” YN jumped out of her skin slightly at the sound of a voice next to her, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Mr Jacobs, “Is something amusing you?”

“Oh, no,” YN shook her head with a small shrug, “Just an amusing thought, that is all.”

Mr Jacobs just hummed, “I must admit, it is nice to see you. When I received the invitation for the evening I did wonder whether or not you were going to make an appearance, and I am happy that you did.”

YN just smiled, dropping her head slightly. She had not seen Mr Jacobs (or thought about him at that) since the almost fatal carriage incident day. It amused YN to no end that had not been the case for Mr Jacobs, and he had thought about her. Maybe she left more of an impression on people than she had thought.

Mr Jacobs looked around the room and cleared his throat, “How are you enjoying yourself so far?”

YN chuckled again, “I would be withholding the truth if I did not say I am slightly overwhelmed, but, I must admit there has been a lovely turnout to celebrate Mr Styles’ birthday.”

Mr Jacobs just hummed again, “That itself is not surprising.”

YN’s eyebrows furrowed in the man’s direction, “And why would that be?”

Mr Jacobs lifted the glass he held in his hand up to his lips and shrugged, “I heard that Mrs Styles extended invitations to every eligible lady in the county, as well as a few from London, seeing as though Mr Styles wishes to take a wife.”

YN nearly choked on her spit at his words but attempted to cover it up in hopes of not raising any questions. This was the first that she had heard of this subject. The last time that she and Harry had conversed on this subject he had made it painfully aware that he was not thinking at all of marriage. Of course, that conversation had been almost a year ago and his intentions could have changed since then. The only question that floated around in YN’s brain was – if so, why had he not said anything to her?

“Oh,” YN faked a laugh, “Well that does make sense. If Mr Styles wants to marry again, he should ensure that he makes the correct choice.”

Mr Jacobs’ eyebrows furrow, “You did not know that he was looking for another bride?”

YN lightly shook her head, “I am not shocked, though. I am only his governess, he does not have to discuss such important, personal matters with me.”

“I just thought that since you had been invited to the ball perhaps you were friends,” Mr Jacobs pressed, confusing YN slightly.

“To a degree, yes,” YN nodded, “But not to the degree of discussing these matters, I suppose.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, finished his drink, and placed his glass down on the table behind them. YN had hoped by that point their conversation would be over, and she could go back to watching the room – but that was not to be the case. YN was admittingly shocked when Mr Jacobs extended his hand out before her.

“Miss YLN,” He spoke, a small smile etching across his features, “Would you do me the honour of joining me in the next dance?”

“Oh,” YN shook her head, “Thank you, Mr Jacobs but I will have to politely refuse – I have not danced since I was a child.”

“Well,” Mr Jacobs shrugged, “To me, it seems there is no time like the present to start again.”

YN watched from over his shoulder as other couples began to migrate to the dancefloor. Exhaling a nervous breath, YN nodded and placed her hand into Mr Jacobs’. He led her towards the dancefloor, and they somehow ended up directly in the middle. Her eyes fluttered to the left and the right of her before they settled directly in front. Mr Jacobs offered her a smile, and that was seemingly all it took for her nerves to dissipate almost completely.

The music started, and they danced.

What YN could not see as she moved around the room, her hand tightly placed in Mr Jacobs was the two eyes watching her from across the room. Harry had been speaking to one of the many ladies that his mother had invited without his knowledge (he will remember this for next time) when he saw them. There was not a possible way that he could have missed her. When he had instructed Miss Francis to make her a dress, he knew that the older woman would succeed at making it beautiful but the only word that seemed to stand out in his head was breathtaking.

Harry tried to listen to the conversation he was in, but he could not. The only thing he could pay attention to was how she floated around the dance floor. She was smiling, an indication to him that she was enjoying herself. At one point he even saw her share a laugh with Mr Jacobs, a man that Harry knew of but not very well. A wave of longing washed over him, a longing for that to have been him.

“Mr Styles!” A voice called from the side of him, “Mr Styles?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, turning back to the lady who had grown impatient at the expense of his distraction, which was now finishing thankfully.

“I asked whether or not you enjoyed dancing?”

Harry’s eyes caught YN walking over towards the refreshment table, alone, and he saw this as his opportunity. He excused himself from the lady, who stood there in shock and watched as he walked away. Harry made a beeline for the refreshment table, ignoring any calls of his name the entire way there.

YN had just picked up a glass to take a sip when she felt someone beside her. She turned, saw that it was Harry and smiled – only for that smile to drop when she saw the expression on his face. The once smiley Mr Styles had been replaced with a look of sadness. It concerned YN to no end.

“Harry?” She dropped the drink back down on the table, “Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “I require some air. Would you care to join me?”

YN just nodded, knowing that he was probably wanting to talk to her more than have some air. Saying that, the room was quite stuffy with the amount of bodies occupying it so she would not be shocked. She followed him through the house until they could slip out of the back door. There was a chill in the air, seeing as though it was February, but that was not the important thing right now.

YN stood by the door, hoping to guard herself from the child slightly as she watched Harry pace in front of her. With each step, she grew more concerned for the man.

“You are worrying me now, Harry,” She started, her voice turning to a slight plead, “Would you please tell me what is wrong?”

Harry sighed and stopped his pacing before turning and walking so he was standing just a few feet from the girl.

“If you wish to marry Mr Jacobs then you should do so.”

YN feels as though all of the air has been sucked out of her body. Her heart begins to beat uncontrollably – the only sound she can hear is her heartbeat throughout her body. Out of everything that she thought he was going to say, that had certainly not been it. She could not even imagine why it had made him act in this way.

“Harry, I…” YN shook her head, unable to hold back her laugh, “That is… I had not even… I only danced with the man Harry.”

Harry shook his head, “I need you to know that if you wish to marry him, then you should.”

YN laughed again, “Harry you are being preposterous! You cannot just go around saying things such as that! But, seeing as though you have said such things, I would like to reiterate all of the information which you already know – I am happy just as I am, with you and with the children.”

Harry sighs, “You do not have to lie to me, YN. I can take the truth.”

“By this display of emotions Harry I find that very hard to believe,” She shakes her head once more, “And even so, I am not lying to you. I merely offered a dance, and I accepted and whilst I do not have the most experience with balls – I have gathered that this is something that usually happens at them!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at YN once more, and that is when she noticed that his chest was heaving just as much as hers was. The more that they were standing staring at each other, the more confused YN became. That all came to a head when Harry turned and walked away from her, walking into the house without a single second look at her.

YN watched him as he walked away, and she was overwhelmed with the want to cry. She took a deep breath, lifting her hand to rest a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her breathing. YN took a few steps away from the house so that she could rest against the wall surrounding the steps, the chill in the air the last of the worries.

YN sighed, lifting her hand to her forehead in hopes that would help regain even an ounce of or so of calm again. It was no use though as all she could think about was Harry, and what was the reason behind his sudden outburst of emotion.

“Oh, Miss YLN,” YN lifted her head at the sound of her name, “Are you quite alright?”

There was a part of YN that wanted to groan slightly at the fact that Mr Jacobs had somehow found her even admits the festivities. Instead of groaning, however, YN, found herself offering him a smile.

“I am fine,” She nodded, “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, approaching where she was sitting on the wall. She did feel bad for the man, seeing as though he was the cause of so much turmoil and yet he had no idea of it. At the end of the day, Mr Jacobs had technically done nothing wrong, and she could not blame the man for something that was between herself and Harry.

He dropped down on the wall with an adequate space next to her and ran his hands over his trousers, “I did wish to ask you something after our dance, before I realised you had disappeared.”

YN just nodded, “Of course, Mr Jacobs.”

“I do not wish for you to read too far into this, Miss YLN, but I do enjoy your company,” Mr Jacobs started, “And, even though I had wanted to do this the last time I saw you I knew it would be inappropriate, but now I do not think the same.”

“Mr Jacobs, you do not have to justify yourself to me,” YN offered him a small smile, “Please, ask whatever it is you would like.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, “Would you care to join me for a promenade tomorrow?”

For the second time in a short period, YN found herself short of breath. She could not believe how these declarations were coming one after the other.

YN knew that if she lingered on the thought too much she would lose herself or talk herself out of it. She supposed, in deciding for herself for once she nodded her head at Mr Jacobs.

“I would very much like that.”

YEAR FOUR

“Do you think Father is scared of bees, Miss YN?” Noah asked, holding YN’s hand as they walked back towards the house.

YN shrugged her shoulders slightly, “I do not know, Noah, you should ask him yourself.”

The little boy nodded, “I do not wish for them to sting me, but I would not say that I am scared of them – not like Norah is.”

The little girl’s head perked up at the sound of her name, “I am not afraid! I just do not like them very much.”

YN chuckled at the discussion between the small children. They both pulled away from YN once they reached the steps to the house, turning it into a race just as they did with everything. Sighing, YN followed them up the steps slightly slower than they had done. Once she stepped inside the house, she saw both children standing in the doorway of the sitting room with shocked expressions on their faces.

“What is it?” YN questioned, turning to look at what both of the children were staring at. She stopped in her tracks at what it was.

Sitting on the settee was both Harry and Mr Jacobs. YN could not figure out the expression that Harry’s face held, but she could see that Mr Jacobs seemed to be one of happiness. YN placed a hand on the back of the children’s shoulders.

“Why don’t you both get yourself cleaned up for supper?” She smiled, ushering the children out of the room before she stepped inside.

YN stayed standing up just by the door as she watched the uncomfortable air that seemed to be passing between the two men. In all honesty, YN believed that this was probably the first time that they had met properly. They had both been a topic of conversations with YN but had never spoken directly. It caused YN’s stomach to twist. 

YN had agreed to meet Mr Jacobs the day after the ball mainly to spite Harry, and the words that he had shared with her just a few moments before. What she had been surprised by was the amount she had enjoyed herself. Their walks had been few and far between over the past year or so, as YN would not have let herself forget the real reason she was there in the first place – and that was the children. She could tell that Mr Jacobs had wished for more, but she was unable to give him that. In all honesty, she did not know whether she wanted to give him that.

She had not expected him to show up at her house, though.

“Mr Jacobs,” YN greeted with a small smile, “It is lovely to see you.”

“As it is for you, Miss YLN.”

YN’s eyes flickered between Harry and Mr Jacobs, “May I ask the reason for your visit?”

Harry cleared his throat and stood up, looking at YN with an unreadable expression on his face, “He is here to ask you a question, YN. Or really, to ask me whether it is agreeable for me if he was to ask for your hand in marriage.”

YN gasped. Out of everything that Harry could have said, she had not expected that. Whilst it had shocked her, there was another feeling present that YN couldn’t quite put her finger on.

With a slight drop of her head she looked towards Harry, “Mr Styles, would you mind leaving the room?”

The second YN said those words, she regretted it. The expression on Harry’s face had gone from unreadable to pained, and she knew that she was the cause of this. She hoped that he would not let himself get too worked up over this. Whilst YN had no idea as to how this would play out, she had hoped that Harry would have a little more faith in her than to just abandon him in this way.

With a nod, Harry nodded and walked past her to leave the room. The door shut behind him, and she was finally alone with Mr Jacobs. That was when she realised the other emotion that was swirling within her – it was anger.

“Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs stood up, “I had hoped that I would be able to…”

YN shook her head and held her hand out so that he knew not to take a step closer to her, “I do not want to hear it, Mr Jacobs.”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows furrowing at her words, “Miss YLN, if I have done something to offend you –”

“You have,” YN nodded, unable to hold back her anger, “You have offended me, Mr Jacobs. You have offended me by coming to my place of employment to ask for my hand in marriage instead of coming to me.”

“You have avoided me for weeks, Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs responds, his tone turning stern, “Of course, I had wished to speak to you first, but I was unable to do so.”

“So you thought your best course of action was to show up here and what?” YN sighed, laughing slightly at the absurdness of the entire situation, “Ask Harry for my hand in marriage?”

“I only wished to ask…” Mr Jacobs stopped in his tracks, his expression changing once more, “Harry?”

YN shakes her head, even more confused, “What?”

“You call Mr Styles by his first name?” Mr Jacobs presses once more.

YN scoffs a laugh, “Yes I do, Mr Jacobs, but I do not see how that is your business.”

“I think it is,” Mr Jacobs nods, “Seeing as though he is your employer, and you call him by his first name.”

“Yes,” YN nods, “My employer who is also my friend, and has been for the past four years.”

Mr Jacobs scoffs, “I should have known. I should have known when you were at the ball, even more so when you refused to join me on promenades, and this has just made it even more apparent.”

YN shook her head, “Made what even more apparent?”

“That your affections lie with Mr Styles, or Harry is it?”

YN could not believe what she was hearing. It angered her more so than she thought anything ever could. The audacity of this man to say such a thing – make such a claim when he did not the extent of the accusations that he was making.

“I think it is time for you to take your leave, Mr Jacobs,” YN stated coldly.

“No,” Mr Jacobs shakes his head, placing his hands upon his hips, “Not until I receive my answer from you.”

“I think my asking of you to leave is answer enough.”

Mr Jacobs sighs, “Will you not at least give me a reason as to why?”

“I said leave!”

“I will not,” YN was surprised at the level at which Mr Jacobs raised his voice, “You have no authority to order me out of this house.”

That was when the door opened and Harry stepped in, the look on his face matching Mr Jacobs in anger.

“That is where you are wrong, Mr Jacobs,” Harry speaks calmly, “This is just as much Miss YLN’s house as it is mine, and if she does not wish for you to be here anymore then you should leave. If you refuse, well that is when I shall step in – and I have no qualms in physically removing you from the property.”

Mr Jacobs looks at YN one last time before scoffing and practically storming out of the room. Once she hears the front door from the side of them slam shut, YN thankfully knows that she is in all clear. It takes all of a few seconds before she breaks down, the tears streaming down her face involuntarily.

“Oh, YN,” Harry takes one look at her shaking body, and he is there, wrapping his arms around her shaking body. The pressure of his body against hers was all she needed to collapse, her legs giving way and her body falling to the ground.

Harry is there to catch her, pulling her body even closer to his. Her hands grasp at the lapel of his jacket, hoping that would give her even an ounce of relief.

“Harry,” She gasps, the tears still streaming down her face, “I am so sorry.”

Harry shook his head, resting his cheek against the top of her head, “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”

YN was sitting at the front of the classroom, the complete silence in the room offering an inch of comfort to YN after a difficult few days. 

She was not necessarily one who thought that silent reading time was the best for the children, but she had no other option. The past few days she had not been herself, and unfortunately whilst she had tried to not let it affect her work – there was unfortunately no way that it would not.

YN was staring out of the window when the door opened, replacing the silence in the room with footsteps that could only belong to one person. It was at that point that YN realised that the children had not been reading, and instead had been occupying themselves in other ways. The pencil that Noah had been attempting to balance on his face fell off and clattered to the ground the second his father made an entrance into the room, and Norah dropped the hair that she had been attempting to colour with her crayons.

“Noah, Norah,” Harry addressed his children, “How about you go and find the cook. From what I have heard, she has a plate of treats waiting for you both.”

The children’s faces broke out into smiles, and they bounded past their father, the two of them making it a competition as they did. YN sighed, offering Harry a small smile as he closed the door to the classroom. It was the first time that the two of them had been alone since the incident occurred and YN supposed that was not for a lack of trying on Harry’s part – more so that YN had been avoiding him.

“I know what you are here to discuss, and I fear we cannot,” YN shook her head, watching as Harry leant against the children’s desk and crossed his arms over his face.

“We can,” Harry nodded, “You cannot avoid me forever, seeing as though we live in the same house, and you are the governess to my children. And more importantly, you are my friend.”

YN sighed, “There is nothing to say, Harry. We both know what happened, and I believe the best thing for us to do is move on as though nothing has happened.”

“But we both know that is not the case,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I know that you think the best thing for us to do is ignore the situation, YN, but we cannot.”

YN sighs and nods her head, “Very well, then. Say what you need to.”

Harry sighed and stood up, taking a step closer to YN from over the desk, “Did you want to?”

“Did I what?” YN offered him a puzzled expression.

“Want to marry him?” Harry asks, “Mr Jacobs?”

YN sighed and almost immediately shook her head, “No. I did not. If I had, I would have accepted his hand right then and there. I have told you time and time again, Harry, I am happy just where I am.”

Harry nodded, starting to pace up and down in front of her just as he had the night of the ball. If he was not careful, she would not be surprised if a scuff mark appeared on the floor from his shoes.

Harry stopped directly in front of her and nodded again, “Then marry me.”

YN’s eyes widen. Whilst the last proposal she was shocked and appalled by – this one, she was just shocked. YN could not even believe that those words had just come out of Harry’s lips, and more so that it was directed at her.

“Harry,” YN addressed with a laugh and a shake of her head, “You cannot mean that.”

“But I do,” He nodded, walking around the table so that he was directly in front of the chair that she was sitting in, “I do mean it.”

YN scoffed, “I understand if you are upset with what happened with Mr Jacobs but Harry, what you are saying is preposterous.”

“It is not,” Harry shakes his head, dropping down so he is at eye level with the girl, “I know that you wish to marry, YN, and I am saying – let that person be me.”

“Harry…”

YN’s eyes start to fill with tears, even more so when he reaches forward to grab her hands, “I know that I need to marry, and I know that somewhere, deep down you would like to. We are already acquainted, and I would definitely say that we are friends and I already know that the children like you. I mean – it makes perfect sense to me.”

YN sighed, beginning to shake her head again, “No, Harry you do not mean that.”

“But I do,” He nods his head, his eyes never leaving hers, “I do not think I have ever meant anything more in my life. I lov…” Harry’s eyes widen at his words and then he shakes his head, “I appreciate you more than anything, YN. You have changed my life and my children’s lives for the better. We do not have to care about what society may think, all we have to care about we think. Let me change your life.”

YN opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was truly and honestly in a state of shock.

[emowonz]

₊˚ෆ ⊹₊ your eyes only P.SH ₊˚ෆ ⊹₊

⊹₊ ⋆ IN WHICH - what would happen if on a “normal” saturday night you layed in bed after posting on instagram, thinking nothing crazy would happen besides a few likes and swipe ups until you received a d!ck pic from no one other than your roommate park sunghoon.

⊹₊ ⋆ 🏷️- @heeseungsbm @hoonsprettyprincess @azunaar (pls lmk if you would like to be added :)

⊹₊ ⋆ PAIRING - roommate! sunghoon x fem! reader

⊹₊ ⋆ CONTAINS - nudity, mutual masturbation (sorta), sunghoon calls reader princess and baby, profanity, y/n loves ariana lmao, sunghoons a wee bit pervy.

⊹₊ ⋆ word count - 1k

⊹₊ ⋆ a/n - hey cuties >o< first of all i love love LOVE enhas new albums, especially my eyes only such a good song omg. secondly please let me know if you guys would want a part two of this fic!! i got lazy so i gave up last minute 😭. this also isn’t proofread sorry :( love you all 💞💞

sunghoons dialogue is in pink <3

⊹₊ ⋆ bad vibes, get off me

outta here with that fuckery ⊹₊ ⋆

monopoly by ariana grande and victoria monet blasted through your bedroom speaker as you layed in your pinked out bed kicking your feet in the air as you snapped photos of yourself. you were planning to post yourself after taking a hiatus from instagram, for mental health reasons of course. you finally had the big three, your hair was done, your lashes were style cat eyed like, and most importantly your nails were long, pink, with little cute bows on them.

you smirked as you looked at the photos you took, you loved looking and feeling pretty. especially since a special someone will be seeing the post, the person being no one other than your roommate park sunghoon. sunghoon was a normal college boy who happened to be your roommate this semester. you’ve always found him attractive seeing him on campus making you a tinny tiny crush on him. from time to time he would like your story or even slide up with a little compliment like, “new nails? 👍🏻” or even “you look nice.” never something that would make you think he would wanna fuck you, oh how you wished. sadly he was currently visiting his family and he will be returning when your asleep he stated to you before he left.

a sigh left your mouth as you picked the photo you were about to post, adding the “lagos” fliter and putting the intro of nasty by ariana grande to the picture. you were really hesitant to even post, wondering if someone might send it to a groupchat, anything that regards to someone talking bad about you. fuck it you thought as you hit the your story button before immediately leaving the instagram app.

you hummed the lyrics to the song playing on your playlist as you made your way to your bathroom to remove all your makeup, you had only did it for the pictures feeling pretty in your preshower makeup. putting your hair in a back ponytail to began your skincare routine. as you cleansed your face with your eyes closed you began to think about sunghoon, his clear skin, bushy eyebrows, plump lips, you were infatuated with him.

your pure thoughts soon turned to filth thinking about how it would be to have him inside you. was it grithy? did it curve? would he make you come with just his tongue? the images flashed through your mind at such a quick pace. a loud bing interrupted your mind porn making you jump to check the notification. most of the notis were from friends and family, saying how pretty you looked which you did. feeling your heart dropped at one message from no one other than park sunghoon.

you couldn’t believe what just happened, seeing his name in your dms as he doubled texted you. waiting atleast three minutes before opening the message. hitting his profile to reply to the message, you breathed in and out feeling your stomach get queasy to see what he had said, it could be good or bad or even a question.

park_sunghoon has replied to your story!

this song is ass 👎🏼

you let out a slight chuckle at the man’s message, what a loser you thought before reading the second message.

you look sexy though, who’s the lucky man?

your breath hitched reading the second message, is this real? you couldn’t believe this was happening. you started to second guess things, thinking he’s just joking playing a prank on you.

firstly, don’t ever disrespect ari like that again.

secondly, no man but thank you hottie💋.

suddenly you felt your ego rise making you feel more confident. you placed your phone back down to finsh up your skincare routine, after removing your pink tank top along with your shorts leaving you in a bra and pink panties. you placed your hello kitty robe on before going into your bedroom plopping in bed to open up instagram. you bit onto your acrylics eager to see what he replied.

oh nicknames already i see? well how are you princess?

damn, who wouldn’t want your pretty ass i know i would.

you giggled outloud at his message getting flustered over the text. the power he has over you already is quite insane. whether or not if he was pranking you, you still wanted to play along. being a tease.

oh really? if you want me you could easily get me park. you’re just scared lmao

scared? nah never been my thing baby. besides you’re the one who seems scared.

mhm you sure do seem scared, especially knowing how much i want you.

you threw your phone after sending the risky text as reality hit you, you’re not only talking to your crush you’re talking to the man you live with, your roommate! you’ll have to see him everyday until the semester is over. he doesn’t seem like he’s uninterested but it’s still nerve wracking. you leaned down to pick up your phone to see if he texted back.

i want you so much more then you want me princess, you just never gave me a chance to show you.

your thighs began to rub against eachother causing friction as you felt yourself grow wet at his messages. you bit your lower lip getting into the moment, you couldn’t handle the teasing anymore.

really? then prove it baby, show me how much you want me 💞

adding the innocent heart to soften your approach, just wanting to tease the man before bed. you sat and wait for a text back growing nervous, what if he didn’t like what you had said, or even made him uncomfortable. just as you were about to close instagram out for the night you received a double texted from him once again. your jaw dropped revealing the message you couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed.

*attachment*

fuck baby see what you did to me? all of this just because of your pretty face.

your jaw practically on the floor as you watched the ten second clip. it was no one other than your roommate laying in his childhood bedroom you guessed, shirtless revealing his beautiful honey toned skin as his big veiny hand stroked his pretty cock. it was a angry pink and bigger then you expected, not to mention when you turned up the volume all you heard was hoon groaning and mumbling “fuck fuck” before the clip ended.

you were soaked, matter a fact soaked was a understatement you were drenched. everything felt like a dream. you quickly replied to his message as your hand dipped into your panties beginning to toy with your clit, you let out whimpers and moans as you replayed the video.

woah

is there something wrong? fuck i’m sorry i shouldn’t have sent this my apologies.

you found it so cute that he apologized within seconds, leaving him on seen for a second as you opened your camera app and began to film yourself. it was such a pornographic moment you didn’t even feel like yourself. stretching yourself out with your fingers as you moaned his name practically begging him to fuck you, ending the video soon before you made a mess onto your bed. you’ve never sent nudes before but i guess it’s a first for everything.

sorry for the wait baby, don’t apologize i loved it🤭

i loved it so much that i made one just for you handsome <3

*attachment*

he almost immediately opened the message, you stared watching the text bubbles move up and down watching for a response. you got up to go clean yourself and to go put your bedsheets in the washer.

holy shit.

she’s so pretty baby, how would you hide her from me?

shit and you moaned my name? i’m about to come home and fuck you until you see stars.

you giggled at the man’s words noticing how eager he is for you making you flustered.

lmk when you’re here baby, i’ll be waiting 💋

he immediately hearted your messages making you jump up and dart to the bathroom, making you take a everything shower, shave, and moisturize. reality set in once more making you nervous. you couldn’t believe what you did and what you’re about to do. before you never even had a conversation with the man besides your chemistry class. before you could even back out h you heard keys jiggle at the door.

uh oh.

[messylustt]

݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ maybe more? — miguel o’hara + reader: you make a decision that miguel isn’t too pleased about. miguel doesn’t like this ‘someone’.

contents : includes fluff :(( bit of angst (ends well). mentions of cheating (not miguel or reader) — pls let’s just ignore the comic miguel (coz he may or may not have cheated) and focus on movie miguel. thank you. wc 1.4k.

pt one pt two pt three

you walked alone, head muffled. you've found taking one step in front of the other helps focus those muffled voices. maybe then you could make sense of them. maybe then your heart wouldn't feel so heavy.

so, toe after toe you ventured around HQ, humming a soft tune to focus on your breath rather than the voices you found you couldn't make out. but then there was a clearer one, a deeper one, getting your attention.

you look up to see miguel eyeing you and your distracted self. you smile. "miguel, hey."

miguel's eyes dart. ever since the news of your hug had circled the spider society every spider-person had made their own assumption. lovers? close friends? related?—that was a strange and short lived one to circulate. but people could just not fathom how miguel would ever want to hug anyone. you being a family member seemed more plausible at the time.

but now everyone has circled back to potential lovers. but you have someone. had someone... you aren't too sure. because the reminded tug at your heartstrings earns your smile to slightly drop. miguel notices. his inspection of you turning more detailed. "you don't look annoyingly happy." he states monotonously.

you focus your gaze and push away your heart, placing that smile you always seemed to bear back on. "what? you mean how you don't look everyday?" you tilt your head.

to outsiders you would seem normal, fine, happy. but to miguel you seemed far from it. to miguel you seemed troubled, not yourself. and it sets an uncomfortable feeling low in his stomach. he didn't like not seeing you as your bright, bubbly self. Because slowly you had become his rock, his comfort of sorts. and if you weren't stable, how could he ever be?

he steps closer, tapping your chin to raise it up, as you had begun to get distracted in the slightly shiny floor. you meet his gaze, forcing that smile back on. but Miguel places two clawed fingers against your cheeks, drawing that smile down. "don't smile unless you mean it." he muttered.

you were quite surprised by how intensively he had begun to take note of you. you had caught him always eyeing you in briefings, or in the cafeteria (if you can call it that). it now kinda makes sense the whole assumption of 'lovers'. but you weren't. and you personally didn't think you'd ever be. miguel wasn't the type.

you step backwards, away from his close hold, and miguel has the urge to pull you back, his hand slightly moving with you to hold your wrist. "are you free?" he asks quietly. and now you could spot the slight bags under his eyes, proving his need for "comfort".

but you had been thinking. though it's been nice, and you haven't minded it. miguel's hands have begun to drift more permanently around you. the hugs had become to feel far more intimate. you have someone...had someone...someone who you still liked, and someone who you hoped still liked you.

that's where the confusion settled, and the tug of your heart. you couldn't carry on this...whatever this thing was with miguel. it wasn't right. because your feelings had began to not feel right. you have/had someone.

you take your hand away from his hold and miguel's eyes narrow, quickly darting up to your face again. you place that forced smile back on and miguel's lips twitch in a snarl. He didn't want you to be fake around him.

"i'm sorry...not this time...I'm...busy." you space the words out far too randomly and of course miguel takes notice.

"this time?"

you gulp. "and maybe next time."

miguel grinds his teeth. "and the time after that?" he speaks a fraction harsher.

"...and the time after that." you confirm, looking away from his gaze, because you did feel bad. but it wasn't right being that alone and intimate when you have…had—god, just whatever this 'someone' was, point blank you felt it was wrong.

you stand straighter, finally meeting his gaze. and you almost flinch. not because of an expected hardness, but because of a soft...desperation? That couldn't be right... miguel didn't need your hugs like he does air...no.

yes. miguel has been forced to realise that himself. he does need your hugs, he craves them. and in all honesty he hadn't had the chance to think of himself without them. but here you stand, telling him 'that's it'.

"that's it, then?" he asks slowly.

you slowly nod. "i am sorry. but I know for a fact that peter is a great hugger. plus his pink dressing gown makes everything fluffy—“

miguel cuts you off. "peter? you really think i want a hug from him?"

you shrug. "as i said: great hugger."

miguel opens his mouth then pauses. "how do you know that?"

