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yundeob · 2 months

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the parent trap | KHJ

part 1 of the Night in Hollywood!series

☆ trope: exes to lovers!au, divorced!au

☆ pairing: producer!hongjoong x designer!reader, dad!joong x mom!reader

☆ warnings: nsfw (mdni), swearing, mentions of food, mentions of food poisoning, female desc. reader, drinking, suggestiveness, smut, slight!breeding kink, oral sex (f. receiving), overstim, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!) nipple play, titty sucking, marking, praise, slightdom!joong, blond!joong bc that itself is too much for me, mentions of (early) pregnancy, you’re both in your early thirties and make an unbelievably stubborn couple in this!

☆ synopsis: AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

☆ word count: 18.1k

☆ playlist: soulful strut by young-holt unlimited, l-o-v-e by nat king cole, just the way you are by billy joel, slipping through my fingers by abba, this will be (an everlasting love) by natalie cole

☆ a/n: it’s finally here. I can’t believe I’m writing this and saying it’s finally here oh my goodness. first off, thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has supported me with the series so far (shoutout to @kitten4sannie , @byuntrash101 and especially @desirehorizon for being amazing!) everyone’s sweet comments have been greatly appreciated, and I just hope this silly little fic brings a smile to your everyday lives.

ty for making writing worth it as a writer. now cue the opening credits!

“ABSOLUTELY NOT” Hongjoong says.

“But dadd,” she whines, clutching the wrinkled pamphlet closer to her chest. Eunseo’s small hands are covered in purple doodles her sister drew using a glitter pen.

“Why not?” the girl complains, shrugging her shoulders.

He sighs, pushing his glasses up with one hand as he continues typing away at the important document the producing company sent him on his laptop. He tries his best to reason with the child.

“Because, baby…” pausing to think for a moment before responding. “It would be hard for your mom and I to find a time that fits into our schedules. I’ve got work, and she must be busy as well.”

Eunseo glares at her father’s excuse.

Okay, yeah, the man knows it’s somewhat of a lie, himself.

She continues to protest by shoving the advertising pamphlet in her dads face and blocking his view of the screen. Thankfully, Hongjoong is used to these sort of work distractions, expertly avoiding her by craning his neck sideways and continuing to type away.

“But dad, it’s an amazing cottage resort! They’ve got a lake where you can go swimming in, a forest hiking trail, a bonfire to roast marshmallows and even a diner less than fifteen minutes away! So if you end up burning the camp food like last time, we can just order and eat in! Isn’t that great?” She beams.

He stops typing for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he gives his first born a look that makes her immediately break into a sweet smile, batting her lashes and flashing him a look of innocence.

“Please?” She begs, standing on the edge of her feet as she gazes up at him. “The last time we went was when Eunbyul and me were toddlers.”

And how on earth could any dad’s heart not melt at the sight of his daughter trying to convince him about one harmless vacation?

Hongjoong wheels his office chair back, turning so he could look her in the eyes properly and tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

“Listen honey, I’m sorry, I really wish I could, but…” he trails off, looking back at the open tabs and file documents displayed on his computer.

Turning his head around and upon seeing a frown form on his daughter's face, he quickly reassures her.

“Once you finish your final piano recital tomorrow and your mom picks your sister up to take her to her hockey game, how about we go fishing the weekend afterwards?” he suggests, brows raising. “That’ll mean I have just the two of you all to myself.”

Eunseo mumbles under her breath, quiet but insistent enough that he catches it.

“But we’re supposed to be a family of four.”

She sulks, thinking of how that would leave you, her mother, left out of their plans. The arms holding the pamphlet up, ultimately fall down in defeat.

He places a peck on her forehead, patting her on the back. “You know, if you can get your mom to say yes, then I’ll think about it” he chuckles, knowing the highly unlikely probability of the event.

Adjusting his glasses, the producer goes back to his work, peeking his daughter slugging away from the corner of his eye.

Eunseo slumps her shoulders in defeat as she walks out of her dads office, turning the corner to see her twin sister, Eunbyeol, pressing her ears near the door with her neck outstretched. Clearly she’s been caught in the middle of trying to overhear their conversation.

The twin younger by fifteen seconds quickly rushes over, waiting expectantly.

“So? What did dad say?”

Eunseo exhales, throwing the information pamphlet away on the wooden floors and slumping against the living room couch.

“He’s totally not buggin. Said he wants to take us fishing next weekend instead. Just us three.” she grumbles.

Eunbyeol scrunches her nose at the idea.

“But dad sucks at fishing.”

Her sister groans, kicking her small feet against the couch in frustration. “I know!” Eunbyeol starts to worry, coming to sit beside her.

“Then how on earth are we going to get mom and dad to get back with each other again? They haven’t been in the same room since we were like, five!”

Her twin sister scoffs, “First, we gotta get them to have a proper conversation with each other. They barely even talk when they drop us off at each other's houses.”

Nobody truly knows why you and Hongjoong had divorced so suddenly when the girls were young. Not even themselves.

All they were used to were cold stares and one word replies shared amongst their parents, refusing to find harmony in their co-parenting.

Frankly, your girls have had enough of the performance you were both trying to maintain, looking past your expressions to realize you and your husband still held feelings for the other. It was only a matter of time and place in order to set you two up together, thus, the idea of an intimate, family getaway came into their minds.

After a few moments of letting her words hang in the air, Eunbyeol’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“That’s it!”

The older twin looks up quizzically, watching her sister jump off the couch and gaze at her excitedly.

“We’ll just have to force them to meet each other! We can always guilt trip them for dropping us off at their houses and making us play alone!”

Eunseo rolls her eyes at the idea. “Right, and how are we going to do that dummy? The only reason they’d do that, was if it was an emergency.”

Whoever said twin telepathy wasn’t a thing was a liar, because the second Eunseo catches onto what her sister is saying, the twins share a look of pure mischievousness, the gears in their brains working together as one.

With hushed whispers and quiet giggles, the twins immediately begin conducting their plan in secrecy near the corner of the living room, backs turned and in the middle of discussion when Hongjoong walks out of his office with an empty coffee mug.

“What are you guys doing over there?”

“Leave us alone! Family man traitor!” Eunbyeol shouts, holding a slightly hostile grudge to her father before turning back to whisper to her twin.

Hongjoong shakes his head, sighing as he heads into the kitchen.

“Then it’s perfect! I’ll stay here with dad once my piano recital is over, and then when Mom picks you up for your hockey game tomorrow, we’ll try convincing them together!”

Eunbyeol nods her head in agreement, eyes lighting up with excitement as she whispers in a hushed tone.

“And once both events end, we’ll pretend to be so sick that they have to take us to the nearby hospital.”

The other twin smirks. ”Where we’ll end up guilt tripping them into taking us to the cottage.”

They double high five in victory at their flawless plan, already waiting for tomorrow to come as soon as possible.

“A summer cottage?” you repeated, brows raising at the idea as you made a left turn onto your street.

Eunbyeol nods eagerly from the back seat after getting picked up, having ranted on and on about the ad in the pamphlet since the moment you saw her.

“It's an amazing establishment mom,” She boasts, making you laugh at her words while parking the car and unbuckling your seatbelt.

“They have everything you could possibly think of!”

“Oh, really?” You say skeptically, opening the door for her.

Eunbyeol is lost in the middle of passionately describing all the relaxing activities you could do by yourself, or rather per se, with a special partner together.

“There’s couples hiking retreats, couples canoeing, couples yoga… did I mention couples hiking retreats?” She confuses, retracing her words.

You roll your eyes and smile, keys jangling as you walk through the entrance of your apartment flat while balancing the bags and items in your hands.

Being a wedding dress designer and yet picking up your daughter from your ex-husband's house could’ve been ironic to some people. But after having split with Hongjoong since the girls were so young, you came to grow fond of having some independence as a divorcee, channeling your main focus into setting up your own bridal shop downtown.

It was through that hard work and focus that you did it all by yourself with no additional help.

You’d be lying if you said you haven't opened a bottle of red wine some nights due to loneliness as a divorced single mother, but at least that was what you had your daughters for.

You made sure to work just as hard as you did enjoy playing and spending time with them. After all, they were the light of your life and purpose for living.

Balancing the pizza you picked up on the way home, you set it down on the kitchen island, telling Eunbyeol to go wash her hands in the sink. The girl doesn’t stop ranting.

“There’s usually only two rooms in the cottage, so you’ll have to sleep together with dad, but I guess you won't mind, would you? After all, you were once married” She rolls her eyes, reaching for the soap.

You shake your head with a sigh. ”What is up with you and getting me and your father together in the same room?” you muttered as you took out the plates and utensils.

Eunbyeol eventually walks back to you, wiping her hands on her baggy jeans before sitting on the kitchen stool.

“It’s not that I’m obsessed, Mom. Actually, Eunseo and I are just dying to get away this summer now that school is over.”

Turning around from plating the pizza and salad, you chastise your daughter, telling her to sit with her bum flat on the stool so she doesn’t fall. She immediately listens, carrying on with her persuasion.

“We just want you and dad to get the chance to relax as well, that’s all!” her mouth full from a bite of hot, greasy pizza.

You smile, wiping your washed hands on the kitchen towel and coming over to wrap your arms around her affectionately.

“Spending time with you and Eunseo every week is how I relax,” you assured her, smothering your baby with kisses on her cheek.

Byeol lets out a squeal of annoyance, taking another bite of her pizza. “You’re squishing me!” She tries hiding her smile, failing when you lean in closer.

You pull back in laughter, ruffling her hair as you walk away while reminding her.

“Oh! Don’t forget you’ve got your hockey game tonight!”

Byeol chews faster, munching on the soft crust and counting down the hours on the kitchen clock.

She smiles to herself.

“Don’t worry, I know!”

“What do you mean you need to go to the hospital?” Hongjoong asks in a worried voice, standing against the women’s washroom stall. He holds Eunseo’s congratulatory flower bouquet for first place in hand, feeling the stares of multiple women passing by, clearly judging him for being in the ladies room with them.

“Honey, is everything all right?” He asks worriedly. A string of groans come from behind the door.

“You need to leave!” one old lady thrusts her walking cane at the father, lips pursed in dissatisfaction.

Eunseo did such a phenomenal job tonight for her piano recital, that Hongjoong was shocked to see his daughter clutch her stomach first thing after running down the steps of the stage, dashing to the washrooms.

He whips his head back. “My daughter’s having a bit of a situation in here, okay miss? Have a bit of understanding!” He barks frustratedly out loud to the onlookers before speaking softly back to the stall door.

“Eunseo, baby, talk to me, is everything alright in there? Are you sure you need to go to the hospital? Is it that bad?”

The girl continues her acting performance, letting out fake groans while typing furiously on her cellphone.

“Oh the pain! I think I might have food poisoning, dad!”

Seolie: How far along are u

Byeolie: Mom’s outside, banging to come in.

Seolie: same, I told dad I needed to go to the hospital.

Eunseo lets out another groan of pain, causing Hongjoong to worry even more.

“That’s it, Eunseo. Let me in and help you” he decides, searching his bag for a painkiller or at least some sort of medication for relief.

The girl frantically checks her phone, eyes lighting up at the new message.

Byeolie: Mom’s getting the car to take me to the hospital. I’ve got her convinced to call dad soon.

Eunseo types as fast as her small fingers can move, even faster than when she performed her piano solo from before.

Seolie: Then what do I do????

Hongjoong gets slightly suspicious at the lack of sound coming from the stall, calling to his daughter again.

“Eunseo? Everything alright?”

At the next notification, the girl makes up her mind, getting the signal from her sister.

Byeolie: play dead. Mom calling soon. See ya there.

The actress gets into character, gaining her composure before unlocking the washroom stall and holding her stomach as she stumbles into her dad’s surprised arms.

“Eunseo!”

She wails, falling limp. “Oh, dad! Please! Take me to the hospital, it hurts too much!”

It’s truly a mystery which parent she got her acting skills from.

But she doesn’t have to tell him twice at that point. The man is already piggy backing his fainted daughter and sprinting out of the ladies washroom, reassuring her with soothing comments as he makes a beeline for the parking lot.

“Stay with me baby!” He huffs, unbeknownst to Eunseo who peeks one eye open.

Only after he straps his daughter in the backseat and is turning on the engine does he receive a sudden phone call from you, pressing the speaker for the whole car to hear your panicked voice. You break the news to him first.

“Eunbyeol’s severely sick. She fainted right after her hockey game.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. “What?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “She was holding her stomach saying she ate something wrong. Is Eunseo okay?”

Hongjoong puts the stick into drive, backing out of the parking lot and replying in a hurry.

“She’s hit with the same thing right now. I’ll meet you at the Hospital in ten” he grunts, sweat forming on his brow as he speeds through traffic, not caring if he gets a ticket.

Had he looked in his rear view mirror, he would have seen Eunseo sagging near the car door, clutching her stomach with a small grin on her face.

You never liked the hospital.

The sounds of babies crying and hospital beds wheeling become the background noise, shifting nervously in your seat that was in the emergency pediatrics unit waiting area.

Hongjoong has his eyebrows furrowed, hunched over one seat beside you as he hangs his head in his hands, knees bouncing up and down. A middle aged nurse nasally calls on the next family waiting from the front desk, boredom laced in her voice.

You sigh, uncrossing your legs and choosing to bite at the fingernail on your right hand once realizing you’ve already done the same to all the ones on your left.

“It’s all my fault.” Hongjoong confesses, suddenly sitting still.

You glance to your left, watching as he sits up slowly.

“Last thing they ate together would’ve been at my house. I probably made them sick with something I fed them,” he dejects, hanging his head down in shame.

“It’s all my fault, god I’m so stupid!” He beats himself up.

You have half the mind to snap at your ex-husband, anger already filling up inside you earlier when you heard Eunbyeol suggest it was something she ate at her dad’s house. You really did want to yell at him for being so bad of a chef that he sent his own daughters to the emergency pediatrics unit, undeniably relieved that Seonghwa was working tonight’s shift.

But those cruel words sitting on the tip of your tongue are thrown away when you glance down to see your ex-husband missing a shoe on one of his feet.

Hongjoong rushed over here so fast with Eunseo that he left his shoe behind like some sort of fairytale, Cinderella. He hasn’t even realized he wasn’t wearing one right now.

You exhaled, knowing that if there's one thing you’ve learned while parenting, it was that to have patience and understanding was a virtue. Even for your ex-husband.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed, staring at your hands folded in your lap.

It feels awkward when Hongjoong stops tugging at his blond locks to look at you in surprise, continuing to speak as you place a gentle hand on his thigh.

“That could’ve happened to anyone. We don’t know yet if it was because of the food. Let’s just pray and wait and see” your voice being a sign of reliability to him.

The man is a little shocked at your supportive nature to tell you truthfully. He delivers all the things he needs to say through his grateful gaze alone, reciprocating a small smile.

“Didn’t think I’d see you guys tonight.” Seonghwa chuckles, walking in before Hongjoong has the chance to reply. He comes from the patient's room wearing his dashing, white doctor's coat. “Together, at that” he mumbles under his breath before looking up and flashing you a polite smile while giving his worried friend a soft pat on the back.

Hongjoong holds his breath when he asks: “How are they?”

“Better,” he tells him, flipping through some papers on his clipboard. “But it was a big shock to their bodies. They need some rest at the moment.”

The pediatrician tries not to show his smile, standing in front of you and Hongjoong while hiding his expression behind his clipboard as per his niece’s request.

To be fair, if someone had told Seonghwa earlier that evening that he would receive a fifteen minute pep talk from his best friend's twin daughters that day in the emergency unit, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Alas, life was always filled with surprises. Here’s what went down thirty minutes earlier in the hospital room:

“We’re trying to get them back together,” Eunseo announced confidently, sitting next to her sister on the hospital bed.

Eunbyeol nodded, eyeing the dumbfounded medical professional standing in front of them with his clipboard tucked under his arm, hands in his pockets.

“So.. you guys don’t need an IV drip?”

“It’s this whole entire thing, Uncle Hwa, we’ll explain to you later.”

It took a minute before Seonghwa reclaimed his composure as an adult, chastising the twins for pulling a false alarm over something like this. He made sure to make them promise him they wouldn’t do something stupid like this again. But after that, of course Seonghwa is immediately pairing to help them with their plan on getting his best friend back together with his ex-wife. The man is just tired of watching Hongjoong beat himself up half the time about missing you.

“So you essentially want me to lie about the fact that you guys don’t have food poisoning, and were just faking this whole thing so your mom and dad would have a reason to see each other.”

The twins nod, one of them pointing out. “And make sure to tell them we’re fine of course. Maybe throw in we’re like, really sick, but that we’ll live so it’s best if we get rest.”

“At like a cottage or something” the other chimes in, wiggling her eyebrows at the hint.

The doctor sighs, scratching his neck sheepishly.

When Seonghwa leads you and Hongjoong into the hospital room, both of you feel awful seeing your babies laying in their beds, dressed in the children’s gowns.

Eunbyeol peeks open her eyes first, voice hoarse (she practiced).

“Mom? Dad? Is that you?” she groans, pretending to clutch her stomach in pain.

Both you and Hongjoong rush to each child, grasping their hands and stroking their heads softly with sympathy.

“Hey baby, I’m here” you coo.

“I’m so, so sorry girls, it was probably all my fault. I should’ve never cooked for you guys earlier today.” their dad cries out painfully, looking down in shame.

You come to stand beside him, reassuring them both. “But what’s important is that you guys get better now. We want to make sure you get the rest you need” you say, making eye contact with your ex-husband.

Seonghwa clears his throat, crossing his arms as he flashes a wink to the girls behind your backs.

“They seemed to have been mentally exhausted as well,” He asks on purpose, watching as you and Hongjoong share a look with each other. “Have they been receiving proper familial support at home?”

“I can’t even remember the last time I saw my parents in the same room together.” Eunseo weakly admits, showing a faint smile.

As parents, you and Joong feel the most amount of guilt anyone could ever feel. You realize how exhausting and stressful the pickups and drop offs to each other's houses could’ve been, especially when you two were so busy with your respective jobs to spend time with your daughters now that it was summer break for them.

Hongjoong smiles, holding both their hands and making a promise to them.

“Make sure to rest you two. Tell me, is there anything you guys need right now? Anything you guys want I'll make sure to get it for you.”

”Do you guys have crunchy ice?” Eunbyeol blurts out loud, breaking her weak facade.

Eunseo almost wants to shoot a glare at her sister but she realizes both of you are still looking at them.

“I can get you some ice!” Seonghwa quickly assures you and his nieces, mouthing to them good luck for support as he shuts the door behind him.

You sigh, coming over to stroke Eunseo’s hair and caress Eunbyeol’s hand.

“Well? Is there anything else you guys need from us?” Hongjoong states, eyes soft in sympathy. You nod, waiting to hear their response.

“Let us know girls, anything at all.”

Eunbyeol and Eunseo finally take their chance, sharing a hesitant look before speaking at the same time.

“We want to go to the cottage”

“Together,” Eunseo says.

“As a family.” Eunbyeol adds in.

You and Hongjoong share a silent look.

Later into the night, the twins are finally discharged from the hospital, deciding that they would stay at Hongjoong’s mothers apartment which was closest nearby, considering they were both tired and immediately needed a place to rest.

The car ride home is awkwardly silent, even as the kids are (what you think) to be fast asleep, hockey gear and a bouquet of flowers riding with them in the backseat.

It was at their request for you to drive them to their grandmother's house, wanting both their parents with them till the ride home. Hongjoong settled on driving your car and dropping all of you off, planning to take a taxi back home and pick up his own car in the morning. Despite your protest on how inconvenient that was, he insisted as he didn’t want to disappoint the twins.

But suddenly the man begins to regret his offer, currently driving in complete silence on the highway, eyes facing forward and shoulders tense. Quiet FM nightly jazz plays from the radio.

You’re sitting passenger seat up front with him in what feels like forever, looking solely at the reflections in the window, the street lamp lights scattering across your face as you travel through the nighttime traffic. It’s awkward being together like this.

You hear him clear his voice, speaking softly so he doesn’t wake up the girls.

“So, are we really considering that cottage retreat?” he glances back at you.

You sit up, straightening your back and exhaling as you secretly wanted to have avoided that topic of discussion.

“We can’t Hongjoong,” you reasoned, shaking your head. “I couldn’t possibly take a whole vacation from the dress shop. Not unless I had someone take care of it for me, which my staff probably aren’t ready to do.” you explained, voice tense.

Hongjoong nodded, understanding your point of view. “I realize that. I’ve got a few projects I have to record and demo with Eden.” he tells you, an arm placed on the wheel with his sleeve rolled up. His veins become perfectly outlined as he passionately tells you about his producing job.

He’s so hot like that.

Jesus what were you thinking? Cursing your mind as you clear your voice and try to change the topic.

“How’s everything been going then?” you say stiffly. He nods, still awkward with sharing conversation with you.

“Um, it's going good. You?” he asks.

“Fine.” you swallow.

Silence prevails. He’s first to speak again, building the courage to say the next thing in his mind.

“I’m willing to put things on hold if I need to.” He confesses.

Hongjoong continues to drive normally after having said that. Now it becomes your turn to stare at him now, watching how he glances at the side mirror, switching lanes swiftly like the pro-driver he was.

“What do you mean?”

“Honestly, I think it would be good for the girls,” he admits, calling you by your name. Even hearing him call you your name feels weird. It feels foreign, like it almost wasn’t yours.

“Hongjoong-” you warn, shaking your head at the warry possibility.

“Just hear me out, alright?” He states firmly, making you quiet.

He glances back into the rear view mirror, watching your girls peacefully asleep with their heads leaning against each other.

“It’s been almost seven years. Seven years since they’ve last seen their parents speak to each other without breaking into a fight. Tonight was the first time they saw us together without having to plan a drop off and pick up in god knows how long.”

Hongjoong licks his lips, gripping the wheel as he emphasizes. “Seven years since they’ve gotten a goodnight hug and kiss from us at the same time in one place.”

You scoff, turning to face him properly this time. “I don’t know why you’re acting as though we can make this request of theirs come true Hongjoong. This is a big deal-”

“It is a big deal!” he exclaims, trying to get his point across. “I can see how badly our daughters want us to both be in their lives more, to acknowledge the fact that the other still exists after splitting apart.”