"uh...well, cause I've hugged him before?" you lightly chuckle.

maybe miguel had also noticed the 'intimacy' that had grown between your hugs. because now his chest is aching with a form of...jealousy? over peter? and not in the way a lover feels jealous necessarily. but in the way he wanted your hugs for himself.

yes, that made him selfish, and probably unreasonable. but he liked the thought of something so special as a hug from you being something for him. and now you were saying no, and offering peter up as a substitute? no one could substitute you. no one.

so, miguel began to shake his head. "do you really think that peter's hug could suffice for yours?" he narrowed his eyes, seeing if you truly believed that.

you again shrug. "it's just a hug, isn't it?" because if it was something more than you were right to stop this. miguel's jaw clenched. it was supposed to be, wasn't it? a bit of relief.

maybe that relief has turned into an addiction? maybe the term 'a simple hug' has turned into so much more? all miguel knew was that he didn't want to stop this. he didn't want to not be able to have your body pressed against his.

a voice suddenly calls your name, making you spin. your heart thumps, seeing that 'someone' walk up. a 'peter' spider-man variant. generic, so you chose to call him by his middle name, 'jessy'. named after his childhood dog.

"jessy..." your smile was the brightest miguel thinks he's ever seen. and that seems to only dampen his already soured mood. "finished a mission?" you eye his heaving chest.

jessy nods, looping his arms around your waist and giving your cheek a kiss. miguel almost flinched at the visual, his gaze getting caught up in jessy's hand. it's placement somewhere miguel had used quite often. but then miguel looks back to Jessy's face. and then back to your bright smile.

you two couldn't be...because that would mean...jessy had cheated.

miguel remembers passing by a room, moans and whimpers piercing the otherwise silence. miguel had pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering in annoyance. he banged on the door, not daring to look in. "this is communal space...you know that right?" he growled out, as he heard the moans quiten, as voices muttered together. "get out of the office." and then he left, but not before his gaze caught the sight of jessy's face and the girl that certainly wasn't you.

miguel would probably have reacted differently if he'd seen you there, pressed against jessy like that.

miguel now hardens his gaze on jessy, because then he leant forward and pecked your lips, making miguel's claws cut skin. your bright smile showed that you were oblivious to jessy's "secret" doings. but that's why your heart tugged so hard. you knew. those muffled voices were your subconscious trying to drown out thoughts of reason.

things like 'you deserve better', 'don't let him kiss you'...'end it'. all those sensible thoughts getting shoved into a basin of water, left to drown and die. you hated to admit to yourself that someone had cheated on you. it made more prominent thoughts circle the top of the water, free from harm. 'am I not good enough?', 'did I do something wrong?'...'it's probably my fault'.

miguel speaks your name, making you shift your gaze to him. "a mission. you're needed." he says, beginning to walk away. a mission? but you follow anyway, waving jessy goodbye as you slipped into miguel's office.

"sorry, i didn't know i had one today. i would've been more prepared—"

"jessy..." miguel is turning back to you, brows furrowed as he thinks of how to word this. "how long?"

your brows furrow a moment, before the lines smooth. "...a decent while. why?"

miguel grinds his teeth. "there isn't...really anyway to put this..."

you lightly chuckle, trying to ease the settling tension. "you...okay?"

no. he wasn't. because you had said to 'stop this'. but now wasn't the time... "i caught..." god, this was a lot harder to say then he had initially thought.

but when he had said that you had begun to clock on. it's not a surprise someone else had seen them. they were being rather loud. your smile had begun to fade as you muttered. "i...i know..."

miguel immediately looks up at this. "what?..."

you lick your lips, avoiding eye contact. "i appreciate you trying to tell me. that must have been annoying to hold." you lightly chuckle. but this time its void of any happiness. "but just...can you please forget you saw anything?"

you finally meet his gaze, fiddling with your fingers, as you try not to produce a sad expression. but miguel catches it. he always does. his chest is beginning to heave. because jessy cheated on you, of all people. and you knew about it. and you still let him touch and kiss you.

miguel wasn't having any of it.

he stalked forward, making you slightly stumble back. "i'm sorry...did i catch that wrong? you knew? you fucking knew, and you let him..." he's breathing hard, and you don't know why he's so worked up.

"it's...complicated, alright?" you say. "and if that's all, i think i'll go." you move to turn but miguel is grabbing you back, forcing you close to him, because he was pissed.

"you let him touch you...kiss you. after he touched and kissed someone else?" miguel's words are harsh and they bite at your heart.

your face has actually fallen to a scowl. "i again appreciate the concern, or whatever. but you have no place to say that."

you'd hugged a few times. that's it. miguel isn't blind to that fact. but he can't be blind to the one that is making him want to tear jessy to shreds. "maybe it's not. but i'm making it my place. because you aren't doing anything about it. you can't just let him touch you after—“

"he's touched someone else. yeah, i got it, miguel." you try to get out of his tight grip again, but to no avail. "miguel." you say harsher. because all this talk about jessy feeling up someone else is making your heart crack wide open, leaving tears to well in your eyes. you didn't want to cry.

crying would mean that the basin full of water would drain, leaving you to the dead carcasses of your reasonable thoughts. you don't think you could face yourself after seeing that.

"let. go." you say slowly, willing the frog in your throat to just hop away. miguel's grip only tightens, because he's noticing your glistening eyes, he's noticing your crumbling stature. and in all honesty he wants to catch you. this time be the one to comfort you.

so, he brings you closer, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck, as he engulfs your waist in a hug. and that's when you finally break, tears spilling as your hiccuped sniffles meet miguel's ears, only making him hold you tighter.

you were crying into his neck, that basin now draining as you tightened your hold around miguel like a lifeline. after a while miguel had begun whispering things in your ear, as you took note of the empty basin full of your dead reasonable thoughts. "you deserve so much better...he doesn't deserve any bit of you...por favor."

you had never heard miguel sounding so sincere...so vulnerable, even though you were the one crying. then his lips were grazing your ear, drawing you even closer if possible. "don't let him kiss you...don't let him...touch you..." and then as his hands had begun to find solace under your split suit by your hips, rubbing your warm skin, he whispered "...end it".

he had spoken all those dead thoughts of yours. given his own voice in turn for your faulty subconscious. he wanted you to listen to him, seeing your hesitance in leaving ejssy. through sniffles you say "i don't know...if i can..."

"why not?" miguel's tone had entirely softened, your breathing—even though shaky—still your breathing against his neck, calming him.

"i...don't know." you finally say. because you didn't. maybe in truth you felt you couldn't get much better. you didn't want to lose someone that had been so prominent in your life. and miguel seemed to read between the lines, or maybe you head said that out loud?

"you can get anyone...cariño...really anyone." miguel muttered, open mouth dragging close to your ear. "and i..." he drifts off, making you lean your head away, brushing your tear stained cheeks as you met his gaze. miguel tightened his hold around your waist, scared you were going to step farther away, and so he rushed the rest out. "i can be more prominent."

you stare at him, eyes widening a fraction. miguel licks his lips. "can...i be more prominent?"

your mouth is opening and closing. "prominent?" you ask, feeling stupid.

miguel actually feels nervous as he stares down at your slight red eyes and nose, his hand moving up to brush more tears away. "or be just...more."

"more?"

"mhm." miguel hums, the air feeling calmer. your muffled voices now gone in replace for miguel's. "please end it."

you gulp. miguel hasn't stopped caressing your face and waist, not until you agreed. maybe not even after that. "por favor...please."

then you found yourself nodding, and miguel doesn't think he's ever felt so...happy. In a very long time at least. and then he was drawing you back in, this time with his breath tickling your neck, his lips actually drawing in an almost kiss. "gracias, mi cariño....gracias.”

you had always liked his hugs. maybe they had brought you comfort too. maybe they give you more solace then you think you needed. and as miguel actually began to lift you, placing you on his desk, he found a new position, with your legs widened around his hips, his hands circled around your waist, his head in your neck, and the faint brush of his lips that you could quite possibly call a kiss.

more. this provided you two with more.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[izels-writing]

j. potter — 5 times james showed you he loved you + the 1st time he said it

Pairing: james potter x childhood best friend!fem!reader

Summary: james is in love with you, as you are with him.

Warnings: longer than usual, FLUFFF, a bit specific (y/n have a big family and nut allergy), a break up (not james ), confession scene is bad but i feel that’s what childhood best friend love confession would look like😭, ALSO I USED A LITTLE DIALOGUE FROM GILMORE GIRLS AND B99 BC I JUST HAD TO OKAY IT WAS FUNNY

a/n: i tried so hard with this one, pls tell me if u like it! it’s a bit different than my usual writing

august 12th, 1969:

"what're you two doing?" euphemia potter asked, a small smile gracing her lips as she noticed you and james sat across each other on his bedroom floor.

you placed your piece down, grinning at james' utter disappointment as you took his piece in the process. he groaned.

"we're playing muggle chess," he told his mother. "and y/n's beating me!"

you smiled. "i told him it wasn't as easy as he thought!" you countered, noticing euphemia's chuckle.

"well, it's getting late you two," she said. "i don't suppose you two expect to be up until the wee hours playing this game," though she tried to be stern, you and james knew how incapable she was when it came to the two of you.

"mum! we're nine now! can't we just have a little bit longer? nine o'clock it too early," james complained. "how about ten thirty?"

euphemia crossed her arms in thought. "how about ten o'clock?"

"ten-twenty," james countered.

"ten-fifteen," euphemia concluded, "take it or leave it,"

"we'll take it!" you exclaimed. james nodded in agreement, though, he always agreed with whatever you said.

you supposed that was part of the best friends thing.

you and james had been best friends since you were five years old, when your parents inherited the house next door to his—which was a blessing given the large family you had. three brothers, two sisters, and you—making a total of six kids. your three bedroom apartment wasn't cutting it anymore at that point.

so, to escape your loud and obnoxious family, you often spent all of your time at the potters. it helped that you and james didn't go to school, given euphemia taught you at home. out of all of your siblings, only you and two of your brothers had inherited magic. whereas the rest of them had to attend muggle school, you, james, and your two brothers were homeschooled by euphemia.

and everyone knew since the day you moved in, you and james were inseparable.

"alright then, either of you fancy a snack?" euphemia asked. "i don't want either of you eating too late,"

"no, thank you, mrs. potter," you replied with a small smile.

"yeah, we're okay mum, thank you," james added.

"of course," euphemia grinned. she eerily looked like a girl version of james when she did grinned, you supposed that's why you found her so comforting. "and y/n, dear, how many times have i told you to call me mia?"

you smiled sheepishly. "i'm sorry, i can't,"

and truthfully, as much as you tried, it felt way to disrespectful to call her by her name and not mrs. potter.

"yeah," james snickered, "she's got this weird compulsion where she has to be perfect and respectful all the time," james taunted.

"shut up," you laughed, shoving james gently.

"alright, well, ten-fifteen...alright?" she looked at you both warningly.

"yes ma'am," you and james chorused, but as soon as she left, you two burst into a fit of laughter.

even if lights were out by ten-fifteen, you two would still be awake all hours of the night laughing and talking about seemingly nothing.

you let him play his turn, smiling as he made a rookie mistake. you quickly showed him how bad his mistake was.

"y/n!" he groaned.

"face it, potter," you sighed. "i'm just better..."

he rolled his eyes and shoved the pillow in his lap at your face. you, being you, caught it with a laugh and threw it aside. analyzing the board as he went to make his next move.

he'd never admit he let you win just so he could see the smile on your face when you did.

——

march 15th, 1996:

"stop painting her nails and help me find an outfit!" sirius exclaimed. "moony won't wait forever!"

james looked up from your hand as you both turned to look at sirius. though he'd never admit it aloud, james loved painting your nails ever since you forced him to do it the first time because your hands were too shaky.

"red shirt, leather jacket, and..." you squinted before turning to james to let him decide what pants your lovesick friend should wear.

"black jeans," he decided. you nodded in agreement.

"thank you, mr. and mrs. potter," sirius sighed, pulling out the exact clothes you two had picked out. "finally you pay attention to me,"

his nickname for you both made you shift slightly, as it always did. not that either of them noticed.

"don't be dramatic, sirius," you replied, rolling your eyes. "painting nails is tedious work,"

"you're tedious work," sirius grumbled, quickly changing. the boys had no qualms changing in front of you despite the fact that you were a girl, they'd known you as long as they'd known james—given you were a package deal when you got to hogwarts.

"how are you two planning to spend the afternoon?" he asked, making conversation as he finished up his eyeliner.

"napping," you replied. you had pulled the longest study session ever last night, and still had to wake up in time for classes. to say you were tired was an understatement.

james didn't like naps as much as you, but he laid with you until you fell asleep because he was so warm. you practically forced him to.

"cuddle session?" sirius asked, ruffling his hair in style.

"that's the one," james replied, finishing your last nail.

"it never ceases to amaze me how close you two are without being in love," sirius chuckled before slipping on his shoes. "anyway, bye...don't wait up for me and moony," he winked before closing the door behind him.

he wasn't entirely truthful. sirius knew about your long haboured crush in james since your third year of hogwarts. at first, you were convinced it was just teen hormones and it'd wear off.

it did not.

if anything, it got worse ever since then. you couldn't be near the boy without smiling and you certainly spent most of your time with him if not with mary or the other boys you two had befriended. he just understood you, he was your person.

the worst part was that you knew he didn't feel the same. you'd known since your first year about his undying love for lily evans, which had progressed so much more over the years.

you supposed you'd get over it eventually.

you scoffed. "look at him, flaunting what we don't have—remus,"

"i know, the utter torture knowing remus will never be ours," he sighed sarcastically. you laughed,

he lied down, arm behind his head which flexed all the right muscles. meanwhile you blew at your nails to make them dry faster. you marveled at the beautiful pink color, perfectly done by your best friend.

"you can take the girl out of the muggle world, but not the muggle world out of the girl," james teased before grabbing his wand and waving it wordlessly. in an instant, your nails were fully dry.

you scoffed. "please, you love the muggle world,"

he grinned. "yeah, i do," he shrugged.

you lied beside him, curling up into him to wrap your arms around his waist and your legs around his hips. it wasn't always the most comfortable position for him, but he put up with it for you, unbeknownst to you. you lied your head on his shoulder, breathing in his aromatic cologne.

you never understood why you tortured yourself like this. you knew these moments would just make you fall harder for him, but you couldn't help yourself. even if he'd never be your boyfriend, at least you had him in your life.

"alright, see you in two hours," you mumbled, adjusting your head comfortably.

"i'll be here," he sighed in fake annoyance. "waiting..."

"shut up," you muttered sleepily.

a few movements later, he smiled softly as you began to snore quietly. he kissed your head ever so softly, as to not wake you, pushing hair out of your face.

he really did hate naps.

but not the ones with you.

——

september 22nd, 1974:

the five of you sat in the greats hall, piling your plates as everyone chattered during their dinner. you laughed at whatever sirius said, waiting for remus to let go of the spoon for the macaroni bowl.

"pads, wipe your mouth," james scolded, handing the friend in question a cloth. sirius rolled his eyes and grabbed it, wiping his mouth aggressively.

"happy?" the grey-eyed got asked in feign annoyance.

you laughed as james rolled his eyes and nodded.

"y/n, do you want some?" peter asked, showing you a plate of fruit bars with nuts in it.

"do you want her to die?!" james exclaimed, though it was drowned out by the loudness of the great hall.

you, sirius, and remus exchanged looks. james took all of you guys' allergies seriously, but for some reason, with yours he became scandalized. you took a deep breath, sending an apologetic look toward peter.

james scoffed. "does she look like snivellus to you?"

peter blinked at him.

"does she?" james demanded. the four of you didn't know whether he was genuinely being serious.

"no...?" peter replied.

"then why are you trying to poison her?!" he snapped.

peter sighed, remembering your allergy suddenly. "i'm sorry, y/n," he said. "i forgot,"

"it's okay," you replied with a small smile.

james glared at peter.

"what?!" peter exclaimed. "i said sorry! it's not like i shoved it down her throat!"

"shame on you, wormy," he shook his head.

"james, believe it or not," you said. "i'm a big girl, i can just tell peter no when he offers,"

"it's about principle, y/n!" he replied.

"and you call yourself one of her best friends," james scoffed, shaking his head at peter again.

"james, if you don't stop, i'll put normal milk in your cereal, you lactose-intolerant freak," peter threatened.

remus sighed. "one peaceful dinner, it's all i ask," he grumbled. sirius rubbed his arm comfortingly.

you laughed loudly, making the other four turn to you. quickly, the rest of them broke and laughter filled the table. quickly, remus, sirius, and peter resumed their own conversation—leaving you to talk to james.

"thanks for remembering, it's very kind of you," you admitted to him lowly. "even though you're such a drama queen about it," you taunted.

"of course, i actually know you," he whispered back. "not like these posers,"

you laughed, shoving him playfully. "you're such a loser,"

"takes one to know one," he fired back.

you rolled your eyes and joined in the conversation in front of you, grabbing a cookie and breaking it in half. without breaking your conversation, you handed one half to james and began to eat the other.

he smiled at you and ate his half.

of course he remembered everything about you. how could he not? you were going to be in his life for the rest of it. that he was sure of.

——

june 12th, 1975:

you sniffled, wiping your nose on a tissue as you went through your various polaroids. your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now, had broken up with you a couple hours ago. as much as you tried not to cry over a boy, especially one that wasn't your best friend, you couldn't help but feel hurt nonetheless.

you liked him. and he just made a bet to date you for five months.

mary, marlene, emmeline, and lily had tried to comfort you but to no avail. you asked them to leave you be and they complied, silently agreeing to get the one person who they all knew could comfort you.

you held back a sob, cutting up the pictures and discarding them in the dorm trash. god, you felt pathetic. he wasn't worth it. but it still hurt.

a knock at the door caught your attention.

"come in," you sniffled, thinking it was one of the girls trying to get to your shared room that you selfishly kicked them out of. you hated crying in front of people.

a tall, lean raven-headed boy entered the room. he held a box of tissues and a buttload of snacks. he set everything down on your desk, eyes scanning you sadly.

"he dated me on a bet, james," you sniffled as your voice wavered slightly. "he broke up with me this morning,"

you met his eyes, seeing how worried he looked, and got shoved your face into your hands—a quiet sob escaping your lips, muffled by your hands.

"i'm so sorry, love," he mumbled, sitting in front of you to pull you into a hug. you hugged him back tightly, crying quietly into his shoulder. you felt terrible for his tear-stained shoulder, but the tears wouldn't stop.

you just felt so pathetic and used. how could you fall for it so easily? but you suppose if there was anyone you could be vulnerable with, it was your best friend in the entire world.

"why didn't he like me?" you mumbled tearfully.

"because he's an idiot," james replied, holding you tightly. "because he doesn't know what a great girl is even if it slapped him in the face,"

you let go. "how could i be so stupid? i mean i should've known! in all my five years at hogwarts, no boy has ever asked me out... i should've trusted my gut," you shook your head disappointedly.

"you're not stupid," james assured you. "he is, don't get it twisted. you liked him, there's nothing wrong with that, he just happened to be a prat,"

you frowned. "i suppose. but i mean i should've known..."

james cupped your face, looking into your eyes. "listen to me, y/n," he said seriously. "you are the most beautiful girl i know, you're smart and kind and funny and understanding...i could go on and on. he lost a great girl and he will pay for it for the rest of his life, do not feel pathetic and upset over some stupid bloke—got me?"

you let a smile grace your face. "you think i'm beautiful?"

he huffed and let go of your face, though you could see his playful expression. "is that really the only thing you got from that?"

you shook your head. "no, i heard you loud and clear," you admitted with a small smile. "thank you, j, you're the ultimate best friend,"

he grinned. "i know, it's a talent,"

you rolled your eyes. without you having to say anything, he grabbed the snacks and began to open them up for you, the both of you beginning to eat from the packages of snacks.

"am i more beautiful than farrah fawcett?" you asked teasingly.

"don't push your luck," he huffed.

you let out a melodic laugh and instantly, a smile spread across james' face. that's all he wanted, was to make you laugh.

the very next week, your ex boyfriend ended up in the hospital wing after a few humiliating yet harmless hexes being cast on him. unfortunately, all four marauders received detention for something they had very obviously done.

james didn't care. he'd go through millions of detentions if it meant protecting you.

——

may 27th, 1976:

a thousand used tissues and a finished vial of cold medicine later, you had only gotten through the first five chapters of your potions book. despite your efforts, you hadn’t made much progress in the years worth of material you were set to cover. exams were in two weeks and you were much more behind than you had realized. you had no time to recover, not when o.w.l’s determined what classes you received next year.

your eyes drooped as you turned the page, leaning your head in your hand tiredly. you weren’t even sure you were retaining anything anymore, just studying so you could say you had done it.

lily and mary had left you some time ago, tired themselves. they had begged you and pleaded for you to join them in your dorm, so you could sleep off the medicine. you were the only one sick—just your luck.

you refused and moreover, begun to ignore them. they didn’t take it personally, they knew how you could get around exam time. they muttered that they’d come back to check on you soon. that had been four hours ago, and you were happy that they seemingly weren’t going to come back any time soon.

a loud clatter across the library made you sit up from your medicine-potion-induced trance. your eyes opened wider, scanning the dark library for any movement. madam pince had left two hours ago, given the library had closed and she had no idea you were back here.

“hello?” you whispered, mentally cursing yourself for the stupid mistake. if there was someone here, like a teacher, you surely had just given yourself away.

thankfully for you, it wasn’t a teacher or staff member. instead, it was your best friend.

“y/n? what’re you doing here? it’s twelve-a.m.!” james whispered loudly, moving the books that had blocked your view effortlessly. he kneeled by you on the chair, your body relaxing as you realized it was him.

“baking a cake,” you replied sarcastically. “what does it look like i’m doing, potter?”

“first of all, you know last names hurt me,” james replied. “secondly, you look like shit,”

he felt your forehead. “and you feel like shit,”

“wow, you sure know how to charm a lady, james,” you replied with a playfully eye roll. “don’t worry, i’m on my way back to the dorms, just twenty more minutes,”

james gave you a deadpan look. “mary and lily told me you said that four hours ago,”

so that’s who revealed your location. the traitors.

“james, i have to study! i can’t just not pass my potions o.w.l’s?” you replied.

james sat on the chair diagonal to you, looking at your very obviously sick form. it had to be some strain of the summer flu, given remus had gotten it just a week prior.

“to quote my mother, you have to sleep—it’s what keeps you beautiful,” he tried persuasively. you were not nothing if not vain.

you scoffed. “who’s gonna cares about beauty if i fail my finals?!”

“your future husband?” james tried.

“i won’t be marrying anyone that vain,” you concluded.

“that should make me feel better,” he replied. “but you working yourself to death does not,”

“okay, you can study for twenty more minutes,” he sighed after a moment of you staring at each other. “i’ll go make you a tea and wait with you to make sure you actually come to bed,”

you rolled your eyes and waved him off, returning to your potions textbook in no time. james quickly ambled out of the library and made his way to the kitchen.

thankfully for him, filch was on leave for a few days, not that anyone knew that. he had walked into a particularly nasty prank by james and sirius, leaving him stuck in the hospital wing for a few days. all the staff elected to not tell students, in hopes it’d scare them into not sneaking out at night.

james quickly made his way back to the kitchen, asked the house elves for a tea, and began making his way back. it was in a tiny coffee to go cup—why the house elves had them, james had no idea, but it certainly made his life easier.

he couldn’t have been gone more than a ten minutes, but as james got back, he quickly noticed the angle of the light from your wand was not the same as it had been when he left. james quietly made his way over and smiled warmly at the sight.

there you were, head lying on the table, hands tucked into your sweatshirt in attempts to be warm. you were sound asleep, the potion having finally caught up to you. granted, james was just glad the amount you had drank hadn’t killed you—as he was sure it wasn’t safe at all to finish a vial in one day.

he walked over and summoned a blanket with the flick of his wand, allowing for his hand to catch it immediately. he placed the tea down on the table. then, he pushed the hair out of your face and draped the cover over you, kissing your head gently as he had felt you do to him so many times.

he wrapped it around you and with one swift motion, he wrapped an arm around your knees and another around your neck—cradling you close to his chest. you woke for a moment, brief and unaware, to wrap your arms around his neck. he tried to fight the nerves that twisted in his stomach at your touch.

and all the way from the library to the common room, james held you tight and carried you all the way back, careful not to wake you. you were burning up, but other than that, you looked comfortable. much more comfortable than before.

the fat lady, without a word, swung open when she saw james and he safely brought you inside—laying you down on the couch. you stirred a bit and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“thanks, j,” you whispered.

“of course,” he grinned, sitting beside you, moving your legs on his lap. “now get some sleep, i’ll wait here with you,”

“you’re a good best friend,” you mumbled through a yawn.

james smiled and kissed his fingers, gently placing them on your head. you smiled happily and fell asleep in no time.

he only wished that one day he’d be more than just your best friend.

——

october 11th, 1977:

you sat in front of james on his bed, finishing up an essay you two had worked on together. the entire day, no—the entire week, he’d been acting strange. james was usually strange, but not this strange. he had been gentler and his face would burn up whenever sirius mentioned his little nickname for both of you.

it was beginning to scare you. what if he was becoming uncomfortable with the jokes? the nicknames? what if he had a girlfriend and he didn’t know how to tell you that your relationship with each other would have to change? how would you even react to that?

you looked up at him, noticing the boy wringing his hands. despite this, you said nothing. maybe you could live in denial just a little longer.

“i have something to tell you,” james spoke suddenly.

you looked up, eying him carefully. “what’s up, j?”

james’ face flushed a light pink as he looked up at you sincerely. he swallowed thickly. for a moment, he stared at you. you both just looked into each others eyes and you were unsure what to do next. he’d never been this serious with you.

“you alrig—“

“i love you,” he blurted. “as more than a best friend,”

you would like to say that what you did next was completely intentional, but it wasn’t. as a matter of fact, you weren’t quite sure where it came from.

THUD!

you covered your mouth, looking in shock as james landed on the ground. he wasn’t terribly hurt, just shocked. you were shocked as well.

“that is…not what i expected,” james muttered, standing up and sitting in front of you again.

“what was that for?” he asked.

“i dunno…” you mumbled. “i panicked, i didn’t know what to say…”

james softened his gaze at you and a smile curled onto his lips. soon enough, you began to smile too. and then you both burst into laughter. after you both sobered up, you smiled at him.

“i love you too, as more than a best friend,” you finally replied. it felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders—you finally confesses your biggest secret to james. “just so you know,”

he smiled. “i’m glad to hear that,”

“wow, what a loser,” you commented playfully. “usually this is the scene where the guy kisses the girl,”

he grinned. “really? sort of like this?”

he pulled you in, your lips touching quickly. if this is what heaven felt like, you understood why everyone wanted to go so bad. you pulled him closer, refusing to break the kiss.

you broke apart finally. “yeah…like that,” you grinned.

“will you…?” james stumbled on his words.

you grinned, knowing him perfectly enough to know exactly what he’s asking. “yes, james, i will be your girlfriend,” you replied happily.

he smiled, pulling you in again.

he’d finally confessed it.

bonus;

“what’re you two doing?” you grinned, leaning against the doorway of your son harry’s room.

he threw down a card, glaring at ginny as she placed down her own card with a smirk.

“we’re playing uno,” ginny replied with a smile. “ron didn’t want to play so harry and i decided to go against each other,”

“how is it a muggle game and she’s beating me?! she’s never even played before!” harry exclaimed.

“you underestimate weasley’s,” ginny grinned. “we’re not as ignorant as you think,”

“well, it’s getting late you two,” you commented, glancing at the clock in harry’s room. “i don’t suppose you two plan on playing until the wee hours,”

“mum! we’re thirteen now!” harry groaned. “we can stay up a little later than nine-thirty, right?”

ginny nodded and shrugged. “i mean i’m twelve, but still…”

you sighed in feign annoyance. “fine, ten-fifteen, and then ginny will go sleep in your sisters room and you and ron will have to go to bed—sound good, you two?”

“but—“ harry began.

you smirked. your son—ever the clone of james potter, your husband. “let me rephrase, ten-fifteen, take it or leave it,”

“we’ll take it!” ginny replied quickly.

“yeah, we will,” harry smiled, glancing at ginny with a little glint in his eyes. you and james knew full well the future of harry and ginny’s relationship, even if no one else did.

“good, ten-fifteen,” you said warningly before making your way downstairs.

james lounged on the couch, clicking through tv channels. you curled up beside him.

“they’re doing the thing,” you commented, knowing james would know exactly what you meant.

“remember when we were that young and in love?” james grinned.

“aren’t we still young and in love?” you teased.

“not that young anymore, but in love? yes,” he replied with a smirk. you rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek, wrapping your arms around his chest and draping your legs across his lap.

“i’m glad it’s ginny, she’s a bold little lady,” your husband grinned. “just the other day, she defended your son against this kid at the little league quidditch try-outs, even punched his nose,”

“i know, harry came home and told me all about it,” you grinned. “all impressed and admiring, even ron saw how in love he looked,”

“well, we potter men love ballsy ladies,” james joked.

you rolled your eyes. “don’t i know it…”

[hybridirl]

who first?