He sighs. “Us, not acknowledging each other’s existence at all is worse than if we had to see each other regularly.”

You bite your lip, getting angry. “So what Hongjoong? You’re saying you want to suddenly play family with them at the cottage?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Do you really think we can pretend to be normal parents to them without fighting like we are now? There’s a reason why our current schedules work. Don’t make me seem like the bad guy for not wanting to take them.” You glared, pointing a finger at him. His jaw locks.

“You fully knew the lifestyle changes we would need to make as a couple when you signed those legal papers—”

“Well then did you also predict everything that happened after you brought me those papers?” He spits like venom, gaze hard as he clenches the wheel.

You blink your eyes at his words, pressing your knees together at his sudden attack.

You don’t remember clearly if you even meant what you said at the time when you threw those papers at him seven years ago. But all you still know is that Hongjoong was just as stubborn as you were, making up his mind to sign them in the end regardless.

Looking in the rear view mirror, you muttered to him quietly.

“Don’t raise your voice. The kids are sleeping.”

Their dad scoffs, muttering a sure, under his breath as he switches lanes.

The kids were in fact, not sleeping, and very much awake. Eyes closed but ears wide, as they were listening in to the first real discussion their parents were having in so long. Or perhaps it was an argument?

At the right turn into his mother’s apartment’s underground parking lot, Hongjoong shuts off the engine, getting out of the car without another word and shutting the door in your face.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hear the back door open.

You watch in the corner of your vision as his demeanor immediately changes, softly caressing Eunseo and Eunbyeol’s hair.

“Hey girls, we’re here now. You gotta wake up.” He coos.

They yawn theatrically, pretending to stretch their arms.

“So soon?” Eunbyeol mumbles.

A few feet ahead, you see your mother in law walking out from the elevators, a knit cardigan wrapped around her small frame. You smiled, getting out of the car and greeting her first.

“We’ll leave Eunbyeol’s hockey gear with you for the night if that’s alright Mom-”

Hongjoong’s words are cut off as the woman who birthed him walks straight past him, ignoring him and immediately taking you in her warm embrace, eyes forming crescent moons.

“How are you my dear?” she asks, causing you to smile and hug your mother in law affectionately. “It’s been so long, I’ve missed you so much!”

Despite the break up between you and Hongjoong, you were thankful for one thing, and that was the fact that your relationship with Hongjoong’s family stayed strong, especially with Mrs. Kim.

“I’ve missed you too” you tell her genuinely. “I’ve been good, I’m just sorry for dropping them off so suddenly at your place,” You say, feeling apologetic for waking her up late into the night.

“We had a bit of a situation,” you explain, watching as Hongjoong collects their things.

She shakes her head, reassuring you. “Nonsense! Why would you be sorry for that.” she grins, turning her head at the car. “And where are my girls, may I ask?”

At the sound of her voice, Eunbyeol and Eunseo dash out from the back seat and into their grandmother's welcoming arms, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks.

Hongjoong is the only person that stands all alone, awkwardly holding the bouquet of flowers with heavy hockey gear and a duffle bag perched on his shoulder.

“Oh, how I’ve missed my little squirrels!” she exclaims using their signature pet name and happily reuniting with her grandchildren.

She turns her head, face falling at the sight of her son and lips pursing into a frown.

“And where on earth have you been? Not giving me a call!” she snaps, slapping her son on his back. Eunbyeol laughs out loud while Eunseo tries to keep her giggles in.

You hear your ex husband protest to her while you close the back seat door.

“OW! I’ve been busy alright?” he mumbles, massaging his sore arm.

Your mother in law takes both the twins hand’s on each side, nodding her head to you.

“Leave all the kid’s stuff to Hongjoong, he’ll take care of it darling” she smiles sweetly, sending a glare to her son to take a hint and be more of a gentleman to you. She walks away with her smiling granddaughters, exchanging light-hearted giggles and excitement. “Bye, mom!” The twins wave back.

Hongjoong cranes his head up, sighing at the ceiling before taking Eunseo’s piano bag that you were holding in your hand in one swift motion, walking reluctantly behind the three.

“Stay here. I’ll drop them off.” he briskly walks away, leaving you stunned.

Hongjoongs words from before can’t help but replay inside your head as you wait for him to come back down.

Before you guessed it, it was already the ride back home, and the car was painfully silent once again. In reality, you were each thinking deeply to yourselves about the possibility of the cottage retreat. Could you really be a mom and dad together as a couple to your kids?

“Are you giving your plants enough water?” He brings you out of thought, the car slowing down as he turns onto your street.

You look up, giving him a confused look.

Hongjoong nods in direction, following his eyes to look at the measly, dying flower pot perched on the steps of your flat’s entrance as the car stopped to a halt. “You know, it’s really hard for plants to die when they’re outside.” He says in amazement at your shit gardening.

You scowl at him, asking him when he became such a plant expert all of a sudden.

He continues to poke fun at you, smirking when he undoes his seat belt. Hongjoong suddenly leans over to help you unbuckle your own, face dangerously close to yours as he lowers his voice.

“Unless their owner just really sucks at taking care of them.”

His eyes gaze into yours for a split second, feeling your face heat up from the proximity. You let out a tiny gasp for air when he leans back in his own seat.

“Fuck off” you replied harshly.

“You should give them some more care,” he suggests, ignoring your swearing.

You don’t reply to his stupid comment, refusing to look at him as you get out of the car.

“I can go in by myself” you press, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder. You didn’t think it was necessary to draw out your time with this man any further.

Hongjoong straightens his dress shirt as he moves to your side of the car, shoving his own car keys in his trousers as he locks your doors and hands over the keys. You take them hesitantly, watching as he rests against the car door, strong arms crossing against his chest.

“Think about it at least.” he mutters to you.

You look at him, eyes shutting softly when you realize he was still talking about the cottage getaway. Sighing his name is exasperation, you run a hand through your hair.

“Hongjoong-”

“Would it kill you to spend a week with me and our daughters?” He scoffs as he asks you straight up, looking at you in a way that makes you hesitate to say your next words. You observed one hand come to shuffle with the silver lighter in his trouser pockets.

You stayed silent for a moment, genuinely thinking back to your daughters and what this meant to them if you went. What this would mean for you two as well.

Finally, you look up to him, returning his gaze.

“I need time.”

He nods, face serious. “I understand.”

“Let me think about it.” You mumbled.

And with that you turn around, walking up the steps to your front door. At the sight of your flowerpot, you quickly remember his comment and snatch it in your hands, slamming the door shut to Hongjoong as he finally lets a soft grin break out on his face. Letting his back come up from leaning against the door, Hongjoong nods his head, satisfied enough at that answer, as he walks silently down the road while opening his Uber app.

At least you’d give it some thought.

Okay, maybe now you’ve given it too much thought.

Sipping your fifth glass of wine of the night, you’re sitting, back hunched over with your knees tucked into your chest on the breakfast table chair, zoning out as your best friend Sophie continues barking at you and your inconsistent commitment.

“I don’t even understand why you’re considering going! Does the man realize what it takes to leave your own shop for a full week?” she fumes, adjusting her royal jelly sheet mask while cursing at your ex-husband for pressuring you into going to the family retreat.

“Not everyone can just pack their bags and go swimming at the cottage, Jesus Christ” she rolls her eyes.

“He didn’t pressure me,” you told her pouting. “He wants to do it for the kids” you mumbled looking down as you defended him.

You invited your best friend Sophie over to your apartment that evening for your weekly slumber party, a time you each looked forward to dedicating a bottle of wine and chardonnay over some gossip, spilling all the uneventful drama in your lives.

Perhaps you revealed too much drama to your best friend tonight.

“I don’t think I would mind going, to be honest” you hiccup, words slurring. “I haven’t had a vacation in so long, Sophie, and the girls really want to go! I would feel bad for leaving them with nothing to do this summer.” confessing through the alcohol.

Cheeks flushed, you sigh as you play with your silk robe mindlessly while Sophie shakes her head at you, one hand coming up to snap at you and bring you back to reality.

“Hello? Earth to Ms. Divorcee?” She sighs, rolling her eyes in frustration. “You said you wanted to set boundaries with him! To cut the line straight and keep your distance so you could get over your feelings for him! Show him who’s boss!”

“He said he’s willing to put his music projects on hold for us,” you muttered quietly, the thought making your heart weak as you smiled at the memory of Hongjoong teasing you about your flower pot. Your chest blossomed with warmth now.

Sophie sighs, shaking her head as she thinks just how differently you were feeling four wine glasses ago.

“Listen, honey, I’m just warning you in advance” she sips the golden liquid in her glass before placing it on the table.

“Take it from a girl who’s had three divorces. I mean look at me! I’m still somewhat young, I’ve got no kids, no responsibilities, filthily rich, and not once have I had to pay for my own divorce settlement fees!”

You nod mindlessly, eyes blinking softly under the bright kitchen lights.

“What you need is a provider, sweetheart,” she crooned, caressing your head.

“A guy who won’t leave you stressed and unimpressed like Hongjoong does.”

You continue mindlessly nodding your head at her words, ears perking up when you hear small footsteps come down the stairs.

“Hi mom, Hi aunt Sophie.” Eunbyeol greets, eyes glued to her iPad that Eunseo trails after from behind, whining how it was now her turn to play Super Mario.

“Hi girls,” Sophie replies like the cool, hot aunt she is, eyes shut as she’s concentrating on giving herself a collarbone massage right now.

“Hey sweetheart,” you mumbled, smiling at your daughters standing near the fridge getting a glass of water.

“Say, did your dad tell you guys anything about the cottage?” You blurt out loud, avoiding the look that Sophie gives you. Eunbyeol looks up from the glowing screen, ears perking in interest. “No, not much, why?”

Eunseo snatches the iPad from her twin, coming over to you. “Did Dad say we’re going?” She asks enthusiastically, eyes widening. Sophie is quick to assure them.

“Now of course not girls, your mother here was just-”

“Oh fuck it, why not?” you say confidentially, shining a bright smile. “Let’s go to the cottage!” You exclaimed in drunk excitement, all three girls staring at you with their jaws hanging at your sudden profanity as well as your final decision.

Oh, how dangerous the effects of a bottle of wine were.

Eunseo and Eunbyeol immediately embrace each other in a passionate hug, squealing in excitement that their plan actually worked. You and Hongjoong were now both convinced. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to go as a family!” They cried in happiness. You giggled at their joy, reciprocating their enthusiasm.

Sophie leans back in her seat defeated, shaking her head with pursed lips as she picks up the whole Chardonnay bottle and sips it.

“Oh whatever. . . This isn’t my problem anyways.”

When Hongjoong drops by the next morning to pick up Eunbyeol and Eunseo from your house for the weekend, he can’t lie but be a little heartbroken at the way his daughters ignore his kiss to them first thing. They instead, immediately shove the cottage advertising pamphlet in his face with victorious grins.

“See! We told you mom would say yes!”

“Say yes to what?” He pouts, avoiding the paper and obsessively trying to peck a kiss to each of his daughter's cheeks. The idea of going to the cottage almost slipped the busy man’s mind after almost a week of no news from you.

“What’s so important that you guys don’t even say hi to me anymore?” he sulks.

Eunseo giggles, fighting back her laughter when her dad tries to tickle her with his kisses.

“We’re going to the cottage!”

Hongjoong stills himself, leaning back to make sure he heard her correctly.

“We’re what?”

Eunbyeol, taking after her mother, has a cheeky expression on her face as she places her hands on her hips and sasses her father.

“Pack your bags and swimming shorts, daddy, we’re going on a family vacation!”

In perfect timing, you manage to stumble out your front door, coffee mug in hand and mid-yawn when you realize Hongjoong is already staring at you in shock.

“What?” you snap, still grumpy from your slight hangover. “You’ve never seen a woman wake up before?” You replied, asking your kids if they packed all their stuff.

The twins watch as their dad stands up from his crouched position.

“You’re going to go to the cottage?”

At Hongjoongs words you freeze, everything coming back to you all at once. The wine, the twins, the promises, it hits you like a moving truck.

“Well…”

“No take backs mom! You said it yourself last night that you were excited to go to the cottage!” One of the twins pointed out.

Hongjoong doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” You chuckled sheepishly, toes curling at the rookie mistake you made in parenting 101: saying yes when you should’ve said no.

Your ex-husband quickly tells the kids to put their things in the trunk, promising he’ll be right with them after talking to you. As Hongjoong dashes up the stairs in his white polo golf shirt, you feel slightly exposed being in only your silk slip dress and robe.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here so early” you mumbled, looking down at your toes.

He ignores you. “So I’m guessing we’re going then?” He smirks, looking at you with an expression of undeniable cockiness and peaked interest.

You shrug nonchalantly. “Let’s surround the focus of this trip towards the kids” you remind him, straightening your back.

Hongjoong nods, agreeing with you wholeheartedly. “Of course, that was my intention from the beginning,” he smiles.

You swallow the lump in your throat, unnoticing his stare drop at your breasts perking up from the cool morning air. You jump in surprise as you hear the honking of the car.

“Come on, love birds! We gotta go back to dad’s to get our swimming stuff!” Eunbyeol cackles, leaning from the backseat into the driver's seat window. Eunseo already begins journaling in her hello kitty note book, an organized list of what she’ll need to bring to the cottage.

Hongjoong looks back at his daughters, before looking back at you with a smile.

“Let’s keep in touch about details, alright?”

You nod silently, gripping your mug. At the sound of your nextdoor neighbor coming out, Hongjoong contemplates for a moment before quickly leaning forward, shielding you from their view with his backside. Clearing his throat, Hongjoong nods his head to the inside of your house, leaning forward to whisper to you.

“Think, um, you should get inside, it’s getting cold,” he mutters, his dimples faintly showing. You glare up at him, “I’m going to say goodbye to my own daughters”. Still clueless to what he was referring to. He grins, shrugging his shoulders before looking at you.

“If you insist. Just thought you wouldn’t want your neighbor to see what I can see, would you?”

You gasp at his words, looking down at your chest to see what he means before wrapping your robe around you. You quickly waved goodbye to your girls before you shut the door in Hongjoong’s smug face.

It’s now become the second time you’ve done that.

Thankfully, the next time you see Hongjoong you’re wearing a much more appropriate outfit. In a white cotton blouse and casual jean shorts, your effortlessly chic vacation outfit was the only highlight today, considering the day you had been internally dreading for so long was finally here.

You tried to take deep breaths while scurrying all over your house and finishing some last minute packing. Reassuring yourself that a family getaway couldn’t kill you.

Right?

Reservations at the cottage were made over the phone last week, booking a house with the perfect lake side view, access to the forest trail and close proximity to the offered activities. It would only be a seven day stay, both in your respective rooms, (you clearly emphasized you and Hongjoong had to have separate ones) while the twins would lodge together. You had no intention of interacting with your husband alone together on this trip, apart from the quote on quote, ‘family bonding times’ you promised your daughters. And yet why were you here sweating nervously like a sinner in church?

“What a hot lady!” Eunbyeol wolf-whistles at your outfit when she walks through your bedroom doors. You jump at the sudden entrance, realizing Hongjoong was already here to pick you up with the girls.

A pair of black designer sunglasses slightly too big for her sat perched on her nose. Eunbyeol smiles before jumping onto your bed of clothes. You already know Hongjoong must’ve spoiled her and her sister with those, buying them a pair each.

“C’mon Byeol, off the bed” you quipped, packing your toothbrush as she reluctantly slugged off the covers.

Your suspicions of Hongjoong buying them designer items are correct when Eunseo walks in, classily perching her matching white ones on her head before chastising her sister's tasteless compliment.

“Elegant. She’s Elegant, Byeol. You don’t just go around wolf-whistling at people.” she rolls her eyes.

“You look very pretty by the way, mom”

You smiled, nevertheless pleased at both their compliments and thanking them before going back to doing a last minute check of your things.

Sun cream, clothes, makeup bag, swimsuit…

At the thought of your swimsuit you immediately blush, thinking back to how Sophie forced you to borrow her yellow bikini that left very little to the imagination. Despite your protests that you wouldn’t be needing it, she insisted.

Hongjoong is last to walk through your front doors, swinging his car keys around his index finger and calling to his three girls from the downstairs foyer of your apartment. The man is clearly excited for the trip, he can’t lie.

“Come on ladies, we’re gonna miss the chance to swim in that lake if we don't leave soon!”

Hongjoong is your typical dad, except for the fact that he does not mess with dad!fashion. The producer is dressed classily from top to bottom in a loose-fitting designer button up with a pair of reformed denim pants, his pearl earrings and gold piercings complementing his outfit perfectly.

Kim Hongjoong didn't play when it came to fashion. Even as a father.

“Coming!” You exclaimed, ushering your kids out of your bedroom and making your way down the stairs with your suitcase. Seeing that it would only be a week at the cottage, you tried to pack light, though you may have to reconsider that thought with the way you struggled to lift the case properly.

“Need some help?”

A strong hand comes to help you, immediately inhaling the scent of Hongjoong’s cologne as he brushes his knuckles near yours. “Here, I’ve got it” he assures, making you step back and admire your undeniably fine husband.

Ex-husband. You meant Ex-husband. Scratch out the fine as well.

You watch from behind as he struts out the foyer, smiling and joking playfully with his twin daughters, carrying your luggage out the door with them.

What was this trip doing to you?

Once you’re on route to the cottage resort and the GPS is set, the car is blissfully quiet, each and every one of you surprisingly at peace. Jittery excitement still lays deep in your daughters' minds as you overhear them talk about what they want to do first once they arrive.

Hongjoong’s 2000s soft rock and ballad playlist is playing quietly throughout the speakers right now, relishing in the music as luscious, green trees flash by you from the passenger window.

While Byeol and Eunseo distract each other on their own, Hongjoong turns to talk to you.

“I’m not going to lie, it’s been forever since I’ve been on a road trip” he smiles.

You copy him, feeling good in the moment. “Same, I don’t remember the last time I went to one.” you confessed, thinking only of all the times you had in the past when you were a child and as a teenager.

Even back to when you were a young college student, wide eyed and so innocent to the chaos of your first college retreat with Hongjoong. That was the summer you two began dating, and boy were you fools in love. You cautiously look to your husband driving, bringing up past memories.

“Do you remember that one college retreat we went on during second year?”

The corners of Hongjoong’s lips are already grinning upwards, smiling as he reciprocates your expression.

“Right, like I could forget that summer” he replies sarcastically, gripping the steering wheel.

It’s an easy memory to digest. A time when you were both so young, filled with nothing but dreams and passionate love for one another. Love so deep, that you remember the nights you’d spend locked up with Hongjoong under the sweaty bed sheets inside your cabin, blissfully making love until the sun would rise and he would finally kiss you to sleep. Perhaps, it was that summer when you realized you were going to marry and be with Kim Hongjoong forever someday.

Though it’s too bad, someday already passed.

“Do you remember when Seonghwa got so drunk he ended up confessing to Jieun in front of all the girl’s sleeping cabins?” Hongjoong snickers, relishing in the embarrassing memory his friend always hates him for bringing up. You laugh out loud, remembering the memory. “Oh my god, yes!” You turned to face him, shaking your head. “In nothing but his underwear, right?”

Hongjoong nodded, smiling with one hand on the steering wheel as he drove.

“Didn’t he end up jumping into the lake afterwards? With you having to go in and save him as well?” You share your laughter with one another, catching up on past memories as your twin daughters listened attentively in the back, reliving them with you together.

That's what makes the hour and half drive from the city into the wilderness feel so short, finally pulling into the graveled parking lot of the vast cottage resort. White suburban cottages lined along one another, a good amount of distance in between each for every family staying.

As Hongjoong parked the car, the view outside was so glorious you had to hold your breath. Glistening clear blue waves in the lake reflect the bright sunshine from above. A light breeze is present today with the way the willow and oak trees swayed gently.

“It’s beautiful” you gasped from as far as you got out of the car, stretching your upper body with eyes closed as you inhaled the fresh air.

Hongjoong stills his movements, shutting the door before replying with his gaze caught at your backside.

“Yeah, it is” he smiles.

Both of you turn around at a loud voice coming from behind. “We’re gonna explore the campsites and souvenir shops first!” Eunbyeol shouts as she runs away with her sister's hand in hers, towards the wooden cabin that's settled further away.

“What about lunch?” you call to them.

“We’re not hungry!”

Hongjoong tells them to be safe, and to stick around nearby. You smirked, helping him unload the trunk as you told him. “They’ll be fine. They’re probably too excited to even think right now” you giggled, bumping shoulders with him.

You feel the tension that was once so strong between you two fade slowly, walking up the wooden steps of your lodge and exchanging conversation with each other.

“Hey, I just want my babies to be safe” he admits, a grin on his face as he holds the cooler in his hands. You chuckle, shaking your head at his protectiveness.

“Here it is!” he exclaims, setting the suitcases in the front foyer as he opens the door. “Lodge number 1117”

The two story cottage is larger than it appears from the outside, having a modern yet rustic interior that you and Hongjoong admired. It had everything you would need, from a well designed kitchen area to a cozy living room space.

“It’s perfect, the kids will love it” you beam, looking at the hanging hammock chair in the corner of the living room and the gray stone fireplace. It fit perfectly for your family.

Hongjoong smiles, sunglasses perched on top of his head as he sets the luggage down near the kitchen. Walking up beside him, you help him unload the cooler and ice boxes first, settling into your new home for the next few days.

“I’m guessing you still drink?” you ask, looking in his direction as you unloaded the case of beer you saw him bring from the trunk.

He gestured to the booze. “C’mon, it wouldn’t be a vacation without it, would it?”

You wholeheartedly agreed, placing a few in the fridge before you shut it closed.

“Hopefully, this time we won’t end up shit faced like we did back in college” you laugh, turning to face him.

“I can already picture that time we got so drunk from that bottle of tequila my friend brought, we snuck out of the campsite and went to the forest and got lost.” you spoke, the memory a little foggy but nonetheless fresh in your mind.

Hongjoong smiles, listening as you speak.

“There wasn’t anything but trees and bushes in that forest!” You exclaimed, shaking your head. “What did we even do there?”

Hongjoong replies nonchalantly, folding the cardboard box in his hands.

“I’m pretty sure we fucked.”

You momentarily freeze at his words, before letting out a soft awkward laugh, causing him to look up.

“No we didn’t, Hongjoong” you immediately deny, not believing his words. But your brows began furrowing at the foggy memory, starting to realize you really couldn’t trust your alcohol tolerance, now as an adult and even back when you were a college student. Did you guys have sex? In a forest out of all places?

Hongjoong leans against the kitchen counter, across from you as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and smirks smugly.

“Nope, I distinctly remember it” he recalls, taking a step closer so he was now in your space.

“I held your hand in mind as we walked up that trail by the cliff. And gosh, were we horny that night, because I remember you complaining about all that dirt you got on your knees from giving me the greatest head i've ever experienced in my entire life-”

Slapping your hands over his mouth to stop him from going on, you blushed as you glared at him.

“Jesus christ,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes before confessing.

“I get it, we fucked.”

Suddenly, you and Hongjoong break out into giggles like varsity sweethearts again at the story. Though embarrassed and cringing internally from the way you acted as young adults, it was nice to share them together now. At the proximity in which you’re standing in, you can't help but stare at each other softly. A hand wraps around your waist, making your breath hitch as he pulls you closer.

“What are you doing?” you grin, watching him.

He looms over you, able to tell that something sits right at the tip of his tongue that he hesitantly decides to say. “I’m pretty sure,” he mutters, staring at your face and cautiously grazing the skin under your blouse. You feel your breathing speed up.

“I also held you like this in my arms as you were leaning against that tree” his grip gentle and immediately transporting you back to the scenery that night. His sharp tone contrasts his touch.

“Yknow, the one we fucked against?” he teases to you one more time.

The scent of burning campfire. A cold, midnight breeze. The feeling of the rough cedar tree against your back as Hongjoong thrusted inside you with every delirious snap of his hips, holding you close while he fucked you to oblivion with only the forest animals standing witness to your sinful actions. The film replays like a cheesy R-rated romance movie in your mind.

“Did you, now?” You gulp, looking up at him as you adjust to the foreign feeling of his touch on your hips.

“Yeah. I remember it all” he states, smirking down at you with an intense gaze.

The memory dies down when you catch yourself staring at his lips, arms finding their way around his neck as he dives down to whisper softly to you.

“Do you remember too?” He asks.

How he held you in his arms. How he whispered in your ear while you came around his cock, drool and traces of cum littering the corners of your mouth while Hongjoong didn’t care if you were stretching his flannel from how hard you were tugging at the material.

You nod. “I do,” you muttered, lashes fluttering as you felt as though your heart wouldn’t stop beating. “I remember you kissed me on the lips,” you confessed.

Perhaps you wanted him to do it again right now.

He looks in your eyes, searching for your approval that you desperately give, breath hitting each other's faces as he slowly leaned down to try and connect your lips. His chest is pressed against yours, and you begin to realize you haven’t shared the same breath like that in so long. You were so close to kissing right then and there.

If only you leaned in closer…

“We’re back!”

You push Hongjoong across the kitchen, shoving his hip painfully into the marble counter and ignoring his high-pitched groan of agony as you immediately look away to avoid suspicion, continuing to grab the beer from the icebox in front of you.

“Girls!” you exclaimed, voice wavering.

Of course, Eunbyeol and Eunseo walk in with matching postcards and goodies from the souvenir shop in their hands, their sunglasses perched on their heads as their eyes lit up with excitement. They were still oblivious to the fact that they almost caught their parents about to make out in the kitchen.

“Dad, this place is amazing!” Eunbyeol deadpans, telling her father. “They even have jet skiing on the other side of the lake! We gotta go now!”

Hongjoong clutches his hip, pursing his lips as he hides his expression of pain and surprise.

“Really? That's great sweetie”

Eunseo however, is quick to catch on.

“What were you guys doing?” she looks at you suspiciously. Her words hang in the air for a moment.

“Were you guys about to kis-”

Hongjoong and you frantically scurry to find a plausible excuse, shuffling awkwardly.

“I was helping your dad unload the cooler”

“I was helping your mom get something out of her eye”

Both girls stare at you meekly. Eunbyeol scrunches her nose. “Huh?”

Plastering on a fake smile, you briskly leaped over the luggage nearby, ushering them upstairs before they had the chance to ask anymore questions.

“I think it’s time to unpack your things.” you watched their eyebrows quirk at the way you pushed them out the kitchen.

“We can do it on our own, mom! It’s really no big d-”

You clamp Eunbyeol’s mouth shut with your hand, blushing profusely as you walk away with them.

Hongjoong stands there alone in the kitchen, rubbing his hip and wondering what the hell just almost happened.

The next few days, you and Hongjoong don’t discuss the incident between you two. Rather, the beginning of the trip after that event has become a painful performance trying your best to be eerily polite yet distant to each other in front of your children, as if that would make you forget the fact that you two almost kissed in the kitchen.

“Could you pass the sunscreen, honey?” Hongjoong would say awkwardly, turning his back to flash you a cheery smile on the lake deck as Eunbyeol and Eunseo watched you interact while floating in the cool, summer waters.

You passed the bottle to your ex-husband while maintaining awkward distance. “Of course, darling!”

“Thanks honey!”

“No problem sweetheart!”

This resulted in Eunbyeol and Eunseo looking at their parents in horror, the youngest twin muttering under her breath as they discussed an urgent change of plans.

“We have to get them to stop being weird.”

Apart from that, the ‘family bonding time’ promise to your daughters was maintained, and each day was an adventure for all of you in terms of what you would do together next. An accumulation of forest trekking, water-skiing and outdoors barbeques on the patio of your cottage made everyday feel more and more special for your girls, seeing how they relished in having both their parents with them at the same place and time. It became moments of peace and resolution that eventually became special for you and Hongjoong too.

“I hope we stay here forever,” Eunseo blurted out one evening after a blissful day near the lakeshore, watching as the sun began to go down. She was busy licking the sticky sides of her melting ice cream cone in one hand, the other one held in yours.

Hongjoong and Eunbyeol were a few feet ahead, laughing loudly and holding hands as they compared their fruit popsicles with one another to see whose was bigger.

“You and Byeol would eventually get sick of going to the lake all the time” You smiled, the corners of your mouth turning up before her next words made the strings of your heart tug.

“Sure, but at least you and dad could be together with us too.”

You watched as she ran up to her sister and dad, joining in on their fun as she began boasting that her ice cream was better than theirs. Hongjoong’s smile is the biggest you’ve ever seen it to be, looking down at his girls with a golden tan from the past few days spent outside, and hair slightly damp from swimming.

Any person could tell the love in his eyes was as pure a father’s love for his girls could be.

Her words stuck with you until that very night, where after dinner, board games, and much pacing back and forth in your own room before getting into bed, you decided to cautiously approach Hongjoong’s room on the opposite side of the second floor.

Bare feet padded across the wooden floors as you peeked through the sliver of the open door.

He's wearing an oversized sleep tee and blue pajama pants, getting in some nighttime reading before bed. His glasses are perched on his nose, intently reading his paperback novel. He looks as domestic as a husband gets.

At the sound of your steps though, he sits up from his relaxed state on his bed, one arm that was supporting his head coming out as the other hand settles the book down on his abdomen. He looks surprised to see you.

“Hi” he states, looking at you.

“Hey”

Hongjoong’s expression immediately softened at your figure, watching as you shuffled awkwardly in front of him. The room is quiet.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course,” He nods, setting his bookmark in the spine of the cover and turning his attention to you, offering you to take a seat on his linen covers. You see his polaroid camera with photos taken of Eunbyeol and Eunseo perched on a desk nearby.

You don’t see the ones he secretly took of you, as those are in his drawers.

“Don’t tell me you can’t sleep by yourself” he gently teases before watching as your smile doesn't reach the ends of your eyes. You wrap your silk robe closer to your body, feeling sort of vulnerable.

“How do you like the resort so far?” He asks, watching as you played with your fingers absentmindedly. “Is the room okay?”

“It’s wonderful Hongjoong, better than I could ever have hoped for.” You spoke up, telling the truth.

It’s hard to arrange your thoughts in your head when it’s just the two of you in his room. The kids were already fast asleep. Now was your chance to just tell him how you felt. Why were you hesitating so much?

“Hey, look at me.” Hongjoong’s soft voice calls out to you, a protective hand coming out to caress the back of your head in habit. He can tell you want to say something, and the gesture makes you emotional, remembering how he always used to do that to ease your nerves when you were younger.

“What’s wrong? Am I making things uncomfortable on the trip?” he worries about the boundaries you established with him at the beginning, watching as your lip begins to quiver and the emotions suddenly overcome you.

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” you sniffled, tears forming near the brim of your eyes as you looked up at the father of your children.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, shifting through the covers over to you. “Woah, hey, shh that’s alright I got you” he coos, immediately going into dad mode and embracing you in his arms, letting your head rest against his chest.

The action is natural, no longer foreign or weird, and you silently thank him for leaving reassuring circles on your back. Husband or not, Hongjoong would always be your best friend first. You had forgotten how much you missed this comforting side to him.

“Tell me what you’re sorry about” he states, chest tightening at your wet cheeks before he slowly raises your chin to look him in the eyes.

“For being mean to you for so long” you sniffle, a weakened state of emotional guilt eating away at you. You let him watch you carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about how happy the girls have been during this trip. A-And it kills me that we’ve been fighting for the past seven years, and that they’ve grown up seeing such bad parts of ourselves, of my own self” you ramble, confessing how you felt.

You look up. “They’re happy because we’re together Joong. Because we’re not fighting or avoiding each other like we used to do before.”

He watches as you look up at him with tears forming in your eyes.

“You’re such a good dad. And I realized you deserve to hear that.”

At the sounds of more sniffles, Hongjoong finally speaks, smiling as he brushes stray hair from your face.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else but you to be the mother of our children, I hope you know that”

His truthfulness throws you off guard.

“I’m sorry too” he sighs, letting you sit up straight and look him in the eyes properly. “I haven’t been the best partner either, baby. We were both mean to each other.” he says, brushing a tear away from your face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve thrown a hair dryer at me once before as well” he attempts to make you laugh, affection blooming in his chest when he sees he succeeds, wiping your tears.

“But I already knew how you felt, sweetheart. I always know” he smiles, eyes mirroring a weak ache in his heart.

“Married or not, we were once friends. And now we’re family” His voice turns deep, strong and dependable like the father he’s become.

“We can start over” you tell him, smiling as he folds his hands over your palm. “We can always do better from now and going forward. For ourselves, and for Eunseo and Eunbyeol.”

Hongjoong nods, hesitantly for a split second before he leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek, showing a gesture of affection that you longed for so long.

You shut your eyes, the kiss making your heart flutter.

“Friends again?” He whispers, though silently wanting something more.

You sighed, pulling him in closer to embrace in a hug. “Friends” you nodded while inhaling his comforting scent.

The next morning, and for the rest of the remaining trip onwards, you and Hongjoong’s relationship dynamics did the equivalent of a 180 degree turn.

It’s hard to believe you two really just wanted to be ‘friends’

Eunbyeol and Eunseo could tell by the way you talked to each other more, noticing you share more secret glances and fleeting touches that were innocent to the eye, but concealing a longing that you both tried to hide. You knew you couldn’t get carried away. You and Hongjoong were simply resolving a rough patch in your parenting. Not getting back together in a relationship.

But after spending more time together while Eunbyeol and Eunseo became occupied on their own, it was hard keeping the interactions to a justified amount. Long walks in the forest, evenings spent cooking together, even cuddling together on the couch during family movie night. Thinking your kids were too busy watching the vintage Disney movie play on screen, when in fact, the real love story they were more invested in was happening right in front of their eyes, watching their parents falling in love again.

This led to the last event in their plan that they hoped would finally seal the deal.

On Saturday night, the last night of your trip before you had to go back to the city, you and Hongjoong are surprised to find mini invitations left on your beds, scribbled in glitter pen and cursive handwriting reading out the following:

Gourmet Dinner Date for 2

Time: 7:30 pm

Location: Outdoor patio

Dress code: Formal and Classy

You and your husband chuckled at the cards left on your beds, suddenly finding a twin each by your side and ushering you to get ready.

“Do you and your sister even know how to cook dinner, Eunbyeol?” You questioned as your daughter rushed to push you into your walk-in closet, forcing you to get ready.

She huffs, placing her hands on her hips looking offended.

“At least my cooking skills don’t take after Dad’s, mom.” She mumbled, choosing your shoes for you. “Have some trust in a girl!”

Meanwhile, Hongjoong gets pampered by Eunseo in the other room, though in reality, her blunt critiques on her dads fashion are bruising his pride at the moment.

“Dad, you have many normal clothes to wear. You have to chill with the ripped baggy jeans.” she demands, trudging through his closet to find something formal for him to wear.

He begins to protest but his daughter shakes her head. “You’re supposed to look good for mom!” she huffs, searching on her own. At Eunseo’s words, the man starts to slightly worry, scratching the back of his head.

“You and Byeol are gonna join too, right?”

She stops for a second, looking back to her father as she avoids the question and instead retorts back.

“It’s just a date, Dad. Relax”

Back to what was happening in the other room at the end of the hallway, you huffed in frustration when you walked back into your closet after Byeol rejected another one of your outfits for the dinner date.

“I have nothing else to wear, sweetie, these are all the clothes I have.” you came to terms with a hand coming to your forehead after having searched in despair.

The ten year old shakes her head before pushing you out of the way and digging deep into your suitcase. She reveals a delicate piece of material you didn’t even realize you packed.

“We got some help from Aunt Sophie and Uncle Hwa to pack you guys clothes that you could wear for a special occasion.” she wiggles her eyebrows, a smug grin on her face as you gap in shock.

You inspect the dress, lips parting in disbelief as you feel the material.

“I haven’t worn this since I was in college.” You uttered softly to yourself.

At one longing look of the short dress, you shake your head, walking back into the closet to find something else. “I-I can’t wear this Byeol, what would your dad think?“ you asked nervously.

“Dad said he thinks your boobs looked hot in this dress so Aunt Sophie and I picked it specially” she looks up at you, proud of what she just said.

You whip your head around, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Byeol! Where did you hear that from?”

She sighs. “Dad had one too many drinks this one time and started talking about you guys back in college” she explained before shoving the infamous black dress in your hands.

“Talked a lot about how pretty you were,” she draws out her words in a teasing voice. You curse your husband for his mistake.

You bite your lip as you stare down at the fabric in your hands.

It was undeniable. You knew you looked amazing in this dress. You could testify from the amount of times Hongjoong ripped it off of you after countless night out’s filled with sexual tension and playful flirting. For god's sake, Eunbyeol and Eunseo could’ve almost had another sibling thanks to that dress.

“Fine.” you muttered bashfully, turning away as you walked into the closet to change.

“But I’m just gonna try it on.”

Thirty minutes, one mental breakdown and too many outfit changes to count later, you walk down the stairs wearing the dress Eunbyeol had successfully persuaded you to wear.

What do you know, the kid was right. Your boobs looked amazing in that dress.

Not just your boobs, your whole body looked incredible with its strong curves and the beautiful fill it gave to the dress, making it slightly tighter than when you wore it as a twenty year old, but still all the more mature and sophisticated. You really did look hot.

Eunbyeol rushes down the stairs before you, catching up with her sister to inspect her job on their fathers preparation.

“Well?” She says expectedly, looking at her dad. “Let’s take a look!”

He sports a simple yet timeless white collar dress shirt, the first few buttons undone as he wears a form fitting black dress-vest that accentuates his waist, dress pants paired to go along with it. Though simple, his silver rings pulled the outfit together, making him just as good looking and sophisticated as you were.

Hongjoong’s back faces towards your front, watching as the man nervously shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“How do I look guys?” He gulps, adjusting his collar and sweeping his blond hair back.

Eunseo rolls her eyes, a grin on her proud little face. “Do you even have to ask, dad?” She’s more than confident in the outfit she and Seonghwa coordinated together.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he nervously tells them.

“I want to look good for your mom, you know what I mean? She's a difficult woman to impress sometimes.”

“I’m difficult?” You tease, walking down the last few steps of the stairs.

The man turns his head around, losing his breath at the sight of you standing there in front of him, wearing that dress that he hadn’t seen you wear for so long, looking breathtaking in every possible way.

“Hi” you grinned softly, feeling sort of shy.

The way you fit in that dress made an insatiable hunger fuel inside Hongjoongs chest, eyes gazing at the way you strutted over in the black, lace covered material with your hair tied back and glossed lips turned upwards as your dimples showed. He breaks from his admiration when you quirk a brow at him, making the man almost fall to his knees and stutter uncontrollably.

“I-I No I didn’t mean that-“

You giggle as you bravely take Hongjoongs hands in your own, shutting him up as you turn to your daughters standing in front of you, starstruck at your aura.

“Outside, right?” you winked at them.

“Right this way!” Eunseo enthusiastically leads you out back to the outdoor patio, a perfect view of the garden and lakeside coming into effect. Hongjoong slips his hand from yours, and slides it across your waist, pulling you into his side.

“My parents are too cool” Eunbyeol sighs under her breath, watching from behind in awe.

Your ex-husband makes you swoon when he leans in to whisper softly. “You look breathtaking, sweetheart.” feeling an immense sense of pride at how lucky he was to make you the mother of his children.

You blush, turning to him to whisper playfully back.

“Not bad yourself.”

You both look forward when you come to a stop at the patio steps, sheer amazement at the full preparation your daughters did for this event. Fairy lights were hung around the area, a table with two chairs on either side placed with a white table cloth and a bouquet of freshly hand picked flowers from the forest, battery powered candles that were sold at the souvenir shop lit in the middle and glowing softly.

Eunbyeol dashes to the door when it rings, making you and Hongjoong furrow your brows.

“Is someone here?” he asks, watching Eunseo fold a napkin over her arm like the pro waiter she was. The other one walks out, an oily fast food paper bag in her hands as she smiles. “Dinner is served!”

“Turns out that diner 15 minutes away also delivers!” She chuckled, helping her sister plate the two cheeseburgers, fries, and vanilla and strawberry milkshakes.

You and Hongjoong continue to watch in stunned amazement as the girls prepare the not exactly gourmet(?) but still impressive meal in front of you, their small hands working swiftly.

“You guys prepared all of this?” You asked, getting a little emotional. They grin proudly, nodding their heads. “We called the place earlier and planned it all by ourselves!”

You pressed a kiss to each of their soft cheeks, thanking them both as Hongjoong did the same.

“What did I do to get so lucky with my girls?” he smiles, ruffling their heads.

“What about you guys?” You asked, watching as they slowly backed away to give you two some privacy.

“Natalie and her mom invited us over for dinner and a sleepover tonight at her cottage,” Eunbyeol smiles. At the mention of their newly made friend that they had gotten close to over the week, Hongjoong looks at you then back at them.��

“What? But- ”

She cuts him off, rolling her eyes. “Her mom said it’s totally fine with her. She’s only two cottages down, and she’ll make sure we’re back in time again for tomorrow when we leave!”

The two girls smile in excitement, though the both of you have your parental instincts kick in.

“Please?” they begged, wanting you to let them go so that they could do this for you guys as much as they wanted to do it for themselves. “She’s waiting for us now!”

Hongjoong feels guilty. “C’mon, you guys should still join us!”

Eunseo immediately shakes her head, declining the offer.

“Tonight is all about you guys. We don’t want to intrude” she chuckles, bumping shoulders with her sister who chips in.

“We’ll text you guys in the middle to let you know everything’s good of course”

You and Hongjoong smile, a feeling of immense proudness overwhelming you from seeing your daughters act so grown up. There wasn’t anything else you felt grateful for more.

“Thank you girls.” you muttered softly, watching as they flashed you a wink before hurrying out through the backyard door.

“Don’t get all kissy in the backyard!” Eunbyeol teases, making cheesy smooching sounds with the back of her hand as her sister rolls her eyes and shoves her out.

Before you know it, you’re left standing with just the sound of smooth jazz playing on the patio speakers and the buzzing of the summer cicadas.

“She takes after you, I hope you know that” You told Hongjoong softly.

He chuckles, “Not as much as you.” He gestures to the table. “Shall we?”

And that’s how the next few hours seem to pass by without even realizing.

You see, there was a reason why you fell in love with the man sitting in front of you, and you’re just beginning to remember it now. Being with Hongjoong felt as if the moment was everlasting, and you could testify that from the amount of laughter and deep conversation that was shared over dinner, bringing you to sit on that patio until the sun had set. Every so often you’d smile again at the thought of the twins preparing this all for you.

“I don’t remember the last time I’ve been on a date like this” You blurted out after laughing about something, taking a sip of your strawberry milkshake through a straw.

“Oh, so we’re going on dates now, are we?” Hongjoong grins, making you roll your eyes at him.

You lean forward on the table cloth, watching as a glimmer passes through your husband’s eyes while he sits back in his chair, cocking his head to the side as he clears his voice.

“But you’ve gone on dates after we split, haven’t you?” he asks, leaning forward in interest now, letting his chin rest on his palm.

You shook your head slowly.

“Nope. Not since signing those papers” you revealed.

Hongjoong furrows his brows in surprise. “And why’s that?”

You suddenly didn’t have an answer. “I-I don’t know, I just…” You began, watching how he looked at you with an unreadable expression. You smiled, looking down and suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“I guess I was too focused on running the bridal shop, I couldn’t find the time to.” You use as a cliche excuse.

“Bullshit” he retorts back immediately.

“It’s true!” You protested, throwing a fry at him that he dodges, landing on his finished plate.

“You always did say back when we were younger that you wanted to be a designer. And look at you now” he admires, letting the candle lights shine a youthful glow to your face.

“You always said you wanted to become a music producer and write your own songs.” you reciprocated, smiling as you soaked in the presence of one another. “And here you are now.”

You think for a moment before asking the same question.

“How about you?”

Hongjoong silently shakes his head as his answer, though silently thinking about something else. The music changes to some old Billy Joel song in the back. You don’t realize it, but Hongjoong smiles to himself when he realizes the girls added it to the playlist. Of course they had to, it was one of the songs you played at your wedding.

“What were we thinking when we got married like that?” You asked out loud, looking at how far you’d both come. You definitely skipped some of the order of the stages of a normal relationship.