18+ only, please!

ellie x f!loser!reader x abby

a/n: sorry for the long wait! i was with my family the past week celebrating a holiday :)!! now i’m back and i’m gonna try and pump out a few. i am in fact working on the ellie x loser!reader pt2, so pls bear with me! i’m still thinking up ideas. this shit is harddd

brief summary: ellie and abby are the bestest of friends, and you’re… there. they kinda feel bad for you, so they bring home some of the “good shit” for a game. never have i ever? with shots. reversed. haven’t done it? drink!!!

tw / AU, *DUBCON* (reader is drunk (but so is ellie and abby)), strap-on, use of y/n, cunnilingus (r and e receiving), tit-slapping, porn no plot, rushed sex, threesome, reader gets referred to as “girl”

ᡣ𐭩

watching tiktoks for hours on end was never your proudest pastime, especially when your two roommates were constantly out partying. you, honestly, were a third wheel. well, to be fair, you came into this friendship way after these two had already been established as this inseparable duo. still, being a friend - even if it’s not as deep - doesn’t mean you should be excluded from their little activities.

so, this is how your night has gone so far: moping around, trying to bake some cookies you found on tiktok, and binging tiktok. you sat on the island of the kitchen, a frown plastered on your face as you munched on your fifth cookie.

you glanced at the clock: 11:35 PM. you knew exactly what this meant; one of them is slutting themselves out while the other waits to drive themselves home. god, how it aggravated you! - how easily they could get into someone’s pants by just looking at them while you had to ease your way into it. that slow, smooth talking you, except it rarely ever worked and you came off as a creep. the pickup lines from reddit don’t seem to work in reality, huh?

pulling yourself off the counter and shoving the last piece of cookie into your mouth, you wondered why you stayed up until they came back. maybe you were just a little afraid to go to sleep alone, maybe you were just simply lonely. you wanted them to come home, tell you about their day and get envious at their friendship that you weren’t in on and that you didn’t have. poor you. you were like a watchdog, always staying up and looking out until your ‘owners’ came along, praising you for your good work so you could get your little dopamine rush. you even whimpered, just a little, as you sat on the couch to watch some cheesy drama movie that you had zero interest in. about thirty minutes in, the door opens. you turn your head and watch your two acquaintances walk in, both holding a suspiciously shaped brown bag.

“hey,” you greet, “what’re those?” you pointed toward the bags in their hands.

“just stuff for you,” ellie chirped first, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“us, she means,” abby cut in, setting hers down. you watched as they revealed what was shielded from her viewing: two tall bottles of ‘devil’s spring vodka.’

you cocked your head to the side and spoke, “for us? what for?” they gave you a ‘what do you think?’ look before ellie headed off to get three shot glasses. she placed one in front of you, abby, and herself.

“so, y/n,” abby began, popping the top and pouring some into each glass. “we know you’re lonely and we thought we’d do something for you, huh? sound good?” you pursed your lips and nodded, completely weirded out by this interaction.

“we’re gonna play a game,” ellie said, circling her glass with her hands. “it’s like ‘never have i ever.’ ever played?” you nodded. “good. so, each time someone says something you haven’t done, you take a shot. got it?” you nod again. “a—lright, you guys ready?” abby smiles and raises her hand.

“i’ll go first,” she told, an obvious mischievous glint in her eye, “let’s start of tame. so, y/n, have you ever… kissed someone in public? i’m not talking a little peck, i’m talking seriously making out.” your face heated, and your jaw dropped just slightly. you thought about lying, of course, just to seem cool, but, you knew they’d know.

“i-i… no, i haven’t,” you muttered out, shakily reaching your hand toward your glass. you took a sip, wincing at the burn in your throat.

“c’mon, y/n, the whole thing,” ellie chuckled at your ministrations. you whimpered silently before your head tilted back, gulping the rest down.

“ugh,” you groaned as you set it down and watched as ellie pour more into your glass. you had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

“okay, my turn,” ellie giggled, looking at the two of you. “okay, y/n, have you ever… had someone motorboat you?” your brows furrowed immediately.

“m-motorboat? i, well, um… no.”

“drink up then, girl.” they watched as you took another brave shot, your face contorting into what looked like pain, and, to be fair, it was painful.

you were about to speak, for your turn, but abby interrupted quickly, barely even noticing your open mouth, “my turn, huh?” abby questioned. your jaw shut right back up, letting her take the lead. letting her do her thing. “so, y/n, ever, i don’t know, let’s get a little crazier with this one, yeah? ever been in a threesome?”

you stared at abby with wide eyes, why are they asking you this stuff? why only you?

“no…” you whispered, continuing your stare on her as you went to take yet another shot. you were already starting to feel a buzz, already starting to feel the heat in your tummy. with a slightly clouded head, you turned to ellie. she was smirking, her eyes knowing as her lips parted once more.

“how about you give it a go?” ellie asked you, and you felt some relief.

“h-have you guys ever, um… have you guys ever… had a threesome?” you asked in a low voice. you watched abby roll her eyes and go to grab her glass, as with ellie.

“o—kay, my turn,” ellie clasped her hands together, after setting her glass back down, “ever taken it up the ass, y/n?”

“why are you only asking me?” you gawked, reaching for your glass. you took the next shot, and felt a sudden need for more.

“because we already know what we’ve did,” abby replied, another shot of the vodka slithering down her throat. “mm, that’s some good shit. so, y/n, have you ever topped?” you sighed as you reached for the glass once more. “oh, so you’re a bottom? figures. i mean, look at you.” you looked up at her, slightly offended whilst your hands went to pour yourself another shot.

“have you guys ever, uh, had public… sex?” you found yourself boldly asking, obvious that this drink was getting to you. they both raised their glasses to their lips.

this went on and on, mostly them asking you, you sometimes asking them until you were all drunk out of your minds.

“y/n,” ellie finally groaned and she scooted closer to you. you hadn’t realized the proximity of them both, slowly decreasing as the night went on. you hummed a response, your eyes half closed and your face hot. “h’ve you ever, uh, fantasized? about us?” ellie asked, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. your hand didn’t reach for the glass, rather you simply stared into those green eyes. “yeah? you have? why didn’t you tell us? we coulda’ made all of your dreams come true, sweetheart,” she whispered, her hand meeting your waist.

“i-i was n-nervous,” you whined, “didn’ wanna say anythin’…”

“y/n, baby,” abby purred into your ear, “you don’ gotta be nervous ‘round us.” your head throbbed as you bit your lip; their hands explored your body, slowly molding you into your arousal. you wondered if this was their plan all along as their fingers danced around your PJs, caressing your inner thighs…

“please,” you whispered and their eyes flickered toward you. “…t-touch me…” you sighed blissfully as ellie’s hand finally met with your pajama-clad vulva. abby’s head dipped into the crook of your neck; she kissed up your neck and throat, then tilted your head toward hers to kiss your lips. sloppily, her tongue slipped into your mouth, prodding and massaging your tongue. your own mingled with hers, dancing around each other’s. you barely noticed your bottoms being tugged down, only realizing once the chill of the air hit your heat.

“lemme taste ‘er first,” abby said quickly as she pulled away from your swollen lips.

“no,” ellie whined, tugging your body toward hers.

“it was my idea,” she growled in return, “now let me have her first.” ellie huffed, but let go. she took asylum in your breasts; lifting your shirt up, she immediately dove into your mounds. she licked up to your nipple, taking it between her lips. you let out a broken moan as she nibbled on your sensitive bud, her tongue swirling around your pebbling nipples.

abby slid your legs open with her hands, spreading your labia with her thumb.

“how long h’ve you been this wet, y/n?” an obvious rhetorical question. you were too occupied with ellie and the worship of your breasts.

“a’w-while,” you managed to croak, though. you heard her chuckle and felt your body being tugged toward her more. “mmf, abby, be gentle…” ellie watched as abby’s head dipped between your legs, then her eyes flickered to your face to watch it contort in pleasurable expressions. “abby… ngh…” your hand reached to tug at her blonde hair, earning a groan from her lips.

“i heard she’s a p-pro,” ellie whispered to you while she tugged off her bottoms. your eyes fluttered, staring dazed at the sight of her pussy.

“want,” you purred out. ellie only smirked at you, her hands moving in to shove you down onto the couch. her legs straddled your head and she lowered herself onto you without warning, virtually smothering you. “mmf!” your brows were furrowed, your nose smooshed against her wet cunt. she ground her hips into your face, covering it in her slick.

“c’mon, y/n, thought you wanted it.” your doe eyes kept gazing up at her and you began to do the best you could with her weight in your face, your tongue working hard against her swollen clit.

both of the feelings were intoxicating, abby at your pussy, you at ellie’s. your legs tightened around abby’s head as her fingers found your g-spot, thrusting her fingers in and out of you. you moan into ellie, slurping at the nectar leaking from her. you’re so intoxicated, you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or this delicious feeling. your hands gripped ellie’s sides and you pulled her closer. you were whimpering, moaning, abby’s tongue wriggling into you, her fingernails digging into your plush thighs.

“mmm!” you cried, your eyes shutting as you felt a knot in your stomach begin to uncoil, your juices coating abby’s tongue and face.

“ahn, yeah,” abby groaned. “righ’ on my tongue, sweethear’.” your eyes were rolling, face scrunched in pleasure. it was a sure sight for ellie, drawing - no, forcing ellie’s own climax to follow suit. her arousal painted you, creaming on your face as she held your head close to her.

“oh, god, please please please — fuck!”

she ground against you, riding her orgasm out in your face. her clit bumped your nose, and your hands gripped her hips, slowly guiding her to a halt as she came down. as she got up from you, she took a moment to admire her work. your face looked so exhausted, wet with her, and needy for more.

“abby,” ellie said, “g-go get the…” she gestured into the direction of the bedrooms, then abby knew what she was talking about. she made her way into one the bedrooms, who knows which, and rummaged through. you watched the hallway curiously, ready for her arrival. you tried to sit up, but ellie only grabbed you, laying you down on her thighs. when abby came out, you were surprised to find her pant-less, and with a harness strapped to her person, not to mention a dildo hanging from it. she approached, slow and cautious steps. you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tease you or try to get you into the idea.

“you wan’ it?” she asked you, slowly crawling into the sofa, then nudging and prodding your wetness with the head.

“wan’ it.”

“alrigh’, sweet girl,” she breathed, easing the head into your slippery entrance. “good?” you nodded your head, egging her on silently.

“abby,” you moaned breathlessly. she shushed you, halting her movements so you could get used to her. she ran her rough hands down your sides, down, down, to your clit, gently rubbing it to make you feel some sort of goodness as she stood still. “move, please,” you whimpered.

“y/n, you should see ‘yer face right now,” ellie giggled, caressing the side of your head. “god, y’so pretty. fuck ‘er, abby, hurry. look at ‘er face.” abby rolled her eyes, not usually taking commands. she was going to anyway, but…

“oh!” you gasped from her sudden movements, a tight snap from her hips. “f-fuck!”

“mmm, ‘n moans so pretty,” ellie praised, “didn’ get to hear ‘ya so well when you were under me. gettin’ smothered by my pussy... mhm…” she caressed your face again, cupping your cheeks as abby began to pound you.

“abby!” you cried to her, eyes shut tight, hands flailing to find somewhere to rest. they found abby’s biceps, gripping them tightly as she slapped her hips against yours. “please, ngh!” you grit your teeth, jaw clenched while pleasure overtook you.

“eyes open,” abby growled, “‘n on me.” you had to fight yourself to open your eyes, but the sight in front of you was perfect. abby’s blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her braid dangling and swinging with each thrust, her slack jaw, fuck. “yeah, ‘atta girl.” she was thrusting just right, obviously so experienced. it was pleasing her, too, the strap hitting just right at her swollen clit.

how badly you wanted to touch her body, worship her like you did quietly with her eyes. she was like a greek god, muscular and sculpted so perfectly. especially now, sweat marbling her skin and her chiseled body over yours. you almost forgot ellie was there, being as (almost) quiet as she was. glancing up, you caught sight of her, her fingers buried into her cunt. the sight alone was enough to make you cum once more, but you couldn’t, not so early. you looked back up at the deity above you who was staring into your eyes.

“abby,” you groaned. you threw your head back, going dumb on her cock. “right there… f-please…” cross-eyed, you sobered up a little as you felt a harsh pain on your breasts. “oh!” you gasped, feeling her large hand slap your chest. “abby!”

“take my cock, girl,” abby panted, hands squeezing your breasts, using them as leverage as she continued her pounding.

“fu—ck,” ellie groaned to the sight of you and to the noise of her fingers in her cunt, squelching, obscene, and loud. “y’doing so good, y/n… yes… uhn!”

you ran your hand up abby’s biceps, wrapping your arms around her neck. this prompted her to lean in and kiss your lips, deep and hungry. your hand cupped her cheek, pulling her close while your lips collided. abby pulled away first to admire your body and you took this moment to lift your arms above your head, desperately trying to pull ellie closer by her legs. she scoot closer and you cocked your head to the side, immediately licking at her cunt.

“yeah,” abby moaned, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. “lick ‘er fuckin’ pussy.” she gripped your waist, hurriedly thrusting into you, her clot bumping against the harness. “fuck, i’m cumming!” she moaned, collapsing onto you as she came. she kissed at your neck, bit at it, too, while she continued to thrust, needing you to cum, too. her fingers finding your clit, furiously rubbing it.

you couldn’t help it anymore; biting into ellie’s thigh, you came. squirted, actually. all over her cock, all over her abdomen. your body was convulsing, shaking and twitching for her. ellie followed in suit, your teeth pushing her over the edge as they sunk deeper into her. all three of you were moaning, crying, holding each other tight.

“fuck,” you were the first to say. abby slowly pulled out of you, panting deeply.

“you squirted,” abby chuckled with admiration. she squeezed your thighs and glanced up at ellie, “all good?” she asked. ellie nodded.

“yeah, just,” she sighed blissfully, “fuck. we should do this again.” you giggled and kissed ellie’s thigh.

“mhm,” you agreed.

maybe your (sex?) life has just changed for the better.

[saerins]

─── 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄

+ sae x f!reader | wc 4.9k | content: angst, fluff, some making out, implied sex, stupid teenager phase

notes: sobs this was not supposed to be this long … one of y’all need to stop me from writing about this man !! i love him too much, pls send help </3 extra: this is the song playing in the last scene :’)

summary: sae has few interests, and one of them is you. but sometimes, being special just isn’t enough.

you’ve always been special.

ever since age three when your family moved across the street from where the itoshis lived. ever since age five when you finally gathered the courage to talk to the pair of brothers. ever since age six when sae invited you to play with him and rin. ever since age seven when you cried because someone bullied you at the playground and sae wiped away your tears. ever since age ten when both of you played with paper rings. ever since age eleven when you and sae would talk endlessly at night through the phone and get nagged at by your parents when they found out.

ever since age twelve when you told sae you’d watch him become the best soccer player in the world by his side.

your presence bleeds into sae’s life and he can’t think about anything without relating it to you; like how his breakfast tastes like ass when you’re not smearing your stupid peanut butter on it because apparently peanut better goes well with everything is your phase at that point of time. like how he’s walking home and he’ll always have to crane his head to the right just to check if you’re on your front porch swing, because if you are, he’ll wave and then you’ll smile and wave back, and sae would feel like it’s a special code you two share.

you’re probably the only thing he pays his spare attention to. and rin. you, rin, soccer. that’s all.

you complain way too much, especially at the fact that sae doesn’t smile often. he counters, “that’s none of your business.”

and you tell him one day you’ll be the reason he smiles everyday.

sae thinks it’s kind of stupid though, because you already are. you just aren’t around to see it. he’ll probably never let you see it too. he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did.

it isn’t long before you’re age fifteen and graduating middle school and you’re excited to start high school. it didn’t really make a difference for sae, as long as he got to play soccer, he really couldn’t care less.

when you’re age sixteen you tell sae that a boy from class broke your heart because he didn’t accept your valentines’ chocolates. it was as good as a rejection, apparently. or whatever girl code says it is.

frankly, sae’s just offended. you’ve never given him any valentines’ shit. all of a sudden some no name guy is getting it?

maybe it’s true what people say, teenage girls cry over stupid things they consider love that’s not actually love. now you’re getting his soccer jersey wet with your tears and you’re crooning on and on about how boys suck but somehow sae’s still the best.

you’re sixteen and crying on sae’s shoulder, while he’s seventeen and wishing he could torture the son of a bitch who made you cry.

this is the closest you’ve ever been, physically. your heart’s not really broken because whoever you’re crying about has never really had it. but sae doesn’t know that.

teenage girls make really stupid decisions sometimes. and other times, they making stupid passing comments, like when you say “glad i didn’t let him kiss me. would suck for my first kiss to be with a dick who didn’t give a shit about me.”

sometimes teenage boys make stupid decisions too.

sae doesn’t really know what possesses him to do this, but he doesn’t stop it. he doesn’t stop his hand from reaching out to you, doesn’t stop his fingers from tilting your chin up. there’s only confusion in your eyes when he looks into them. there’s only hesitation in his.

sae’s not anything to you except for a childhood friend, and you’re not anything to him, except for one of the most beautiful people he’s ever met. that’s why he does this slowly, so you have time to stop this.

he has no right to do this. he wishes you would just stop him.

you’re both teenagers when sae becomes your first kiss, when your tears stain his cheeks and he tastes like the fruits he just ate. you’re both delirious off of the feeling, like neither of you want this to end because your lips stay connected even when you’re not moving, and your lashes are fluttering against one another’s and sae really wants to kiss you again.

but it’s late and your parents are probably the ones knocking on his door right now so he stops himself and pulls away while rin bounds down the stairs to open the door.

sae sees nothing but you, you and your pretty face and your pretty lips and your perfect perfect person.

“there, now your first kiss is with a dick who does care about you.”

it’s that same summer and you’ve forgotten all about the stupid boy that supposedly broke your heart. you have sae with you whenever he’s free, when he decides to bring you out after practice and explore rooftops to find the best view for the fireworks.

you’re not together, but it sure feels like you are.

then it’s autumn and the leaves are turning orange and red, and you swear you see sae’s cheeks and ears turn nearly the same shade when he holds your hand for the first time as you walk through the park, a white cat crossing in front of you.

sae blames it on his practice earlier and that he’s tired because there’s no way he’ll ever admit it’s because of you.

when winter comes, sae’s still taking care of you. nothing stops him from playing soccer, but nothing can stop him from finding you either. sae’s starting to regret his decisions when you force him to go ice skating and look at him expectantly whenever you see a mistletoe.

you’re a lot of work, maybe you’re worth it.

and then you kiss him again and he thinks yes, maybe he can do this. he can juggle soccer and you, it’ll magically work out.

finally it’s spring and you’re excited because you love the cherry blossoms, and sae thinks maybe he loves something else but he’s not going to go there yet. and while everyone’s watching the solar eclipse that one night, sae’s watching you.

for once, he wants to believe in superstitions, wants to believe what watching the solar eclipse means.

“what’s the matter?”

you’re always so perceptive. you’d make a great playmaker, he feels.

of course you pick up on the tension, barely a minute after you walk into his room. sae doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever this is, whether it’s love or something less, or maybe something more.

but it’s not a democracy, and the answer is crystal clear in sae’s mind. his answer’s always been the same, but it’s not like you don’t exist in his world.

“the club in spain gave me an offer.”

that’s all he needs to say to make you understand. and if you weren’t the most understanding person he knows, you might’ve reacted differently, but you’re still the same supportive, kind girl he met at age four.

“when do you go?” your voice is shaky and he knows you’re trying to hold it together.

sae’s sorry, really.

“next month.”

it’s not a lot of time, but probably enough to say goodbye. then you throw your arms around him and you work your magic, you say you want to try despite the distance, despite the unknown timeline. and who is sae if not someone who’d give it a try?

he’s not even sure he can ever say no to you.

it doesn’t seem real until the night before he leaves, because you’re eighteen and standing in his near barren room, everything already packed into boxes and loaded.

maybe it’s the fact he’ll be gone for a very long time, doesn’t know when he’ll see you again. maybe it’s the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he feels you pressed up against him. maybe it’s the fact he’s denying the depth of his feelings for you and it’s getting him frustrated.

or maybe it’s because he’s selfish and he doesn’t want anyone else to have you, just like how he gave you your first kiss.

he’s your first kiss, and he’ll be your first time, with your hands clawing at his clothes. and you’ll be his, with the way he’s grabbing onto your bare back so desperately.

you’re eighteen and you think nothing’s prettier than the sounds sae makes, especially when his lips are right next to your ear, with his hot breath fanning against you.

sae’s nineteen and he thinks you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, in all sense of the word. he thinks you look pretty in pink, still pretty when you wear nothing too.

and suddenly sae thinks that maybe it doesn’t feel so crazy to think that the both of you might make it through this.

long distance can work for some people. but sometimes it’s just meant to drive two people further away.

sae’s gaining momentum in europe, and you’re proud of him. you’re proud of your boyfriend, doing his best and showing off his talents and having his hard work pay off.

you’re really, genuinely happy for him. but the bigger of a star he is, the further away he feels, and maybe it’s selfish of you to want him here, to want him to be just your neighbour itoshi sae like how things started out.

maybe it’s selfish and wishful thinking, but you can’t help yourself.

sometimes sae doesn’t even have time to look at his phone. he’s tired and overwhelmed and understandably too. and you feel guilty everytime you subject him to your insecurities.

but you’re nineteen and you don’t know better.

rin’s not much fun to hang around with, especially when he got more stoic and awkward. he’s like a mirror of his brother, and that may fool a lot of people, except you knew him before that. but you’re not going to butt your head in things that don’t concern you, so you leave him be.

and suddenly the itoshis seem further away than they’ve ever been. for the first time in your life, you’re not sure if trying will be enough anymore.

sae misses you. that’s whenever he has the free time to think, when he’s not hounded by trainings after trainings, when he’s not busy from day to night with whatever new training regime they’ve got him on.

is he aware that he’s probably being the world’s worst boyfriend now? yes. but sae can’t force himself to choose that over his dreams. can’t force himself not to choose soccer.

[17:08] she’s fine, idk what you’re worried about.

rin’s message doesn’t alleviate his worries. sae knows you better than anyone, and he doesn’t believe you’re fine.

[08:08] hey sae :)

[17:34] going to bed now, gn!! &lt;3

sae stares at your message for a while in the locker room, while everyone else is showering. you’ve cooled off on the pet names, you’re worried you’re overstepping. you’re worried he’s lost his feelings.

he’s not.

he’d be crazy to.

but he can’t find the energy to convince himself that this would turn out fine. he can’t convince himself that he’s not hurting you every single day by not being able to be everything you need, by not being able to be physically there for you.

this half-assed relationship isn’t what you deserve. and where he is right now, with his bird’s eye view of the world, he doesn’t know if he can ever give you anything else.

[17:49] goodnight. call you tomorrow.

the moment sae breaks up with you, you feel like that kid at sixteen all over again, except this time you don’t have your favourite person’s shoulder to cry on and this time it’s actually love.

all you can think of when you hear him pick up the phone is that morning right before he left for the airport, how his hair’s a mess and how his lashes are way too pretty and how he sounded when he’s all groggy and tired.

but then he tells you the one thing you do not want to hear, and the illusion is shattered into pieces.

“this isn’t working out.”

“what are you talking about?” he’s silent, and you’re anxious. “we’re fine, sae.”

you can hear him sighing over the phone. you so desperately want to fix this, and so does sae but he can’t think of anything more selfish than to ask you to wait for him until he’s ready—he knows what’s the right thing to do. it sucks, but he’s made up his mind.

“that’s bullshit, y/n,” he responds, calmly, and you feel him slipping further and further from you.

“i- look, i-i know it’s hard but we can—”

“give it a break, woman,” sae chuckles, low and deep, and you’re beginning to doubt that you know him at all right now. “we’re done.”

the dial tone is all you can hear after that.

twenty years old is where you have your first actual heartbreak.

and all that talk about how time heals all feels like bullshit when you’re right in the middle of it all. five days in and you’re still a wreck. twenty days later and you’re still staring at the pictures you and sae took together. a month passes and you’re visiting the places you went to together. just a sad, pathetic girl crying on the benches, reliving what she once had.

three months later you’re still watching his matches on tv. you’re still cheering for him inside. four months later and it’s sae’s birthday and he doesn’t even respond to your birthday message. half a year after the breakup and you finally stop crying when you think of him.

but it’s easy to delude yourself when you’re not in the presence of what you grieve. because eight months after you broke up, you see reports that sae’s dating a sports photographer. the next few days, a picture is released of them kissing in a restaurant.

then you get glimpses of other girls being able to be intimate with him. other girls getting to taste his lips and feel his love. other girls getting his attention when that right used to solely belong to you.

and you’ve never felt worse.

“why so glum?”

sae blinks at the woman, indifferent. he can’t even remember her name.

“nadia,” she says, like she’s reading his goddamn mind, holding her hand out. “i’ve been your team’s photographer for a few months now.”

sae shakes her hand out of courtesy because he really doesn’t want his publicist to chew him out again. “didn’t ask.”

“you know, you’re a lot more crabby these days,” she comments, and it’s like he can see the lightbulb going off in her head. “oh, is it girlfriend issues?”

“i don’t have one, so shut it.”

“come on, i promise i’m good at making people forget.” she says this so seductively that sae’s a little disturbed. he just wants to get this shoot done with and go home, maybe even check up on you a little. all in incognito mode, of course, because he can’t risk you knowing he still cares. can’t risk getting your hopes up.

somehow the stars have spent all their time aligning sae’s soccer career and everything else is in tatters because his publicist forces him to take nadia up on her offer and go out with her.

what was supposed to be a one time thing turned out to be something more. she wasn’t even close to you, but she could be close. turns out when he’s not being such a dick, nadia can be moderately interesting.

different, maybe that’s what he needs.

he thinks back to when she kissed him on their first date. sae still finds himself hoping you didn’t see that.

but no, he’s not in love with you anymore. sae’s officially an adult at twenty-one and he’s still the same stubborn guy in denial because he’s looking at pictures of you while nadia’s sitting right next to him.

it’s not healthy, it really isn’t.

you’re twenty-one now and you’re actually going on a date with the sole intention of trying to get over the one and only itoshi sae.

can you even trust your friend? all you know is that the guy is a friend of a best friend’s and that’s all she told you.

“my best friend’s a good guy, so by extension, so is his best friend,” was all she said.

now you’re here, at the amusement park, waiting for your date to show himself because apparently, in your friend’s bid for suspense, she was reluctant to share anything about him except that he’s dreamy and pretty and that his friend describes him as a genius.

and also “oh, he’s a soccer player too so that’s right up your alley, right?”

when the call from date guy comes in (because to stop you from profiling your date she also didn’t give you his name), you kind of like his voice.

“hey, where are you?”

you find out his name is nagi. and that he’s only here because reo stole his switch and he won’t give it back until the date’s over. which kind of works because you tell him you’re only here because you wanted to get over someone.

to which he says it’s a hassle.

there’s nothing you expect out of this, but then you find yourself enjoying your date.

it’s clear by the first fifteen minutes why nagi chose this place to meet. he’s absurdly good at games. he’s won you tons of plushies that you had to give away to some very happy kids. it’s a pattern; every game that he doesn’t know, he only loses once and then he proceeds to dominate.

no wonder his friend calls him a genius.

with nagi it’s easy, fluid. you’ve been spending the whole night there with him, playing together and eating together—well, mostly it’s just you feeding nagi because it turns out he finds a lot of things a hassle.

three days later, you find out that apparently you’re not a hassle in his books. not really, because he asks you out again.

it’s irrational.

sae shouldn’t be this bothered, but he is. he hates seeing your stupid updates about how you’re on a date with this nagi guy. he hates seeing your posts with the two of you wearing matching sweaters for christmas.

he gives it a like.

nadia’s already gone. sae doesn’t have time or energy to waste on people that don’t matter. and you shouldn’t matter. not right now. but here he is, wishing the circumstances were different.

if you and nadia switched places. if you had something to bring you to spain. it’s fucking selfish, he knows. doesn’t stop him from wishing for it. he can’t think of anyone else like how he thinks of you. doesn’t want to.

he really is clueless about everything outside of soccer, because he’s twenty-two when he realises that no one could ever make him forget about you, and maybe he should just live with it.

sae turns twenty-three when he’s in the running for being the world’s best midfielder. he’s gotten rid of the hopes of moving on and he’ll just fake it till he makes it.

maybe that’s why this year is particularly special to him. or maybe it’s because for the first time in a long while, you wish him happy birthday.

at midnight, in japan. because you’re thoughtful that way.

this time he responds.

thanks. how r u?

it’s criminal how easy it is for you to get his heart beating like this. he sees you typing and it’s enough to lift his mood.

great, school’s kicking my ass though.

sae finds himself wishing that he could hear your voice right now. for some stupidly non-complex reason that he finds completely absurd.

i saw your match last week, good game, genius.

fuck. after all this time, he still wants you.

his fingers type i miss you, just for the hell of it. just to see it there on his screen before he inevitably deletes it and replaces it with something mediocre like thanks or i know.

because he can’t just say that after being the one who broke things off. he can’t do that when he still thinks it won’t work out.

all he does is sigh and hit the delete button—except fuck, he accidentally hit send. and he would’ve deleted it if you weren’t already online and read it and he sees you typing for a moment before you stop completely and go offline.

sae has never felt more numb.

it’s been three months since sae said he missed you. you still can’t get that out of your head. the most upfront he’s been about his feelings and he chooses then of all times to be honest?

when your boyfriend was right beside you?

maybe it was your fault. you didn’t even know why you wished him a happy birthday. maybe you missed him too and was just lying to yourself.

god, maybe you’re the asshole in this after all. did you really love nagi? or was he just exceptionally well at making you forget? you really really like him, that’s all you know.

“hey, what’s wrong?” nagi’s looking at you, pushing his hair back, and you can’t help but think you’re lucky to have him these past few months.

but the turmoil inside you wins, and maybe you understand a little bit of how sae felt that night when he broke up with you.

it’s not fair to nagi for you to do this, but it’s not fair to him either to keep him around.