“I mean, we had no money, no prospects. Hell, we didn’t even have a car, Hongjoong!” you realized.

Your husband laughs, sitting straight and letting some skin show through his unbuttoned collar.

“We were young” he justifies.

“Yeah, and stupid too,” you pointed out, feeling the summer breeze pass by. It felt good to sit here like this with him.

You wondered, could sitting here like this with Hongjoong be a regular thing? After this trip, would you be able to walk back into each other’s lives again like this?

As both parents and lovers?

Hongjoong brings up something you wouldn’t have expected him to.

“Do you remember when we first found out about Eunseo and Eunbyeol?” he questioned softly, looking at you.

You blink, taken aback. Suddenly you’re back in your college dorm washroom, sobs wracking through your body as Hongjoong who had only just sent his first few mixtapes to recording stations and companies nearby, pulled you close into his chest, eyeing the two lines left on the counter while he caressed your back. Only twenty years old and figuring out what you wanted to do with your lives, you were suddenly stuck in a sudden situation that had made you feel like your dreams would have been given up on completely.

“I do,” you told him, pulling yourself from the memory.

“I remember because in that moment I felt like the whole world was caving in”. You laughed, though it wasn’t fully cheerful.

“I don’t regret it, though” Hongjoong replies after some thought, gazing at you with truth in his eyes.

You shook your head. “Of course. Neither do I.”

It was a blessing to have two beautiful daughters as the product of your love.

“I don’t regret you either.” Hongjoong states.

You lock gazes, unable to take your eyes off of his face.

“I loved you when I first met you and I still loved you when we divorced,” he says all at once, making your breath hitch and heart waver.

“Don’t say that.” you tell him, looking away and suddenly reminding yourself you’re still divorced from the man sitting in front of you.

How could he still love you after all this time? How could you feel the same about him?

Hongjoong continues, shaking his head as he bites back the lodge in his throat and makes up his mind. He has to tell you.

“Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

Don’t do this to me you begged silently.

“I’ve hurt you just as much as you’ve hurt me.” He swallows, thinking back to the times you already knew he was referring to. The times where you fought to the point where there wasn’t even anything worth fighting for anymore.

“But you have given me the greatest gifts of my life.” He smiles, holding his tears back.

“And for that I will always love you.”

You push your seat from the table, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and wanting to avoid him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” you dejected, walking away from the patio and from Hongjoong.

There wasn’t anything else you could fake anymore. You couldn’t bear to hear the man you once loved, possibly even still love, say these things like he had a dagger lodged in his heart. Didn’t he know he was only going to do the same to you?

Hongjoong is quick to catch up, holding onto your wrist and turning you around, that your back collides with the nearest wall inside, pressing your fronts together and closing the distance.

“Why do you always run away from me? From the possibility of us?” He exclaimed, voice breaking. His heart crushed at the way you turned your head, hot tears already clouding your vision.

“Because ‘us’ can’t happen again, Hongjoong!” You cried, staring up at the man you once promised your life to.

“Don’t you get it? Us going on this trip isn’t a sign to get back together. What would we do seven years after breaking up?”

“We could do it” He states firmly, staring you down, both your chests heaving.

You bite your tears back again. “No we couldn’t, honey. We would be pretending to think we solved our marriage. What would we do about our daughters? After putting them through our constant fighting— ”

He slams his lips to your own, shutting you up as you painfully resist his touch. Your hands came up to push him away, but at the sudden gesture, you’re already giving in and sobbing softly, letting him hold you for just one last time.

Your lips mold so perfectly, it almost hurts how much you missed this feeling. To have him slot his arms around your waist, pull you in close, and cherish you. You almost forgot this feeling.

He pulls away softly, watching your lashes flutter, pleading to you for a chance as he leans closer, making your breath hitch.

“We could be together as a family again,” he states firmly, your name leaving his lips in a desperate plea. “We never know if we try—”

You drown out his words, looking up with tears falling as you cut him off.

“Seven years ago I gave you those papers to sign, thinking that you would’ve chased after me,”

Hongjoong holds his breath, watching as the next words stumble from your mouth.

“I realize now, how stupid I was to think that.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to chase you”

Shoving his chest away while mustering the last of your strength you uttered. “Of course I wanted you to chase me.” You let go of his hands. “It’s too late either way”, walking away from the defeated man.

Hongjoong stands alone near the patio entrance, watching his tears fall to the wooden floorboards. Holding the ring he had kept hidden in his trouser pocket, he plays with it in his fingers, silently wishing he had given it to you sooner.

It rains the next morning on your departure back to the city. Perfect, considering it reflects the sudden storm of utter depression that falls upon your family. Long gone are the cheerful giggles and longing stares that were shared between you and Hongjoong during the ride to the cottage.

There was no room for that, not after last night.

Eunbyeol and Eunseo sat slumped in the backseat, rain hitting the roof of the car as they mindlessly played on their cell phones. Really, they were peeking from behind every so often and watching their parents sit in the front seat with tension so thick, you could’ve cut it with a knife.

What had they done wrong? They planned the trip, the activities, the dinner— it was all perfect. And yet why were you still fighting with each other?

These questions racked in their brains, baffled to have witnessed the sight of their parents refusing to talk to each other after walking back from their friends' sleepover.

Eunbyeol and Eunseo felt as useful as matchmakers without a couple, feeling their efforts all gone down the drain.

At the sudden ring of your cell phone, you pick up, answering at the voice of your assistant.

“I’m driving back up right now”

Hongjoong continues focusing on the road, the occasional wiping of rain from the windshield wipers on the front window.

“Yes. That’s okay, I'll take care of it.” You muttered, glancing at the rear view mirror for a moment. Your twin daughters immediately sigh, having an idea of what to expect when you say those familiar words.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

You hang up the phone,

“One of us isn’t going with you, are we?” Eunseo asks, making you look back at her with a sigh.

“No, you’re not” You confess, apologetic. ‘I’m sorry honey. I really am.”

You look back facing the front, swallowing as you told Hongjoong.

“You’ll have to drop me off at the studio. Some things aren’t working out with the client so they need me to come in and take care of it.”

He nods, unphased as he continues to look straight.

“Will you be fine with the girls?” You asked carefully, watching them as they were slumped in the backseat.

Hongjoong grips the wheel before turning to you.

“I‘ll be fine. Don’t worry about it” sending a small smile, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

The twins thank god that at least neither of them had to choose to go back home with either parent.

They would’ve hated that more.

After barely being able to depart and say goodbye to your daughters in front of your studio, holding them close for a warm embrace and thanking them for an unforgettable weekend, Hongjoong drives off with his daughters, an empty feeling cascading his thoughts. He puts on a smile still, trying to cheer up his girls.

“What do you want to do first when we go home? Want to unpack and then eat? We can eat and then unpack. Or we could- ”

Eunseo crosses her arms, having been fed up for far too long.

“Dad, you must be out of your mind.”

Hongjoong stills, furrowing his brows and peeking at the first born who crosses her arms, holding an attitude.

“Eunseo, what are you- ”

“You’re telling me you and Mom just spent a whole entire week together at the cottage, had the best time of your lives since separating with one another, and now you’re just going to go back to not speaking or talking to each other again?”

Hongjoong blinks at his daughter’s sudden outburst, already making a turn into the driveway of his house.

Eunbyeol now reciprocates her twin, looking at her dad as she slouches beside him, coming near the front seat area.

“She’s got a point dad. Do you really just not love mom anymore?” She worries, looking up at him genuinely concerned.

Hongjoong doesn’t know how to answer these sudden questions right now, stuttering to reply.

“Me and your mother are fine!” He lies, trying to reassure them. “That trip wasn’t just for us, it was also for you two to enjoy— ”

Eunseo asks the million dollar question.

“If you still love Mom, why are you letting her go a second time?”

With the engine turned off, it's gone silent. Two pairs of eyes staring at their father, awaiting his response.

“Well? Are you going to chase after her or not?!” Eunbyeol groans, her fathers lack of response making her pull her hair.

They were right. How could he have made the same stupid mistake twice?

Hongjoong struggles to put the keys back in the engine, telling them to put their seat belts back on. Their eyes begin to glow with hope.

“Do you girls mind staying at your uncle’s for a bit?” He asks hurriedly, punching into his cell phone to call his brother for a favor as he pulls out of the driveway. Eunbyeol squeals, hands clamping over her mouth as her sister speaks on behalf of them both.

“Dad, if you don’t drop us off and get your butt over to mom’s right away, I’m gonna report you to child services.” she threatens, watching as he steps on the accelerator, heart pumping so fast as he smiles through the rear view mirror.

You sighed, holding up your cellphone to your ear.

“Call me once she approves the design then,” you told your assistant through the receiver, one hand looking over the sheets of paper, highlighting the changes to the new blueprint.

“Alright then, bye.”

After hanging up the phone, you rubbed your temples, head pounding as you tucked the files back into the folder.

The clock in your studio showed the hands about to reach seven pm. A few hours had already passed since coming back from your trip to the cottage, trying to forget everything by burying your focus into the new dress prints a client of yours requested, remodeling them after the original was rejected.

Fingers worked away swiftly, comparing textiles and fabrics as you looked at the piles of papers and messy sticky notes in front of you. But yet the gears in your mind seemed to churn achingly slow, sighing as you repeatedly told yourself the same thing.

Just focus on the dress, focus on the dress, focus on the dress.

Don’t think about him.

The task is impossible. Your mind can’t help but slip back to what your relationship has become with Hongjoong, and what you were going to do now that those seven days were over. For so long you had deprived yourself from indulging in your love life, prioritizing taking care of Eunseo and Eunbyeol while juggling your job as a designer. Had you been doing it all wrong?

Hongjoong’s words repeat in your head like a broken record player.

I will always love you

Lies. That promise couldn’t be kept. Your divorce was a clear outcome of it. You and Hongjoong were two people not meant for one another. You were too different, all you would do is hurt one another, make life an unbearable living hell—

And yet you missed him. You missed Hongjoong so much.

What was fucking keeping you from loving him? Was it your stubbornness? Was it really the fact that he didn’t chase after you? Or was it none of that and just your own self being stupid?

The front door of the studio opens, pulling you from your thoughts as you got back to the sketches. You called up from your desk as you worked quietly.

“The studios closed for the- ”

Heavy breathing. The man who just walked in catches his breath from dashing out of his car and up the three flights of stairs, driving through almost an hour of traffic in pouring rain to be here in this moment with you.

“Hongjoong?”

He’s drenched, making a mess on the floor of the studio as the droplets fall softly one by one.

Suddenly he's striding over to where you’re sitting in long steps before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss throws you off guard, the shock of his cold hands cradling your face makes you close the gap unknowingly.

Linking your arms around his neck while kissing back passionately, you let your hands rest on his shoulders, pulling back for air as you panted heavily, catching your breaths and looking at each other with pure love and lust.

“Why are you here?” you asked, feeling dumb because your heart already knew the answer. His hands wrap around your waist, desperate as if you would leave him again.

But he’s just so fucking tired of that now. He just wants to love you now.

“I lost you once.” He breathes, eyes watering.

“I’m not going to lose you again”.

Suddenly, everything that kept you from being with each other is thrown away.

That hate, that fear, everything is gone because you realize you still needed each other. You’re still the same twenty year old couple standing in that dorm washroom, holding each other close and knowing it’ll be okay because at least you had each other.

You grasp onto his damp shirt, pulling him down with such force that your lips meet again, taking charge as you finally allowed him to have you.

“You’re a fucking idiot” you whined between kisses, curses escaping your lips when he softly bites the flesh of your neck to test the waters. “I hope you know that”

He agrees wholeheartedly, nodding as if he was already getting pussydrunk.

“I’m an idiot” he mumbles to himself, letting it escape his lips like a mantra. Well, he was stupid enough to only chase after you this late, so if his wife told him he was an idiot, then so he was.

“Let me prove how much I love you,” a hand comes to graze near the collar of your shirt.

You gasped, watching as Hongjoong lifted you from your seat and rutted his hips against your core pathetically, your ass digging into the edge of the table.

“Here?” Your eyes widened, watching his expression turn dark. He presses kisses on your collarbone, making your hands grasp the wood for support. “Hongjoong wait,” you exhaled in a deep breath, heart beating against your chest.

But he doesn’t give a shit. He’s tired of waiting.

“It’s been too fucking long” he protests, ripping your top off. You’re dizzy from how abruptly he’s stripping you, latching onto his shoulders for support as you wobble from him unzipping your jeans and pushing them down, exposing you in nothing but your underwear and bra.

And like the good little whore you are, you immediately spread your legs, letting Hongjoong get a view of the embarrassingly wet patch leaking through your panties as he’s crouched down to let you step out of the denim near your ankles.

Holy fucking shit

You stand bashfully, toes curling from how exposed and vulnerable you were being the only one naked.

“Please?” you asked nicely, letting your foot rest on his shoulder as your pussy was now on full display for him.

You don’t have time to even finish the last word before Hongjoong dives in, lapping at your soaking cunt and humming in pure ecstasy at the taste. The muffled vibrations make you throw your head back, tugging on his locks to shove his face further.

Hongjoong’s hands press into your thighs that cage his head in, leaving a grip that you guarantee with littering the flesh with red splotchy bruises. Did you mind? Not at all.

When his tongue pokes at the gummy flesh of your walls, you let out a full moan, echoing throughout the studio as the air begins to smell like sex.

“Right there, yes” you urged him, leg beginning to shake from how weak it was getting.

He's so invested, you fear he might suffocate any longer if he doesn’t pull back for air. So you grasp his head, pushing him away from his meal while you both gasped lightly.

You watch him wipe his slick covered chin with the back of his hand, not breaking eye contact as he stares.

“You were just begging to be fucked for all these years, weren’t you sweetheart?” He teases.

Though you wanted him to lap at your juices until you came, you knew you needed to still feel his cock inside after so long.

Your fingers played with the hem of your underwear, smiling back at your husband.

“And you were just begging to get a taste of this pussy, weren’t you, Joong?” wiping that smug grin off his face.

”Lay down for me” he demands, getting up so that one hand finds its way to the back of your bra to unclasp it. The other clears half your desk covered in wedding dress blueprints and sketches, making sure nothing would make you uncomfortable before he fucked you on that mahogany surface so all you’d remember would be his name.

And people said romance was dead.

When the bra slides off and your bare back hits your desk, you suddenly realize what Hongjoong’s intention was when he ordered you to do that.

Soft mounds spill out as your breasts take their natural form, giving Hongjoong the perfect view of your tits. Pervert.

He immediately latches his tongue on a nipple, taking his hand and playing with the other, twisting painfully.

A cry escapes your lips, parting them open as you let him play with them as much as he wanted to. He smiles against the motherfuckers, knowing that shut you up perfectly.

“Are you ready for me to fuck you now?”

“Please, Joong, I need you” you whined, submitting yourself to your husband. He already knows you’re in need of one last kiss, coming up to give his wife what she wants by slotting his lips against yours again, this time much harsher.

“Tell me so that I treat you good, baby” he mumbles, pulling back and making you clench your thighs together. He undoes his shirt in the meantime, unbuckling his belt and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek when you sobbed.

“Fuck me, please”

His fingers slide your panties to the side to press his aching tip to your wet core.

“Like this?” He teases.

“Inside, Hongjoong” you emphasized, meaning what you said with the way your nails dug into a pile of papers nearby. Biting your lip from how sensitive and needy your cunt was.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, smiling to himself after messing with you.

“I just missed this pretty cunt” before in one strong thrust, Hongjoong’s bulging tip enters inside your walls, giving you a stretch you forgot how much you loved. You whined softly.

“Shit” he curses, relishing how the buildup finally led to this moment.

The man is ravenous, but he’s genuinely trying his best to ease the painful stretch as you adjust to his thickness, nipping your neck in a trail of hickeys and love bites posessively.

With every thrust he makes, you arch your back, pencils and papers shuffling near by you.

“Fucking look at my wife” he admires proudly, watching the woman he loves bounce her tits at every thrust of his cock.

“S’too much” you caved in, shaking your head at the stimulation.

You claw at his arms, head turning to the side as your eyes roll back from pleasure.

“I know, mama, I know”

He grabs a tit in his left hand, the right one coming down to play with your clit, pressing slow circles near where you were connected.

“Fuck, I missed these” He rasps, savouring the feeling of your soft flesh in his hand, making you throw your head back.

“Missed how they looked when you were pregnant” he says, thinking of how ethereal you looked when you were knocked up with his kids.

“God, at this point I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant again” Hongjoong grunts, snapping his hips deliriously back and forth. He envisions you round and full, fulfilling his inner fantasy.

“Shut up.” You spat, breaking the mood as you bit your lip to suppress a moan. He almost laughs when you then crane your hips back to give him easier access to keep penetrating you. The desk shuffles.

“Your mouth is saying one thing, honey, but your body is saying something else”

After hearing his words, you suck him in further, both of you now getting close.

“M’close. M’so close!” you whimpered, sitting up so that now Hongjoong could hold you in his arms, caging your body so his cock could stuff you better.

Your mouth hangs open in silent bliss, hands scratching his back. You leaned into his ear, making the final chord inside him snap.

“Make me cum, daddy”

And just like that, you’re clenching around Hongjoong’s massive cock as a creamy white ring begins to form. Hot ropes fill you up inside, tangled in a sweaty mess as he purrs, caressing the back of your head again in habit.

“So fucking good, sweetheart. You did so good for me”

The sounds of your breathing fill the studio, a pencil or two rolling quietly away on the ground from being shoved off the desk. He shakes his head when you try to pull your sweaty bodies away, hair sticking to your neck but feeling the way he refuses.

“Just let me love you,” he mumbles into your shoulder, dick softening inside you. “Just for a moment.”

You’re too tired to say anything back, so you finally give in.

Seven years passed by you two without even realizing how much you still loved each other. Though you wouldn’t be able to get that time back, for once, there was something that you and Hongjoong agreed upon.

You had no intention of wasting that time any more.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:

Months later, and it still takes everything in Eunbyeol and Eunseo hearts to not scream at the sight of their parents when they walk hand in hand, smiling happily in public as they pick their daughters up from the first day of school.

The girls jump into their parent’s embrace, eying the two silver rings they now wore proudly together.

“How was school, darlings?” Hongjoong asks, pressing a kiss to Eunseo and Eunbyeol.

“It was fun! We watched a documentary about lovebirds” she smiled, looking back up. You laughed softly.

“Which reminded me to tell you,” she grins, watching as you, her sister, and father all looked at her.

“I hope you know that getting you and dad back together was my plan from the start.” she confesses, smirking at Eunbyeol who scoffs, crossing her arms.

“Nuh uh, this was my idea first!”

Before her sister could yell at her twin, you jumped in.

“Plan? What plan?” You asked quizzically, both you and Hongjoong standing there confused.

“To get you guys to fall back in love again, of course!” Eunseo smiles, both her and her sister now giggling softly together.

“How am I just finding out that there was a plan?” Hongjoong mutters, scratching his neck in confusion. You turned to the two girls, stopping in your tracks on your way to the car

“When did you two even think of all this?” grinning in astonishment as you felt Hongjoong slot his hand and intertwine it with yours. It felt natural now.

“Yeah, I'm curious too” he states, leaning close and becoming intrigued.

Your daughters look at each other before smiling.

“It’s a long story.”

But at last, time is something you finally now have as a reunited family of four, walking back to your car, holding hands with a twin on each side.

Listening carefully, as your daughters start from the very beginning.

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2K notes · View notes

itaipava · 10 months

Text

— f1 boys apologizing after a fight.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

you’re lying back-to-back in bed, neither able to sleep. at some point in the night, he gives in and you feel a hand on your arm, lips pressed against your shoulder, “will you let me hold you? i promise we will talk about it tomorrow.” as you eventually nod in agreement, you can feel him smile against your skin. he wraps his arms around you, whispering a faint ‘i’m sorry’ before you both finally drift off to sleep with much lighter hearts.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

you come home to find him seated on the couch in front of the tv, surrounded by a cozy blanket and a bunch of pillows. he tries to act cool about it, “oh hey, i was just about to watch a movie. you can join if you want.” you almost can’t fight the smile forming on your face as you notice your favorite snacks as well as two cups of hot cocoa on the table. you try to act unfazed and walk past him when he grabs your wrist, “oh come on, it’s your favorite movie and i made the hot cocoa for you myself,” he says then his expression softens, “i’m sorry. can we make up, please? it sucks fighting with you.”

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he apologizes through touch; you guys may not be on speaking terms but at the end of the day, he relents once the cold anger fades. you’re standing by the corner in the kitchen at night, lost in your own thoughts until you feel a pair of arms around you from behind; your body instinctively tenses but it relaxes once you recognize who it is. he quietly holds you in a back-hug for a long while before whispering a soft ‘i’m so sorry. i love you,’

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he apologizes unreservedly and sincerely with a straight face. his face is pretty passive and aloof but somehow, the emotions and the genuineness is evident in his voice - very subtle voice cracks, hoarse tone. probably sits down and talks about the argument and the cause of it and what you both can do to fix the problem. then he hugs you, light-heartedly saying, “fighting with you is exhausting; i think that just took ten years off my life.” then kisses you, murmuring more apologies against your lips.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he normally needs time alone to process his emotions and thoughts, which is why he decides to sleep on the couch for the night and he leaves for a while before you wake up in the morning. but he doesn’t leave the house without making you your favorite breakfast, drink, and writing a little note that reads: went for a run, will be back soon. i’m sorry about last night. and he finishes it off with his name, followed by a random, cute doodle.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

arguments with him rarely lasts long; he wants to make up and move on from it as quickly as possible. you’re both lying in bed, facing away from each other, both awake and feeling equally guilty. then you roll over and turn around to apologize at the same time. after a moment of gazing at each other, you break into soft giggles and he chuckles as he pulls you into his chest, mumbling apologies and sweet words.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he awkwardly does little things for you; when you drop a pen, he picks it up and hands it to you without a word; when he sees that you’ve forgotten to take the towel into the bathroom, he wordlessly leaves a fresh one by the door. when he’s having a snack and he sees you pass by, he offers you some. if you accept it, he expectantly looks at you. “sooo, we good?” when you respond with a nod, he lets out big sigh of relief before hugging you; “i’m really sorry, y/n,”

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mothandpidgeon · 4 months

Text

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you.

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller.

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely.

Her words still ring in your ears.

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life.

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said.

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you.

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart.

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder.

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says.

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask.

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room.

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid.

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you.

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better.

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now.

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say.

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture.

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say.

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh.

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles.

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her.

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there.

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time.

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face.

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy.

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen.

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself.

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze.

“Mercy?” Sarah asks.

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass.

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air.

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her.

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around.

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.”

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night.

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller.

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away.

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands.

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor.

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps.

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something.

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies.

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral.

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break.

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster.

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk.

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground.

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence.

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you.

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged.

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete.

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her.

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet.

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill.

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers.

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says.

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her.

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle.

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck.

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away.

You wait for a long time.

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now.

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes.

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine.

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare.

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you.

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family.

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope.

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning.

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday.

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt.

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you.

He left you to die but you just go on living.

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night.

You’re on your own.

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone.

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her.

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead.

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head.

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk.

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north.

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival.

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you.

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal.

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven.

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached.

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall.

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table.

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home.

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you.

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright.

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage.

“That really you?” he asks.

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope.

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife?

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner.

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller.

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up.

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become.

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up.

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel.

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival.

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago.

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath.

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall.

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened.

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks.

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out.

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes.

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says.

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you.

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious.

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself.

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder.

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark.

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back.

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say.

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing.

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall.

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel.

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today.

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine.

“You okay?” Ellie asks.

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much.

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall.

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers.

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken.

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says.

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out.

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache.

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted.

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you.

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded.

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves.

“Want some company?” you ask.

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in.

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him.

“Surprised you remember,” he says.

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.”

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living.

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything.

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck.

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down.

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.”

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him.

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says.

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear.

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him.

A thick knot forms in his throat.

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment.

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch.

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end.

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out.

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky.

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen.

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well.

“You sure?” he asks.

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect.

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask.

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains.

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates.

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since.

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes.

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile.

“How’s she look?” you ask.

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods.

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair.

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library.

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor.

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all.

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”.

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved.

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly.

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink.

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy.

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze.

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing.

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet.

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago.

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek.

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours.

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it.

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say.

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went.

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night.

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning.

And then you kissed him.

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing.

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone.

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you.

That’s when he heard it.

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong.

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you.

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again.

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself.

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you.

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you.

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon.

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth.

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table.

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs.

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says.

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply.

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says.

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life.

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there.

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips.

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open.

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers.

“Stay,” you murmur.

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back.

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress.

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well.

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further.

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could.

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.

After a while, though, it happens.

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them.

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light.

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment.

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him.

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper.

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up.

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes.

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever.

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want.

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul.

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass.

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him.

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him.

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply.

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this.

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories.

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before.

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back.

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?”

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft.

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself.

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all.

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart.

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection.

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years.

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller fic #bfd!joel miller #jackson!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic

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macfrog · 8 months

Text

sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

#i think duckie is my favorite character i've ever written. that fetus has more personality than vanessa icl #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

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merakiui · 1 month

Text

chemic.

floyd leech x (female) reader cw: nsfw, lots of nerdy pining from floyd, a few cringe science innuendos, childish locker room talk, characters written as 18+, nrc is written to be co-education, reader can use magic note - in the stories you've read, the dumb jock and the teacher's pet always have some sort of clash. if your life is fiction, then you've just fallen into that exact trope. in chemistry, alkali metals react explosively when mixed with water. or: the teacher's pet and the dumb jock are paired up for an alchemy project, and both find that the other has been egregiously mischaracterized by the narrative.

You’ve always thought Floyd Leech was reckless.

“He skips classes, turns in half-completed assignments, and he’s always sleeping around,” you gripe to Ace, who idolizes the upperclassman and his proclivity to party carelessly. Apparently, Floyd’s example is all the rage nowadays amidst the guys at Night Raven.

“So what? We all do that.” Ace sticks his tongue out at you. “Not everyone’s a nerd like you.”

You huff and snap your book shut. “I care about my education. There’s nothing ‘nerdy’ about that.” Your gaze sweeps through the crowded cafeteria, and there he is—Floyd Leech, munching gluttonously on a plate piled high with takoyaki.

“No, I totally get it,” Deuce cuts in. “It’s good to keep up with school. Grades are important. I guess some of us wouldn’t know since he’s not honor student material.”

“Oh, hop off. Deuce is only agreeing with you cuz he wants in.” Ace nudges you, gazing not-so-subtly at your skirt.

Smooth like a well-oiled machine, you turn your horrified stare on a very red-faced Deuce.

“I-I do not!” he protests, choking on his drink. “That’s not true! I’m not that kinda guy. I was just saying—” He stops himself and glares fiercely at a snickering Ace. “Do you wanna fight?!”

“Honestly…” Sighing, you stand up. Boys will always be boys. That will never change.

In your world, there is nothing three-dimensional. It’s all purely fiction. Everyone fits into a trope, packaged neatly for your consumption. It’s literature.

Deuce is the Delinquent. Ace plays the role of the Best Friend (who won’t admit it until you catch him in a sentimental mood; he’s just that type). And Floyd’s the Dumb Jock.

As for you, you’re just a reader. An observer. You watch the story that is your school life unfold before your eyes, and it is full of unusual characters. By fiction’s logic, the Dumb Jock and the Teacher’s Pet almost always clash. You avoid this trope like the plague because, in every iteration you’ve read, the Dumb Jock is always painfully foolish and the Teacher’s Pet is always annoyingly clever. There’s nothing more to either of them. No depth whatsoever.

That’s how it’s supposed to be, at least.

But the thing about your beloved fictional worlds is that, whether you like it or not, one day you’ll have to put the book down and face reality.

“Leech! Bad boy!” Professor Crewel snaps his pointer against the chalkboard. It quiets the class instantly, and all eyes fall upon the troublemaker in question. “How many times must I tell you not to play with the equipment?”

“Oops. My baaad,” he drawls from the back of the class, not sorry in the slightest.

You watch him from your seat and your dislike for him grows by the minute. What a lazy attitude. Doesn’t he know he’s supposed to pay attention to the instructions? Professor Crewel’s just about to assign groups, but I doubt he was even listening to that. He’s so busy doing… What even is he doing?

It looks like he’s doodling or fiddling with the vial. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. You peer at your own materials, each one organized on your desk, and beam proudly.

Professor Crewel tuts. “Seeing as your investment in this project is nonexistent, I’m going to pair you with someone who’ll keep you on track. Remember, pups, you and your partner will receive the same grade. This is a team effort, and so the work you do should reflect that. Now then… (Last Name)!”

You flinch. “Yes, Professor?”

“You and Leech will be partners.”

“Me? Hold on. Wait. There has to be—”

“Rosehearts, you will be with Ashengrotto.”

You can almost taste the Strict Tyrant’s—Riddle’s—relief as he deflates. Anyone’s better than Floyd. For once, everyone can agree on that. Or perhaps that’s a sentiment shared only by you and Riddle. You don’t miss the longing stares of some of Floyd’s admirers as they gaze forlornly between the two of you.

Professor Crewel sets his clipboard down. “I expect fine work from all of you. Anyone who fails to meet the deadline or scores anything below the average will take remedial lessons after class. You have one month to finish this project. Instructions have been included in your kits. Work together and utilize your time wisely. We’ll meet halfway through to discuss where everyone currently stands. Dismissed!”

A collective groan sweeps through most of the class as they begin filing out of the room. You jump up from your seat, hurrying to gather your belongings, and bound towards Professor Crewel’s desk. You’re going to plead your case. You can’t work with Floyd.

But then he’s trotting down the aisle, covering each step with a whistle. “Heeey, if it isn’t Li’l Shrimpy! Guess you ’n I are partners now. Lucky me.”

“Hello, Floyd…”

“Aww. You sound so bummed.” He grins. “You sad you didn’t get paired up with Goldfishie?”

You swat him away when he leans over into your space. “This is an injustice. I shouldn’t have to work my ass off just to carry you,” you hiss, scowling at him.

“Hey, I’ll pull my weight. I never said I wasn’t gonna do it.”

Refusing to debate this matter further, you turn swiftly on your heel. Your skirt swishes with the movement. “If you skip even one of the meetings, I’m telling Professor Crewel.”

Floyd follows dutifully after you, irritating like a parasite curled beneath your skin. “What a scary threat comin’ from Teacher’s Pet. Didja rehearse that one in the mirror this morning?”

If you weren’t carrying a box of fragile equipment, you’d slap him. Maybe. You have to uphold your academic record, and assaulting Floyd isn’t worth the tarnish temporary relief will bring.

“We’ll meet in Lab Room 4 during lunch tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“Whaaat? Why lunch? Can’t we do it after class?”

“Out of the question. If we’re going to get a good grade, we should start as soon as possible. Absolutely no slacking. So make sure to actually read the instructions beforehand.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “I’m not stupid.”

“I never said that, but our grade will make us seem so if we fail this.”

“It’s not that hard. All we gotta do is use whatever we got in the boxes to make a reaction. Somethin’ like that, right? If we break the glass ones, ain’t that technically a reaction? Like it’s changin’ states of matter or whatever.”

You stare at him. He can’t be serious.

“Talking to you is killing my brain cells, actually. I can’t believe you’re even in this class.”

“What?”

You’re already striding past him.

“Hey! What? What’d I say?”

You turn the corner, and the Dumb Jock disappears from your sight.

Floyd is studying the instructions intently.

His deskmate leans over. Her perfume is obnoxiously sweet. It tickles his nose.

“What’s that?” she asks, smiling.

“Alchemy stuff. The regular class got the same assignment, I think. But ours is a little more advanced cuz it’s honors.” Floyd rests his chin on his palm and frowns at the sheet of paper. “So basically we gotta find the missing component. It’s to make a potion we’ve already covered in class… I guess it’d be best to start with the chemical compounds of the ingredients we’re given and find out what’s compatible and what’s not. What sorta properties they’ve got. The list says…” He squints until the words are clear. “Sodium chloride’s one of ’em… Oh, that’s salt. As a solid, we can’t use it to conduct electricity. But in aqueous and molten states… Yeah, maybe that’d work since the ions are freely moving and stuff. Are we even trying to do that, though?”

“Wow,” she marvels, and his clinical concentration snaps. “You sure know a lot about alchemy.”

Floyd blinks back at her, confused. “Ain’t this common knowledge? Even the guys in the beginner class learn this stuff.”

“Ah, is that right?” She laughs, but Floyd thinks she doesn’t really care. “You were talking super scientific just now. It was pretty impressive. Reminds me of your brother.”

“What’s Jade gotta do with this?”

She shrugs. “He’s the smart one. I always see him with his face buried in a book.”

“And what am I?”

She opens her mouth to reply and then shuts it. “Hm. Well…”

Floyd leans in close. Those sharp teeth of his flash at her in a teasing smirk. “I got one. You wanna know what you are?”

“W-What?” Her breath catches in her throat.

“The pretty one. You make me feel like a noble gas.”

She slaps his arm playfully and giggles. “You’re so cheesy!”

“Do ya get it?”

“Hm?”

“Noble gases. Like helium and argon and neon. They’re chemically inert.”

So basically they’ll never bond with other elements on the periodic table. Which means it’s never gonna happen between you and me. No chemical reaction whatsoever.

“Oh, I get it now!” She shakes her head in amusement. “You could’ve just said I was hot.”

“Sure. We’ll go with that.”

She slides the sheet out from under his hand and, in glittery ink, scrawls her number.

After class, Floyd stands over the rubbish bin and tears it to shreds.

You think you might actually murder Floyd, and then you’ll be the first honors student from Night Raven to commit such a cold-hearted crime.

“Where are your materials? Where��re the instructions? Did you even read it at all?” you seethe, yanking on his tie so he’s pulled down to your height.

Despite the scolding, Floyd’s expression softens into something lackadaisical. “Lost it.”

You release him with a mournful cry. “My grade is doomed and I’m paired up with the world’s biggest idiot… It’s over for me.”

“You got yours, don’tcha? I don’t see the problem with sharing.”

“That’s just it! You’ve got half of the ingredients on your instructions and I’ve got the other half. Didn’t you listen when Professor Crewel explained that?”

“So we’ll just improvise. Can’t be that hard. All we gotta do is figure out what kinda potion we’re brewing based on the ingredients. Should be easy.”

You drop down into your seat and hold your head in your hands. “I can’t believe it… I’ve got a party-animal-slacker for a lab partner, and Azul’s got Riddle. It should’ve been me…”

Floyd lowers into the seat beside you. He opens his mouth, but the words remain lodged.

“Whatever. We can work around this,” you declare, straightening your tie and smoothing the wrinkles in your skirt. “We’ve got my ingredient list and the potions textbook. It’ll be fine.”

“See? You know what you’re doing. Shrimpy’s always thinkin’ smart.”

“I have to if I wanna make up for your shortcomings.”

Floyd holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Let’s see… My list says this specific potion, which is to be sealed with cork and candle wax, is one that you ingest. So it isn’t any sort of spray or perfume, and it’s not a cosmetic either. It must be a liquid.”

“Could be a solid, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like enchanted foods. They sell ’em in town. Gummy worms that whisper gossip and lollipops that grant you temporary charms. Like the ability to see in the dark for some time. Cool stuff like that.”

“Or it could be medicinal.”

Floyd pouts, somewhat disheartened. “Or it could be medicinal.”

“This is an assignment from Professor Crewel, so it must be a relatively advanced potion. Let’s see…” You straighten your lab coat and pry the thick tome open. “Butterfly wings. Sapphire. Red clover. Pluteus villosus. The kiss of a person charmed or cursed. Huh…”

“Ooh, that’s a fun list.”

“It makes no chemical sense. If I remember, red clover and that mushroom are known to have medicinal properties when used in certain concoctions. But butterfly wings and sapphire…don’t.”

“My list called for salt if that’s any help.”

“But salt from what? The Coral Sea? Mermaid’s tears? Normal salt from a shaker?”

“Dunno. Why not try ’em all and see what we get?”

“I suppose process of elimination would prove useful here… But we can’t do that until we know the rest of what was on your list. Ugh… Seriously, Floyd, you’d better find that instruction sheet, or else I’m going to wring you out and use your tears as the salt—recipe be damned!”

Floyd smirks. “That a challenge?”

“It’s a threat.” You grab hold of his tie once more and force him to look you in the eyes. “Find that list. I’m not joking.”

“I’ll do my best, Teacher.”

You cut today’s meeting short on account of your fried brain and Floyd’s attention span.

On his way out of the lab room, Floyd says, “Bring your beaker next time. I’ll bring my stirring rod.”

And then he waltzes out, humming his way down the hall. You look at your belongings scattered on the table.

Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I? We need these materials to do the experiment.

Marking your place in the textbook, you shut it and decide to return to it after the day’s ended.

“Floyd’s in good form today,” Ace remarks as he laces his sneakers next to Jamil.

“That’s great news for us.” He gently knocks Ace’s head with his water bottle. “Let’s keep it that way. Don’t do anything to spoil that.”

“Course he’s feeling good,” their teammate joins in with a sleazy grin. “He didn’t show up to lunch. Bet he was busy rawing one of the cheerleaders. Who do you think’s the lucky lady?”

“Hard to say. They’re all super hot. If I gotta guess, though, it’s probably the captain. I heard she got her nipples pierced recently. Bet that’s a sight,” another interjects.

“Post-sex adrenaline’s gotta be something else if you’re Floyd,” Ace mumbles. “I dunno what everyone sees in him.”

“Dude’s funny, good-looking, athletic… Not that hard to check the rest of the boxes when you’re him.”

“(Name) thinks he’s a dumbass. Her exact words were ‘an unfunny clown who flouts classroom etiquette and rules completely.’” Ace puts on an impression of your voice as he quotes that phrase.

“What? The teacher’s pet? I think I had class with her last semester. She’s cute.”

“Ew, gross!”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t fuck her stupid? Come on, man! The nerdy types are always freaks.”

Ace grimaces like the mere mention of you is going to infect him, but the blush on his face says otherwise. He’s picturing it.

“She’d be a perfect match with Rosehearts. Guy’s nuts for rules. She’s like a wet dream come to life for him.”

Ace punches his teammate. “Shaddup. She deserves better than that.” That last part is mumbled bitterly.

Jamil looks unenthused with this conversation. “Keep it down long enough to get through practice. Whatever you want to do after that is your own business.”

On the court, Floyd slams the ball through the net. It’s a flawless dunk.

Ace has to wonder: Does good pussy truly improve your performance on the court?

Obscene moans spill from Floyd’s laptop. On the screen, folded into a mating press, a little scientist gets her brains fucked out by the monster she’s created. He’s laying on his stomach, fully immersed in the salacious scene and chewing on a lollipop stick. The lewd imagery reflects off his glasses.

Jade happens to glance at it from where he’s sat at his desk. It’s a hentai he’s seen before.

“You seem preoccupied.”

“Mhm.”

“I was under the impression you weren’t fond of the studious type.”

“Meh. I guess it’s fun in this one.” Floyd tracks the way the monster grinds his clawed thumb against the scientist’s clit. She squirts with a delighted squeal. It’s a fantastic visual. “You think they all wear those little lace two-pieces underneath their lab coats?”

“Who can say?”

“She’s got nothin’ in her head now, though.” Floyd pulls the stick from his mouth. His tongue curls around it. The scientist’s lab coat hangs off of her shoulder. Her tits look fuckable. Her whole body looks like the perfect canvas for dozens of bites, but there’s something missing. Something that just can’t be replicated from real life—obviously. It’s hentai and Floyd knows that. But… “Shrimpy’s not brainless like that.”

“Ah, so this is about (Name).”

Floyd doesn’t answer at first. He watches the woman’s stomach bulge, watches the way the monster’s cock slides in and out. The way they connect as if they were made for each other despite size and species.

“She smelled good today.”

“Humans often do.”

“This was a different smell. New Shrimpy smell… Sweeter. Comfortable. Like the smell of holidays on land.”

He remembers he caught a whiff of it when you met up to test various ingredients for the project. At the start, he assumed it was coming from the cauldron—the scent of some foreign mixture. But then you’d gotten closer to him, nearly pushed him out of the way in your impatience, and the smell hit him head-on.

“Perhaps a perfume?”

“Maybe.” He studies the table as it shudders from the force of the monster’s thrusts. He has the scientist’s legs pinned by her ears. She’s euphoric, mind melting and body burning. It’s almost chemical. “If it is, it’s a damn good perfume.”

There’s a spark of yearning in his chest, accompanied with a singular thought: I wanna be inside a little shrimpy scientist just like that.

Even if that means he’d be the monster.

Especially if that means he’d be the monster.

“I think it was comin’ from her benzene ring.”

“Her benzene ring?” Jade raises a brow, curious.

“I dunno… She just…seemed softer today. Like… Like talc.”

Jade struggles around a laugh. “Talc?”

“Yeah. On the hardness scale, it’s one of the softest minerals. You can scratch it with your nail. It’s real easy. That’s what she reminded me of.”

“Right. I’m aware. I just…wasn’t expecting that.”

“If she touched me, I’d be a ten on the scale.”

Plucking the moss ball from its container, held delicately between the tweezers, Jade lowers it into a glass terrarium. “What comedic chemical comparisons. You’d be a diamond, in that case.”

Floyd shuts his laptop just as the monster fills the scientist with copious amounts of thick, sticky cum. “Guess I would be.”

“Are you going to see her?”

In an indirect way, yeah.

He drags a small bag out from under his bed. “Nah. She said she’s gonna wring me out if I don’t figure out what kinda potion we’re making. Think I’ll procrastinate on that a little more. See how far it gets me.”

His brother chuckles. “Good luck.”

Floyd grins and shuts the door behind him. He beelines for the showers, not wasting a single second running hot water and stripping down. He fucks you in that cubic shower stall—or part of you. The synthetic part, anyway. The part he’s named after you because who else would he want curled around his cock and coming undone like in hentai? Forums say an onahole can’t compare to the real thing, but then of course it couldn’t. Just in the same way cotton velour can’t compare to silk velvet. Floyd would know that and he’s never had real pussy before.

In the back of his mind, just as he spills his load inside for the third time, he thinks he’d taste that same smell he caught today if he parted your legs and dove in.

Maybe you’d squirm just like the little scientist beneath her beloved monster.

Ostensibly, you’ve made progress.

The molten mixture in the cauldron looks promising. A small amount is scooped up in the beaker for further study. It looks like liquid gold and smells overwhelmingly like a confectionery. You set it down on the table and peel your gloves off.

“I’m gonna try it once it’s cooled.”

Floyd shakes his head. “I’ll do it.”

“I’m the one who mixed it.”

“What if it kills you?”

“Then I die a genius.”

Floyd whistles. “Big words for Shrimpy.”

“It’s only right that I take responsibility for… Actually, if it does incapacitate me somehow, the project might not get done and we need someone with a functioning brain to complete the task… Floyd!”

He stands rigidly at attention, saluting you as if you’re a drill sergeant.

“Drink this and let me study its effect on you.” You pass the beaker to him while poring over your notes. “The color looks correct, the fragrance is fine, albeit a little stronger than normal, and it’s completely opaque. This has to be it!”

Floyd tilts the sample. The glittering liquid sloshes around. “What’s it supposed to be?”

“If I’m correct, which I’m certain I am, this is a mood stabilizer of some sort. The mushroom I got from Jade is supposedly hallucinogenic.”

Floyd cringes. “Yuck.”

“You don’t have to drink it if you aren’t sure, but I’m very positive that’s what it is. A mood stabilizer meant to boost a mage’s happiness.”

“We don’t gotta use magic for that. Can’t ya just go outside and lay in the sun if ya wanna be happy?”

“I don’t know,” you say, exasperated. “We added the salt from your list, and you suggested adding sunflower. Maybe this’ll work.”

“I dunno, Shrimpy.” Floyd sniffs it and draws back. “Are mood stabilizers supposed to smell this strong? If this is supposed to make me happy, the smell’s not doin’ it for me.”