“we need to talk.”

it’s a surreal feeling, to be back in japan.

sae was nineteen when he left. now he’s twenty-seven when he breathes the tokyo air again. he lugs around his carry-on baggage because he’s not staying here for long. not yet. he’s coming back soon, and he doesn’t really know why. he’s milked everything he could from spain, from the rest of europe, some of the americas, and maybe he’s homesick now.

plain and simple.

the cab driver asks him why he looks so sharp, and he simply says, “wedding.”

it’s been seven years since he broke up with you. and your grip on him is as firm as ever. a grip he’ll never let you know you have on him because he’s made this mistake before—said i miss you and then scared you away.

by the next day he couldn’t even find you online because everything is wiped and maybe you hate him, hate his guts. that’s fine. he can live with that.

to him, you’re still the same lovable person as you were at age five. still the same girl at age sixteen that he fell in love with. you’re still his person and it’s fine if he has to just admire you from afar.

when he arrives, he takes a long hard look around the room, filled with guests socialising and drinking their wines and it’s so pathetic but he’s wondering if you’re still around. he’s late, and it’s his plane’s fault but it’s no use playing the blame game.

“hey,” rin calls out when he sees his brother. “you missed the ceremony.”

“yeah, stupid plane got delayed,” sae says, mind still distracted.

rin formally introduces his new wife to sae and she seems nice, polite, the kind that can put his brother in his place if she needs to. that’s nice. sae can’t help envisioning you in the wedding dress though. you’d look nice.

nicer if he was the one beside you.

“oh! as a gift to my now brother-in-law, i have a friend i want to set you up with,” she grins, and as much of an ass that sae is, he just figures he’ll reject the poor girl later. for now, he’ll entertain his new sister-in-law.

rin claps him on the shoulder before smirking and walking off, presumably to get a drink because no matter how much rin has changed, sae doubts he’ll ever become friendly enough to mingle in this crowd.

sae feels someone poking his shoulder and turns around, first to find his sister-in-law grinning from ear to ear, and next to find you next to her, just like he remembers.

pretty in pink, stupid bashful smile, still fucking beautiful.

“have fun,” rin’s wife says before she walks off with a knowing look. she’s already winning points with sae for bringing you to him.

“hey, genius,” you try to suppress your smile but it’s not working.

he thinks he’s dreaming. he’s not. he’s here. and so are you. and this might just be what he missed all this time.

you hold your hand out and he takes it wordlessly, obediently. sae follows you to the dance floor, trying to calm his erratic heartbeats, savouring the feeling of your hand in his once again, remembering that moment back in autumn when he first felt it.

when you wrap your hands around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, it feels like finally, something is real. like there’s something in this country that can really keep him here this time. because now he’s twenty-seven and he finally understands, he’s always loved you but he’s never been ready until now.

“can’t believe you let your brother get married before you,” you say, sarcasm because you’re breaking into a grin. “he actually beat you at something.”

sae pouts slightly, averting his gaze. “what’s the big deal anyway?”

you shrug. “i’d have thought you’d be the first. maybe with one of the girls you met abroad or something.”

there’s a certain bitterness in your tone that he likes, only because it means you minded all this time. the thought of him with someone else. he suddenly remembers something, and searches the room for a familiar face.

gray eyes meet his teal ones before they turn away, disinterested.

“you sure your boyfriend won’t mind you dancing with your ex?”

“probably not, since i don’t have one.” you smirk, sensing the bitterness in his tone too. it’s funny, seeing sae jealous like this.

he has no reason to though, since you broke up with nagi after being honest with yourself—that you’re not over sae and you probably never will be. you’d decided to just live with your decision.

“shame. thought you guys looked cute in those matching sweaters.”

so that was a jealous like, you think to yourself.

“thought you looked cute with that sports photographer girl too, kissing and all,” you say, though it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “why didn’t that work out?”

for the first time in his life, sae decides to be outright honest with you—

“because she’s not you.” because everytime she said his name, he’d overlay it with your voice in his head. because everytime she’d tried to get close, he’d resent her more for not being you. because no matter how hard anyone tries, they will never be you and that will never work, not for sae.

—to a certain degree.

he’s twenty-seven when he’s finally old enough to understand that it was never a problem with feelings because he’s always loved you all the same all this time. it was just a matter of being ready at the right time. it’s like luck in the world of soccer, where coincidences can only fall to those who are prepared.

and he’s here now. he’s ready.

call him crazy for thinking you’re on the same page because you’re getting closer and closer and closer.

“itoshi sae,” you whisper his name against his lips and he’s reminded of the first time he had you. you drive him crazy and he thinks he’ll keep on letting you. “i missed you too.”

you did. you used to be too young and inexperienced to put yourself in sae’s shoes. too young and naive thinking emotions were enough for two people to stay. sometimes, some things just aren’t meant to be… in the moment. and other times, when you’re both ready, everything suddenly falls into place.

you were sixteen when sae first kissed you. now ten years later, ten years wiser, you kiss again, and this feels significantly better than before. because now you both know.

sae has known you ever since you were three. and he thinks he’ll keep on knowing you, every day, every hour, every minute. he wants to know you forever. and he’s thinking maybe that superstition worked out after all. maybe it was destined to be like this all along.

two people coming together and falling apart only to end up in each other’s arms.

and he thinks fuck superstition, fuck the white cats and solar eclipses and everything else. even if things threaten not to work, this time he’ll make it work.

sae’s known you for so long he overlooked one simple thing. when he kisses you even deeper and is greeted with your lips smiling against his, he knows.

he hasn’t become the world’s best soccer player yet, but when he does, you’ll be by his side.

one day those paper rings the both of you played with when you were little would be real.

you’ve always been special, and you always will be.

now he’s finally home.

[klausysworld]

This request might be too much and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. So pls ignore if it does.

My idea is Klaus x human reader. Klaus and her become close and form a friendship. She’s dating someone for 4 years now and it starts to get abusive (mentally/physically or both). She finally confides and confesses to Klaus after he notices something is off. He basically helps her get out of it when one day said boyfriend follows her into the mikaleson house and tries to get reader out of there aggressively. The mikaelson’s hear the commotion and Klaus does something.

Flash forward to Klaus and reader in an established relationship, though reader is scared to be intimate as she’s still struggling from last relationship. One day Klaus and reader are getting into it and Klaus pulls her by her ankles to bring her towards him and it triggers her fight or flight (as Klaus doesn’t know last bf used to do that when hurting reader) and so instantly she hits him in self defence and then profusely apologizes. But Klaus is just understanding and holds her and tells her he loves her and if all he gets is holding her. Then he can live with that. The way it ends can be however you want.

Just been going through some things and needed to feel and I absolutely love your style of writing.

Again pls ignore if this makes you uncomfortable, that’s not my intent! Thank you!

(Triggering content, please don't read this if it might trigger you and know that both myself and so many people are there for you to talk to)

Her protector

Klaus had been concerned for a few weeks now.

Y/n was a sweet human, she was kind even to the Mikaelsons and had become close friends Rebekah after helping her choose a necklace for a party she was hosting. Rebekah proceeded to insist that Y/n come and that she would love to make some friends here in New Orleans.

If Rebekah was honest, she was surprised when Y/n actually showed up, with a vampire boyfriend no less. Either way she showed the girl around and they got talking, drinking and dancing. Y/n's boyfriend had seemed sweet, loving and on top of that he was friends with Marcel, one of his few day-walkers.

At that point everything was still okay. Mostly.

Until Klaus had come over and attempted to flirt with Y/n. Her soft cheeks had started to turn pink when a man, a vampire, slung his arm over her shoulders from behind her and gave Klaus a threatening glare. Rebekah let out a tipsy giggle and smacked Klaus's arm

"Leave her alone Nik, she's taken and my friend" she grinned but Klaus only stared back at the other guy. Y/n glanced between the two for a second and Bex rolled her eyes. "Come on Y/n, let them gaze at one another" she laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her away.

Klaus didn't like that anybody thought they could challenge him, he didn't care if the girl was married if he wanted to flirt with her then he would. There was no harm done but the man before him was acting as though he had slaughtered his family.

However Marcel had seen the two in a silent stare down and threw his arms over both of them "My two best guys" he grinned "Lets go get a drink"

And so somehow Klaus found himself some-what drunk and laughing with this man, it was only the next morning when after he woke did he realise the way the guy spoke about his lover was a little off. He talked like he owned her, like she was a toy.

Klaus brushed it off though, it's not like he hadn't done similar things. Besides it's not like her knew her.

Until he did. And she was so lovely that it confused him.

Often Rebekah would have her over, painting each others nails, one of those time Klaus had stumbled in covered in cuts and scrapes. Rebekah offered a tut and a shake of her head but Y/n was already at his side, her hand on his arm while she asked if he was okay.

"He's fine, it's his own fault anyway. Always starting fights" she mumbled while watching her new friend help her brother sit down. She asked Rebekah to go get him some blood which she reluctantly did, handing it to Y/n and watching in interest as she lifted it to his lips. Klaus's eyes watched her with interest as his lips wrapped around the top and he began to gulp down the red substance. She checked his wounds were healing as he drained the bag of every last drop.

She had offered to help him clean up but he shook his head and told her to enjoy her day with his sister.

After that she was always nice to him, making him a drink if she was already getting one, bringing him back to eat when her and Bex had been at a cafe or something. She would tell him his hair looked nice or that she liked certain colours on him. One way or another she always made him smile.

Y/n knew that Klaus was lonely, often sad or grumpy. She had seen it and been told it so she made an effort to brighten his days. Rebekah always said it was nice seeing her brother a little happier and she was glad that them being originals didn't put Y/n off.

Their friendship grew strong and so did Klaus and Y/n's. Until one day when Y/n's boyfriend had seen her fixing Klaus's hair, using her fingers to curl the top pieces. He didn't say anything to her then but once she came home accusations were thrown at her. She was called a cheater and a slut, desperate for attention and fucking stupid if she thought either of the Mikaelsons thought of her as anything more than a toy.

She slept on the couch, crying her eyes out and cancelling her plans with Rebekah for the next day.

She tried to spend less time with her but Bex only got upset and ended up at Y/n's house instead. Y/n thought that he wouldn't get mad if it was just Bekah and no Klaus. So she and Rebekah went to hers more often than not and the few times she went back to the abattoir she would try avoid Klaus.

She was always polite of course, smiled at him and said hello but she didn't get too close if she didn't feel that she had to. Nor did she say anything about how he looked, even when he wore her favourite henley and grew his curls a little longer.

The only times she gave him some extra attention was when he was physically injured. She couldn't help herself. She couldn't let him struggle alone and in pain. So she would be there with a warm, wet cloth wiping away any blood while she held him a blood-bag to his mouth.

"Have I upset you recently sweetheart?" he asked quietly as she cleaned the stains off his neck

"No?" she whispered and he lowered her head to look up at her and catch her eyes

"Then why won't you look at me?" he questioned and she shrugged, looking into his eyes

"I am" she stated and he hummed

"You haven't been very nice to me lately, love" he told her and she nibbled her lip nervously

"I didn't mean to upset you" she murmured but he just stared at her for a moment

"I haven't seen you around much" he muttered

"I've been at home more, Bekah comes to me instead" she mumbled, and he nodded, leaving the conversation at that.

But he didn't know that when she got home her boyfriend had her by the hair, telling her that he had seen her talking with Klaus. Seen her caressing his face and going into his room. She tried to explain that he was hurt and that she was helping him but he couldn't care less.

"Bet you were fucking helping him" he seethed "Bet he gets all pent up after starting wars. Needs to get his frustration out hm?" he laughed cruelly and she shook her head

"No, no- I would never! You know I would never-" she cried but he refused to believe her.

"You were always such a whore, can't go ten fucking minutes without begging for it" he growled, dragging her to their room. She was useless at fighting back, he was a vampire and significantly bigger than her. So when she was thrown onto the bed and grabbed tightly by the ankles, she couldn't kick at him without him snapping her legs.

She hid away after that night, telling Rebekah that she was sick and didn't want to see anyone for a few days.

But once a week had passed and her boyfriend was still angry at her no matter what she did, she knew she needed to get out and see someone or she would go mad.

Rebekah and her had gone to a coffee shop, Y/n wanted to be somewhere public and without the risk of Klaus or her boyfriend showing up.

Rebekah could tell something was wrong though, Y/n was never that quiet or skittish. She was walking a little funny and did't eat much at all. And at any mention of Klaus, Y/n shut down the conversation in seconds. It made Bex think that her brother had hurt her or scared her so when they both returned home, she began to accuse Klaus, questioning and demanding.

It only made both Mikaelsons to become worried. They didn't realise how their whispering about Y/n caught her so called lovers attention and made him go back to her furious.

He always seemed to be flooded with anger recently. He hadn't ever been so horrid for so long in the past. Accusing her of cheating was something that always had happened, his jealousy had always been an issue but never this bad. Maybe it was because he knew that Klaus wouldn’t back down if he wanted her. Maybe it was because of whatever drunken conversation the two had on the first night they met.

Either way there was no excuse.

All there was, was fear and pain. And she knew that she needed to get out. The only people who could save her from a psychotic vampire was an even worse one.

So she climbed out her own bathroom window and ran, caught a cab and then climbed in through one of the Mikaelson's windows. It was late, dark but it was the best time for her to escape. What wasn't helpful was the amount of night-walkers that were downstairs. Most of which, were close with her boyfriend so she was screwed.

However, whether it was luck or fate, Rebekah and Marcel came down the stairs, arguing which made the others scatter off. It gave her the opportunity she needed.

She darted up the stairs, as quietly as she could and to Klaus's room. Trying to open the door but it was locked making her knock quietly "Klaus?" she whispered desperately "Klaus please" she begged, her eyes leaking with tears. She banged her fist agains the wood of the door making her wince from how her wrists had been held just hours before.

A tired grunt sounded from the other side before the door was ripped open, a very annoyed hybrid on the other side though his demeanour dropped when he felt a body latch onto his, arms around his mid-section and face in his chest.

He looked down, his eyes fully open now. "Y/n?" he mumbled, his hand cupping the back of her head.

"Please help" she whispered and he gently scooped her up, flicking the lamp on and putting her in his bed. She was in. sweatpants and one of her boyfriends shirts so he assumed she must've been in bed before she came. He quickly grabbed some sleep pants to cover himself up as he was in only his boxers.

He then sat beside her, letting her pull herself closer to her with a soft cry leaving her lips. He held her close in his lap and shushed her gently "What's happened?" he asked gently but she shook her head.

It was only another minute before Rebekah was at the door, she had heard the crying and recognised it as Y/n. Her face dropped and she came rushing in. She got onto the bed as well and stroked her hair "Y/n..." she breathed, holding her hand. Klaus and her exchanged a look as they listened to her try and hiccup her tears away.

"Sweetheart it's alright" he whispered, rubbing her back under the shirt before he noticed her face scrunch in pain and he frowned. "She's hurt" he mumbled and Rebekah quickly sat up straight, lifting her top slightly despite her protests to see the bite marks in her flesh.

"Christ" Bekah gasped and Klaus's expression darkened. He lifted her up to straddle his lap sp he could have a better look at her but she began to cry out hysterically at the position and he quickly lay her back down, guilt and worry consuming him when she crawled to Rebekah instead. Bex wrapped her arms around her and whispered quietly for only Y/n to hear. "Who did this?" she uttered, her fingers gently running through her soft hair. "Was it..." she trailed, but the look on Y/n's face was enough.

"I didn't know where else to go- he knows so many people" she sobbed and Rebekah nodded

"He won't touch you now" She whispered, looking to Klaus who was halfway out the door to find Marcel. "Nik's gonna take care of it all okay?"

"What's he gonna do?"

"You don't need to know that honey" she murmured softly.

They waited for a little while, Y/n stayed in Rebekah's arms and started telling her everything that had happened. By the time she was finished they were both crying and wrapped up in Klaus's duvet

"The worst part is that...I do think that I have feelings for Klaus" she whispered "he was right-"

"It wouldn't matter if you were actually sleeping with another man, under no circumstances does he have the right to lay a hand on you. You're not any of those things he called you, you're an angel" Rebekah told her, stroking her hair gently. Bekah glanced up to see Klaus stood in the doorway, eyes soft as he made his way back over.

He had heard Y/n admit to her feelings but knew that now was not the time to tell her he reciprocated them, he knew she would need time. So instead he just came back to his bed and shifted in beside her so she was between him and Rebekah.

"He ran as soon as he saw me but I promise I'll find him and I'll kill him" he whispered, gently brushing his hand over her back. "It'll be okay, just close your eyes sweetheart, I'll protect you" he promised, sharing a look with Rebekah as they all laid down and he flicked the lamp off.

After that night, Y/n slept in Klaus's bed every night. He kept her close to him during the days too, pressed to his chest with his arm around her. She was much quieter after everything, he could sense her embarrassment but he didn’t understand it. It wasn't her fault this had happened to her. He tried to talk to her about it but she wouldn't look him in the eye and he was only making her uncomfortable so he tried not to bring it up. Instead things seemed to go back to somewhat normal, they complimented each other and had their usual conversations which were mostly about random things to keep their minds off any supernatural drama.

Klaus hadn't been going out much recently which meant she didn't have to clean him up but sometimes when they lay in bed to go sleep she would trace his face.

Everything appeared to be going well for a little while before Y/n's boyfriend showed up out of the blue. It was one of those unfortunate times that Klaus was out.

He sped behind Y/n while she was in the kitchen, slapping his hand over her mouth to silence her screaming as he lifted and dragged her toward the exit. Growling in her ear and called her a filthy whore, saying she would never escape him.

What he didn't know was that one of the other vampires saw him and were under direct orders to call Klaus if he was spotted.

Klaus came rushing in, his teeth straight in the man’s neck causing him to drop Y/n to the floor and cry out in agony as the werewolf venom too quick affect.

Klaus had Y/n in his arms within a second, vamp-speeding them to his their room. Her face was held against the crook of his neck, encouraging her to breath in his scent and calm her breathing.

“He’s gone” klaus whispers “He’ll be dead by tomorrow” he told her gently “And a werewolf bite is a slow and painful death for a vampire” he reminded. “He deserves to suffer” he muttered and she nodded slowly.

“I hate him” she uttered.

“I know you do sweetheart” he mumbled as he pressed soft kisses to the side of her head.

Everything was a little better after his body was found. She felt safe in the house without the risk of him grabbing her. She was able to sit with Klaus and Rebekah without the worry of someone watching her.

But it didn’t stop the night terrors. She would wake up screaming thinking that he had come back to life and had taken her, tortured her. Instead, however, she would find Klaus. Out of breath with a healing bruise on his face from where she hand fought back in her sleep. The apologies would start tumbling amongst her sobs but he would just pull her close and kiss her better. Promising it didn’t hurt and that he understood.

Often he would go into her mind, with her permission, and give her better things to think about. Give her peace.

That helped her a lot, between Klaus’s affection and Rebekah’s constant company, she began to feel happy.

She and Bekah went shopping a lot, went out for lunch again or just sat in Bex’s room talking and giggling. They both felt as though they had gained a sister of sorts. Rebekah was so glad to have Y/n and to be able to help her, she also really hoped that Y/n and Klaus would get married so that they were sister-in-laws.

Rebekah was their biggest supporter, always telling Y/n that Klaus wouldn’t ever hurt her and that he already loved her so she didn’t have to worry about the rejection. But Y/n was still nervous, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for another relationship.

But eventually, months down the line, kisses on the head became kisses on the lips. Their hugs became cuddle sessions and instead of eating in the same room they cooked together and ate together. Klaus planned extravagant dates while Y/n arranged much simpler but just as intimate ones. Klaus would beg Y/n to let him paint her and she begrudge dress up for him and pose.

The only issue in Y/n’s mind was that she didn’t feel comfortable enough when Klaus would touch her more sexually. As soon as the gentle touches became more frustrated, more needy, she couldn’t handle it.

But over time she got a little better, heavy make-out sessions became more and more common and part of her thought that maybe sex was on the table until something triggered her.

Klaus had his hands all over her, his tongue in her mouth as she moaned softly. Her hands were curled into his soft curls as she tugged gently. His hands slid up her top and her back arched slightly. Everything was going well, her legs were round his waist and soft little pleas left her lips for him to give her more.

He pulled away slowly, his nose just brushing hers as he sat up. He smiled down at her as she followed suit and sat up with him, her legs dropping down.

“You ready sweetheart?” He whispered and she nodded, his smile widened and he took ahold of her ankles. Just as he went to pull her closer, a panicked cry left her and her foot kicked him in the chest, hard.

His hands let go of her and he held his chest in confusion before looking up and seeing the fear in her face. His expression softened and he raised his hands in surrender “Y/n, love, it’s just me” he told her gently. “It’s okay” he whispered, cautiously he shifted closer.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears “I’m so sorry” she repeated, pulling her knees to her chest.

Gently he brought his hands out and picked her up, pulling her onto his lap “it’s okay, it was my fault” he mumbled, kissing her lips gently

“It’s not your fault- it’s mine, I’m broken” she cried but she shook her head.

“It’s his fault” he whispered and she let out a soft sob. “He hurt you, but you’ve never been broken. You’re just still hurting”

She sniffled and nuzzled close “I just…I wish could-“

“I know…I know but we can wait. We can wait for as long as you need” he murmured softly.

“But…what if I can’t…like ever?” She whispers but still he smiled

“Then I’ll just hold you and kiss you and take you to dinner like usual. I believe I owe you a bouquet of flowers, no?” He hummed and she wiped her eyes with a sniff

“You do?”

“I do, come on, we’ll go pick a bunch” he held her close and lifted her as he stood, carrying her down the stairs listening to her little laugh as she pressed her face to his chest. She knew not many men would be as loving and understanding as he was, she knew Klaus wouldn’t hurt her nor would he ever leave her.

[hannieween]

killer | heartbreaker series | c.sc

Choi Seungcheol is a strategist to his core. And he thought it would be simple to steal princess from her castle. Well, he thought wrong.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ✧ aus: gambler seungcheol, boyfriend seungcheol ✧ word count: 18.3k

↣ previous chapters – other fics – buy me coffee? ᨐฅ

₊🎧: heartbreak – minho | winterfall – dpr ian | flower-ed – i.m

₊ nsfw tags under the cut

✧ warnings: flashback chapter, this chapter is really long pls bear w me, smut with plot, reader has an abusive family, cheol is a bit possessive, a whole lot of drama i warned you, first times, corruption kink, oral sex (f), pussy stretching, body worshipping, multiple unprotected sex scenes, pull out method, a whole lot of exhibitionism: sex in public spaces; mentions of alcohol, couch sex, creampie, daddy kink, dom seungcheol, sub reader, big dick seungcheol, monsta x i.m makes an appearance (i love that man, let me be), pet names: love, baby, beautiful, angel (hers), daddy, babe (his)

✧ a/n: this is loosely proofread.

✧ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

part iii

six years before – (first year together)

The first time Seungcheol saw you, he swore he had never laid eyes on someone so beautiful. You were strolling around the party wearing a literal tiara on your head and a sparkly dress that played with his eyesight when you walked past him. 

The place was so packed with people but still, you had managed to drive the attention of nearby eyes to you only. When you danced with your girlfriends all in a group and started drinking out of a strawberry vodka, straight from the bottle.

"Birthday girl gets to drink first!" one of your friends chanted over the loud music. That was how Seungcheol knew that it was your birthday. 

Probably that explained the tiara on your head, he thought.

Although Seungcheol had found at last something interesting to hold his attention to, he couldn't help but think that it was a weird place for someone like you to be in. 

He sat at a round foldable table, a ragged green cloth covered it. Completely cluttered with red plastic cups, ashtrays, a lonely tequila bottle and packs of cards. 

Seungcheol had thought that the reunion for tonight would only be for the game. But upon arriving he immediately thought that the crowd was mixed, since on one corner you and your friends were getting blasted, another corner was occupied by the table he was sitting at. And between them, a lot of people who he didn't recognize.

One of your friends laughed loudly when you tilted your head back, mouth wide open while the other poured alcohol down your throat. But you closed your mouth too soon, spilling vodka on your chin and down your neck. 

"What the fuck?" Changkyun muttered under his breath, flicking the bud of the cigarette he was taking to his mouth to give it a long draw, winking one eye as he looked over his shoulder to your friend group. 

"Honey's girlfriend invited them," Seungcheol explained briefly, after being informed of the situation. "It's someone's birthday, I think."

"Mm," he nodded his head and exhaled the smoke slowly. "That would explain all the squealing." 

There was indeed a lot of laughter and squealing coming from your friend group. He noticed that you were probably just here for a pre-drinking session because it was a tad bit too early to be downing shots like that, unless you were planning to go elsewhere. 

You twirled around for one of your friends who apparently wanted to see your sparkly dress and when you did, you elicited a bunch of 'aws' and compliments from your girlfriends, making you blush and cover your face with your hands. 

Seungcheol smiled. Pretty. He threw his head back as he downed the last sip of soju from the bottle. Mind reeling, split in two between the game and the start of his new plan. 

When the game came to an end, Seungcheol collected his prize from the table and pocketed it with a nonchalant expression on his face. 

Changkyun clicked his tongue. "I'll get you next time, Coups." 

Seungcheol rolled his eyes when he heard his friend use his old nickname. "Sure you will, Kyun." 

He rose from the chair and followed his friend out the tiny apartment and onto the open halls of the building complex for a smoke. 

Seungcheol shook his head when offered the blunt. "I'm driving back home," he muttered and bent on the rails to prop his elbows over it. 

Changkyun sucked in a breath and blew the smoke slowly. It was quiet outside, the night had only begun and he could sense that the interesting part was just about to begin. 

"Hiii," a small chirpy voice broke the silence. Seungcheol looked over his shoulder and his friend did too. 

A girl, who Seungcheol vaguely recognized, waved her hand at the pair of unsuspecting men. 

"Hi," Changkyun replied first, the velvet lacing his voice almost made Seungcheol huff in utter embarrassment. 

"Me and my friends are going to this club and we'd like you guys to come with us," she breathed in some of her nervousness. "If you wanna come, obviously." 

Seungcheol remained silent and turned so that he wasn't giving his back to the girl. 

"We'd love to," Changkyun replied first, making Seungcheol arch an eyebrow inquisitively. 

"Great!" the girl replied with a small jolt and turned to run towards your friend group, who watched the whole interaction from afar. "Oh, we're leaving in ten!" 

Seungcheol sent his friend a glare. 

"Wha?" Changkyun squeaked and huffed. "You need to go out more, man. Meet people, girls, dunno." 

"I don't wanna babysit." 

His friend clicked his mouth. "Ayy, you're such a prissy ass," he reprimanded. "Nobody said you'll be babysitting. Have fun for once. Real fun."  

The smell of burnt weed had started to affect him, surely, because Seungcheol only shook his head and said: "Fine. But I can't stay long, okay? I have a game tomorrow morning." 

"I have a game tomorrow morning," Changkyun parroted, doing a poor imitation of Seungcheol's tone and then huffed again before tucking the blunt on his lips one final time. "Nerd." 

"Asshole," he retorted and rolled his eyes.

Seungcheol's friend was a bit of a player, as long as he had known him, he had never settled with one partner for longer than three months. Which, to Seungcheol's point of view, was whatever.

But to his friend, Seungcheol was a total loner.

"It doesn't hurt to do something different once in a while," he encouraged with a small smile. "You're in your head way too much."

"Mm," Seungcheol nodded and made no comment about it.

The only times he has been in these kinds of situations, had been solely because of his friends. He's not one to go out clubbing, if he wants to get drunk, he does it at home, which in this case would mean, his friends' homes, not at his parents.

So as soon as he followed Changkyun, and a group of girls down the packed, steamy, grimy club, he immediately wanted to turn around and leave.

But he felt dragged by his friend, who was eyeing him warning and knowing looks, making Seungcheol feel like a dick, because he totally was already planning an excuse to go home.

And for once, Seungcheol decided to relax. He didn't have any excuses to go home, and in reality, he did need to go out more, he did need to meet people, rather than staying secluded in his own little bubble.

Changkyun immediately found a place to sit, and to manspread, Seungcheol noted silently. His friend knew what he was doing, because as soon as they found a place to watch your pretty friends reunite around a table and dance, they slowly started flocking around him.

Seungcheol snorted and rolled his eyes when a girl sat between him and his friend in the small seat. It was inevitable, Changkyun always had that quiet alluring aura about him. Whereas Seungcheol was more closed off, which, to him, was alright.

He watched under the neon lights the group of girls progressively get drunker, sloppier, happier until the night reached its high and the energy started to decline rapidly.

He stopped paying attention the minute his friend started snogging the girl that made the invitation for them to come, and feeling like he had a window of opportunity to leave, he rose from the seat and snuck out of the club.

Once outside, Seungcheol exhaled the fresh air of the night and looked up at the dark, moonless night. Torn between going back and telling his friend that he was going home or simply pulling a disappearing act and going home.

"Watch your head, oh no, careful–," he heard someone let out a silly chortle. "Oh my god, your dad is going to kill us."

Seungcheol turned and saw you trying to get one of your friends in the backseat of a car. You had your friend wrapped in one arm and managed to get the door open with the other.

"Get in there," you laughed again when your friend started to put in some resistance, not wanting to leave for home. "Oh my god, this looks so bad, Chae please get in there."

Your friend laughed with you, giving up the fight and you closed the car door, waving your friend back as the car drove away. You exhaled tiredly, and drunkenly and slowly turned.

"Oh, hi there," you gasped, a bit startled by his presence. "Did you see all that?"

Seungcheol nodded silently.

"That was my friend's dad," you put in quickly. "Please don't think that I was aiding a kidnapping."

He couldn't bring himself to reply. He obviously saw the situation as it was and didn't interpret it in a wrongful way.

But he also saw in your eyes that you were quite drunk, the rosy colored cheeks and glistening eyes. You were trying to make him laugh, and he totally didn't get it.

"Are you–," you breathed and looked nervous again. "A friend of Kyun's?"

Seungcheol didn't reply again, not as quickly as you wanted.

"One of my friends has a stupid crush on him," you explained and brushed off with a hand. "I was just wondering because... well, I've seen you around campus."

He felt an eyebrow immediately quirk up before he could control himself. "You have?"

You put your hands on your waist and staggered a little bit. Seungcheol noted that you looked tired and, probably from wearing really high heels, and being drunk didn't help much with your balance either.

"Yeah, you're part of the soccer team, right? And you... you're always at the library too," your tone faltered a little by the end of your sentence and you looked away, clearly embarrassed.

Seungcheol couldn't help but grin a little when he noticed you were flustered. "I'd never seen you around," he admitted, enjoying the blush that intensified on your face. "You've been to my games?"

"I've watched you train... once," you stuttered, raising your drunken gaze back at him.

Were you... flirting with him? Probably. Seungcheol noticed that you looked nervous right away, but you were also drunk and that made you brutally honest.

That made him smile for the first time, your big starry eyes zeroed on his lips when he did that. "And... the library?"

"I'm always there too," you mumbled, bringing a hand to brush some hairs off your face.

The cold wind ruffled his hair too, and your hands held onto the sparkly fabric of your pretty dress when it threatened to blow your skirt. You giggled in utter embarrassment but he just thought you were cute.

And apparently, from your reaction and from your drunken comments, you thought the same about him too.

Seungcheol was the cute library crush you always found caught up on schoolwork at the library desks.

At first you thought it was nice that the sportsy, popular guy would mostly be found buried in essays, but once you saw that his popularity was something he didn't even remotely desired, you found him quite alluring.

And from the moment you noticed him, you saw him everywhere around campus. At the gym, the library, the café. Being that he was of the older generations, a lot of girls found him cute too.

"I probably should go back," you slurred after a brief moment of silence and pointed a thumb back to the club's entrance.

Seungcheol thought of anything to keep you there, but at the same time, he had nothing to say yet, he was just enjoying the dazed look on your face, the pinkish cheeks and the sloppy way you licked your lips.

"Happy birthday," he muttered with an honest smile.

You stopped in your tracks, looking completely flustered, you showed him a small frown, a question written in your eyes.

"Thank you."

You smiled sheepishly and he gave you a polite nod before you went back to your friends.

But that was the moment he solidified his plan.

The campus library was always cold. The windows were high in the ceiling, so what little sunlight they let in didn't help alleviate the morning chill either.

Seungcheol sat at one of the most secluded desks, buried in his thesis work. At the moment he was just reading and gathering sources, but he was aching to start writing it so he could just be done with getting his degree.

But it was undeniable that he was brilliant. Top of his class, excelling in his sports scholarship too. He kind of hated it too, he was eager to abandon this place once and for all.

But that morning was different. As soon as he settled in his usual spot, he kept alert to any signs of you, he wondered how you noticed him first and he never did you.

Until you came down to the library, an hour and a half later. You were unsuspecting of his watchful eye and that made him curious.

You wore a fluffy sweater and had put your hair in a ponytail, which swayed and bounced a little with your walk, which he noticed was delicate. Almost as if you didn't want to draw any attention towards you, didn't want to make a sound.

Did you know he was watching you? He couldn't tell, but honestly, he felt it was fair game now that he knew you had watched him more than once.

You sat at the far extreme, and it seemed like that was your spot too. As soon as you settled the book beside your laptop, you raised your gaze to his direction, much as if that was a bit of a habit of yours.

As soon as your gazes connected, you lowered your head, pretending to bury your nose in the book sprawled open in your desk.

Seungcheol couldn't help but stifle a smile when you noticed him and made a weak attempt to pretend you weren't looking his way. But he noticed.

The next hours went down that way, exchanging meek glaces at each other that slowly progressed to more knowing, subtle looks. But it ended too soon, when you checked your phone and realized you were late for a class, gathered your things silently, but swiftly and ran from the library.

The following morning, he decided to sit closer to your table. His usual spot was occupied that day so he saw it as an opportunity to sit on the table next to yours.

Sitting across from you, diagonally, he had a clear view from your flustered face upon entering the study section of the library and finding him closer to your spot in the tables.

But you sat in your usual seat anyway. Silently setting down your stuff, your laptop and notebooks and your obnoxious amounts of post-its and highlighters and got to work.

Ten minutes later you got up to find a book on the shelves. Seungcheol couldn't help but to steal a glance at you, but you appeared to be expecting it. Your gazes crossed again and now it was his turn to look away, completely embarrassed.

He looked down at his laptop's keyboard and pretended to type something while on the inside he was deeply and utterly flustered by you.

When you came back to your seat, Seungcheol didn't dare to look your way, not immediately, he thought it would only make his case way too obvious and scare you away.

But then, in his line of vision, he saw your pretty hand slipping a piece of paper on his table with your handwriting in it.

› hi there •ᴗ•

Seungcheol finally looked up, but you were looking down to your open book, very evidently pretending to be immersed in a page. He scrambled on his backpack for a pencil or a pen, anything, just so he could return the note to you.

› hi

He slid the piece of paper back to your table, but you made no move towards it yet, so he returned to his laptop.

Some minutes later, you slipped a new piece of paper. Now, insead of a written down note, you had drawn a three-by-three grid, a single cross on the top right corner. It was a game of tic-tac-toe.

In disbelief, he raised his eyes back to your still pretentious self and smiled. Drawing his zero on the top left corner and return the game to you.

Seungcheol suspected that you didn't want to make your game evident to respect the silence in the library and the students around you. So some thirty seconds later, you returned the piece of paper and copying you, he returned it thirty seconds later as well.

The game took about three minutes. It ended with you winning when you returned the piece of paper with your three crosses aligned and a smiley face.

› that was an easy win; you said in your pretty handwriting.

Seungcheol exhaled a smile softly.

› i let you win

› sore loser?

› or a gentleman...

You snorted quietly as soon as you read that, making Seungcheol smile embarrassedly.

› i appreciate the gesture, but i prefer fair play

His eyebrow twitched slightly.

› i won't go easy on you next round, then.

› bring it on.

You watched his hand twirl the pencil around his fingers a couple of times before writing down his response. The two of you had forgotten to stay discreet, exchanging looks as you passed each other the piece of paper.

› i will on one condition.

› which is?

› that if i win, you go out on a date with me.

› and if i win?

› you choose your prize.

You slipped a new piece of paper with a clean three-by-three grid, with your cross slotted in the middle.

And either you got sloppy or let him win because the game ended too soon with him winning. Did you want him to win? He wondered.

But soon you both hit it off effortlessly. Seungcheol would soon learn that you were kindhearted, sweet and really smart. One of the reasons why you were always at the library was to keep yourself top of the class, too.

He discovered that one of your aspirations was to dedicate your life to your studies, writing, researching and unraveling the mysteries of past lives, authors and their intentions. And he thought it was great that you were determined in your career.

After a number of dates of just you two going out to grab lunch after course hours, Seungcheol made up his mind. And that was that he really liked you, and wanted something more serious.

"Careful with that," one of his friends warned one night.

It was a big university, but word got around fast that the very popular Seungcheol had his eye set on you.

"Why?" he asked slowly.

"She's kind of royalty," his friend explained, which Seungcheol only replied by pushing his eyebrows up. "I mean, look her family name up, you'll see."

Reluctantly, Seungcheol did what his friend said with a snort. Only to find that indeed, your family was kind of royalty in the city.

Owners of one of the biggest enterprises in the country, your parents appeared to be two powerful entrepreneurs with a significant influence in the country.

There were a bunch of photos of them and you posing by their side, hiding your face from the cameras. Cold, distant to you, but oddly enough dubbed by the media as philanthropists.

And before Seungcheol scrolled for more, he stopped himself.

"I don't see why this should mean anything," Seungcheol finalized, rising from the bench inside the locker rooms.

And it didn't. Not at first, at least.

One night, after much preamble of sweet glances and shy touches, Seungcheol offered you a ride home.

As you slid on the passenger seat in his brother's car, you suddenly felt a very unfamiliar heat warm up your body. You hadn't been this close to Seungcheol in private. So far, your interactions had been kept public, and you hadn't so much as touched his shoulder.

So now that you were beside him, you took a moment to calm yourself. But your anxiety was almost palpable, you became quiet, and tried to avert your gaze from him as best as you could.

But it didn't help that Seungcheol was wearing a navy polo shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And god, he was wearing those jeans today too. His meaty thighs stretched the blue and thick fabric.

Seungcheol noticed your wandering gaze, but made no comment about it.

"Um, pull over here," you signaled him nervously.

"Do you live here?" he asked as he pulled over and leaned over his seat to look up at the tall building at the center of the city.

"Yeah, wi-with my parents," you put in nervously and fidgeted for the door handle and pulled it, opening the door to scramble out of the car.

Seungcheol tilted his head inquisitively and got out of the car as well, following you to the sidewalk. It was already dark outside, so he wondered if your parents gave you some kind of curfew.

"Hold on," he said, stopping you before you could run off to the interior of the building.

"Sorry, I just–," you breathed out nervously and mustered up some courage to look up at his big puppy eyes. "I've never, ever, done this before."

"Done what?" Seungcheol asked slowly, feeling a small smile creeping on his face.

"This, d-dates, dating," you stuttered a bit, which caused you to smile shyly. "I might have some moments of boldness around you but—I really like you, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol looked at you, the sweet girl that hadn't left his mind since that moment he met you, the pretty girl he already had concocted plans to win over, you were toying with the dainty necklace with your fingers anxiously and smiled.

"Call me Cheol," he corrected softly, offering a sliver of familiarity before he added. "I like you too. A lot."

You blinked at him, your fingers stopped fidgeting and your mouth parted a little. "Cheol," you nodded, smiling at him shyly.

"We can take it slow," he offered and pressed his lips into a smile.

His dimples showed on his cheeks and your heart twisted, making your breath hitch ever so slightly.

"But... that's the thing," you crossed your arms over your chest now, and he guessed it was to keep yourself from fidgeting any more. "I don't want to... take it slow."

Seungcheol arched an eyebrow. "Please elaborate," he mumbled with a goofy chuckle.

"I mean, we've gone out five times already and you haven't even kissed me," you babbled and he could see that you were beginning to be flustered.

Seungcheol pondered for a second. Why hasn't he kissed you yet? Well, it wasn't his indecision, really. He would've done it the first time you both went out together. But the truth was, he wanted to do things right with you.

"I didn't want you to think that I'm going too fast," he mumbled hesitantly, bringing a hand up to scratch a fake itch on his nape.

"Oh," you uttered and frowned. "In that case..." you trailed off, unable to find what words to say.

Your previous words you said hung in his mind, giving out the reason why you were almost jittery whenever he even so much dared to press the palm of his hand between your shoulder blades.

You've never had a boyfriend before. Not by choice, you've had a few crushes before, but nothing that ever went farther than just simple, innocent kisses.

But Seungcheol had awakened something in you. Something so unfamiliar that unnerved you to your bones. It was a warmth that made you feel hot under your clothes, it made your blood rush to your cheeks and twist your heart.

"Come here," Seungcheol said, opening his strong arms and pulling you in a comforting hug.

It wasn't a friendly hug, the purpose of it was to try and calm down your anxieties, to make you realize that he wanted to be more serious with you.

You stiffened under his embrace at first, but quickly wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your head on his shoulder, breathing in his manly scent, the cologne in his clothes.

The warmth feeling invaded you again when you felt his heartbeat against your own chest, when he appeared to be pressing his lips slowly on the crown of your head. Oh my god, you thought over and over.

When you felt like the hug had went over for minutes, you peeled off his body slowly and reluctantly, but suddenly stopped short

"Oh–," you gasped.

"What–," he muttered and looked down.

Your gold necklace had tangled in one of the buttons of his polo shirt, making you giggle shyly and brought a hand up to attempt to untangle the mess.

Seungcheol seized your hand, your eyes snapping to his nervously as his other hand came to cup your chin gingerly. Your eyes read his face, widening slightly when you saw it in his gaze—he wanted to kiss you.

His half-lidded puppy eyes swam over the features of your face, on your eyes, your lips and then back up. And you wondered what the look on your face might have been, because it made him smile softly.

You, in turn, looked flustered. And Seungcheol knew that you wanted this because your lips had parted in desire, your breath hitched at his touch. And your eyes, so telling of your own intentions.

Slowly, Seungcheol dipped his head to meet your lips with his own, keeping his hand on your chin to keep you in place. You swallowed hard the second you felt his wet lips on yours, pressing tenderly once, twice, until they locked slowly, moving against each other seamlessly.

Your eyes had fluttered close, as you let the man you've been crushing for months dominate the kiss, and that he did gingerly, almost lovingly. The hand that had seized yours slowly pressed his palm against your own, and you took the liberty to lace your fingers with his.

When the kiss ended he parted to look at your pretty eyes, moving the hand from your chin to brush the softness of your cheek and you leaned in to his touch, almost instinctively.

"Seungcheol," you muttered then, "Cheol, I have something to tell you."

You pressed your hand against the one that was cupping your cheek. And Seungcheol pushed his eyebrows up slightly, encouraging you to speak.

"I don't know how much you know about me, about my family, but it has scared some people off my life before and... I don't want that to be you," you muttered with a tinge of nervousness quivering your tone.

"I'm not going anywhere," he reassured, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead. "Don't think that for a second."

That was the start to your relationship with Choi Seungcheol.

And for all his plans of taking it slow, you both sure flew into first, second, third base pretty fast. Seungcheol was careful with you every step of the way, but sometimes he found you so hard to resist.

And it didn't help that your sex drive was just as high as his, or even higher.

The making out session had started innocently. Seungcheol had driven almost aimlessly out of the city until he found a perfect spot to park in a secluded area.

By this point, you were a month into dating. So you were pretty much still new to all things relating to intimacy. But at the same time, you were so eager for more. To go past brief touches and short make out sessions.

But there was something different about you tonight. Maybe it was that you were far from the city and the car was practically hidden from view and upcoming cars, deep into some trail in the woods.

Maybe it was that you thought he looked extra hot that night. Wearing a tight black long sleeve t-shirt. But you found Seungcheol hot, no matter what he did or wore.

You were pressed against the steering wheel of the car, straddling him in a very lewd manner. You've never gone this far, but it was exciting, it was taunting.

"Baby," he muttered against your lips, one of his hands was cupping your face while the other was kneading anxiously at the curve of your waist.

"Mm?" you hummed softly in his mouth, not wanting to pull away, you felt as though you were unable to.

"Is this okay?" he asked with a strangled tone. It had been some minutes since either of you had spoken. He cleared his throat and added: "We're not going too far?"

You had never gotten this close to anyone before. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest that you could feel your pulse at your throat.

"This is okay," you breathed, capturing his lower lip between yours and he groaned. "I want this."

"Want what?" he moved a hand from the side of your face to your lower back, eliciting a small moan from you. "Fuck," he breathed when he heard you.

"I want you," you whispered, pressing your lips on his jawline, then down his neck, daring to lick his skin.

His fingers clenched on your flesh, over your clothes and hissed loudly. "Baby, don't do that," he groaned.

"Don't like it?" you asked and finally peeled off him.

The look on your face was something Seungcheol couldn't get enough of. You looked flustered, hot and horny. Your lips were swollen from all the kissing, and the steamy conditions from the inside of the car made your skin dewy, making your hair stick to your neck.

"I do, I like it," he chuckled, feeling embarrassed. "I like it too much."

Your features took on a bolder look. "How much?" you asked with a playful tone, smiling a bit.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes at your playful question, feeling like he might explode soon.

But he only took your hand and guided it to the huge bulge pressing against his jeans, wordlessly telling you just how much he was driven insane by you.

It was a bold move, he knew it. Your eyes widened and a shudder invaded you, along with that warmth that begged you to move farther, to get more from this interaction.

You swallowed thickly. "You're..." you trailed off.

Seungcheol mimicked you and swallowed hard too. He removed your hand from his hard crotch and kissed your knuckles.

"Do you want to... do something about it?" you asked shyly and smiled to yourself.

"Like what?" he asked, now being playful with you.

"Do you want me to touch you?" you asked with a tiny voice, your shifty eyes averting from his.

"No," he replied, drawing your eyes back at him with a question written in them. "I don't want you to do that now, baby."

"Doesn't it... hurt?" you asked meekly and turned your gaze yet again from him.

Seungcheol smiled. "Not right now, but it will later," he replied simply, shrugging as if this wasn't the first time he's gotten blue-balled by you.

"Why does it sound like it's normal for you?" you caught right on, an eyebrow jumping up.

He pinched your chin with his index and thumb. "You drive me crazy, baby. You always leave me a little needy," he explained, but then realizing how he sounded, he added: "But it's okay, I'm not pressuring you to do anything you don't want to do."

"But I want to, Cheol," you repositioned yourself on his lap, scooting your crotch closer to his.

That made his hands snap to your hips, just when he felt a little bit of friction on his hard and clothed cock.

He stifled a moan. "What do you want, baby?"

You swore you went a little crazy every time he called you that. You bit your lip, looking at his big and dark eyes.

His hand cupped your chin again, motioning you closer so that he could kiss you on your lips.

"Mm? What do you want?" he egged you on, his voice low and pouring into your ears.

"Take me," you whispered between kisses.

A groan bubbled in his chest and deepened the kiss by swiping a line with the tip of his tongue on your lower lip. You moaned softly in his mouth too, and the sound might have sent him into a frenzy too.

"No," he groaned with a low guttural tone.

"Please?" you asked before he could even explain himself.

"Not here, baby," he started and pressed his body back on his seat, thus parting away from your lips. "You're not having your first time in my brother's car."

You blinked, looking a bit startled and searched his eyes.

"Don't you want to have your first time in a bed?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting at his question.

That seemed to cool you down from your frenzy moment and appeared to be considering it.

You nodded quietly. "With you," you replied with a certain tone of plea.

He blinked slowly, realizing that you had thought he was rejecting your advances. "Of course, baby," he replied with a warm smile.

You pressed your lips in a cute pout, and then you hit him with puppy eyes. "Can we... continue where we left off?"

"What do you want?" he asked again, his hands parked on your hips.

You fidgeted with the collar of his black t-shirt, shyly glancing at his eyes, then back to your hands. "Can you touch me?"

Seungcheol pressed his hands on the curve of your waist and nodded. "Where, baby?"

Your breath hitched audibly but neither of you made note about it. Borrowing a page from his book, you took his hands from your waist, and guided them to your breasts, indicating where you wanted his hands.

Your blood rushed to your face in utter embarrassment from how wet you felt already, your panties were pooling with your arousal and the second you motioned his hands on your breasts, over your clothes, you swallowed back a moan.

Seungcheol applied pressure to your tits, kneading at them softly, over the fabric of your blouse and bra. You knew that wasn't enough, you needed to feel him directly.

You dropped your forehead on his and breathed out your nervousness. "God, I'm so wet," you whispered and let out an embarrassed laugh.

Seungcheol groaned louder this time and closed his eyes fiercely. His hands flew from your tits and pressed you down on his cock by your hips.

"Fuck," he breathed, anxiously tightening his grip on your sides. "Can I feel you?"

You nodded desperately. "Yes, please?" you sighed a moan.

His hand sneaked beneath your skirt, realizing that you might've come prepared for this because you were also wearing a lace thong, as soon he would discover when the pads of his fingers grazed your clothed pussy.

"Baby," he called, making you pull back and lock eyes with him. "You can stop me if you feel uncomfortable, okay?"

You nodded and bit your lip in anticipation, looking down where his hand had disappeared beneath your skirt.

But a hand grabbed your chin gently to lift your gaze back at his. "I need to hear it."

"Okay," you replied.

He then searched for the hem of your thong and moved it aside to uncover your cunt to his fingers, where he ran the pads of his fingers, shuddering slightly when he felt the softness covered with your arousal.

"So wet," he whispered and swallowed back a groan. "You're dripping, baby."

You nodded and bit back a moan when his fingers exploring your cunt found your clit almost effortlessly.

"There?" he asked and you nodded. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"Good," you breathed immediately when the pads of his middle fingers rubbed your clit back and forth, pressing on the nub just the right amount to make you moan.

"You sound so sweet," he mumbled almost entrancingly, enjoying the look on your face when your eyelids fluttered shut and your lips parted a little, allowing a sigh to escape between them.

Your hands slid from his shoulders down to his chest and you leaned back on the steering wheel to give him ample space to continue pleasuring you.

Seungcheol put his free hand to use by hiking your skirt up, uncovering your lush thighs to his view. Under the weak moonlight, he could also see your pretty cunt, and he pushed your panties aside further so he could see just how wet you were.

"God, baby," he looked up, his darkened eyes finding yours. "You're perfect."

You were still biting your lip, unable to make a coherent response because his touch was nearly driving you crazy.

Seungcheol threw you a cautious glance, before dipping one finger inside your entrance, his mouth parted at the same time yours did.

"Cheol," you mewled when his finger slid in completely exploring your warm and wet walls.

"Is that okay?" he asked, dragging his finger out to then push it back in.

You nodded and then replied. "Yeah, okay," you babbled.

"More?" he asked, but it sounded like he was testing you.

"Yes, yes more, please," you whimpered desperately trying to get more so you could finally get the pleasure you seeked.

Seungcheol pushed another digit in, feeling your walls contract and that made him gasp. But wasted no time and started exploring your gummy walls, every ridge, every slippery fold.

You held onto one of his buff biceps, your fingers digging on his muscle quite harshly but not enough to hurt him.

"Relax, baby," he whispered. But there was no denying that he was loving every second of you getting off by just a couple of fingers. And not only that, him being the first to be doing this was also giving him a rush.

"It feels good," you gasped and looked at his eyes.

"Yeah? Do you like it if I do this?" he asked before curling his fingers inside you, the pointy tips of his fingers pressing on your walls in a very sensitive spot.

"God! Yes, that feels good," you gasped, your hips buckled on top of him just as he started to move his hand repeatedly, teasing that glorious spot inside you.

"Like that?" he asked with a strangled tone, feeling like he might come in his pants from just seeing you and feeling you with his fingers.

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered. "Don't stop—please? Please, Cheol, it feels so good."

Seungcheol felt the corner of his mouth twitch up in a smirk. "I'm not stopping, baby," he replied.

Your breath had started to hitch and the hand holding onto his bicep clenched hard and then went lax. You were close, but it was quite difficult to get to your much desperately needed release.

"Do you want to rub your clit?" Seungcheol asked when he noticed and you nodded. "Show me how you do it, baby," he instructed, not stopping his hand on your cunt, but only moving it to give more access to your fingers.

You lifted your hips a little, giving him the full view to your cunt as you reached your clit with your fingers and started rubbing. You mewled instantly at the motion of both your fingers and his inside you, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Are you close, angel?" he asked, when he saw the features of your face relax, moaning sweetly and looking almost angelical.

"Yeah," you gasped, a rush of bliss taking over you when he used that new nickname on you. "Mm so close," you moaned.

"God, you look so good like this," he whispered in complete awe.

"Cheol," you mewled. "I'm there, god, g–ah," your eyebrows knitted and your mouth opened, breathing in sharply as you came hard on his fingers, the orgasm was nearly mind-numbing, not only from how good it felt, but from how long you had been aching for this.

"So good, so good," you whimpered over and over as you came, eyes closed, enjoying every second of it.

Seungcheol also enjoyed the look on your face, the sounds you made, how tightly you squeezed his fingers with your warm walls.

By the end of your orgasm, you were panting, thighs trembling a little, and you leaned forward a little to get some support. Seungcheol used his free hand to cup your cheek, motioning you over to his lips.

You kissed him softly, still breathing erratically.

"You did so good, baby," he whispered on your lips. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you frowned. "Perfect, actually."

Seungcheol laughed and pressed his lips on your forehead.

You shuddered slightly when he pulled out his fingers from your walls and brought his hand up to his mouth to lick your arousal from his fingers, looking at your eyes as he got his first taste of you.

"Seu—Cheol? What are you doing?" you sounded alarmed as you watched him groan in approval and as if he were testing you, he pulled you for a kiss.

You tasted yourself in his tongue, the act so lewd that it had you whimpering again.

"You're so perfect baby," he muttered with a low tone.

He fixed your panties back in place and then your skirt, his fascinated eyes reveling at the sight of you on top of him.

You looked around for the first time in what seemed like hours, and realized that the windows had become obscured with a light layer of condensation.

The sight made you smile a little—it seemed just like in movies. And you were so, so in love with Seungcheol. It seemed fast, but you were also young and so willing to discover things about yourself at his side that time seemed to be unimportant to you.

You brought up a finger and started scribbling on the window of the car.

"I love you," your little message read.

Seungcheol felt something so strong in his chest that it almost robbed him of air. You shyly looked back at him, expecting a response, reading his face for any signs of rejection.

"I love you too," he answered vocally, cupping your face with his hands to kiss you passionately.

Some weeks later, after more taunting each other with heavy make out sessions. You found yourself pressed against the mattress of his twin bed. Nearly naked, only your matching bra and thong were covering your body.

Seungcheol had wished for an opportunity like this. Somehow he was struck by a miracle when his parents told him they would be out of town, so he knew that was his chance to prompt this proposition to you.

Which, of course, you agreed to.

Seungcheol was bare from the waist up, his body hovering on top of you as he slowly worshiped your body, both with kisses and with his sweet words.

You were nervous, utterly embarrassed as you pressed your thighs together, your breathing had turned erratic, pathetically loud to your ears as you watched your boyfriend kneel on the bed before your body.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he instructed with a soft tone, running a hand on your knee, caressing your bare skin.

You pushed your knees up and parted your thighs slowly for him to slot his body between them. And before he could press his chest to yours, you snaked a hand beneath you to unclasp your bra and removed the straps swiftly.

"Slow down," he chuckled and leaned down to press his lips against yours. "We have time, don't worry."

"I'm nervous," you admitted with a sigh.

"I know," he replied and smiled sweetly at you. "I'm nervous too," he confessed but he didn't look nearly as nervous as you.

Though he was.

"But you've done this before," you countered, blinking at him confusedly.

"It's the first time I do it with you, angel," he replied, pressing his lips on your face, then littering your throat with more kisses.

"I want you to like it," you muttered with a tiny voice.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, breaking away from your neck to look at your eyes. "Baby, I'm going to like it no matter what. Relax, I got you."

Seungcheol waited until you gave him a nod with your head and continued loving your skin with his lips. You tried to ease your head into his pillows and you tried to do the same with your limbs, relaxing into the duvet of his twin bed, which you noticed, smelled like his clothes usually do.

"Don't worry about me," he muttered into your ear, making you shudder slightly. "I want you to focus on what you're feeling. Tell me what you like and what you don't, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered.

"You can close your eyes if you want to," he offered before pressing his lips on your cheek.

You decided to keep looking at Seungcheol as he moved your bra aside with delicate fingers, uncovering your breasts to his eyes and he let out a soft sigh that landed on your skin, making it prickle.

You suppressed a sigh, your hands instantly reaching out to hold onto his shoulders and neck when he pressed his lips against your chest, just above your heart, smirking to himself when he heard you swallow back a whimper.

You flinched quite dramatically when his mouth reached down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, loving the taste of your skin, the smell of your perfume with a pleased groan.

Your hand traveled up from his neck and toyed anxiously at the short hair on the back of his head as he moved to kiss and lick your other nipple.

"Baby," he reminded you gently.

"Good," you croaked. "That feels good."

"Do you want to undress me?" he asked, pulling back to his knees on his bed.

You nodded and sat up, getting his belt and undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. He stood up from the bed and you sloppily undressed him, chuckling embarrassedly at yourself throughout the process.

You looked up at the growing bulge beneath his black boxers and instinctively reached for the elastic band and pulled the last piece of clothing on his body.

You bit your lip harder than before when you saw your boyfriend wholly naked and standing in front of you. He was fully hard for you already, the pinkish red tip of his cock was glistening with precum at his slit.

All the times you imagined him naked weren't compared to the real beauty Seungcheol was. Your eyes roamed from his broad shoulders, his lean chest, to the soft hairs trailing down from his belly button and joining his pubic hair.

Seungcheol was big, but you had figured that out already. But seeing him fully bare was something else. He enjoyed the look in your eyes when you couldn't help but to reach out and touch his milky white skin.

The muscles of his abdomen tightened slightly when you ran your fingertips over the soft lines marking it and down his meaty thighs. Darting a look up at him, you trailed a fingertip down the shaft of his cock, his breath hitching slightly at the feeling. You gingerly ran the pad of your finger over the soft ridges below his cockhead and swallowed thickly.

Seungcheol moved decisively towards you, pressing a knee on the bed then the other, making you crawl backwards on the bed and lie back down on his pillows.

His fingers hooked on the band of your lace thong you bought solely for the occasion and slid them down your legs slowly and you lifted your feet from the mattress for him to get rid of the thong and finally have you completely bare and exposed to him.

"You're so, so beautiful, baby," he said with a sigh, his big expressive eyes marveling at your figure on his bed.

"Thank you, Cheol," you whispered bashfully.

You averted your gaze when he dipped his head and started grazing kisses along your tummy and tried to focus on the sensations, your skin prickling, heating up, the arousal shooting like a bolt of lightning inside you with each kiss.

The blinds on Seungcheol's room were slightly parted, blowing in with the wind that filtered through the open window. It was a quiet, windy night, and the soft glow of the moonlight gave you the opportunity to explore his bedroom with your eyes.

Until his lips reached below your belly button, making you jolt slightly under him.