“It’ll be fine. You don’t have to drink the whole thing. Look, right here. The book clearly lists the same ingredients we used, and we followed the same brewing and mixing process.”

“If Shrimpy thinks so…”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Floyd downs the sample in a single gulp. You watch him with a scientific sort of fascination and wonder just how many parties he’s had to go to to master that trick.

“Done,” he mutters gravelly, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“How’d it taste? According to the book, it’s supposed to taste flowery with a hint of salt.”

“Tastes fresh. Like peppermint.”

“Peppermint?” you echo, bewildered. “No… No, that’s not right. It shouldn’t.”

Immediately, you consult the book again.

Floyd squints blindly at the words from where he sits beside you, his elbow propped on the table. “Didn’t we also add nettle leaf?”

“What? No. The recipe didn’t call for—” You round on him just then. “Did you slip something in?”

He shrugs. “It was lookin’ like a boring potion anyways. Thought it’d be more fun this way.”

You lower your head onto the open book and groan into the pages. “Not even magic can replicate the amount of stupidity you’ve just showcased.”

“Hey, I’m just following the pattern. You said those things had medicinal properties, so I thought nettle leaf would fit in with that.”

“So then what did we make?” You lift your head to look at him. “Do you feel any happier? Any symptoms?”

“All the same over here.”

“So now we’re back to where we began…” You slap his hand away when he reaches for a clean vial. “Hands off. Let me do it.”

“C’mon. I wanna help. Lemme help.”

“Are you trying to get us kicked out of the lab? If something explodes, Professor Crewel’ll be on our asses in no time.”

Floyd rolls his eyes, but he obeys.

“Okay. Fresh start. Clean slate. If we follow the same recipe using the ingredients on our list… Hmm.”

You retrieve your notebook and open to a fresh page to begin jotting down ideas.

What am I missing?

“These are the ones with medicinal properties, but then psilocybin can also imply…” Your pen flies across the page as you work to construct a new mixture. “So maybe, if we’re using these things, it might work. And then… Sapphire is commonly associated with romance and truth… A potion that makes you speak the truth? Ah, but there’s also luck and healing… Is that it? Taking into account the mushroom… No, there’s also the red clover, butterfly wings, and the kiss. Oh, the kiss! We didn’t add that.”

You dig through your bag for lipstick and set it on the table. “The kiss of someone charmed or cursed. If it’s someone cursed, we can assume the potion will then have ingredients meant to reverse said curse. If they’re charmed…”

Unable to make a concise deduction, you deflate against your chair. This would be so much simpler if Floyd hadn’t lost his instructions!

Speaking of your lab partner, he’s been eerily quiet. You glance at him and find he’s looking right back, unfalteringly focused. That’s new for Floyd Leech.

“What’s wrong?”

Floyd blinks slowly, as if he’s thawing from a case of ice. His pupils are impossibly wide, so much so they’re like two black voids. And then he jerks away, his cheeks hot with a fierce, crimson blush. You watch him fidget in his seat. For once, he isn’t the silver-tongued, smart-mouthed jock who oozes confidence from his pores. Right now, he looks uncomfortable and awkward. Like a boy who’s just held hands with his crush for the first time.

“N-Nothing.”

You sigh. “It’s not ‘nothing’. It’s obviously something. What’s wrong?” You lean closer, scrutinizing his sweaty face. “Do you feel sick? Are you about to vomit? Are you running a fever?”

He smacks your arm away when you reach to feel his forehead. And then he coughs out an odd laugh. It’s unlike any sound you’ve ever heard him make. “How about let’s not…do…that?” His gaze darts to your chest and then your skirt and then your stocking-clad legs.

You understand his thoughts at once.

“Oh, grow up. I’m trying to check if you’re chemically, physically, and mentally stable.”

“I know that. S’just…” He swallows thickly. “K-Kinda hard…to focus.”

You spot the strain in his uniform slacks and then the sweat that beads at his brow. There’s a glaze to his two-toned eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Ah, I understand. We’ve mixed a common aphrodisiac.” Turning away from him, you flip a few pages in your textbook. “Let’s see… Red clover is supposedly good with fertility and then the mushroom increases the effect of the afflicted’s most potent desires, and then the nettle leaf has nutrients that support reproductive health. The other stuff we added either balances the mixture or makes it stronger.” You peer into the cauldron next. “The color matches that in the book and so does the smell. It says nothing about peppermint, though. How peculiar…”

“So… So was that it?” Floyd rests his head on the table and inhales a shaky breath. “We got it right?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll keep trying. For now, you should drink some water. It says the effect shouldn’t last longer than an hour. Of course, if we wanted to save time, you could just ejaculate and then it should be out of your system. Otherwise, you’ll just have to let it wear off. Kinda like when you’re drunk.”

Floyd grits his teeth. “Sounds real fun.”

You frown. “Sorry. I… Maybe I should’ve taken it.”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “Better me than you.”

“Hm.” You flip a few pages in the textbook. “We have limited resources, so I’m afraid I can’t brew a cure. We either wait it out or I help you.”

Floyd’s head snaps up from the table. “You… You’re gonna help me?”

“I need someone to reach the top shelves. Can’t do that when he’s doubled over with a hard-on.”

Floyd bites the inside of his cheek.

“Here. Sit up and relax.” Your hand ghosts over his crotch. He does the opposite of relax. In fact, he tenses so badly you think he’ll become a statue.

“A-Are you sure you wanna…?”

“I don’t see what the issue is. You’ve probably gotten way better from other girls. Just bear with it for now.”

“S’not that…” he trails off, staring at your throat as it bobs with your every swallow. “W-Whatever. Go ahead…”

“If you get my lab coat dirty, I’ll kill you.”

Floyd’s chest rumbles with a delirious laugh. He makes quick work of undoing the button and zip on his slacks and then, very clumsily, he fishes his cock out of his boxers. You notice they’re patterned with polka dots and little cartoon eels. It’s not the sort of underwear that’d pop into your mind when you imagine the sex-addicted jock everyone in the school lusts after.

With a swish of your magic pen, the lab door shuts and locks. You rifle through your bag to procure a small jar of aloe vera. Floyd watches you intensely, his gaze never wavering.

Unscrewing the lid, you dip your fingers into the gel.

“We can make good use of this,” you say conversationally as you wrap your slick hand around his achingly hard cock. Floyd bristles and sucks in air through his teeth. “Moray semen could be used in a potion of some sort. I’d like to test it sometime.”

He stares at you, absolutely mystified. It’s then when Floyd realizes he’s misjudged you entirely. You’re more than a Teacher’s Pet. In fact, you’re his exact type. Better than any girl he’s ever seen in hentai.

His cock throbs under your touch. Your hand is warm and soft against his shaft. It moves up and down in a hypnotizing rhythm, and suddenly there’s no other place in the world he’d rather be than right here at your side, led closer and closer to the ledge by your hand alone. You don’t spare him another glance, returning your attention to the book. You pick up your pen with your free hand and, like a real scientist unbothered by external variables, you’re back to working in your own little world.

In an effort to provide a modicum of support, Floyd squints through glazed eyes. “C-Can’t you… Fuck.” He bows his head and bites down hard on his lip. Blood pools to the surface. He tastes it on his tongue. “Move the page closer?”

“You can’t read it?”

Floyd opens and closes his mouth. “Can’t see it. S’all blurry.”

This draws your gaze. He struggles to pick an area of your face to look at. Either way, every inch of you is pretty. Even that perplexed expression sets his body aflame—or maybe that’s the work of the aphrodisiac. He’s not sure. He doesn’t care much either way. You may as well be more mighty than the spell itself, for it’s left his cock weeping pre-cum in your fist.

“What do you mean?”

“I normally wear contacts. Morays have shitty eyesight,” he explains, hissing when you squeeze him experimentally. He proceeds with caution. “But I lost ’em a while back. I’ve got glasses as a back-up.”

“So why don’t you wear them? Don’t tell me you lost those, too.”

Floyd lifts his shoulders. He should—he really should—but he’s learned to function with bad vision ever since he first lost his contacts. “Don’t feel like it.”

“That’s foolish. You should wear your glasses. Then you won’t have to struggle so much.”

Floyd aims for flirty. “Ooh, so Shrimpy wants to see what I look like in glasses?”

“I think you’d enjoy being able to see clearly more than my own curiosity.”

And he falls embarrassingly flat.

You resume your scribbling. He doesn’t say anything else, choosing to brace himself against the table with a grip so tight it whitens his knuckles and tenses the muscles in his hands. He’s panting like he’s just finished a grueling workout. Rather than sounds of exhaustion, though, they’re more like great gulps of air as he struggles to keep his composure. He’s a merman; they don’t possess wings, but he certainly feels like he’s flying in this moment, caught up in the clouds with his crush.

It’s better than any fantasy he’s ever conjured—better than any hentai—and you’re oblivious to it.

“That’s it! I’ve figured it out!”

You squeeze his length tightly. And that’s all it takes to rocket him up into outer space. He inhales sharply, squeezes his eyes shut, and hangs his head when he cums. It’s messy and sticky, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. Mercifully allowing him to ride out his wave, you continue to slowly pump him. Pearly cum drools from his tip.

“Mm, s’great… Good job. Knew you could do it,” he mutters, dazed and dumb.

The pounding of his heart is incessant like the buzz of cicadas in summer. Did that really just happen?

But then you do the unthinkable, and for a single second he thinks he’s still sitting in his room, hunched over his laptop and watching hentai.

Like a succubus, you clean his cum from your fingers in just a few licks. He tracks your tongue the entire time. Did that really just happen?

“It’s either a love potion, a remedy of some sort, or a type of transformation potion. One of these three—I’m sure of it! We’ll spend next week testing each one, so be ready.” You toss your head back and drink from your water bottle, unfazed. It’s both the coolest and hottest thing he’s ever seen. “Does that sound good to you, Floyd?”

There’s a determined fire blazing in your eyes. He smiles dreamily.

“Anything for Shrimpy.”

You match his energy with a joyous giggle. “Thanks for your hard work, Floyd!”

He wants to ask, but he stops himself. Is it so wrong to want you to experiment some more on him?

Maybe that’s asking too much.

“Floyd, you were a monster out there!”

He wipes the sweat from his face and neck and then turns to look at the few teammates who’ve crowded around him.

“Wasn’t a big deal. I just played like I normally do.”

“Uh, it kinda was, though!” Ace says, pushing through the throng. “You actually managed to stay in the game!”

“And we scored more than we usually do!”

“Impressive work,” Jamil adds from where he sits on a nearby bench, tightening his laces.

“What’s your secret? Didja get laid before the game?”

“You totally did, right? Who was it? You gotta hook me up, man!”

“What? No way! Send her my way.”

Floyd gazes at all of them, wondering what in the deep, blue sea they’re prattling on about. He’s only just tuned in on today’s locker room gossip. His head has been in the clouds ever since his last meeting with you. The feeling is fuzzy, snug like a duvet fresh from the dryer.

“You wanna know my secret?” he asks, leering at the lot of them. The difference in height makes this possible, and he takes full advantage of it.

Some of them shrink back, but the few emboldened teammates inch closer.

“Ya can’t have her. She’s all mine.”

“No way. You’re actually serious with this one? Who is it?”

“Bet it’s the cheer captain.”

“Dude, my money’s on the hottie from Magic History.”

“What do you think, Jamil?”

“Does it really matter?” he asks, his tone monotonous.

“It does! No fair Floyd gets good luck pussy while we’re all stranded over here.”

Floyd can’t understand humans sometimes. Why would I share my Shrimpy hole with these small fry? That’s all for me.

Because the team was definitely referring to his sex toy, right?

Surprisingly, Floyd’s waiting for you in the lab when you poke your head inside. He has everything laid out, and he’s even started working on some of the formulas to ensure a successful brew.

And this time he’s wearing his glasses.

You almost don’t want to break his focus, but he senses your presence and glances your way before you can duck out.

“Oh, hey. Sorry for interrupting.”

“S’all good.”

“Were you waiting long? I was a little caught up.”

You recall your chat with Riddle, who told you he already solved the missing ingredient with Azul, and wince. You’re certain you would’ve been in that same position if not for Floyd’s carelessness.

“Nah.”

Heaving a relieved sigh, you venture deeper into the room and deposit your bag on the nearest chair.

“What have you been doing?”

“Brainstorming. Directions said we gotta seal it with wax afterwards. I only know a few potions that call for seals. Most of ’em are either super volatile, dangerous, or need time to ferment.”

“So you’re thinking…?”

“Maybe it really is a love potion. We were kinda on the right track last time. We just gotta figure out what we need to subtract and add to get it right.”

Taken aback by his initiative, you nod mechanically. “And we still need the kiss.”

“And we still need the kiss,” he affirms.

“Then what’re we missing? There’s salt, red clover, sapphire, the Pluteus villosus, and the butterfly wings.” You shuffle over to him and glance at his notes. “Oh, you’ve broken down the chemical components of each of these. Wow…”

“It’s not that hard.”

You bite your tongue. It was hard when I was learning it…

“So what about the kiss?”

“I’ll do it.”

“But you’re not cursed.”

Floyd smiles at his textbook. “Not cursed.”

“If you insist… If it gives you a hard-on again, I’m not helping you.”

“Aww. So mean. And I thought you wanted a li’l sample of moray for your next experiment.”

You elbow him harshly, to which he laughs. Observing Floyd as he is now, you begin to regret your original assessment of him. It was rather scathing.

I was wrong about him. He’s not the Dumb Jock.

“Do you want to pursue something in science after you graduate?”

“Not really. I think it’s interesting, yeah, but not enough to wanna shape my whole life around it. Y’know?”

“Ah.”

“I kinda wanna design stuff. Crewel’s been givin’ me pointers.”

“Design? As in, fashion design?” You furrow your brow. “Huh. I never would’ve guessed.”

“What about you? Bet Shrimpy’s got an entire life plan laid out. Super responsible-like.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you say, laughing woodenly. “I have a general idea.”

“Yeah?” Floyd grabs a vial from off the shelf and empties the contents into the cauldron. The silver liquid bubbles as it’s stirred in. “I’m sure you’ll do it—whatever it is you wanna do. You’re smart.”

“Thanks…”

He beams and tosses the rest of the measured ingredients in. You’re content to watch him, trusting in his judgment. When it comes time for the kiss, he gestures to your bag.

“You still have that lipstick you always carry around?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Put some on me and then hold up that blank sheet there.”

“Are you sure that’s going to work?”

“Maybe.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing…”

Still, you retrieve the tube and apply it to Floyd’s lips. This proximity gives him the chance to admire you up-close while you focus on his lips. He smacks them twice to make sure they’re coated properly and then, while you’re holding up the clean parchment, leans in. When he pulls back, there’s a ruby-red lipstick mark where there wasn’t before.

Using magic, Floyd then extracts the print. You watch in awe as it’s dissolved in the solution. Vibrancy explodes within the cauldron, turning silver into plumeria-pink.

“Whoa…”

Floyd passes you a wooden paddle. You take it from him and dip it into the cauldron. As you stir in time with Floyd, listening to him mutter the enchantment, you think back on the past few weeks.

I’ve had such a narrow-minded view of him this entire time, and yet here he is proving all of my misguided opinions incorrect.

“Did you ever figure out the missing components?”

“Mhm. My list had salt, honey, and peppermint.”

“How’d you know it was those two?”

“Cuz honey’s sweet and peppermint’s refreshing. Two feelings you experience when you’re in love. And that’s what it called for according to an older recipe. I found it in the library.”

“You actually did research on your own time?”

“Well, I don’t wanna fail.”

“And here I thought I was losing brain cells having you as my lab partner.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. I… I shouldn’t have thought that. I know better now.”

“Doesn’t bother me. Sides, I got to see a whole new side of Shrimpy, so it works out.”

“A whole new side?”

“Ooh, you wanna know the secret ingredient? The one we were supposed to find.”

“I do! What was it?”

“Cacao beans.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Pretty cool, right? The perfect love potion is all about bittersweetness.”

“I get it. So the mushroom completely blindsides and fools the afflicted into thinking they’re in love. It’s all hallucinogenic. Sapphire enhances that effect, and red clover stabilizes it. Honey makes it sweet. The butterfly wings contribute to that fluttery feeling in your stomach shortly after you’ve ingested it. Peppermint adds a refreshing aftertaste. Yes, of course! It all makes sense.”

“And salt flavors it. Sorta.”

“What a complicated mixture.”

“Was a real pain tryin’ to get the order correct, especially when the recipe’s written in old runes.”

You and Floyd stare into the bubbling cauldron. It smells just as it should. It looks just as it should. Without a doubt, it’s a perfect product.

“At least we did it. I’m so ready to wipe my hands of this project.”

“Took the words right outta my mouth.”

Just as instructed, you and Floyd bottle it. Next, you light a candle and pour wax over the cork. For extra flourish, you tie a ribbon around the neck of the bottle. You hold it up to the light to check its transparency, or lack thereof. It’s an impenetrable pink—just like in the textbook. A beautiful success if you’ve ever seen one.

“Now all that’s left is to turn this in to Professor Crewel and wait for his analysis.” You set the bottle down. “Good work, Floyd.”

He preens under your praise. “It was nothin’. Thanks for all the help, Shrimpy.”

Mirroring each other’s giddiness, the both of you bump fists.

Floyd lies on his back, his arm raised to the ceiling. He flexes his fingers absently and recalls the feeling of your hand on his skin.

Did that mean anything, or was that just a standard chemical reaction?

“Perhaps you ought to illustrate the way you feel using symbols on the periodic table.”

Floyd glares at his brother from across the room. Once again, he’s sat at his desk, carefully arranging the plant life in a new terrarium.

“That’s way too lame.”

“Really? I find it to be rather creative.”

“I’m not a loser.”

“Your earlier comparisons made me think otherwise.”

He’s overcome with the strongest urge to knock Jade’s teeth out of his mouth. Exercising a mere sliver of restraint, Floyd turns over on his side and hugs his body pillow against his chest. There’s a magical girl dressed in a frilly outfit printed on it, smiling brightly as she holds her magical staff up to vanquish evil. Most nights, as he often does with many personal belongings that fill the emptiness in his heart, he pretends it’s you.

“You’re talking a lot for someone who’d be better off without his tongue…”

“How harsh. And here I was willing to offer advice to my dear, troubled brother.”

“You can stuff it. I don’t want your advice.”

He turns his back on Jade and huffs, which earns him a chuckle.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything after all.

He buries his face in the pillow. Hentai makes it look so simple, but love itself is just another convoluted chemical reaction. It’s even more so under the sea.

Floyd shuts his eyes.

I guess this means we won’t see each other during lunch anymore…

Professor Crewel has graced you and Floyd with a passing grade. You expected this, so it isn’t a very jarring shock, but it’s still pleasant nonetheless.

“I knew you’d pass!” Deuce says as you walk between him and Ace, proudly flashing the graded assignment sheet. “To think you managed it even with a guy like Floyd…”

“He’s not so bad.”

“What’s this? A dramatic change of heart?” Ace pokes and prods, standing so close you can smell his cologne.

You roll your eyes. “He wasn’t a total pain. It was quite nice, actually.”

“You sure that’s all that happened? I heard you were skipping lunch with him…”

“To do the project—”

“So she could get the project done, dumbass,” Deuce speaks over you. “Besides, Floyd’s not (Name)’s type.”

“Hey, how come I’ve never heard about this type?”

“Does it really matter what my type is?”

“Yeah, it does! I gotta see if you have good taste. Us guys can be so terrible, y’know. Total slobs. Gotta make sure my (Name) keeps her eyes on the good ones.”

You slap his arm lightly. “And you’re definitely not one of them, wearing that cheap, casanova cologne!”

Ace sputters, his cheeks tinged pink. “Y-You just can’t recognize greatness when you smell it!”

Deuce snickers. “Greatness that costs fifty-percent off.”

“So now I’m lame for wanting to save money? Geez. You’re assholes.”

Giggling, you wrap your arms around the both of them and pull them in close. “It’s done out of love.”

“Gimme a break.” Ace groans.

Your little trio carries on down the hall, ignorant to the rest of the students who pass you by.

Floyd looks up, his ears pricking. He smells you before he hears you. It’s not the same, nor is it as strong as the sticky-sweet scent from before, but it’s still enticing in its own right.

“You should talk to her,” Jade encourages, following his line of sight. “Invite her to this year’s Wintertide. I’m sure she’ll consider it, at the very least.”

Floyd narrows his eyes. “My odds ain’t zero.”

“They aren’t one-hundred either.”

Jade speaks like he doesn’t value his teeth. But it’s all intentional. He’ll push and push until Floyd stumbles out of his cowardly mold. Maybe one day.

‘One day’ is so vague, but it isn’t without hope.

After all, you’re an alkali metal and he’s the water who’ll cradle explosive, enchanting you. And where there’s water, there’s sure to be a reaction.

His feet carry him away from Jade and towards you. He descends like a spontaneous tempest. Ace and Deuce flinch back in surprise when he all but squeezes between the three of you.

“Shrimpy!”

And this time you look at him with a bright grin—not the scalding vexation you’d first leveled him with.

“Floyd!”

It’s deliciously chemical.

#to the anon who shared this amazing idea with me... this is dedicated to you!! :D #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd x reader #n/sfw

582 notes · View notes

tibby-art · 3 months

Note

i am straight up on my hands and knees BEGGING for more hitman au

crazy that you mention that actually because i did write another snippet a little while ago.. here’s a doodle i did to accompany it + the writing under the cut

=+=

Grian gazed out the window of the bus, soaking in the quiet evening of the city. It had been some time since he was out in public like this, since he had felt like a normal citizen going about her daily buisness. It was nice to be outside the NHO headquarters for once, free to do what she pleased. Well, sort of.

Grian wasn’t exactly free. He was allowed some free time out when there was no training, lab visits, or missions. However, she was only allowed outside the NHO with a bodyguard. Someone who could both protect him from the overstimulation of the outside world, as well as protect others from her… if he were to ever lose control of his powers, or something.

Yes, riding the bus with a former-criminal-turned-professional-hitman certainly made the whole experience feel less normal for Grian.

“It’s nice to take public transportation once in a while,” Scar mused, stretching his arms over his head. “Us vexes don’t get to do that much anymore, when we can just fly around wherever we need to go.”