"Your skin smells so sweet," he pointed with a low hum and raised his head to show you a smile. "Did you do that on purpose?"

You nodded. "It's raspberry lotion," you explained meekly.

Seungcheol smiled, circling a hand on your hip and slid down your skin and pressed his lips on the inner side of your thigh, making you jump slightly again.

"Easy," he breathed, littering your skin with more kisses as if wanting you to get accustomed to the feeling.

"That feels good," you slurred, closing your eyes when a shudder ran from your legs to your face.

Then he pressed his tongue on your inner thigh, really close to your pussy.

"God," you gasped, opening your eyes wide and propped your weight on your elbows.

"Tell me if it's too much," he mumbled, trailing more open mouthed kisses until his lips reached your mound.

Your breath hitched and nodded. "Okay," you whispered, reaching out to graze his scalp with the pads of your fingers, eliciting a low groan from the man who was between your legs, the first person to ever be this intimate with you.

"Oh my god," you breathed when he gently and so, so slowly pushed his tongue between your pussy lips, parting your slippery folds with a generous stroke with his tongue.

His hands came to angle your thighs open for him when your first instinct was to try and close them. He pressed his mouth to your cunt, licking your arousal from your entrance with a groan that you felt on your soft flesh.

"Cheol, babe," you gasped, watching him ravage your cunt slowly, making the most loud wet sounds when his pointed tongue glided between your folds and swirled around your clit.

"Babe, don't stop," you whimpered, your hips buckling against his face when his tongue started flicking your swollen bud. He blinked and raised his eyes to find yours.

And he didn't stop, not to speak, not to rest and even though his mouth was starting to feel tired, he was determined to make you come first like this.

"God—Cheol," you mewled, feeling a tingling wave rushing through your body, intensifying by the second. "Babe, I'm there, 'm–"

You sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering violently on his bed as your orgasm flooded your body in hot waves. Overwhelming sensations invaded you as you cried out, your voice sounding raw and lewd. You felt it everywhere, not just between your thighs.

He pressed his lips on your clit and on your mound as he removed his hands from your thighs, using them to support his body by placing them at your sides.

"Good?" he muttered as he lowered the lower half of his body between your legs, without pressing his full weight on you.

His lips looked slick and swollen, and when you reached out to capture them with yours, you tasted your arousal on his tongue, making you moan at how lewd the act felt.

"Great," you breathed.

Your eyes had a post-sex glaze look on them, still breathing heavy, you looked heavenly this way. And Seungcheol loved that he was the reason why you looked like that.

"God, you're so beautiful, baby," he whispered, pressing his lips on yours between each word.

"Cheol?" you whispered, dragging his gaze back to yours.

"Mm?"

"I want you now," you mumbled with a sweet tone.

Seungcheol read your eyes briefly, looking for any signs of uncertainty, before he leaned his weight on one forearm at your side, his free hand grabbed his fully hard cock and guided it to your core.

You sucked in a breath again, when Seungcheol glided his cockhead down your wet folds with a low groan before nuzzling at your entrance.

Then he slowly eased himself into you, the fiery discomfort at your entrance was immediate, making your muscles contract and the scrunch on your face made him pause.

"Talk to me baby," he instructed softly.

"I'm okay," you breathed. "Keep going, please, Cheol."

He mouthed a 'okay' and pushed inside you slowly, his hand came up to cup your cheek to hold your gaze, your eyebrows knitted and your mouth parted, and he felt himself mimic your expression as he sheathed himself completely inside your warm, fluttery walls.

Seungcheol watched your beautiful features as he dragged his cock out and pushed in again, slowly, making your walls ease around him, adjusting to his size, letting him fuck you slowly.

Small moans spilled from your lips as the discomfort dissipated and soon turned into a warm, sweet pleasure, making your eyes flutter close and sigh blissfully.

Each drag of his cock in and out of you felt deliriously good. Seungcheol was slowly driving himself mad with your moans, with the feeling of your warm throbbing walls around him, taking him so good he was sure that you were made for him only.

It also made him a little crazy to think that it was your first time feeling something like this, to have him claiming you before anyone else. He shuddered and dropped his head on the crook of your neck, failing to control himself.

"I need to put a condom on, baby," he groaned against you, lifting his head to look at you.

"No, please. Just a little bit longer?" you immediately whined.

"I might not last long," he admitted shyly. "You feel so fucking good."

"You-you feel good too," you blurted.

Your arms were encircling him by his shoulders, your wrists locked behind his nape. You hummed a sigh when his hips pressed against you, driving his cockhead into a spot that felt just too good. Your walls clenched and he immediately pulled out with a low groan.

"I'm putting it on," he murmured, kissing you chastely before pulling his body up and reaching for a condom on his nightstand. He opened it with his experienced fingers and slid the condom down to his hilt.

Seungcheol slid inside you again, the contact of the latex inside you created a noise when he started delivering precise thrusts against you again. Undeniable, it felt different with protection, but it still felt good.

So good in fact that when his thrusts picked up pace, you moaned against the crook of his neck, the feeling of being so close, open and vulnerable with him so intense that you were sure you were losing what little sanity you had left.

"I love you," you breathed against his lips.

Seungcheol stifled a moan and his hand cupped your cheek again. "I love you too baby," he responded, lips grazing against yours.

He came not a second after you with soft moans and calling your name as he pressed his hips sloppily against you until he was rendered breathless on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he blinked back to reality.

Seungcheol was in love.

Time flew by and soon it was your first anniversary with him. Still in love, still making puppy eyes at each other. Your relationship moved almost seamlessly without any issues.

You both loved spending time together, whether it was going out together or just chilling at home. Seungcheol had moved out of his parents house and started renting a small one bedroom apartment. Freshly graduated, he wasted no time and started working, which was something he was aching to do.

There were little disagreements, but you always found a way to talk and work things out. It was like you were a team, facing every single challenge together.

On your anniversary, Seungcheol prepared a dinner to celebrate the year you had spent together. He placed candles on the table and seemed nervous before he led you inside his tiny apartment, covering your eyes with his hands, chuckling all the way as you stretched your arms out in case you stumbled and fell.

"Ready?" he mumbled in your ear.

"Ready," you replied and he uncovered your eyes.

There was a flower bouquet on a vase sitting on top of the table, which you noticed were your favorite flowers.

"This is beautiful, Cheol," you started and turned around to face him.

Only to find him on one knee, a small blue velvet box in his hand. The glint in his puppy eyes as he looked up at you with such adoring eyes as your heart clenched.

"No, stop!" you whined. "You're joking," you laughed as your eyes brimmed with tears that spilled onto your cheeks when he laughed with you when you told on his prank.

He opened the box, revealing his gift to you, which was a pretty dainty gold necklace with a heart locket.

"Happy anniversary," he said with his goofy laugh and rose just as you cupped his cheeks to kiss him lovingly.

The laughter and the sparkle in your eyes made it an unforgettable night for him.

A memory he would cherish for a long time.

second year

It was your twenty second birthday.

And soon it will be your second anniversary with Seungcheol. And it seemed hard to believe how fast time had passed you by, and how fast Seungcheol became the center of your whole world.

He was your partner through a world of self-discovery. Did you want to try new kinks? He was all in. Did you want to try weed or shrooms for the first time? He'd take care of you—or do it together in a safe space.

You had so much fun together that he wasn't only the love of your life, he was your best friend. And you were still so in love with him, it seemed like a dream, almost.

As the second anniversary rolled around, Seungcheol made it a little tradition to get on one knee to present you with jewelry. The second time he did it, your heart jumped again but you knew what his plan was, which was to get that joyful look on your face.

This time, you knew that if he presented you with a ring, you would've said yes.

third year

Choi Seungcheol is a strategist to his core.

At least, that's what a lot of people say about him. He doesn't like to think too much of himself, but sometimes, when he pays attention to what the people around him say, they say things akin to him being thoughtful, always scheming, always analyzing.

Seungcheol was a hundred percent sure about you. From the first anniversary together, he started planning the day he would get down on one knee and ask you to marry him seriously.

At this point you had been together for three years, and not one single day he doubted himself with you. There were some setbacks, money being one of them, but he could manage. The only problem was dealing with your overbearing parents.

Steal princess from the castle, that was the name of his little plan.

In fact, as your twenty fourth birthday drew near, he thought of the way he would carry out this plan. One day, when you were away with your parents' for a whole weekend, he knew this was his chance.

He pressed the phone to his ear and waited for the line to be picked up. Chewing on his lower lip, sitting on his sofa with one leg crossed.

"Hi mom," he smiled when he heard his mother's voice greet him. Then he started picking on the hem of his clothes with his free hand as he said. "I need your help with something."

"Are you alright, baby?" his mother queried immediately.

Seungcheol noticed how nervous he sounded, added to his sudden ask for help and put in quickly. "Oh! Yes, yes, yes, I'm fine mom. Don't worry," he chuckled awkwardly. "I was thinking of picking you up later this evening for coffee and... I want you to help me choose a ring."

Silently, Seungcheol looked at the ceiling.

"An engagement ring?" his mother asked, a tinge of emotion twisting her words.

"Yes, mom," he breathed in. "I'm proposing," he nodded and gulped hard, trying to swallow down the emotions that coiled in his throat.

His mother didn't need to ask if he was sure, or if it was too soon. Because everyone knew how much he loved you.

Everyone knew you were end game.

fourth year

Every relationship has its ups and downs. But everything with Seungcheol seemed to be so good that it made you think that saying was just a fabricated thing to persuade people to stay in their relationships.

That was until you got in for a master's degree in a prestigious university abroad. It was a really big thing for you, a dream come true, really. But sadly you didn't get the necessary support to accept the offer.

Of course you wouldn't get the funding. Your family name was related to wealth, so why should anyone give you the funding when you could afford it yourself?

However, your parents stepped in, offering their help to you under one condition. Their condition was that you had to break up your relationship with Seungcheol, and once you finished your master's degree you'd have to marry someone they approve of. They'd cover all the expenses, the tuition, everything.

You just had to break up with your boyfriend. Marry someone worthy of you. They said,

You declined.

"What happened, baby?" Seungcheol had spent the past hour holding you as you cried and sobbed uncontrollably in his shoulder.

You had tried to tell him what had happened, but every time you opened your mouth a sob would have you breaking down in tears all over again.

"Baby, you're scaring me," he warned for the nth time, but he waited patiently for you, he rocked your body in his arm gently and kneaded your back with his hands attempting to soothe you.

The two of you were standing on the sidewalk outside the building where you lived with your family. Seungcheol had waited so long for you to speak that he was now leaning against his old car.

When he saw your figure hurriedly come out of the building, he supposed that you probably were running to him thinking you were late; however as soon as he saw your crushed face he immediately got out of his car to hold you, knowing that you were about to break down in tears.

He initially assumed the worst, his mind went to any possible scenario that could have you in such a state, and he voiced his concerns while rubbing your back.

"Has someone passed away? Is someone sick?"

Or perhaps,

"You've been cut off again?"

Maybe, maybe,

"Are you pregnant, baby? Is that it?"

The last two were issues he knew he could help you figure out.

He'd done it before, once your mom got sick of threatening you with cutting you off the will and allowances, she kicked you out of her house. Seungcheol would let you crash in his apartment, whenever you needed it. And he'd secretly wanted you to move in.

And if in one in a million chance he got you pregnant, well... He was all in with you. Whatever you decided, he was all in.

"I g-got accepted," you sobbed, but most of your words got muffled in the crook of his neck.

"What was that?" he asked softly and you sensed him lowering his face to look at your head in his shoulder.

"I got accepted," you told him more clearly, swallowing your sobs.

"Baby, that's great. That's your top choice, right?," his soft voice was a bit closer now. "Why are you crying?"

Seungcheol was well aware of all the post-graduate applications you did the previous year, and you had some letters of acceptance but you were waiting for the letter of acceptance and it had finally arrived.

He didn't really care if you went to another country; he wanted you to fulfill your dreams. He could wait for you, that was the initial plan, to wait for you while you achieved your milestone abroad.

"I didn't get the funding," you replied. "I didn't get it for any of the applications."

Oh. Seungcheol knew that you needed the funding, otherwise you were pretty much at a loss. Even though you had many other options, it would be really hard for you if you wanted to break away from your family's nasty hooks once and for all.

"And my mom told me they can give me all the funding, everything," you continued, now speaking fast as if you wanted to get the words out before breaking in tears again. "But they'll do it only if I break up with you and marry someone else when I get the degree. They weren't even pleased that I got accepted, it's like they were planning this."

Seungcheol just listened, but he couldn't help but feel a mixture of rage and anguish at what he was witnessing. How could they do that to you? You were their daughter, why would they try to sabotage you at any chance they had?

He knew your parents didn't hate him. Hate was earned. He just wasn't what they thought was 'good enough' for you. They were just waiting for what they called your 'little fling' to end, hoping that you would move on to what they considered a more serious relationship with someone they thought was more 'suitable'.

And by that they meant, filthy rich.

Granted, Seungcheol didn't make one small fraction of the money your parents made, probably never will. But he took care of you, he loved you. Wasn't that enough?

But he couldn't give you what your parents were offering. He knew that. He wasn't ready for that.

"You should accept," he said suddenly, he even felt like he was betraying himself.

You stiffened, finally looking up from his shoulder. "W-what?" you sniffed. "Cheol, are you listening? We'd have to split-"

"Not really," he muttered, seeing you so broken made him want to cry too. "We can still be together. Your parents don't have to know."

You smiled bitterly through your tears. "I'd be married off to someone else, and then what? They told me they already talked with some other family. They can arrange a marriage 'cause they're crazy like that."

Seungcheol knew just how crazy your family was. They were the kind of family that would whip out a binding contract on you if you agreed to marry someone else. They made the kind of money to hire a PI to follow you around because they didn't actually know who their daughter was.

Your parents didn't like what they found, obviously. And they could pretty much pinpoint the exact moment in your life when you started to feel more free. Such things they mostly thought were 'acts of rebellion'. And Seungcheol was your partner in crime.

He nodded and looked heavenward. "I can't give you what they can. I just don't make the money."

"I'm not saying that, babe. Besides, I already declined my mom's offer," you mumbled through your tears and whiny sobs. "I'm not breaking up with you."

"So you're not following your dream because of how I'd feel?" he looked at you again. "Baby, this is not what I want for you. You know that."

Studying abroad has been your dream since you could remember. You made it your whole life besides being with Seungcheol, if there was anything you could ever do for your whole life, it'd be reading, writing. You were always buried in books.

He cupped your flushed face in his hands. "This is your future. This is yours long before I was. I can't be the reason why you don't follow through. I just can't."

Your eyes met his and knew he was being dead serious.

"I won't break up with you. That's my final decision."

He sighed, but not out of relief. He hated arguing with you. Having arguments with you happened rarely, but you were just as stubborn as he was—perhaps even more so, and often pushed arguments for hours until he was the one who eventually gave in.

"Can we at least consider what I'm saying?" he proposed in a gentle tone, trying to convince you.

"I'm not keeping us a secret either!" you countered. "That's crazy, Seungcheol. Are you serious?!"

He visibly flinched when he heard you call him by his full name. "It's not crazy, it's a possibility, a plan."

You inhaled deeply, feeling the chill in the air as your fingers brushed his dark hair. He recently had it trimmed short on the sides, so he looked boyish and younger, even. He looked just like when you met him.

You loved him. Your love for him wouldn't be kept a secret.

"We'll think of something else," that was your final say about it.

It is true that Seungcheol had grown a bit disdainful of himself ever since your parents had let on their thoughts of him. You didn't have to tell him anything directly, he could sense it. The cold shoulder, the glares, the offhanded comments.

They didn't have to be straightforward with him. Seungcheol also noticed it in the way your parents treated you; the constant threats, warnings, always cutting you off, the blackmail.

It was easy, from the minute he witnessed your parents talk down to you he knew he would never like them.

Well, the feeling was mutual.

That grew into dark thoughts in his mind, a sneaky internal voice that would feed into his insecurities, every dark thought inside him and these would get stronger each time he doubted himself with you.

Not feeling enough can be suffocating.

"Babe, you split your lip," you told him, offering him a tissue he could wipe the blood that was now mixing with his drool on his lips.

He had been biting off the skin of his lips. He did that absentmindedly as his thoughts took him to a dark path.

"Thanks," he muttered.

The tissue broke in his lip and stuck to the slit in his lower lip but he didn't seem to notice. That made you smile softly and reach for him to remove the bit of tissue from his broken lip with your fingers.

"Here," you whispered, and noticed Seungcheol's big dark eyes lost on your face.

He had been doing this for weeks now. Losing focus every now and then, he'd lose sleep and forget things. He did these things whenever he needed to say something but didn't know just how to get there, he always needed some prompting from you.

But you just couldn't bring yourself to initiate this time.

It was almost a month ago that you told him the news about the offer for you to study abroad. And about the offer your parents had made. You declined your mom's offer, but ever since then, Seungcheol had been acting off.

Your hand rested on his cheek, and he closed his eyes briefly to kiss your palm with his bloody lip.

"I love you," he mouthed, almost as if he couldn't bring his voice to enact itself.

"I love you too, babe," you replied, seeing his face contorted in pain and frustration was eating you up on the inside.

You had taken a job as a teacher's assistant at a school near Seungcheol's apartment. It was so near that you always visited his apartment after you were done with your shift.

So you practically lived with him in his one bedroom apartment. You had a bunch of clothes stored in the closet of his bedroom, a toothbrush, the books piling up in a corner were yours too. You occupied a large chunk of the desk with your computer, piles of papers from your job and pink headset sitting next to his.

The reason why you had taken up the teaching job was to start making some money for yourself, and possibly to make Seungcheol see that you could manage without the help from your parents, maybe then he'd ask you to move in with him.

Why hasn't Seungcheol just asked to move in with him? You hadn't asked him, but it would probably have something to do with your parents.

You knew he felt a certain kind of insecurity when it came to the lavish lifestyle your parents raised you with. But you couldn't care less in reality. You had him, that was all you needed.

So now your focus was that, your job and Seungcheol. You tried to forget about your MA acceptance letters. When you got the final letter of acceptance from all the applications you made, you were aware that you had a limited timespan to return one letter in agreement, but you haven't made a reply yet.

Seungcheol knew that, he was also well aware that you had only a few weeks to make your final choice and it was driving him crazy that you haven't made one.

It was like he was the one deciding on your future and he hated it.

He hated when your parents wanted to puppeteer everything in your life, they made choices for you most of the time and he hated watching that.

So now that you were choosing him over the biggest opportunity of your life, it killed him.

"Babe, stop thinking about it," you muttered, your heart palpitating hard at the mention of 'it'.

He blinked slowly and found your face, his brow furrowing slightly. "I can't."

"We have tonight," you smiled softly at him. "We can take our minds off for now, can you do that?"

He pressed your hand against his cheek briefly before grabbing it to lock your fingers with his.

"I will but only if you do something for me," he smiled slowly–a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

You knew that look. It was the look of someone desperately trying to feel something other than worry and finally coming face to face with their remedy.

You pushed your eyebrows up, and you knew what was coming. "No."

"Please baby, for me?" his eyebrows knitted and his bloody lip hung out in a cute little pout.

"I am not doing it!" you yanked your hand from his and stood from the couch of the living room of his apartment.

"Baby, you love it, every time!" he laughed as you walked off to his bedroom to get ready for the friendly reunion he was hosting that night.

"You are such a child, Cheol!" you bit back, rolling your eyes.

He was soon delivering kisses on your nape, hugging you from behind. "Please, baby. Please, you don't have to do anything, just sit."

"I'm not sitting on your face," you snorted as you sorted the clothes that you had brought to his apartment over months ago.

"Mmm baby, you didn't seem to hate it this much last time," he said, kissing the crook of your neck. "In fact, you sounded like you loved it."

"It was hard to relax," you confessed, your hands slacking on your sides when you felt his lips touch that spot on your neck. "I kept thinking that I was suffocating you."

"Angel, you know if that happens I'd die happy," he giggled. "Please? Before we go."

That was also something he'd been doing: drowning his worries with sex. So suffice to say, he's been fucking you almost everyday, at any chance he can get.

"We're late already babe," you muttered, his lips kissing your shoulder, ignoring the strap of your tank top.

"Jeonghan can manage if we're late, don't worry," he mumbled, while his hands dipped beneath your tank top, pulling it up to caress your skin at your waist.

When you made no reply, because you were too busy thinking that he'd been fucking you a lot these days, probably to quiet the voices in his head—you heard him sigh softly, and you turned your head to see him smile.

"We can do something else if you want to," he suggested in a soft tone.

"We're going to be late," you repeated but as soon as his hand slid from your waist and under your panties, you knew it was game over.

You dropped your head back on his shoulder when his fingers dipped on your sopping core. You heard him smile, and your head was now angled back so his lips found more skin on your neck he hadn't kissed.

"But you're so wet baby. You're dripping on my fingers. You planned to arrive at the party with your pussy all wet? What then?"

"I'd just wait for you to drag me to any corner where you can fuck me in," you replied, knowing that would elicit a chuckle out of him.

"Mm, but maybe I've spoiled you too much—giving you my cock whenever you want it, letting you come when you want to," his voice was low, like honey pouring onto your ear.

You shuddered against his body when his fingers circled your clit expertly. He knew you so well, knew every inch of your body, where you liked to be touched, how you liked to be fucked.

You moaned softly when he pinched your slick covered clit between his index and middle finger.

"I want you now. Do you want it baby?" he asked in a feigned sweet tone.

"I always want you to fuck me, Cheol," you whimpered, his fingers pressed on your clit and started rubbing circles on it.

"Will you be a good girl for daddy?" his other hand had already busied itself too, sliding from your waist under your tank top to find one of your already hardened nipples.

Your mouth parted a bit, feeling a bit lost on the swirls of his fingers on your swollen clit, and his other set of fingers teasing your nipples.

Seungcheol might be drowning his worries with sex. But so were you.

"Mmm yeah, I can be good," you decided.

I mean, you could be late for a bit. Han would manage.

They say hurt people hurt people. But how can you hurt each other and bring comfort at the same time?

You never saw that you were hurting, but in retrospect, it couldn't have been more obvious. And Seungcheol was hurting, too. Pushing troubles away with sex and alcohol, you brought comfort to each other to ease the pain that was looming close.

What was the purpose of this party? You didn't know exactly, and you didn't ask. But lately you've been visiting Jeonghan's apartment every at least twice a week, for a different party.

Now, what prompts Jeonghan to throw parties? You suspected that he was fully aware of Seungcheol's need for a distraction, and the reason why. So like the best friend Jeonghan was, he made a pathetic excuse to throw a party at his house.

Seungcheol introduced you to his best friend a month into your relationship. It was the first time he introduced you to one of his closest friends and he was so excited, as he said he just knew you were going to get along with his best friend.

And that you did. You met him and you instantly clicked with him. As the years went by, he turned into something close to a brother for you. He even called you his little sister in an endearing way.

"What took you so long?" Jeonghan asked as he opened the door to his apartment. "Wait. Spare me the details," he chuckled as he embraced you tightly. "Happy anniversary!"

"Anniversary? Is that what he's saying now?" you asked, and looked over your shoulder to see Seungcheol already being stolen away by his friends.

Although your fourth anniversary drew closer, you knew that Seungcheol might be putting that as an excuse now. Even if your birthday was before the anniversary, you were suspecting he wouldn't dare use it as a real excuse.

Jeonghan shrugged carelessly. "I don't fucking know anymore," he laughed, looking at your boyfriend in the distance. "It's a new excuse every week, is it?"

"Yeah, I'm beginning to think it is," you muttered, resisting the thought that it was getting serious.

Seungcheol had a desperate need to avert his worries lately, which had turned into party after party every week. But now he was just saying anything to bring his friends over to Jeonghan's.

"Listen, I wanted to be patient and wait for him to tell me what's going on but, I'm getting worried now," Jeonghan announced, sucking in a long breath as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"He's fine, Hannie," you said reluctantly. "He's going to be alright, he just needs to let it out of his system."

And by that, the way Seungcheol chose to let it out was by turning to his vices: sex, gambling, drinking.

He was usually a fun drunk. Loud, energetic, happy. He was quick to organize a party around so he wasted no time and had already sat at a table with his friends to play drinking games.

"Are you sure that this has nothing to do with you not taking the degree offer?" he asked in a soft tone as you walked to his kitchen where he was picking on his food prior to your arrival.

"Han," you whined, darting a look to your unbeknownst boyfriend. "I told you I don't want to talk about it."

Jeonghan had turned into something like your confidant as well. Almost everything that Seungcheol knew about you, Han knew as well. Almost everything.

His brow furrowed a little, and two of his lithe fingers pushed a strand of deep red hair back and tucked it behind his ear.

"Neither of you want to talk about it," he rolled his eyes with a goofy giggle. "I guess I'll just wait until none of you sorry asses can't hang on any longer."

You laughed. "I suppose so, too. We don't deserve you, Hannie," you mumbled, giving him a squeeze on his shoulder before walking to your boyfriend.

He was sitting on a foldable table in Jeonghan's living room. The table was covered in cans of coke and bottles of soju, but in the center of it was a pile of bills.

A small sigh escaped your mouth. You felt tired already and haven't been to your 'anniversary party' for more than two hours now.

Seungcheol had already downed almost two bottles of soju when he lifted his head and found you standing before him.

"Hi beautiful," he murmured with a content smile, his lazy eyes scanned you from top to bottom once and with his free hand he took yours, pulling you gently.

You understood what he wanted and moved to sit on his lap in front of his friends. His hand gripped you by the waist and continued to pay attention to the game of poker he was playing with his friends.

Your cheeks grew hot at the very public display of affection and dominance but deep down you knew that you liked it.

Four years ago when you started dating Seungcheol, you slowly got a grip of just how possessive he was and you found out that you liked it.

He'd let everyone and anyone with eyes know that you were off limits. You liked that he made hickeys on your neck and chest so whenever someone darted a look at your cleavage, they'd see the marks from him.

And with the red strapless dress you were wearing, everyone glanced your way. It didn't show a lot of cleavage but it made your tits look so good that it drove everyone's eyes to take a peak.

So when you sat on his lap in the middle of their poker game, you couldn't help but notice the glancing eyes from his friends. Seungcheol couldn't care less that people looked, that was something he knew he had no control over.

No one would dare to do something more than just look.

Your boyfriend always encouraged you to dress however you felt like. And you did, every time you felt you were dressing too revealing or too provocative he would reassure you that nothing would happen to you around him.

You wondered if his friends even knew they had taken the bait. You knew you'd create a distraction the moment you sat on his lap, your lush thighs crossed, a bored look on your face.

Poker was a game that deeply bored you. You knew how to play, and you always thought it was not a game for you. It took time, money and strategy.

By the end of the game, Seungcheol gathered the money from the center of the table, and with a chaste kiss on your mouth he patted your backside gently.

"You won, baby," he muttered in your ear, placing a soft kiss on your earlobe.

You frowned in confusion. "No, I didn't. You did," you countered.

"The game turned in my favor when you appeared," he chuckled, looking up at you with a glint in his eye. "You give me luck."

"I do? And what do I get?" you asked playfully.

He offered you the roll of bills that was still in his grasp. But then a knowing smirk appeared on his cherry lips. You could tell that his eyes were glazed, a sign he was a bit drunk.

"You know I'm not talking about money, Cheol," you quipped, playing with his soft dark hair with your fingers.

"Oh, angel. You are greedy," he laughed and slowly reached for your lips. And then he muttered: "Let's go home."

As soon as you crossed his apartment door, he was already turning you around using one hand to yank you by your arm. You yelped as your chest hit his frame, quickly being shushed by the drunk kisses that landed on your face.

You made no attempt to slow him down, his hands pushed you to the nearest surface he could lay your body in. Your back hit the soft cushions of the small couch as you scooted your body across it with a squeal in pure excitement.

Seungcheol pulled your dress down by the hem of the chest area, yanking it down made it tear open a bit and the smile that appeared on his face made you think that he'd been wanting to do that all night.

He pulled back with a pleased sigh, his large hands taking both ends of the tear made in your dress and pulled harshly. Another yelp came out from you when Seungcheol tore the fabric on your chest in two.

"Babe! That's the second dress that you destroy," you tried to chastise him, but you couldn't help but smile. You kind of liked to see him so needy for you that he had to tear the clothes off of you.

But being so that your strapless dress was padded around the chest area, your bare tits sprung out when he tore it open. His smile grew bigger as he dipped his head to lick your nipples.

He didn't give you a reply, he just placed open mouthed kisses on the underside of your breast while a hand wrapped the other one and gave it a squeeze, making you squirm and moan when he started sucking your nipple.

Your hands searched the hem of his black t-shirt, pinching at the fabric to pull it over. He didn't resist, being a bit drunk made him forget about staying in the domspace for a bit so he pulled back and with one movement of his arms he got rid of his t-shirt, scrunching it into a ball and chucking it across the room.

"You're so hot," you sighed, letting out a chuckle at seeing your drunk boyfriend on his knees and between your legs.

The corner of his mouth stretched a bit into a grin. "You are too, angel. So fucking hot," he bent down to kiss you, two fingers grabbing your chin as his tongue dragged across your lip, then he paused. "Everyone looked at my baby tonight, I bet they wondered what was under that little dress."

You chuckled, returning the soft drunken kisses he planted on your lips.

"But only I get to look, right baby? Only I get to kiss you," he muttered, and to make his point across he trapped your lower lip to suck on it, and then he whispered: "Only I get to fuck you."

"Yes, daddy," you smiled, watching him continue to practically make out with your tits. You let out a small moan when he turned to suck your nipples again. "I'm all yours."

He stopped and smiled, lifting his head to give you a sly look. "That's right, angel. You're mine," he muttered, his hands gathering the sides of the torn dress to break the bit that was still sown together, tearing it completely.

He got rid of your red thong quickly and threw it over his shoulder where you couldn't see them anymore. At least he didn't destroy them this time.

"You will always be mine," he muttered with a fond look in his eye as he dipped his head between your legs, holding one of your legs over his shoulder and the other in his hand, angling it open for him.

He ran his tongue all over your cunt, making you scream in pleasure and grab his head with your hands. The strands of his brown hair tangled in your fingers.

Whenever he got tipsy, he would do this. He'd eat you out until he got drunk in your sweet juices instead. So he would run his tongue across your wet folds and your pussy lips, dipping his tongue on your entrance to get a taste of you, humming, moaning with you.

"Fuck, daddy!" you cried out, squirming involuntarily under his body. You arched your back, trying with everything you had not to push your hips against his mouth.

But you just couldn't help it. You swayed your hips forward ever so slightly, your pelvic bone bumping his forehead a bit.

"Behave," he warned, throwing you a look before darting the tip of his tongue around your clit.

You sucked in a breath, feeling the pointed tip of his tongue start to flick your clit expertly, knowing that would throw you over your climax soon.

"I'm–f-fuck," you stuttered, your body already twitching. "Daddy, I'm close. Let me come, please?"

You heard him lick his lips and you glanced down to see him. "You can come all over my mouth, baby," he granted before dipping his head to tease your clit some more with his tongue.

None of you cared how loud you were. Seungcheol loved the lewd sounds he got out of you, especially when all he did was make out with your pussy. You felt your walls clench erratically as you came on his mouth, your fingers clenching around the strands of his dark brown hair.

You blinked at him as he rose from the couch, undoing his belt with one hand and you sat up to get the button of his jeans and zipper with hasty fingers.

A hand came up to cup your chin, his fingers grazing your skin softly, commanding your eyes to his. Your heart twisted when you saw his adoring eyes looking at you as you got him out of his jeans and boxers.

He had been doing that lately. His eyes would briefly linger on yours during moments of intimacy. It made your heart ache as if clenched in a tight fist.

Seungcheol undid the strap of his wrist watch and let it drop to the pile of clothes on the floor. He sat on the couch as you moved to straddle him.

The following movements were precise, too familiar. You knew each other so well that there was no need for pause. So you simply angled his cock for you to sink yourself into it with a blissful moan and started riding him slowly at first.

You looked down at his eyes.

Seungcheol got caught up on the features of your face again, almost as if committing himself to memorize every expression, the way your eyebrows knit together, the way your mouth parts, the glint in your eye when your gazes connect.

"You're beautiful," Seungcheol whispered.

A sharp feeling in your chest robbed you of words, swallowing hard you dipped your head to kiss him softly.

Your hands grabbed at his wrists when he started kneading at your thighs, caressing the curve of your waist as you rolled your hips on his cock.

He loved the sight of you, the steady sway of your hips on his cock, your tits bouncing on his face, getting tired and more aroused by the second, the sweet moans you made for him.

"So perfect," you heard him whisper.

You swallowed back a moan when you felt his hot mouth on the swell of your breasts, then suckling at your nipple and teasing the other with his fingers.

"Daddy," you mewled, fingers sinking on his soft hair. "Fuck, that feels good."

His free hand caressed your back and secured a spot on your butt, cupping your flesh gently as you seemed to be getting tired, your breath had hitched and he could see that you were almost about to tap out.

"Do you want daddy to help you come, baby?" he asked with a sweet smile on his face.

"Yeah," you breathed and bit your lip in anticipation.

Seungcheol repositioned your body so your back was now pressed down the couch, your knees hoisted up his shoulders as he sheathed his cock inside you with a moan from both parts, and he immediately started slamming his hips against you.

Soon the tiny living room would flood with the sound of your lewd gasps and the slapping of his skin against yours as he fucked you into his couch. He knew your body so well that it didn't take him long to find the sweet spot inside you that drove you a little mad.

"God, daddy! So deep," you groaned through gritted teeth.

His eyes were lost on you, he knitted his eyebrows when you did as you moaned sweetly, pleading for him to not stop, your teary eyes glazing over his face as you neared your sweet, sweet release.

"Daddy, I'm cumming," you whimpered with a high-keen moan. "Fuck-k, daddy!"

Your eyes spilled some tears when you screwed them shut, sucking in a breath and your walls tightened around him. Seungcheol came so mind-numbingly hard that he groaned loudly, fucking his cum deep into you, his eyes still lost on your face.

Mind spinning, he eased your legs down from his shoulders to press his chest against yours as he attempted to regain focus. He felt your heart beating against his, your soft breaths, his cock still wedged inside your fluttering walls.

He didn't lower his full weight on you, but he knew that if he didn't recover soon, he would fall asleep on top of you.

When you felt like he might be falling asleep, you tried to budge under him. "Let's go to bed," you muttered softly.

He hummed. "Shower first, baby. Y'know the rules."

He peeled away from your body and stood up from the couch, promptly hooking his arms beneath your body and lifting you up.

You let out a groan in protest, but didn't complain any further because he had a point. The wet sensation making its trail down from your core was enough to make you go along with him.

He started the shower while you were in the middle of the bathroom, which was more cluttered with your stuff than his.

"Come on," he muttered lazily as he extended a hand to you, stepping on the shower with him.

He cupped his hands to gather water and he poured it on your shoulders. "Is it too hot?"

You shook your head and he proceeded to clean your body.

Seungcheol looked focused as he gently covered you in soap. You practically beamed at him, no matter how many times he did this, you always found it endearing whenever he washed your hair and body because he did it with a lot of care.

"You're okay?" he asked, taking one of your hands to rub your arm with soap.

"I'm fine, Cheol," you cooed and lifted your other hand for him to repeat the same process.

He hummed and nodded with his head briefly, his eyes inspecting your whole body as he covered every inch in soap.

"Turn around for me, baby," he instructed and you turned your back on him, the gentle stream of warm water landing on your face as he washed your back.

His wet dark hair was sticking to his forehead as the gentle stream from the showerhead above you warmed your body. He hugged you from behind and pressed his lips against your cheek.

"I love you so much," he whispered, pressing his lips repeatedly on yours. "Go to bed. I'll be there in five."

"I love you too, babe," you muttered before stepping out of the shower to dry your whole body with a towel and prepared for bed.

You practically slumped on the bed, where you had a designated side, marked by the small pile of books on one of the nightstands.

Five minutes later, you felt the bed sink behind your body on the weight of Seungcheol's body. He quickly grabbed your body in his arms and hugged you tightly, pressing kisses on your naked shoulder.

You thanked the warmth emanating from his body as he cuddled you beneath the bedsheets and bed covers.

A moment of silence happened between you. It should've been normal, but something in you sensed that Seungcheol was trying to get something out of his chest as his lips pressed long kisses on your skin.

"Love? Are you asleep already?" he muttered softly.

You turned beneath the bed sheets to face him.

His eyes wandered from yours, and into the distance behind your back. His brow furrowed ever so slightly and you saw how he choked on his own words before he could even utter a single one.

"Let's sleep, okay?," you suggested, your heart dropping at the sight of him being so troubled.

He nodded, blinking sleepily at you.

You smiled and cupped his cheek with one hand, which made his brow relax and his hand came up to yours, pressing his cheek against your hand.

"I love you," he whispered.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing below your pillow.

You had but one message from your mother, detailing that her and your father were just coming back from their trip overseas and that they had just sent a driver to come pick you up because they were eager to see you.

You huffed. That was pretty much an euphemism for: 'We know you haven't been home since we left and we're not happy about it.'

That was pretty much like a routine for you, so you left your phone aside, just as a heavy arm circled your frame and pulled you closer to his.

"It'll be my birthday soon," you pointed with a small voice. "I'm turning twenty-four."

"I know, baby," he replied with a small frown, trying to egg you to get to your point.

"Maybe... I think it would be nice for us to start planning to get together–," you took a deep breath. "I wanna move in, with you."

Seungcheol allowed your words to sink in for a moment, not just for him but for you too, as if giving you a chance to elaborate.

"Would you like that?" you asked, shifting slightly on the pillow. "I mean, I practically live here already. And I'm making money, I'm sure we can manage..."

You could see the gears in his brain turning, his dark eyes reading your face over and over. His silence was unsettling and as the seconds went by, you started to feel nervous.

"What about your graduate acceptance?" he finally asked, his voice sounded almost like a croak, and you weren't sure if it was the raw emotion of finally touching the subject or the fact that you both had just woken up.

You shrugged slightly. "What about it?" your voice quivered slightly. "I can try next year, it's no big deal."

"No big deal, really?" he repeated slowly. "Baby, what are you even saying?"

"I can try again next year, maybe they'll give me the funding for the research next time," you fretted slightly beneath the sheets, an instant giveaway that you weren't sure of your own words.

"Why are you doing this?" he blurted, and the words sounded as if he wanted to ask for a whole month.

"Do what?" you frowned slightly.

"You're turning down this opportunity, your dream opportunity, why?" he asked.

"I just think that it might not be the best moment for me to take it," you mumbled, again, that tinge of uncertainty lacing your words.

"What?" he cringed. "You're joking, right?"

You paused, unable to give him a reply. Not because you didn't want to, but you didn't know what to say.

When you didn't say anything at all, Seungcheol sat up on the bed with a sigh. He rubbed his face and then brushed his hair through his fingers, a clear sign that he was getting heated.

"Cheol," you started, trying to get him to look at you. "If I go away right now, we're losing time together and I don't want that."

"You're telling me that you're turning down a once in a lifetime opportunity for us?" he asked, and you saw him shake his head slightly, but he was still not looking at you. "Can't we do long distance? Can't we take it up when you get back?"

The questions he was asking were honest and valid. But in your perspective, it was time lost.

"In a year and a half?" you pressed. "And you know we won't be able to do long distance, it will be nearly impossible."

"It will be better than you missing out on the opportunity to build and achieve your goals," he countered sternly. "I can't believe you're turning this down."

At that, he rose from the bed, throwing the duvet and sheets aside and opened his drawer to fish out his underwear and put it on silently as your mind reeled.

You sat up on the bed as he slid a pair of black sweatpants and turned to your direction.

"Say something," he urged.

"What do you want me to say, Cheol?" you started and shrugged again. "I've made up my mind. Why can't you just accept that?"

You rose from the bed too and copied his actions by finding your underwear and putting it on silently.

"I just want what's best for you," he said, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

"At the cost of what we have?" you asked, knowing that you were threading on a dangerous path.

"Why does it have to be that way?" he asked, and you could sense the desperation in him just by hearing his voice. "Baby, this is your future and you're putting it on the line, for what?"

"For you, Seungcheol! For us!" you turned, your voice rang hoarse. You knew that it was wrong to raise your voice, it wasn't needed.

But you were in pain.

And he knew that.

"I don't want this," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"You don't want me?" you asked, your chest had started to heave in remorse and tears welled in your eyes.

He rolled his eyes in utter annoyance. "I want you to choose what's best for you and maybe right now the best for you is to follow your dream."

"What if what I want is to be with you?" you asked despite the feeling that maybe you were stepping on a line. "What if I tell you that I want to start a life with you?"

He ran his hands over his hair and his eyes rolled back again, but this time he just looked straight at the ceiling. "Since we know each other you wanted this," he shook his head slightly. "I can't believe that you just changed your mind in the span of a couple of weeks."

"But what if I have?" you sniffed loudly as tears ran down your cheeks. "What if I choose you? You don't want that?"

"I want you to choose yourself for the first fucking time in your life!" his words hung in the air between you two, but as soon as he uttered them, he looked like he wanted to take them back immediately.

But it was too late.

He was right.

But you couldn't give him that, you just couldn't see it at that moment.

He was right, but so were you.

You stood there, frozen. Feeling like an idiot. For four fucking years, all you did was choose him over everything. Half of your life was in that apartment; your wishes to move in with him and finally start your life far away from your family.

But now, you felt pushed away.

Seungcheol looked scared for a second, his mouth agape and widened eyes, as if waiting for your next move.

"Baby, I'm-,"

"I'm leaving," you declared, scrambling to get your clothes from your drawer in his bedroom. Hot tears blurred your vision as you tried your best to dress up quickly.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, just-"

"No, Seungcheol. Don't baby me."

"We need to have this talk," he insisted, chasing you all over the bedroom as you dressed up.

"There is nothing to talk about. I'm done. I'm taking my mom's offer."

"What? Just like that? I say one wrong thing and that's it?" he asked, his voice strung in pain and confusion.

This can't be happening, he thought over and over.

You scrambled desperately for your pants, anything to put on.

"No, you're right," you told him. "You're always right. I should choose myself. I am so fucking dumb for thinking I was doing the right thing by choosing you."

You didn't dare to look at his face, but you knew that it hurt. It hurt saying it and Seungcheol stopped chasing you in his room as you found a top to put on.

"Don't do this," he said as he tried to take your arm, which you yanked from his grip.

"Do what?!" you snapped, finally looking at his face as you finished dressing up. "Do what, Seungcheol? You are leaving me with no choice. So, do what, exactly?"

Your voice rang with rage and despair. And when you faced him, you probably conveyed those emotions in your eyes because Seungcheol's expression just broke.

"This! Not talking it out, trying to hurt me," he gritted. "We need to talk about this. Or else, you're going to leave to another fucking continent and where does that leave us, me?"

Your steps were determined as you walked away from him, creating a physical and emotional distance between the two of you. He stood there, a mixture of frustration and despair written on his face.

"I can't tell you that, Seungcheol," you uttered through a broken voice. "That's something you'll have to sort out alone."

His eyes narrowed and tilted his head to the side just slightly, shoulders slumping down in defeat.

"What are you saying?" he asked, his eyes searching your face frantically and in sheer disbelief.

"Maybe we're not ready for this, Seungcheol," you told him despite the crippling pain in your heart. "Maybe I need to figure things out by myself."

This was happening. Despite all Seungcheol's planning, scheming, despite all his love, you chose this. You chose yourself.

So he had to make his choice.

"So this is it?" he asked, his eyes dead.

Your head nodded, chest heaving. "This is it."

The silence between you grew heavy, so heavy that Seungcheol felt nearing a breaking point.

"I never thought we would end like this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Neither did I," you replied.

A broken sigh fell from his lips, choking up from the sheer pain invading his chest. "Is this what you truly want?"

"It is," you whispered.

You watched him swallow hard and then he nodded, balling his hands into fists, gritting his teeth as he accepted your choice, thus finalizing his.

Everything inside him screamed in pain, pleading with him to fight harder, to make you see what he saw but he just nodded.

He was letting you go.

The reality was, you and Seungcheol had given up.

It didn't feel real. The air was almost sickening, it made you dizzy.

With a last look, you walked away, leaving behind a piece of your heart and the remains of your first love, your first everything.

You left his apartment, slamming the door on your way out, tears blurring your vision as you hurried down the stairs. Your head was buzzing, and your chest hurt so much that you never noticed that Seungcheol changed his mind and followed you out the building.

But as soon as he saw you get in a black car, tinted windows and drove away, he knew he had lost you, you were gone.

And that you were, for two years.

✧ a/n: hiiiii ᨐฅ

i cried while writing this, and that's a first for me.

i hope this flashback chapter wasn't confusing haha. if it was, feel free to comment or send me an ask!

› so who do you think was in the wrong/right here? reader or seungcheol? i wanna know your opinions ‹(•⩊•)› i'd say they were both dumb and thought themselves to be undeserving of each other and threw it all away at the slightest bit of conflict haha

once again, this was loosely proofread, am sorry

if you liked reading this, please let me know? i'd appreciate a comment, reblog, like or even an ask! my ask box is always open and i love to know your thoughts on anything ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა

↣ i want to dedicate this chapter to @cvntrlseecvntrlvee, who kept the seungcheol brain rot alive and kicking, 💟

✧ READ PART 4 ✧ | JOIN MY TAGLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

toodles

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts.  Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts.  Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying.  ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair.  You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze.  Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other. 

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy.  Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway.  It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught. 

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers.  "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously.  Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night.  Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy.  Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug. 

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures. 

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | one

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

Pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  Rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  Summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. Warnings/Tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], slow burn [ish], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset [boys are problems], mentions of family drama/turmoil, passing mention of death [elderly neighbor], brief non-violent use of a pocket knife, mention of stabbing [as self-defense], furniture building, reader described as female, hair long enough to tie up, no other physical descriptions, eventual smut, protective!joel, soft!joel, no use of y/n. Word Count: 4.6k Series Masterlist | part two a/n: this is my first time writing with this sort of format so pls be gentle. i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. i have no outline for this. but i’ve got a whim and a direction and i’m going with it. **please read the warnings/tags for every part as they will be updated**

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You’d done it. Finally. No one ever thought you would, including you. And yet, here you were, lugging your sparse personal belongings out of the back of a U-Haul truck and in through the front door of your new home. And for once in your adult life, it wasn’t in some impersonal apartment building or complex. It was a house. In a town that was actually affordable, though it was further from home than you might’ve preferred. A town that was away from family, which had been the impetus, but also away from friends, which hadn’t been. 

There was a perk to this being the first house you’d ever moved into. Being confined to seven hundred square feet had meant there was only so much room to fill. And it had all been cozy. But now there was a bit more space to work with. Not to say this house was large by any stretch of the imagination – it was on the smaller side of all the houses in the neighborhood – but you had rooms now. And as you loaded in different boxes and suitcases full of clothes and books, you realized how much of the space was going to be left empty. With the exception of a mattress, bed frame, dresser, a couple chairs, and bookcases, you left every other large piece of furniture behind. Couches, dining table, kitchen chairs, media console, TV… you planned on buying all of that in town. You only wanted to bring what you felt you could move yourself. 

It was the season of life you were in. Young enough for people to say you had time before focusing on creating a family for yourself, but not young enough to avoid their awkward and worried glances when you told them you were only focused on your career. It was odd; never something that settled right. With each birthday, every time a candle was added, the world around you seemed less secure with your aloneness. As if you, a single female, were something of a threat to the rest of the world. Your solitude, an act of rebellion. God forbid you didn’t have a man to look after you. In your experience, boys didn’t do too good a job at much. Were they useful? Absolutely. You’d much rather delegate tasks to a boy than have to do them yourself. Mow the lawn, fix a creaky door, seal a drafty window, get you off… sure, there were any number of things a boy could do, but not only were they not necessary, you generally found you were better at any job than they were. That had been instilled in you long before you began dating. 

How many times had it been proven that dad could not be held accountable for his entire emotional spectrum? And instead you, a mere child, were to be responsible for it. Though it wasn’t always bad – somewhere deep down you knew your parents had done the absolute best they knew how to do with the tools they had – but the emotion dad was never short on was anger. Thus, it was the emotion he was most comfortable expressing. And yes, you apparently were the catalyst for all of his loud expressions of anger and rage. Everything was always conditional. I’m sorry but you did this… 

I love you but…

By the time dating had entered your life (which only happened post-college), let’s just say no therapist was surprised by the pattern of boys you chose to have in your life. All of them modeled the thing you were familiar with, which only served to imbed the quality you hated most about yourself. There was a tendency to accept any treatment a boy was willing to give you, without expressing needs or desires or even if there was a problem. Boundaries? Never heard of her. As far as boys were concerned, they seemed to have carte blanche over you. Your own resentment and anger would grow by the lack of your needs (which had never been verbally expressed) being met, until you’d had enough and cut them off. Every new relationship felt like a complete betrayal of yourself.

The highly independent and ‘don’t need a man’ personality quirk had strung a ribbon of apathy around your life. You liked to think of it that way. Like a Christmas bow around a present. Realizing you didn’t care about forming intimate relationships with men seemed a little less painful when given the image of a box neatly wrapped beneath a tree donning tinsel and colorful lights. It was at that point, while pondering your ribbon of apathy and clumsily shoving your mattress up the front porch steps, that a voice interrupted your progress.

“Lemme help ya’ with that, ma’am,”

The voice had arms. And those arms were simultaneously reaching for the same end of the mattress you already had hands on. Instinctively, you tugged your bed out of reach, “I got it.” But hands kept coming. They were insistent. Of course they were a man’s hands. A woman would’ve listened the first time. So with an extra strong tug and a tone that spat fire, you turned toward the owner of the hands and stood your ground, “I said, I got it!”

Dark brown eyes that almost looked black had the sun not been playing in their favor. They were soft. Gentle. Despite the fact that he’d just gotten yelled at. And those soft dark brown eyes… well they looked dumbfounded. Whether it was because of the volume of the statement or the fact that people generally didn’t turn down friendly help here in the South, he lifted his hands off the mattress and held them up innocently. 

The force with which your action had been committed meant that the moment he released  the bed, you went stumbling over, the entire thing thudding down on the porch. You shot him another icy glare as he slowly backed off the steps, though he remained in place and watched you crouch down to lift your mattress once again; the pad now harboring dirty stains.

“Can I help you with something in the truck?” He offered again. Unwanted persistence was a uniquely male quality.

“I don’t need your help, thanks. I got it,”

He watched for just a second longer at the image of you fumbling with the heavy mattress, barely able to keep it upright. Then he turned on his heels and went back from whence he came. Which you came to realize, when you looked over your shoulder to ensure he’d actually gone, was across the street and a few houses down. Fuck. Back in California, not too many people were neighborly but it wasn’t a point you were hoping to make. Especially not on the first day. There was a quaintness to the idea of a neighborhood full of people who liked and looked out for one another. You’d just hoped that would’ve come in the form of some old, opinionated woman sipping tea in a rocking chair on her front porch. The kind that maybe the kids were afraid of, but she was awesome. That’s when it came to mind that maybe that was the void in the neighborhood you were filling. You were to be the crotchety old woman, yelling at “those darn kids”. Fabulous.

Unfortunately (for no other reason than your own ego) you only got the mattress in through the threshold of the front door before it fell to the side and flopped back down to the floor. With a sigh and a thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad if it just lived there, you stepped over it and padded into the kitchen. Managed to place the boxes designated to the room in it, but had yet to unpack anything. You turned on the tap and tilted your head to the side, leaning in to take a sip of water directly from it. Only to find that upon turning off the tap and looking out the bay window by the sink, the man that had offered to help was visible from his yard. He wheeled out his trash and recycling bins to the curb. Resting his hands on his hips, he glanced around and took stock of the neighborhood. All seemed quiet and to his liking.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Joel liked routine. Habit-forming had become a sort of habit. It meant he knew what his days looked like. It meant he was prepared. And after having been handed a life where being ill-prepared meant something was going wrong, there was great comfort in knowing how things were going to go day by day. Though he wasn’t rigid. He could include new things in his routine. For instance…

One morning he woke up, made his usual pot of coffee before work, and stood out on his porch. It’d be one of his only moments to slow down and actually notice the day. That’s when he noticed something new in his routine. A “For Sale” sign went up on Mrs. Wilson’s front lawn. Everyone in the neighborhood had been expecting it because, well, Mrs. Wilson had passed away. In her sleep one night. Joel thought that must’ve been the nicest way to go. And every morning, he’d go out on his porch and ponder Mrs. Wilson before carrying on with the rest of his routine. As such, he saw when it sold and went into escrow. He saw Mrs. Wilson’s son move out all of his mother’s old furniture until the place was left empty. Everything was routine. 

That is, until the U-Haul showed up this morning. It was a small one and he remembered thinking there was no way that little truck contained enough furniture to fill up that house. But he brushed it off, continued with his routine, and went off to work. Though he had to admit, he was wholly curious about the new neighbor he was about to inherit.

He left his jobsite early afternoon, his truck ambling back to his house when another neighbor waved him down to stop him.

“Hey, Mr. Cole,” Joel smiled at the elderly man. Mr. Cole had been the first one to greet Joel when he’d first moved into town. Mr. Cole knew everything going on in the neighborhood, courtesy of Mrs. Cole.

“You see that gal move into Mrs. Wilson’s house?”

Joel nodded, “saw that woman move in, yeah.”

“Mighty pretty,”

Joel chuckled, “surely not as pretty as Mrs. Cole,”

“I don’t know,”

Joel laughed a little harder. “I’ll see ya’ around. Stop snoopin’.”

He’d only just arrived back home and parked his truck in the driveway when he saw you struggling with the mattress. And his mama raised him better than that so he went to offer his help. There hadn’t been a fiber in his being that thought you’d snap back like you had. That’s why he tried a second time. And when the second snap was stronger than the first, he raised his hands and backed off.

Shit. Out-of-towners were getting meaner and meaner.

He meandered to his house and only looked back once, just in time to see the mattress fall to the floor just inside the front door. He smiled to himself and continued on with his routine as much as possible. Tomorrow was trash day which meant the bins needed to be brought out.  Simple enough task, just the way he liked it. He liked it even more when he spotted a glimpse of you looking at him through your kitchen window. 

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You forwent unpacking anything that day. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing you pulled out would truly have a place to live until you got the furniture situation handled. And seeing as though your bed was still in the entryway, you figured there were bigger problems to handle. But just by looking at the hallway, and the thin doorways, you knew you were going to have a hell of a time bending and twisting the mattress to your will… and the architecture. Grocery shopping proved to be more time-sensitive, and once the fridge was as fully stocked as your bank account would allow, it already started to feel more like home. Which also meant, the way you’d snapped at your neighbor started to bother you more. You had to live in this person’s realm – whatever that looked like. He was your neighbor, and short of literally becoming the crotchety old woman that never left her home, there wasn’t a way for you to avoid him altogether. He seemed to have a lot of friends on the block. That’s also when you decided to suck up to your pride. To apologize to this man who really didn’t deserve an apology at all. Whatever it took to just live in peace.

The more you thought about it, the more it angered you. That was pretty par for the course. It would’ve been more odd if a man wasn’t pissing you off. It was still running through your mind as you plucked a six-pack from your fridge and crossed the street in the direction of his house. You thought about how you were going to have to plaster a phony smile on your face and make niceties to this person who you didn’t want to get to know. You just wanted to live. And you thought you’d have more time. As you ascended his porch steps, you made for the front door, zeroed in on it.

“Hey,” 

The voice startled you, tripping over your own feet and stumbling, very nearly losing the six-pack of bottles to the wooden porch. You glanced over at him, and in the dim light his porch light gave off, watched him take an acoustic guitar out of his lap and set it beside his chair.

“Hi,” you mumbled and walked in his direction. “I’m your new neighbor,”

“I know. You yelled at me,”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t yell at you. I was just letting you know–”

“S’for me?”

You looked back down at him and noticed how he pointed at the six-pack of beer. “We got off on the wrong foot and I just want to live in peace and quiet so,” gesturing to the beer, “peace offering.” You handed the pack to him.

Joel cradled the cardboard sleeve in his lap and pulled out a bottle. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I just came to drop them off,”

He flicked his eyes up and pulled out a second bottle. Then, setting the remaining bottles on the floor beside him, he twisted the first cap off. “S’not nice to yell at someone and then refuse their offer to share a drink,”

“I didn’t yell at you,”

“Sit down.”

And for whatever reason, you listened. In the past, had any man spoken to you like that, especially one you didn’t know from Adam, you’d’ve smacked him. But not this time. This time you sat in the chair perched next to his and awkwardly took the open beer from his hand when he passed it over to you.

The silence that ensued was tense and palpable. Neither willing to bend first. Joel kept his eyes focused on his beer bottle and you kept your focus on… him. Naturally suspicious and wary, you thought if you kept your gaze on him, you’d catch him before he did anything out of hand. But really all you noticed was the way his nose had a slight downward curve to it. And the way the graying hair at the back of his head curled along his neck. And the way his beard, also graying, came in in patches, but in the most endearing way. Wrinkles and worry lines had etched their way deep in his forehead. Crow’s feet found a home in the corners of his eyes. Both told you this was a man who had felt and lived a lot of life: the good and the bad. You thought you saw a small scar on his cheek just below his eye, but you couldn’t be sure. The man was middle-aged. His skin and hands gave the appearance he was a blue-collar, working man who’d spent his life in the beating sun.

“Get everything moved in?” He took a sip and eyed you, aware that you were nodding, but still the glance he gave you made you think he knew you were lying. Obviously you were.

“My bed is still by the front door,” you relented.

“Not where I’d recommend a bedroom be, but to each their own,”

“I can’t get it down the hallway by myself.” You tried to ignore that he seemed to light up at the admission. You? Needing his help? “It’s too narrow,”

“Want help?”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Had you treated California neighbors the way you treated them, you'd have been lucky if you didn’t find your car keyed the next day. But he was offering his help? Again?

“You’d help me after the way I yelled at you?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “You didn’t yell at me,” another smile flashed over his face and he looked over at you again.

You hated that it made you smile, too. Yet you waved him off. “That’s alright. I’ll figure out a way,”

Joel chuckled and shook his head, taking a pause before he downed another long sip of his beer.

“What?” You urged. 

“S’nothin’,'' he shook his head again with another grin. “Know you probably could figure out a way, but… s’just that you don’t need to. Why won’t you let me help you?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy…” you trailed off realizing you didn’t know his name more than referring to him to yourself as that nosy neighbor guy.

He seemed to pick up on it and pointed to himself, “Joel. Miller,”

“But I don’t need a guy to get on with life, y’know? I’m a self-sufficient woman. I don’t need to rely on anyone but myself.”

Joel finished off his beer and stood up from his chair, “acceptin’ help when it’s offered isn’t relying on anyone else. It just makes life easier.” He started down the steps and crossed over his lawn.