“That must be so much better, though,” Grian pointed out. “You can fly wherever you want, and you don’t even have to pay the bus fare.”

“Let me tell you, Grian, flying can be so tiring,” Scar huffed. “Sometimes I’m so tired by the time we show up to a hit, we need to take a breather on the roof for a few minutes. The NHO should just let us have a car for the long missions, for goodness’ sake!”

Grian did a quick check of his surroundings. The bus was pretty empty this time of day, but she got no sense that any of the passengers were paying attention to Scar so casually talking about being a hitman. A brief tap into watcher vision didn’t show any movement from the passengers behind her, either.

“Cub’s in much better shape than me,” Scar rambled on. “Did you know that man was a professional basketball player once? Or was it golf…? Actually, I think it was both.”

The NHO didn’t deem it too urgent to send both their prized hitmen on Grian-watching duty, so Cub had stayed behind at the headquarters. Last time Grian had seen Cub, he was showing off a ring of keys to Scar, saying how he was going to get a lot of ‘research’ done that night.

“What are those keys for?” Grian asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Cub shrugged. “That’s part of the fun”.

“So… those aren’t your keys?”

Cub and Scar just grinned at her.

“….This is our stop,” Grian said.

The pair exited the bus. The Hermit City library stood before them.

“Library, huh?” Scar asked. “Do you have some overdue books from before you became a watcher or something?”

“Not so loud,” Grian scolded, glancing around a mostly empty city street. “But, no. Speaking of… that, I wanted to see if there were any books I could find on the subject.”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think a public library would have better information than what we have at the NHO?”

Grian shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

The library was pretty empty at this time of day. In fact, they probably closed in an hour or so. Grian had deliberately chosen a time of day where less people would be around, so that the trip was less overwhelming on his new senses. Scar had complained that he wasn’t a morning person, so they settled on the evening instead. Grian secretly was also glad she could sleep in a little.

“Geez, when’s the last time I’ve been in one of these?” Scar muttered, glancing at the countless shelves of books as they walked past.

“What, are you allergic to reading?” Grian teased.

“Well, I am dyslexic, so… sort of?”

Grian realized that for a trip to the library to do some research, she probably should have gotten Cub to come. The man literally has two science degrees, after all.

The two made their way to the front desk, where the librarian on duty appeared to be preoccupied… knitting a hand puppet of some kind?

“Well howdy there!” The librarian looked up from his work cheerfully. He had long, brown hair that was dyed neon green at the tips, matching perfectly with her pointed green glasses. “What can I help y’all with?”

“Uh, yes, um.” Grian tapped his fingers on the desk. “We were wondering if you had any books on Watchers, and where they might be?”

“Watchers, huh…” The librarian furrowed their brow. “Now that’s an obscure topic.” He swiveled his chair towards his computer to investigate further. Grian began to grow anxious with how obvious he felt they were being.

“I know, right?” Scar sighed, leaning on the desk casually. “It’s for some lame group project that’s like, a fourth of our final grade in the class.”

“Yikes! That sounds rough,” The librarian remarked as she typed on the computer. Grian tapped into his sixth sense and didn’t pick up on any feelings of suspicion from the librarian. Maybe bringing Scar was a good idea.

“Okay, well, most of these books that are coming up seem to be more on the… fantasy side,” The librarian explained after a moment of scrolling. “I know those guys are mythological beings, but you said you’re doing a research project, so I’m guessing you want something more factual…”

“Yeah, anything with information about where they came from, what they do, stuff like that.” Grian nodded. “Y’know, like if they were real.”

“Oh! Here’s something promising.” The librarian turned the monitor so that Grian and Scar could see. “This book right here seems to be a study of the tales of Watchers throughout history. Although… it looks like our only copy is checked out at the moment.”

“Really?” Grian asked. “By who?”

The librarian blinked. “Hm… y’know, I’m actually not sure if I’m supposed to like, give that information to people? Like, legally?”

“There’s another person in our group project, so we just want to know if they beat us to checking out this book,” Scar lied. “Communication in group projects, am I right?”

“Pff, yeah, that makes sense,” The librarian turned the computer back to face him. “It looks like this book is currently being borrowed by a Martyn. With a y! How fancy.”

“Ah, Martyn with a y, of course!” Scar exclaimed. “Well, now we know that Martyn has the book, right Grian?”

“Yup,” Grian agreed, mind racing.

“Hey, actually…” The librarian scrolled down on the computer some more. “You guys sure got the right person for this project. It looks like this Martyn fella has been checking this book out for a few months now?”

Grian’s eyes widened.

“Ohh, that Martyn,” Scar laughed. “Always getting the head start on things! Uh, did we need anything else, Grian?”

“Um…” Grian needed to think fast. Whoever this Martyn person was, he’s been checking the same book on Watchers out for months. Surely he has to know something about them. Grian had to speak to him. But how on earth were they going to find this person?

Grian focused on the back of the librarian’s computer monitor. For a brief moment, in her mind’s eye, he could see the content of computer screen, from the librarian’s eyes. There on the screen was a full name: Martyn Littlewood.

“Nope, that’s all,” Grian replied, blinking rapidly as he returned to his own vision.

“Great. Well, you two have a good one!” The librarian said cheerfully, and returned to their knitting.

Grian and Scar briskly made their way outside.

“Wow. So who’s this Martyn guy? I didn’t think anyone else cared about Watchers that much,” Scar began, turning to Grian. “Oh uh, Grian, you’ve got something there…” Scar pointed to his own nose, looking worried all of a sudden.

“Huh?” Grian wiped his nose on his sleeve instinctively, expecting snot. However, when he glanced at his arm he saw red.

“Ah.” At least her sweater was already red.

“What did you do in there?” Scar asked, his green eyes intense with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“I was able to get a better look at that computer, and see the guy’s last name,” Grian explained. “Martyn Littlewood. Whoever he is, he might have a ton of information about Watchers. I’ve got to find him and have a word with him.”

“Grian, you’re amazing!” Scar exclaimed, impressed. “Well, finding someone in this city should be easy enough for a Watcher.”

“Shush,” Grian glanced around the empty bus stop. “Or we could try, y’know, looking the name up online first…” Grian quickly pulled out her phone. “Ah. Found him.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“Oh my god, Scar.”

“What?”

“Scar.” Grian held the phone out. “Martyn Littlewood is…”

“A youtuber?” Scar’s jaw dropped as he scrolled through the list of videos. “And he makes videos talking about-“

“Watchers.”

Scar stared at Grian, dumbfounded.

“Scar, I think we just found the world’s biggest, and perhaps only, Watcher fanatic,” Grian stated in disbelief. “And he lives right here in Hermit City.”

#please excuse my rusty writing abilities #convexian hitman au #grian #goodtimeswithscar #sketchbook #art tag #desert duo

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 1 year

Text

Prettiest Sight

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: really just cockwarming technically, sort of exhibitionism/voyeurism, Bucky has a filthy mouth even in such a casual setting, honestly this isn't much compared to some of my others lol

Genre: fluff and smut

Summary: Steve wants to draw you and Bucky and you plan to let him

***

You stride into your room humming to yourself as you finish a text. When you enter, Steve and Bucky are lounging around, Steve at the desk, and Bucky on the couch watching TV.

"Oh hey guys. I didn't realize you'd be back already." You say.

"We just went on a coffee run." Steve reminds you, tapping your coffee cup with his pencil.

"Well yeah I know but sometimes that shop gets busy." You shrug.

"Where did you get off to princess?" Bucky asks.

"Just had some laundry I thought I'd take care of while you were out. I just sat up there til I could put them into the dryer so I didn't forget." You explain grabbing your coffee from the table and taking a sip.

"Oh okay."

"What ya doin Stevie?" You ask looking over his shoulder where he's hunched over at your desk.

"Just some sketching." He mutters.

"He's been at it most of the morning. Even at the coffee shop, he was doodling away while we were waiting." Bucky tells you.

"Really?" You hum. "Can I see some of them?" You ask.

"They aren't like- great or anything just, trying some things." Steve mutters handing you the sketchbook. You flip through the drawings with wide eyes. Some of them are simple, outlines and such some barely more than shadows, but other pages are much more detailed, vivid depictions of places and things and the occasional person.

"These are impressive Stevie. You shouldn't sell yourself short." You tell him sitting down in Bucky's lap.

"Are these just strangers?" Bucky asks peaking at one of the drawings with an arm wrapped around your waist.

"Yeah- I don't draw people a lot but every once in a while I'll try." Steve shrugs.

"Well you could always draw us if you want the practice." You say with a wink. You're pretty sure he'll never actually take you up on the offer but you're not joking.

"Wanna draw us like one of your French girls Stevie?" Bucky smirks resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Don't tease. I was being serious." You lightly smack Bucky's thigh in reprimand.

"Actually- I did have this one idea." Steve mutters his cheeks tinged pink slightly.

"Really?" Bucky blinks at him.

"You wanna draw us?" Even you're surprised.

"If you guys don't mind."

"Of course we don't. What's the idea?" You ask. Steve doesn't answer immediately, but the tint in his cheeks is spreading in the space left after your question.

"Oh shit he really does want to draw us like Jack's French girls." Bucky laughs.

"Stop it." You roll your eyes. "Is that it Steve?"

"Well kind of. Unfortunately, my recollection isn't great otherwise I would just draw it from memory but- it's just that you always look so beautiful when Buck or I am filling you I thought it'd be a nice moment to immortalize." Steve explains and the revelation sends a shiver down your spine and has your core clenching slightly.

"Oh." You breathe out.

"You- wanna draw us with her sitting on my dick?" Bucky asks and you almost squirm at his words, the imagery now vividly at the forefront of your mind.

"It's a real pretty sight." Steve says.

"I mean I know it is Steve I'm just- surprised. You've never been one for that kind of exhibitionistic interest." Bucky says.

"Whatever man." Steve rolls his eyes. "Y/n? What are you thinking?" He asks you hesitantly.

"I mean I'm not- against it. You just want me like in Bucky's lap?" You ask.

"Yeah pretty much."

"Well if Bucky's fine with it-"

"You'll never have to convince me to do something that involves you on my dick." Bucky shrugs.

"You are so vulgar." You roll your eyes.

"You had no problem with my vulgarity last night princess." Bucky kisses the back of your neck.

"Down boy." You joke. "Stevie you wanna give this idea of yours a try or what?"

"Now?" He blinks.

"Yeah why not? We're all here and you've got your sketchpad." You shrug. "Just tell us what to do and we can make it happen."

"O- okay, well you'll need to strip." Steve says.

"Risque." Bucky jokes as you climb off of his lap to tug off your shorts and t-shirt.

"You too Bucky." Steve says.

"Can do." Bucky winks at Steve shuffling down his jeans and pulling his shirt over his head.

"Actually- y/n put on one of our shirts that you've highjacked." Steve says.

"Hey you guys leave your clothes in here half the time." You protest but you grab one of Steve's shirts from your drawer anyway. You put it on and walk back over to Bucky on the couch.

"And the other half of the time you just go into our rooms and take things." Bucky says tapping your butt lightly. You stick your tongue out at him in response and he chuckles.

"Anyway, do you need a little warm-up y/n?" Steve asks.

"A warm-up?" You ask.

"Well yeah- you'll be sitting for a little bit, you both need to be somewhat comfortable." Steve says as if it's obvious.

"Oh." It's all you can come up with in response.

"Come here doll, let's get you ready hm, although- I'd bet you're already dripping for us like always." Bucky spins you to face him, a hand wrapping around your thigh, fingers settling incredibly close to your center. Close enough that if he stretched the digits he'd be touching, but where they are now it's just enough for you to be hyperaware of the closeness.

"Now's really not the best time for one of your games Bucky." Steve cautions.

"There's never a bad time for those." Bucky winks. Steve rolls his eyes which only makes Bucky's smirk widen as if he has every intention of riling you both up.

"This is supposed to be about me drawing you two babe, can't do that if you're just gonna make a mess of her til she's begging for both of us." Steve says and you almost want to abandon the drawing in favor of that when he says it.

"Alright I'll be nice." Bucky concedes tapping against your thigh lightly. The action instinctually has your legs spreading enough for him to slip two fingers between your slick folds. "Just like I thought, so wet before anyone even had to touch you. Always so ready for us." Bucky hums as he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, stretching you. You can't help the small whimpers and moans that fall from your lips at Bucky's ministrations with both men watching intently. A few minutes of playing your body like a custom instrument have you unsteady on your feet and that's when Bucky withdraws. "I'd say you're ready." He says sliding his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean and the action makes your walls clench. You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"Do you want me facing you Stevie? Or should I be facing Bucky for this?" You ask.

"Face me sweetheart." Steve says. You nod and climb onto Bucky's lap straddling him with your back to Bucky. You take Bucky in your hand and he hisses but he can't dwell on the sweet grip of your fingers because in the next moment, you're sinking down onto him, the molten heat of your core envelops him like the sweetest torture. You take your time settling on top of him, 'unintentionally' grinding further against his erection until his hands squeeze warningly against your hip. "Behave you two. I'm serious about drawing you." Steve warns.

"Of course baby." You smile innocently at him.

"Alright- Bucky get comfortable but your legs need to be spread so I can actually see where you're joined oh and slip your hand into her shirt, cup one of her boobs. And you can put your other hand on her thigh." Steve gives you a series of directions which Bucky follows quickly. "Y/n you can lean back against him." Steve adds and you settle against Bucky's chest, and his head rests on your shoulder. "Good girl. Now you guys can just sit there while I draw."

"Do we gotta be quiet and still or-" Bucky trails.

"I mean as long as you don't move too much it's fine, and you can definitely talk, at least until I'm drawing your faces but I'll let you know when I'm at that point." Steve's already started sketching, his eyes darting from you and Bucky to his sketchpad. Bucky swipes his thumb across the nipple of your breast that's in his hand and you gasp at the sudden stimulation.

"Bucky-" You warn.

"Sorry doll, you're just impossible to resist." He hums pressing a kiss to your neck that makes a shiver run down your spine.

"You're insufferable." You scoff at him.

"You say that but I can feel you squeezing me at my teasing." He says.

"Settle down Bucky." Steve warns him although you doubt Bucky will listen. If you're lucky he'll save the teasing for after the drawing is finished but chances are you'll end up doing way more than sitting on his dick within the hour. Bucky can be quite patient but when it comes to you neither of them is particularly good at managing their insatiability. You'll be seriously surprised if Steve manages to finish his drawing before one or both of them decides this time is better spent forcing orgasms from you.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #stucky fanfic #stucky smut #stucky fluff #stucky #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fluff

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wannabehockeygf · 1 month

Text

Wild Side - Auston Matthews

“I learned to read between the lines,

You’re talking truths,

You’re talking lies.”

Summary: When you wake up in the bed of Toronto's most eligible bachelor, you decide to stick around. Pairing: Auston Matthews x fem! reader Word count: 6.5k Warnings: Talking about sex (oral, f and m receiving, and then regular p in v stuff) talking about general naughty things, William Nylander slander. Notes: - this is just a silly little idea dump bc I miss am34 and I wanted to write about him - briefly proof read. definitely not much.

he could definitely throw me around 🫶🏼

***

Your 9-to-5 job has conditioned you to enjoy the sweet luxury of sleeping in on the weekends, but today is an exception.

An alarm slices through the peaceful silence like a buzz saw, blaring that dreadful default 'radial' tone. Who even keeps that sound as their wake-up call anymore? Honestly, it feels like a war crime against your ears. Your brain is still a foggy mess, trying to piece together where you are, and why the hell that sound is assaulting you so early.

As the alarm continues its torturous duty, you catch a groan—deep, gravelly, and full of regret. Ah, the mystery man whose bed you seem to be occupying. Right. The events of last night are a bit of a blur, but you’re sure he’s equally as hungover, possibly even more so given how he seems to be wrestling his phone like it’s personally offended him.

The bed creaks in protest as he shifts his weight, and before you can even muster the will to open your eyes, you feel the prickle of his beard grazing your cheek as he leans over you. “Hey,” he whispers, his voice rough and tired, “I have to go. You can stay as long as you want, use my shower, sleep in my bed, whatever. Just… if you never want to see me again, I’ll be back by ten, so, you know, leave before then.”

His words drift into your consciousness like wisps of smoke, barely registering as you teeter on the edge of sleep. You give a noncommittal hum, a universal noise of “sure, whatever,” and within seconds, the rustling of clothes and the click of the door shutting have you sinking back into blissful oblivion. ***

A few hours later, you're jarred awake by something wet and warm on your face. "Ugh, what the…?" you mumble, peeling one eye open. A pair of big, soulful dog eyes meet yours, tongue lolling out in a doggy grin. It’s a doodle, of course—because why wouldn’t mystery man have an adorable dog to complete the fantasy?

You blink, taking in your surroundings. Yep, still in his bed. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to gather the scraps of last night. Your head throbs as you scan the room, landing on the trash can by the bedside table. The shiny foil wrapper inside it nearly makes you weep with relief. No walk of shame to the pharmacy for a Plan B today. Thank you, Past You, for at least being responsible in your drunken haze.

You quickly realize, however, that you’re stark naked, and the thought of shimmying back into that tiny dress from last night makes your skin crawl. But you also smell like a hot mess—a combination of sweat, alcohol, and, well, him. The allure of a hot shower becomes too tempting to resist.

You peel yourself out of bed and find the bathroom easily enough. It’s a shrine of white marble and fancy fixtures, the kind of bathroom that screams, “I have my life together!” You take a moment to gawk at the luxury before turning on the shower. The sight of separate bottles for shampoo and conditioner catches you off guard—this man clearly knows that 2-in-1 is a sin, even if his choice is Old Spice.

Post-shower, you wrap yourself in the first towel you find, not caring if it was used, and venture back into his room to find something more comfortable. You rummage through his dresser and pull out a soft, worn t-shirt emblazoned with ‘Toronto Maple Leafs’ in bold letters. "Of course," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "A sports bro."

Still, the shirt is cozy, and it smells like laundry detergent with a faint hint of his cologne—pleasantly masculine, and somehow comforting. You pull it over your head, feeling like you’ve just donned a uniform for a team you never asked to join.

The bedroom is surprisingly tidy, with only a few personal touches here and there. A photo on the nightstand catches your eye—mystery man and a bunch of other dudes, all grinning like they’ve just won the lottery. Everyone’s in matching jerseys, which only cements your suspicion that you’ve stumbled into the lair of a hardcore hockey fan.

You wander over to the window and pull back the curtains, and holy hell. The view hits you like a slap to the face. You’re at least thirty-five floors up, and the sprawling cityscape of Toronto unfolds beneath you like a living postcard. You’ve seen this city from above only once before—during that one awkward date at the CN Tower where the guy couldn’t stop talking about crypto.

Stepping over a pair of discarded sneakers, you make your way to the kitchen. The place is as sleek and modern as it gets—high ceilings, massive windows, and a panorama of the city that’s enough to make anyone feel on top of the world. The kitchen is stocked like a health nut’s paradise, with fresh produce that’s clearly more expensive than anything you’d buy on your budget.

The doodle, whose collar reads “Felix,” pads along beside you, tail wagging like he’s known you forever. You can’t help but smile at the little guy as he nudges your hand, begging for attention. You oblige with some ear scratches, mentally piecing together the night before. Bits of the club come back—flashes of lights, music pounding in your chest, and his smile as he approached you, confident but not cocky. Beyond that, though? Total blackout. Well, except for the hickeys he left all over you. Those are pretty memorable.

You open the fridge and see that it’s packed with enough gourmet ingredients to make a Michelin-star chef weep. Feeling oddly domestic, you decide to whip up a frittata—might as well enjoy a good meal while you’re here. The sound of eggs cracking against the bowl echoes in the otherwise quiet kitchen. You start humming to yourself, a random tune you can’t quite place, as you chop onions and bell peppers. Felix sits patiently at your feet, eyes locked on your every move.

The scent of sizzling veggies and freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and for a moment, you almost forget you’re in some stranger’s kitchen. You sprinkle cheese over the frittata, watching it melt into gooey perfection, and slide it onto a plate with a flourish. Not bad, considering you’re technically trespassing.

Just as you’re about to dig in, the door clicks open, and you freeze.

There he is—mystery man in the flesh. His damp hair sticks out from under a backward baseball cap, and there’s a moment of surprise in his eyes when he sees you still there, wearing his shirt, barefoot in his kitchen. Felix, traitor that he is, bounds over to him like he’s just won the lottery.

“Well, good morning,” he says, his voice much steadier now than it was this morning. His eyes flick to the frittata, then back to you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Didn’t expect you to stick around. Smells good.”

You blink, trying to play it cool despite the sudden surge of self-consciousness. “Good morning,” you reply, suddenly aware of how oversized the shirt is on you. You fidget with the hem, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I… I can change if you want. I just—”

“Nah,” he interrupts, shaking his head with that same small smile. “It’s fine. Looks good on you.” He steps further into the room, his gaze lingering on yours, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged with something unspoken. Eventually, he cracks a smile, and of course his teeth are absolutely perfect. “You remember my name?” He teases.

Your brain scrambles like the eggs you’ve just made. His name? You mentally sift through the fog of last night, trying to unearth any trace of a name, but all that comes up is a blank slate. Not even a hint. Just those damn dimples and a very nice smile. Great. You’re in a stranger’s kitchen, in his shirt, cooking like it’s some kind of Sunday morning domestic bliss, and you can’t even remember his name.

Panic starts to bubble up in your chest. Okay, play it cool, you’ve got this. You give him a casual smile, one you hope doesn’t betray the sheer terror of your mental blankness. “Of course I remember,” you lie smoothly, buying yourself time to figure out the rest of this disaster. “How could I forget?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Damn. His skepticism is written all over his face. The worst part? He doesn’t even seem mad. In fact, he looks more amused than anything else.

You internally curse yourself. Why does he have to be so annoyingly attractive even when he’s being condescending? You rack your brain for a strategy. Okay, think. Just ask him something that forces him to say his name. Maybe pretend like you don’t know how to spell it or something. But before you can settle on a plan, he’s already walking toward you, the smile still tugging at his lips.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he says, leaning against the counter as he grabs a fork, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that’s both unnerving and somehow magnetic. “It starts with an A.”