“Where’re you going?!”

“To move your bed!”

Leaping up from your chair, you ran after him, in quick pursuit as he neared your home. You knew it was a wreck inside. Trash and boxes everywhere. Not ready for any visitors, even ones you didn’t want there in the first place. 

“Really! It’s alright.” When that didn’t stop him from advancing toward your house, you tried another path, “the bed frame’s not even put together!”

“Then I’ll put it together,” he said over his shoulder, nearly in your front yard now. 

You managed to lunge forward and grab onto his jacket sleeve, effectively stopping his advance. At least for the time being. “I don’t usually let men I don’t know into my home,”

“What?”

“You know… in case they’re crazy and kill me.”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows, utterly perplexed. He tried to make heads or tails of you as a whole and was having a hell of a time trying to do so. But he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and produced from it, a pocket knife. He unfolded it, which gave you some pause, but then he quickly held it out for you to take. You did, and as soon as the small weapon left his hand, he turned and continued toward your porch.

“Hey! What am I supposed to do with this?!”

“Stab me,”

“What?!”

He ascended the porch steps and waited at your front door, where you soon joined him. “If I do something weird, and you think I’m gonna kill you in your own house, you can stab me. Full permission,”

You looked down at the knife, and then back up at Joel. 

“Can you open your door?”

Gulping down nerves, “it’s unlocked.”

“Still,” Joel pressed a smile, “I’m not in the habit of letting myself into women’s homes. I’d prefer if you opened it and let me in.”

For the second time today, you found yourself doing something all because a man told you to do so and you wondered if the move was making you soft. Regardless, you reached past Joel, pressed down on the lever, and nudged the door open. It stopped short from opening all the way as it hit the edge of your mattress. Joel flicked his eyes at you, as if silently saying see, you need me.

He shimmied his way in, with you close behind, half-heartedly pointing the pocket knife in his direction. He bent over and picked the mattress up off the floor, seemingly with ease. Though you did hear his knees click when he crouched down, but due to his age, you thought better than to bring it to attention. Hell, even your knees creaked every now and again.

“I’ll go backwards and steer it. Think you can be the muscle?” He waited until you nodded and set the knife down, and gathered your hair in a messy bun on top of your head to keep it out of the way. Poised at the other end of the mattress, he lined it up for its plight down the hallway. “Alright, nice and easy,” he began to pull, feeling more frictionless movement as you began helping on the other end. It wasn’t too hard; more awkward than anything. But he guessed the mattress weighed as much as, if not more than, you, so by yourself it must’ve been like dragging dead weight around. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, tilting the mattress to the side to accommodate for the doorjamb, “that’s it. Take it slow,” he elongated the end of the word, completely focused on the side of the mattress as it brushed along the door. “We’re in,”

You helped him lean the mattress out of the way and against the wall. “Thanks for your help, Joel,” you backed up toward the door, hoping he’d follow you.

But he ignored you completely, and instead found the parts to your metal bed frame laying on the floor. He lowered himself to his knees and inspected it. “You got a Phillips head?”

“Joel…”

“S’gonna take me ten minutes. The longer you stall, the longer I’m gonna be here.”

He had a point. And a very good one at that. So you turned and all but ran down the hall, searching for the box you’d so astutely labeled as “tools”. A fear set in that the longer you were away, the more time Joel had to go through your belongings (albeit sparse). You didn’t want him getting too comfortable in your home, least of all in your bedroom. So you rushed, tore open the “tools” box, dug through it until you found the screwdriver, and then raced back down the hall as if you’d have time to catch him snooping. But as soon as you arrived back in your bedroom doorway, you didn’t find him snooping. You found him still on his knees, crawling around, laying the different parts out to make the square your bed would soon sit on. 

Joel smiled when he noticed you returned, and held his hand up to take the screwdriver from you. Only when he grabbed it, his face turned to horror and he grimaced at the pink floral design on the handle. “What’s this?”

“A screwdriver,”

“It’s got flowers on it,” he protested.

“It’s cute!”

He chuckled and started putting the bed frame together. “Y’know they charged you thirty percent more because they slapped flowers on it and marketed it toward women,”

You sat on the floor beside him and watched him work. “Well if I have to be the man in my life, my tools are gonna be a little more feminine,”

Joel glanced at you momentarily. Just long enough to question your statement, but not long enough for you to really notice he’d stopped working at all. “What about the actual man in your life?”

“Don’t have one. Don’t need one. I’ve got my floral tool set to prove it,”

A hum was the only acknowledgement Joel gave to that. As if that answered all his questions.

“What?”

“You talk a lot about how you don’t need anyone. I’m gatherin’ you actually only mean you don’t need a man. Which is fine and all, but s’just that that seems kinda lonely.” He set the screwdriver down and held the next two pieces together. “You remind me of me ten years ago. Stubborn. Determined to be alone.” He moved on to the next piece, “thing is… if you don’t need anyone, it also kind of implies that you’re not needed by anyone. And what good is life if you can’t give yourself to someone in that way?”

Jaw-dropped, you gathered yourself, eyes widening. “Wow, your wife must love having you as a husband,”

He smiled and chuckled, “I don’t have a wife.”

“So what do you know about giving yourself to someone and being needed?”

Joel flashed his eyes to you. Gentle and filled with love, “I have a daughter. Sarah. She’s in college now. She’s quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a father,”

“‘Cause I look so young?” He grinned and tightened one final screw. With the frame now positioned where it needed to be, he stood up and went back to your mattress. You scooted out of the way as he single-handedly maneuvered it onto the frame and adjusted it until it was just perfect. “Check it off the to-do list. Now you can get a good night’s sleep,”

You admired his work and it wasn’t lost on you that it only took him a third of the time it would’ve taken you. Before you’d even gotten through that realization, Joel had already passed you and had made his way back out to the hall, where he walked down it back toward your front door. You followed after him, remaining quiet as he picked up his pocket knife from where you’d left it and tucked it back into his pant pocket. His hand got to the doorknob and you still hadn’t spoken, so he was the one to bite the bullet.

“You know, I never got your name.”

Heat crept up your neck, trying to make a home in your cheeks, as you mentioned your name to him. He smiled and nodded but offered nothing more, so you figured it was still your turn. “Thanks for your help, Joel,”

“No problem,” he waved you off.

“Maybe if more guys were like you, I wouldn’t hate them so much,”

“Give it time. You’ll be back to yellin’ at me soon.” He opened the front door and took a step through it. “Give me a holler if you need something, you know where I live,”

“Will do,”

He started to close the door but then opened it again and poked his head through. “Make sure you lock the door this time,”

You pressed a smile and approached the door where he waited until your hand was on the knob. With one last quiet goodbye, he pulled the door shut and you followed it up by locking it. Then with little time to spare, you ran to the window in the living room to watch him walk away. He pressed his hands into his pockets and looked around. Then a smile stretched over his face and he kicked at the grass before he crossed the street and moseyed back to his house.

[rubysgirl32]

Impulsive

Kit Tanthalos x Princess!Reader (Enemies to Lovers)

Warning: enemies to lovers, Kit and reader being assholes to each other, lot of insults and arguing, Self hatred, cursing, alcohol?

Request: Hello😁 in ur recent post, you mentioned requests, and I was wondering if you could pls make a princess reader x kit enemies to lovers oneshot? 🙏 (@mydogatemywaffle )

Summary: Kit hated her, She hated Kit. Let's see how it works out when they have to have dinner together

─── ∘°❉°∘ ─── 

Like every summer, Queen Sorsha of Tir Asleen, invited a special group of royal families from other realms inside the barrier, to spend an entire week together. A week filled with games, sports and parties. The reason for these annual gatherings was for the new generations to bond and have strong friendships, making the alliances between realms stronger. The kings and queens would get together for once, and chat about life and sometimes discuss business, while the princes and princesses would battle, have parties and cherish the company of each other. Everyone really enjoys and appreciates these summer gatherings. Everyone except Princess Kit. In fact, she despised them. She hated having her brother flirt with her friends, she hated having to share her training sessions, she hated the fact she had to wear dresses on every meal, she hated not having time on her own, but most of all, what she precisely hated was her. 

Y/n. Princess of Veloria, youngest of the 3 heirs to the crown and a complete total narc. They were thirteen, when Airk, Kit and the rest of the royal youths decided to spend a night in the wine cellar, drinking old disgusting wines and playing truth or dare. Kit didn’t actually play, as she invited Jade with her, and spent it talking about practise and sparring. That was until, Y/n found them and went running to Sorsha, and snitched on her so-called friends. They all got punished obviously, but Kit and Airk were grounded for the rest of summer, which meant no sparring with Jade. Call her exaggerated, but Kit swore that it was the worst 7 weeks in her life. 

So ever since, Kit has held that stupid grudge against her like an oath, completely despising the girl, and promising to herself to one day get her revenge. It might sound childish, but if there was something Kit hated, it was a snitch. A teacher’s pet. Someone who followed every single rule, and really did what they actually wanted. She hated those types of people. And apparently, she was the only one since the rest of the princesses and princes seemed to have forgiven the younger girl. They would talk and spend time with her, even though she literally betrayed everyone.

“Kit” Airk opened her bedroom door, with a tight smile. He was wearing his v-cut blouse and tight pants. His hair was messy, meaning he must have been spending his afternoon with one of his newest conquest “The guest have arrived” he announces “Mother is expecting us in the entrance”

Kit's face turned sour as she placed her head on her ringed hands. She really wasn't ready to spend an entire week with a bunch of other people, but at the end of the day it was inevitable. She followed her brother down the staircase, both wearing completely different faces as they got to the entrance. Kit was completely over it and unamused while Airk was smirking and biting his tongue. He was probably excited to see Princess Lethia, from Thatch. Once they got to the entrance, they each stood at their mothers side, looking out the front yard, where fancy carriages rolled into place. The five biggest carriages, stationed themselves in a row, where a servant from the castle was waiting to open the door. 

Kit looked around and could clearly recognize which carriage belonged to each kingdom. The first one, on the left, was from Zenzai, on the north. The king and queen with a newborn in hand came out, both parents tall and with long dark hair. It was followed by Sanpuq, from the east coast. The King, who looked green from the car ride, and the Queen came out, along with two young blonde girls who were around the twins' age. In the middle carriage belonged to the kingdom of Thatch, which was the closest to Tir Asleen, just a bit far south. Out came the King, Queen, three rowdy and manly boys, and a young princess who batted her long lashes toward Airk with a faint smile. Behind it was the carriage from Marya, which came from the northeastern area of the land. Inside where a stone cold woman, who used to be the queen, followed by the new queen and her recent husband, who were holding each other like those corny couples on the tale’s Kit read when she was young.  And finally, but not least, the carriage from Veloria. She could tell it was from Veloria, since it was the biggest and most flamboyant carriage she has ever seen in her life. The king, a 6 foot bearded man came out, then a frigid Queen who didn’t even bother taking her husband's hand to get out of the carriage. She was followed by two tall, muscular, empty head boys who eyed the other girl line. Eventually, the princess came out of the carriage. She was wearing a spotless and shimmering dress that was probably chosen by her mother like always. Kit couldn’t even look at the girl without feeling a furry inside her stomach, the word traitor running through her mind.

“My dearest friends!” Sorsha greeted with open arms and a wide genuine smile “It is a truly pleasure to have you all once again, here in Tir Asleen”

Kit’s mother proceeded to talk and give an hour long speech which she didn’t even bother paying attention to. Instead she was too busy thinking about taking her horse out for a ride to the rocky cliff side, and starring alongside Jade. Once her mother finally finished giving her last speech, Kit turned around on her hill as fast as possible, so she wouldn't have to greet the guest. She took a shortcut, running through the kitchen and laundry room which lead her towards the stables, her red haired best friend awaited for her

“Jade!” Kit shouted

“Your highness” Jade responded 

“Let’s go!” The princesses went to the armory, took out the mask and their designated swords

“Right now?” Jade followed her inside the hut, completely confused “Don’t you have a guest to greet?”

“Well… I can’t entertain them if i'm busy training” Kit handed jade her mask and sword and walked out of the armory without a worry “So let’s go”

Both girls were quick to get their horses ready, saddling them up and leaving the castle grounds to their special cabot place. 

Through a window in a room of the castle, Princess Y/n could see Kit riding her horse in a brutally smooth way, making it look so effortless. How could the Queen allow her daughter to do such… manly things? Was the Queen even aware of her daughter doing such unruly actions? Was the kingdom aware that their princess is not doing her chores and duties, but instead spending her time… having fun and doing what she likes? Y/n wasn't even allowed inside the armory or to see her brother’s dueling since her mom said it was a man’s job to do such rough and brutal things. But it really intrigued the young girl. It has always intrigued her, the feeling of running, of jumping and fighting. It all felt like such a careless activity. Her mouth turned sour from the jealousy that filled her gut.

The princess hated these annual reunions Queen Sorsha did. It wasn't for the people she had to spend time with, or the days in the carriage stuck with her family, but really she hated it because of her. Kit Tanthalos. Princess of Tir Asleen and a complete deviant. Her mother had told her she was the type of princess that doesn’t care about her duty to the realm, or even take responsibility. Instead, she would spend her days sword fighting as if she was some sort of knight. Y/n at first never really understood what she meant, but now that she was a month away from getting married, she understood what she meant. Becoming a Queen was a long and exhausting process, and Kit has spent it rolling around on the floor. Ever since she was a kid, her mom had warned her about that girl, and her disruptive behavior. The Princess grew up by her mom’s ideals, telling her to hate her and dislike her. But as the years went by, that hatred turned into pure jealousy. Kit could wear pants. She wasn't even allowed to own any. Kit could fight and learn to defend herself. While she had to learn how to embroider and knit. Kit could drink alcohol and behave how she wanted. Instead. She was micro-managed by everyone around her and was not even allowed to take a sip of wine. Y/n hated her, because she envied every little piece of her.

The princess groaned at the sight of the princess through the window, so she grabbed both ends of the curtains, and closed them dramatically. She turned towards the smallest chest she had, and took out her journal. The leather covered book was heavy and stuffed with loose papers and dried flowers she would keep. Then she walked towards the desk, sat down and took out the feather from the ink pot, and started writing. After spending 2 days in a carriage stuck with her mother, father and her two clueless brothers, and now having to stay an entire week with Kit, created an enormous amount of tension she needed to realize in her diary. She wrote down whatever came to mind, till her mother’s maid came in. The young princess was placed into a heavy and uncomfortable purple dress her mother had chosen, her hair was brushed harshly then placed in one of those hairstyles that left her with a powerful headache. Her mother eventually came in, and corrected every single detail about her, to look as perfect as possible. 

Once everything was impeccable, the princess was allowed to leave her room to have dinner. Inside the dinner room, there were two large tables, both filled with different plates crammed with delicious food for them. She walked towards the table with the young royal’s and sat next to one of her two brothers, who was currently stuffing his face with the potato salad. The girl served herself some meat, but the glaring eyes of her mother that burned into her forehead, told her that maybe she should stick with salad. And so she did, she placed a small portion of salad, and ate it quietly, listening to Princess Lethia, who informed everynone about her wedding with the Duque from a nearby kingdom. 

Then Kit made an entrance as she walked into the room, late and sweaty from training, laughing about something with a red haired girl who walked behind her. Kit quickly realized that the dining hall was not empty as usual, but instead filled with guests wearing fancy clothing and eating the very best baguette the kingdom’s kitchen staff could offer. 

“Shit” she whispered as she looked around, then looked back at her best friend who had quickly exited the room before anyone could notice. 

The princess stood up straight and turned toward the many pairs of eyes staring at her, bowed gently with a tight lipped smile

“Forgive my tardiness, i was training with my… squire” she grits through her teeth “Please, keep on dining”

The royal from both tables followed the order as they all went back to their conversations and plates. The princess then walked slowly toward the youth’s table to realize the only chair left was right in front of the girl she feared the most. The short haired girl took a seat on the lonely chair trying to ignore the girl in front of her, as she served herself food and wine for dinner. But the girl’s piercing stare was too hard for her to ignore. Before she could even place her fork in her mouth, Kit looked forward to seeing a pair of eyes staring right back at her. 

“Princess Y/n” Kit tilted her head and closed her eyes with a fake smile “How are you finding the food?” 

“Delightfull” the girl answered “How was your evening?”

“Great, actually” Kit responded as she shoved a piece of bread into her mouth “Just got back from a sparring match”

The sight of Kit eating with her mouthful, lights up a fire inside the other princess' chest. How dare she behave like… a commoner. Eating with her mouth full, showing up late for dinner, while wearing filthy rags and being covered in dirt and sweat. The girl breathed as deeply as she could with her corset on and tried her best to swallow her rage.

“Oh,” she says under her breath, as she grabs both her fork and knife and pretend to shovel the food in her plate around “still playing with swords, I see” 

Their table started growing quiet, as some of them happened to have heard the princess remark. Kit’s fake smile lowered into a confused and mocking glare.

“If you call the art of sword fighting and self defending… playing with swords? Then yes, you can say im still doing it” she grabbed her goblet with wine and placed her wondering finger on the rim, circling the glass softly “What about you? Are you still… weaving like a decrepit maiden?”

Gasps from around the table roar, everyone laughing and whispering things to the person next to them. The heat on y/n’s face seemed to rise as she realized she was now under the eyes of so many, especially her mother’s eyes. She must not make a fool of herself.

“Kit maybe-” Airk tried to say but was quickly interrupted by the girl in front of her sister how dropped her fork on the plate

“At least I know how to take care of my kingdom” She spat “I’ve been told you are skipping your classes to spend it off playing with that squire of yours. How is that gonna help you in the future?”

“Because if we ever go to war, I will actually defend and help them, while you… you would be stuck inside your castle like a snobby princess you are” Kit scoffed loudly

“Snobby?”Her words were harsh as she leaned into the table to get closer to the girl on the other side “That is quite a statement from someone who I bet you has their own collection of swords and weapons. I am rather certain that you waste your entire year fighting to impress whoever is closest'' The anger on her body starting to take over, overwhelming her till she felt pressure in her throat 

“If you want to talk about collections, let's talk about your wardrobe, sweetheart.” Kit snarled as she leaned close to the table, her face a few inches away from the raging girl. “I’m sure that if we go to your room, we could find 4 chests filled with different dresses that were made just for you. And back in your castle you might as well have a room entirely for your stupid outfits” The blue-eyed girl slammed her cup into the table roughly, letting the wine drip from the cup to her hand “And to be perfectly clear, I do not fight and train to impress anyone. I don’t need to impress anyone. I fight to be able to defend my kingdom from the magic that is outside the barrier that might attack at any moment. What about you? How are you gonna defend yourself if Bavmorda ever returns? Are you gonna knit yourself a shield?” The room started growing quiet as the people from the other table stopped to listen carefully. “At least I am capable of making decisions on my own rather than following orders like a teacher’s pet. You are completely governed by everyone in your family, and you don’t even seem to bother. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up marrying a troll if your mother told you so” Kit laughed on her own as she shook her head and leaned back into her chair “I would even bet that that very same dress you are wearing this instant, was a order from your mother, and you followed it like the little suck-up you are”

Silence took over the room as everyone’s eyes were now focused on Y/n’s red face. She was not only humiliated in front of her friends, but in front of her mother. The young girl pushed back her seat loudly before running out the door, and slamming it loudly. Her quick footsteps of her tall heels could be heard from outside the dining room, but everyone tried to ignore them as they looked back into their plates. Queen Sorsha stood up slowly and gently, before walking towards the youth’s table and placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Kit, who had grabbed her goblet of wine and was chugging it nervously, tried to ignore her mother’s claw on her shoulder, but the tightening grip quickly became deadly.

“Kit” She stated “A word. Outside. Right now”

Sorsha squeezed her shoulder harder before letting it go and then floated gracefully towards the door, her daughter following behind. The guards opened the big oak doors, letting the queen and her successor exit the dining hall, to a rather large hall. Once the door closes, Sorsha’s eyes turn dagger that stabs her daughter with pure rage. 

“How dare you” she starts her voice sharply cutting through the tense air “How dare you have the audacity to insult the princess in front of everyone!”

“Mom-” Ruby tries to protest

“No! You embarrassed that poor girl in front of her family and friends!” Sorsha then steps forwards, the height difference becoming more significant and predominant “The situation between Veloria and Tir Alseen has been stable for centuries, and while I was about to propose a deal with the King, you raise havoc on the perfect circumstance! We have been waiting 32 moons for this deal!”

“She started it!” Kit argued, stomping her feet softly like a tantrum

“Oh don’t be such a childish Kit!” Her mother slaps her shoulder where her hand previously was, causing the girl to step back amazed  “Just because your brother is getting the throne, doesn’t mean you don’t have any responsibilities. If anything were to happen to your brother, you would have to step up, and become the Queen of Tir Asleen, but at the moment you’re behaving like a toddler'' Before Kit could even say a single syllable, her mother hand pointed towards the end of the hall, where the young princess had ran a few moments ago, and  said perfectly “Go apologize, now”

“What! NO!” Kit crossed her arms and tried to stand tall, only to be faced with her mother’s deathly glare

“Is either that, or your little training sessions with Jade might as well be canceled for the rest of the year'' Kit eye grew wide with the threat “Now go apologize, do not return until she has accepted your apology''

The guards took the queue to open the dining doors for the queen to walk through once again. Kit tried to follow her, quick behind her step, but once her mother entered the dining hall, the guards slammed both doors on the princess’ face. Her fist clenched tightly and her nose scrunched as she cursed her mother on the other side, her small but powerful body filled with fury and famine. She hasn't eaten anything since their royal guest arrived due to her training and now she won’t be able to eat anything unless she finds the stupid princess and apologizes to her.

─── ∘°❉°∘ ─── 

The Tir Asleen castle, to say the least, is extensive. It consisted of four different wings, three floors in each, thirteen towers and over a thousand rooms and quarters that Kit had probably never been to. So trying to look for a princess in a palace like this one, was a job that could take Kit forever. The girl knew the odds were not in her favor at the moment, so she walked around aimlessly, while talking on her own, planning the stupid apology her mother asked for. She took the random stairs, turned on hall corners, and opened every single door she found, as her words would echo through the empty walls. 

“Dear princess” she would sass under her breath “I am so… profoundly sorry” she opened another door, to find an empty solar room, and closed it quickly “for calling you snobby and decrypt'' She walked to the other side of the hall to open another door “even though…” Kit turned the door handle again harder, but the door wouldnt budge “what the fuck?”

She leaned down to the door’s key hole, to see a vague purple figure hunched on the corner of the room, that perfectly resembled the princess dress. Something in her heart truly ached at the sight, but her brain couldn’t not be anything but annoyed so she just let it out in an annoyed sigh and eye roll. Kit knocked on the door as softly as she could, waiting for a response, but she only received silence. She knocked again, a bit harsher.

“Princess Y/n?” she called with pursed lips “I-” she tried to apologize, but she knew this wasn't the right way “can you open the door… please?”

The only noise that came back was the wind that was probably blowing in from the window. Kit knocked again, a bit harsher now. Her teeth biting the inside of her cheeks.

“Come on” her fist banging on the door “I came- I came to apologize” her nose scrunched up in disgust at her own words, so she leaned her forehead on the door.

Silence kept coming back as a response, Kit placed her ear on the door, and tried to listen carefully. After a few tries of paying attention to the absolute silence, looking for any life signal, Kit grabbed the handle and shook it up and down till the door budged open.

She walked inside the room carefully, to find it completely dark and the vague fume of a candle. The purple dress that was left on the corner of the room was completely empty. 

The windows swing wide open as the wind blows harshly, the lacy white curtains dance with the wind's howl, and that was enough of an answer for Kit to where the princess was. The short haired girl ran to the window to look directly to the floor, to see the garden. Her eyes searched desperately until they found a white figure walking around the garden, slowly, and carefully. Kit then tried to piece the puzzle together to realize the thick vines that crawled up the first and second floor from outside the castle to the window’s edge. 

“You have to be kidding me” Kit groaned and rolled her head back

The princess looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, and prayed quietly to anyone who would hear. She then placed her foot on the rim of the window, and carefully then placed her other foot on one of the vines and started climbing down. Carefully, she descended two entire floors of the castle till her leather boots stepped into the sturdy gravel of the garden floor. Kit dusted her sore hands on her pants, and with her head down she saw faint footsteps. And so she followed them into her mother’s garden.

The tall and groomed bushes appeared terrifying at night, creating creature-like shadows that seemed to follow her as she tried her hardest to track the barely visible footsteps on the gravel. The wind breeze made the leaves rustle, startling the princess making her take her dagger out, just for precaution. She wouldn’t admit to being scared, but her heartbeat would say otherwise. Her steps got slower, as she carefully turned around in circles, making sure no one was sneaking up on her, but once she completed her spin, on the far end of the bush tunnels, she could see the very same white figure seated on a fountain, with her hand on the water carefully playing with it. A sigh of relief came out of Kit's chest, as she placed her dagger on the leather scabbard around her thigh. 

“Princess Y/n” She called, while trotting toward the fountain “I came-”

“Just leave me” the girl responded with a shaky voice 

“You know i can’t do that” Kit huffed as she stopped walking

The girl sitting in the fountain stood up and turned around to face the princess. Her face was red stained with tears, her eyebrows lowered and nose scrunched. Her simple white gown, that was quite thin, danced with the cold night air, along with the rustling leaves that startled Kit. The crying girl then scoffed and shook her head.

“Sure you can” She sniffed, as she took a small step forward “I mean” she then took another step forward, making Kit look down to see the girl barefoot “You can insult me in front of everyone, you can embarrassed me in front of my family, you sure can kill me if you wanted to, with those crazy sword skills of yours” she then took another step “So i'm pretty sure, you can leave me the hell alone” 

“I came to apologize” Kit repeated, trying to keep her cool, to not screw this up even more than she already did “I should have never-”

“But you did” the girl took another step closer towards kit, her tears reflexing the night light “And you were right”

“What?”

“I am a snobby, suck-up, stupid, and privileged princess!” She then laughed “I mean, I can't even choose my own dinner! Everything I do is perfectly monitored by my mother! I have spent my entire life envying you because you” The girl took another step “you get to do whatever you want! You’re… free” her last words came out choked out as a tear ran down her face

Kit was left speechless, looking down at her fiddling hand.

“You are smart and you’re strong and talented. You can stand up for yourself and fight back” she continued “you can have fun!” her hands shook frustratedly “you can have fun whenever you want, how you want and with whomever you want. And im- im so jealous! Because it isn’t fair! How can you ride horses and learn to do many things when I'm not even allowed to drink wine! I can’t even choose my dress for the day without getting corrected! And i just wish” she took another step “everyday i wish i could just… be you” Her words broke in her mouth “Be careless, be reckless, be… Not perfect!” 

“Then do it” Kit’s words left her mouth before she could even think about it

“What?”

“Do it” her head kept talking, not even thinking about the consequences “Do something reckless”

“I can’t-”

“Yes” kit now stepped closer, the distance between them now gone, as she took y/n’s cold hands and held them “Yes you can. Do something that your mother would hate, do something without permission, do something because you want to, not because your mother told you so”

The words of encouragement and the proximity made the crying girl swallow harshly, with her heart beating out of her chest. She could feel this energy on her body run through her blood, pushing her to do something. Anything. And so she kissed Kit.

The kiss was short since the girl being kissed pushed her back roughly making them both fall on the gravel.

“What was that for!” Kit stood up trying not to trip as her hand covered her lower lip

“You told me to do something!” The girl on the floor screamed “I just-”

“So you kissed me?!” 

“I panicked!” she stood up, dusting her white dress that was slightly dirty 

Both girls are now standing with at least 10 feet of distance, but it certainly did not feel like it. They stared at each other, both  of their chest rapidly heaving, hair being blown by the soft cold night wind, and their words stuck on each of the words. It felt like looking in a mirror for a second. Especially when they each saw the girl in front take a step forward. They synchronized, ran to each other and planted their lips together. Kit grabbed her waist quickly and pushed her close, as the other girl placed both hands in her hair. The pure adrenaline from both of their bodies softly mixed as they deepened the kiss. The event didn’t even become a worry for them, as they kept trying to pull themself even more. It felt like a magnet kept trying to push them together. 

Their heated kiss got sadly interrupted as some soft giggles and footsteps started getting closer and closer until they heard a scream

“Kit!”

Both girls pushed themselves away once again, and looked to see Airk with Lethia in one hand and a wine bottle on the other. His mouth was wide open and he looked between both girls. At kit first, then y/n, then back to kit.

“If mom ever find out about this” he said shaking his head raising the with the wine bottle, pointing it at both girls “you’re dead”

“Sneaking out with a girl who's getting married in a few months and one of Dad’s precious wines?” Kit eyed her brother and crossed her arms “I think im not the only one who is in trouble”

Airk stood straight, looked back at the girl in his hand who was looking away ashamed, then back at her sister and the princess in the sheer white dress.

“I saw nothing” He states “You saw nothing. No one saw anything” He then started walking back, dragging Lethia with him “come on, I know another spot” and then they both disappeared into the dark cold summer night.

Kit bit her lip as she looked over at the princess who was already staring at her with wide eyes, and batting her tearful lashes. Kit raised her eyebrow and smirked as she walked slowly closer. 

“So” she said “where do we go from here?”

The other girl smiled and shrugged her shoulders

“I mean, you’re brother said it” she took a step closer, her bare feet on the gravel “no one saw anything”

Kit walked toward the girl, grabbed her waist and pulled her up so only her bare sole was on the gravel. She smiled wickedly and got closer

“Good”

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───