Your heart nearly skips a beat. Oh, come on. Seriously? You already have one “A” name on the brain that you’ve been doing your best to avoid thinking about, especially given the current situation. As if things weren’t complicated enough.

“A?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady. The last thing you need is to accidentally call him by the wrong name. That would be worse than forgetting it altogether. You take a deep breath, your eyes scanning the room as if the answer might be written on the walls. Alex? Adam? Adrian? None of them feel quite right, and you can’t exactly ask without making things even more awkward.

He’s still watching you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “Yeah, A,” he says, popping a piece of the frittata into his mouth. “But don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you if you don’t remember. I know last night was... well, let’s just say, a lot of fun.”

You catch the teasing glint in his eyes, and it only makes your embarrassment worse. Seriously? You’re in his kitchen, in his clothes, with his dog, and now he’s throwing that kind of look at you? Not fair. But he’s right—last night was fun. Even if you can’t remember every detail, you’re pretty sure the highlights were worth it. The orgasms definitely were.

He’s still watching you, an infuriatingly smug smile on his face. Felix seems to sense your discomfort and nudges your leg, offering silent support—or maybe he just wants more ear scratches. Either way, you reach down to give him a quick pat, grateful for the distraction.

“Okay, fine,” you concede, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “I’m terrible with names, and last night was… well, let’s just say it was memorable in a way that didn’t include name retention.”

He laughs, and it’s a deep, genuine sound that makes your heart skip a beat. Damn him and his stupidly charming laugh. “Fair enough,” he says, setting the fork down and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m Auston. Not exactly a tricky name to remember.”

Auston. Right. That actually fits him perfectly—a strong, solid name for a guy who looks like he could bench press you without breaking a sweat. You mentally kick yourself for not guessing that. But now that you’ve got his name, you feel a weird mix of relief and embarrassment. Relief because, well, now you can stop fumbling around, and embarrassment because he’s obviously been enjoying watching you squirm.

And… oh no, that’s why he looked familiar.

“Auston,” you repeat, trying to regain some semblance of cool. “Got it. I promise I’ll remember it from now on.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says with a wink, which only makes you feel more flustered. You’re not used to this—being the one who’s off-balance, caught off guard. Usually, you’re the one with the quick comebacks. But here you are, standing in this guy’s kitchen, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, and suddenly you feel like you’ve lost control of the situation. And you hate it.

You lean against the counter, trying to look like you’re not still reeling from the fact that you spent the night with Auston. As in Auston Matthews, the hockey star whose name you’ve heard a thousand times but never in this particular context. Because, of course, the universe decided that you, who know absolutely nothing about hockey, would end up in the bed of one of its biggest names. And now, you’re standing here in his kitchen, pretending that you’re not about to melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

"Cool," you say, aiming for nonchalance but landing somewhere closer to a faint wheeze. Your mind is scrambling, pulling together the shards of last night while also panicking over how you’re going to extricate yourself from this situation with some dignity intact. Because you? You’re supposed to have it together. This? This is decidedly not together.

Auston raises an eyebrow, clearly still amused. “You cook often?”

Damn it. Now you’ve trapped yourself in a conversation you don’t even want to have. Why does he have to keep talking to you like this? Couldn’t he just leave you to eat in peace? But no, he’s leaning against the counter, looking like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad, and here you are, trying to maintain some semblance of cool while battling the remnants of a hangover.

You take a deep breath, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I cook. But, you know, only when I’m not nursing a headache the size of the CN Tower.” You give him a pointed look, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Auston nods, still smiling in that maddeningly charming way. “I think it’s good. Just make yourself at home—like I said, no rush to leave.”

You nod, muttering a vague “thanks” as you try to focus on your frittata. You’re halfway through a forkful when he speaks up again, completely disrupting your fragile sense of peace.

“So, you’re a hockey fan?”

Of course, you groan inwardly. Of course, he’d bring up hockey. You’re wearing his Maple Leafs shirt, after all. It’s practically an invitation for him to start grilling you about your favorite players and whatnot. And the last thing you want right now is to discuss sports, especially with a guy who plays and clearly has his life way more together than you do at this moment.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you reply, trying to keep it casual. You decide to leave out the part where you haven’t watched a game in about seven years, and your main association with hockey is… well, complicated. No need to drag your emotional baggage into this kitchen.

Auston’s eyes light up at your response, which only makes you feel more trapped. “Oh yeah? Who’s your favorite player?”

Abort, abort! This is a trap! Your mind screams at you. There’s no way out of this conversation that doesn’t end with you looking like an idiot, and you know it. But you also know that if you try to dodge the question, he’ll probably see right through it. He probably wants you to say his name, after all.

So you take a deep breath and go for the safest answer you can think of. “Oh, you know… I’m more of a team fan than a specific player fan.”

Nice save, you think to yourself, congratulating your brain for once.

But then, he grills you further. “Leafs?”

You can’t exactly tell him the truth, which is that your entire knowledge of the Leafs consists of whatever you picked up from your dad yelling at the TV during playoffs. Admitting you’re not a die-hard fan would feel like a betrayal of the shirt currently hanging off your shoulders, not to mention the fact that Auston probably expects you to know, well, him.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, your voice an octave higher than usual. Play it cool, play it cool. “Big fan. Love the Leafs.”

He nods, clearly satisfied, and for a brief moment, you think you might have dodged a bullet. But then he hits you with the follow-up. “Nice! Who’s your favorite player? Other than me, of course.” He smirks, clearly enjoying himself.

Of course he’d say that. You can’t tell if it’s charming or a little bit insufferable that he’s so confident. Either way, you’re trapped. There’s no way out of this conversation without revealing the gaping hole in your hockey knowledge. Your mind races as you try to come up with a name that won’t make you look like a total fraud.

“Uh, well,” you start, stalling for time. Just pick one, any name—just not a goalie. Or someone retired. Please, brain, I’m begging you.

Your internal Rolodex of hockey players, which you didn’t even know existed, spins furiously. You blurt out the first name that pops up, hoping for the best. “Nylander! William… Nylander. Love that guy.”

Your brain screeches to a halt as soon as the name leaves your mouth. Nylander? Really? Of all the names you could have picked, you went with the one guy on the team who has the kind of perfect hair that screams, “I have a daily five-step hair care routine.” This is a guy who, if he wasn’t playing hockey, would probably be modeling for some high-end Scandinavian fashion brand. And now, you’re committed.

Auston’s smirk widens, and you can tell he’s loving every second of this. “Nylander, huh?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Solid choice. Slick hands, good speed, and the guy’s got style. You got a thing for blondes, or is it just the way he plays?”

Oh, come on! You didn’t need this. Not now. Your face flushes, and you scramble to respond, praying that the ground will open up and swallow you whole. “If I had a thing for blondes, we wouldn’t have fucked last night.” You blurt out.

Auston was mid-chew, and the sharp inhale from your sudden statement caused him to choke on his food ever so slightly. Your eyes widen, and you immediately hit his back, “Fuck, you okay?” You question.

You slap Auston’s back a little harder than necessary, half out of panic and half out of sheer embarrassment. His shoulders jolt forward as he coughs, trying to recover from the food-turned-projectile incident you just caused. Great. As if your morning could get any more mortifying, now you’ve nearly killed a professional athlete in his own kitchen.

“Sorry!” you squeak, retracting your hand as if his skin had suddenly turned red-hot. You’re positive your face is as crimson as the tomato you just diced for that frittata. Auston waves off your apology, his face still slightly red, though now it’s more from laughing than choking.

“Wow,” he says, his voice still raspy but amused. “That’s one way to answer a question.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a grin spreading across his face. “You know, you could’ve just said you liked his slapshot or something.”

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off the embarrassment with crossing your arms defensively, but your heart is still pounding in your chest. “Well what do the other girls say?” You snap at him.

Auston’s eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard by your question. For a split second, you see something flicker across his face—surprise, maybe? Amusement? You’re not sure, but whatever it is, it quickly disappears behind that infuriatingly confident smile of his.

“Well, believe it or not,” he begins, clearly enjoying himself a little too much, “I don’t really bring girls home all that often. You’re probably the first one in like, I dunno, a year and a half?”

Your arms are still crossed, but now you’re raising an eyebrow, trying to process what he just said. “A year and a half? You expect me to believe that?”

Auston shrugs, leaning back against the counter as if you’re discussing the weather and not his sex life. “I’m serious,” he says, and his face is earnest, though there’s still that infuriating smirk lingering at the edges. “I’m a busy guy. Hockey season, training, traveling… it doesn’t leave a lot of time for this.” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, and you feel your face heat up again.

You narrow your eyes, trying to gauge if he’s messing with you. Because come on. A guy like him? Good-looking, rich, famous? He’s probably got girls throwing themselves at him on the regular, and you’re supposed to believe he’s been celibate for eighteen months? But he doesn’t seem to be lying, and that makes you even more uncomfortable. Why would he say something like that unless he meant it?

“Okay, sure,” you say, trying to sound like you totally buy his story. “So, what made you break the streak for little old me?”

You’re aiming for sarcastic, but there’s a hint of genuine curiosity there too. Because seriously, why you? You’re not exactly someone who gets tangled up with pro athletes. You’re not even sure how you got here, in his kitchen, trying to play it cool while your brain is still catching up with the fact that you’ve spent the night with Auston Matthews. It feels like some bizarre fever dream, one that you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to wake up from.

Auston’s smirk softens into something a little more thoughtful, and he takes a moment before answering. “You were… different,” he says finally, and his tone is surprisingly sincere. “At the club, I mean. You weren’t like everyone else. I don’t know, it was refreshing. You didn’t care who I was; you just seemed like you were having fun.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. Different? Refreshing? You’d spent most of the night trying not to think about work, trying to forget all the stress piling up in your life, and apparently, that had made you stand out in a sea of people who were probably all vying for his attention. You’re not sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed.

“Uh, thanks?” you say, the words coming out more like a question. You’re still not sure what to make of this whole situation. The conversation feels too real, too serious, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. You’d much rather keep things light and easy, like the frittata you’re desperately trying to finish before you lose your appetite from all this emotional whiplash.

He chuckles, sensing your discomfort, and the tension between you eases just a bit. “I’m just saying, it was nice. You’re nice.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Nice? You picked me up because I was nice? I thought guys like you went for, I don’t know, Instagram models or something.”

Auston laughs again, and it’s a genuine, warm sound that might be starting to get a little addictive. “Trust me, I’ve had enough of those,” he says, shaking his head. “They’re great for the public, but not so much for anything else. Most of them lack personality, it seems.”

Your mind is racing, trying to figure out where this conversation is headed and how the hell you’re supposed to navigate it. Did Auston Matthews just compliment you? And not in the generic, “You’re hot” kind of way but in a way that implies he actually noticed something about you beyond the surface? This is not how you expected your morning to go.

“Personality, huh?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “So what, you’re saying I’m butt ugly and you just picked me because I wasn’t falling all over myself for you?”

On one hand, it’s kind of sweet that he’s noticed something beyond your looks (even if you’re still not entirely convinced that’s true). On the other hand… well, what does that say about your looks? It’s not like you have an inferiority complex or anything, but “different” isn’t exactly the adjective you’d use when dreaming about some star athlete sweeping you off your feet.

Auston seems to catch onto the shift in your mood because he leans in, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Okay, first of all, no one said anything about you being ugly,” he says, his voice a mix of teasing and reassurance. “And second, yes, I do like that you don’t kiss my ass.”

You bite your lip, feeling a little bit of that earlier bravado slipping away. “Yeah, but you implied it,” you mumble, crossing your arms again in a way that you hope comes off as nonchalant but probably just looks defensive.

He laughs, that warm, addictive sound filling the kitchen again. “Alright, fine, I’ll clarify. You’re not ugly. In fact, you’re pretty damn gorgeous, if you want my honest opinion. But what I meant was that you’ve got personality, too. You didn’t spend the whole night telling me how amazing I am, and that was a nice change.”

Your brain screeches to a halt again. Did he just… did he actually just call you gorgeous? And then follow it up by saying that you have personality? You’re not sure if you’re being flattered or subtly roasted, but either way, it’s throwing you for a loop.

“Interesting,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady even though you’re failing miserably, “So… what did I spend all night doing?” You end up squeaking out, genuinely curious because he probably remembers more than you.

You try to maintain your composure, but the combination of his proximity, that smirk, and the insinuation in his words has your mind spinning in a million different directions. Did you do something particularly embarrassing last night? Or worse, did you do something particularly memorable?

Auston smirks, leaning in slightly as if he’s about to let you in on some grand secret. His voice drops to a low, teasing murmur. “Before or after you begged me to bring you home with me?”

Begged him to bring you home? Really? Your brain feels like it’s running at double speed trying to recall any semblance of that night. All you remember is a whirlwind of cocktails and dancing, but nothing quite as explicit as Auston is suggesting.

“Well,” you start, your voice coming out a bit shaky, “I’m sure I wasn’t that bad.”

Auston chuckles, shaking his head with that infuriatingly handsome smirk. “Oh, trust me, you were memorable.” He leans back against the counter, looking like he’s about to settle in for a good story. “You spent a good part of the night dancing up against me, and then said if I took you home you’d ’rock my world.’”

Your brain screeches to a halt again. “I said that?” you ask, trying to mask your horror with a shaky laugh.

Auston nods, his grin widening. “Oh yeah. And when I did bring you here, you kept talking about how much you loved my beard, and how you wanted to know how it would feel against your—“

You cut him off, your face feeling like it's on fire. “Okay, okay! I get it. Let’s just… maybe not relive every detail of that night. My ego might not survive it.”

Auston laughs, a deep, infectious sound that seems to reverberate through the kitchen. “Fair enough. You definitely enjoyed it, though. And for what it’s worth, I had fun too.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, did you actually…“

Auston’s grin becomes more mischievous as he leans closer. “Mm-mhm,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “You seriously don’t remember? I had to hold you down because you couldn’t stay still. And when we got to the main event, I had to convince you that a condom was indeed important.”

Your brain feels like it's short-circuiting as Auston’s words sink in. Hold you down? Couldn’t stay still? A condom discussion? Scratch thanking yourself for being responsible, you’ve gotta thank him. Your cheeks are burning, and you can’t decide whether to laugh, cry, or dig a hole in the kitchen floor and crawl into it. You knew you’d had a wild night, but this? This was a level of embarrassment you hadn’t even considered.

You’re trying to play it cool, but the way Auston’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he watches you squirm isn’t helping. He’s enjoying this way too much, and part of you wants to wipe that grin off his face… but the other part, the part that’s still processing the fact that you were the one who dragged him into bed, is kind of curious.

“So… what else did I say?” you manage to ask, your voice trembling just a bit, though you try to pass it off as nonchalant. You’re aiming for casual curiosity, but it’s coming out more like desperate need-to-know.

Auston raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered across his face. “Oh, you really wanna go there?” he teases, leaning in closer. His voice drops again, taking on that low, husky tone that you’re starting to realize could be very dangerous for your sanity. “Because I’m telling you, it wasn’t exactly PG-rated.”

Your stomach flips, both from the implications and from the way his breath brushes against your skin. You try to keep your cool, but it’s hard when the mental image of whatever the hell you said or did last night keeps flashing in your mind like a neon sign. You take a deep breath, mentally bracing yourself for whatever steamy details are about to spill from his lips.

“Alright, lay it on me,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel. “I’ve come this far, might as well hear the rest.”

Auston chuckles, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re squirming. “Okay, so after the whole beard thing—” he starts, and you wince, because of course, he wasn’t going to let that one go, “—you pretty much made it your mission to see if you could make me lose control.”

You blink, your mind stuttering over his words. “What? How?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter with a grin. “Let’s just say you have a very persuasive mouth.”

Your jaw drops, your brain reeling. Did he just—? Is he saying you—?

“Wait,” you stammer, your voice rising a few octaves. “I did what?”

Auston just grins, relishing your reaction. “You were very determined,” he says, his tone playful but with an edge that makes your stomach flip again. “And let’s just say, I wasn’t exactly complaining.”

You can feel your face burning, your mind scrambling to catch up. You want to deny it, to say that there’s no way you’d ever do something so bold, so out of character… but then again, you did wake up in his bed, so clearly, last night wasn’t exactly a typical night for you.

Your heart is racing, your thoughts a tangled mess of embarrassment, curiosity, and—if you’re honest with yourself—maybe just a little bit of pride. Because, okay, if you did all that, and he’s not running for the hills… maybe it wasn’t as bad as you think?

Or maybe it was, and he’s just too polite to say so.

“Okay, but what happened after?” you ask, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended. “Because there’s no way I was coherent enough to, you know, actually… follow through with all of that.”

Auston’s grin widens, and he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. “Oh, you followed through,” he says, his voice low and dripping with implication. “And then some.”

Your breath catches, a mix of anticipation and anxiety curling in your chest. “And then some?” you echo, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah. After the, uh, persuasive mouth routine, you decided to test just how good my endurance was.”

You swallow hard, your mind spinning with the possibilities of what that could mean. “And?” you ask, not sure if you really want to know but unable to stop yourself from asking anyway.

Auston chuckles, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. “And let’s just say, I passed with flying colors. You, on the other hand, needed a little extra… assistance.”

Your eyes widen, and a thousand thoughts race through your head all at once. Extra assistance? What the hell does that even mean? You open your mouth to ask, but Auston beats you to it, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers the next part.

“You couldn’t stay still,” he murmurs, his voice sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “So I had to hold you down. You loved every second of it, too. Begged for more.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it, and you can feel your face burning with a mix of embarrassment and something else—something that makes your skin tingle and your pulse race. Did you really do that? Did you actually beg Auston Matthews, star athlete and professional heartthrob, to hold you down and… and…?

Before you can fully process that thought, Auston pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression softening just a bit. “Honestly, you were incredible,” he says, his voice sincere now, without any of the teasing edge it had before. “It wasn’t just about the sex. It was… you. You were present. Raw. Real.”

Incredible? Raw? Real? The words are reverberating in your mind, crashing against the mental walls you've built to keep your self-esteem from plummeting into the abyss of "Why did I say that?" and "How did I do that?" You're oscillating between sheer terror and a weird sort of pride, as you try to reconcile the version of yourself Auston’s describing with the version of you that prefers to binge-watch Netflix on Friday nights rather than seduce professional athletes with—what was it? Oh, right. Your “persuasive mouth.”

Incredible, though? Okay, you can work with that. Let’s not focus on the “holding you down” part because that’s a whole can of worms you’re not ready to open just yet. Your mind flits between horror and a sort of bemused acceptance that, yes, you apparently did beg for… more. What kind of ‘more’ are we talking about here? Maybe, just maybe, you’re the kind of person who, when sufficiently drunk and caught in the orbit of a hockey god, turns into some kind of sex goddess with a penchant for… what exactly? Testing endurance? Needing to be restrained? You’re not sure if you should be embarrassed or if you should just own this.

“So, let me get this straight,” you start, your voice shaking slightly, but you soldier on because if you’re going to crash and burn, you might as well do it spectacularly. “I was not only wild enough to require to be pinned down, but I also made a good impression?”

Auston’s grin widens at your question, a slow, mischievous smile that makes your stomach do somersaults. “Oh, you made more than a good impression,” he says, his voice dripping with that same mix of teasing and sincerity that’s been throwing you off balance all morning. “In fact, you’ve pretty much ruined me for anyone else. I don’t think I’ll ever look at another woman without wondering if she’s got half the fire you do.”

Your brain is officially short-circuiting. Ruined him? For anyone else? Is he serious, or is this just another layer of his expertly crafted charm offensive?

Auston, however, still seems to be thoroughly enjoying your inner turmoil. "Look, I get it. You're trying to piece together a wild night that seems a bit... out of character," he says, leaning back against the counter, still smirking that infuriatingly charming smirk. "But believe me, that’s not all I care about. I want to actually get to know you, if you’ll let me.”

Getting to know you? Seriously? You can’t help but replay the absurdity of the night in your head. You’ve just discovered that you have an unrecognized talent for aggressive persuasion and that you’ve apparently made such an impression that Auston Matthews—and his stupidly fitting moustache—wants to spend more time with you.

You try to keep your composure, but your brain’s still scrambling. “Oh, sure. Get to know me,” you say, your voice a tad too high-pitched for comfort. “Because nothing says ‘relationship material’ like getting tipsy, hitting on you, and then sucking you off the first moment I could.”

Auston’s chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh, the kind that makes your cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson. The sound is surprisingly comforting, as if he's not just laughing at your expense but with you, which is oddly reassuring. You shift on your feet, trying to hide the fact that you’re still trying to process the avalanche of mortification and awkwardness that just buried you.

“Yeah, you’re really selling yourself short there,” He says, plainly, “If I only wanted that, I could’ve just stayed at the bar and picked someone who didn’t talk so much. But guess what?” He continues, taking a step closer and tilting your chin up with his finger so you’re looking right at him, “I didn’t. And you talk a lot, but so do I. That’s kind of perfect, no?”

You bite your lip, feeling a strange mix of flattery and disbelief. “I don’t know what to say,” you admit, not sure if you’re ready to dive headfirst into whatever this is—or could be.

Auston’s smile softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sends a small jolt of warmth through you. “You don’t have to make any big decisions right now,” he says softly. “Just… think about it.”

The sincerity in his voice, in his touch, makes you feel a little breathless. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this guy than just a famous name and a pretty face. And maybe, there’s more to this situation than just a one-night stand gone right or wrong.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Okay,” you finally say as a smile betrays your straight-faced expression. “I’ll think about it.”

Auston’s smile widens, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and letting out a chuckle. “Score. By the way, do you actually think Nylander is cute?”

#toronto maple leafs #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl x reader #auston matthews #auston matthews fic #am34 #am34 fic #am34 x reader #Auston Matthews x reader #Spotify

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twilghtkoo · 1 year

Text

xoxo - lee donghyuck

synopsis. in which, your little niece has a crush on your boyfriend.

pairings. donghyuck x reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship, non!idol au

warnings. none!

notes. this idea is inspired by this tiktok i saw T_T i was like holy shit this is cute now let’s make it about hyuck :D also something is wrong w my taglist, it says it got deleted but i didn’t delete it so i might have to make a new one😭 so if the link isn’t working that’s why!! just letting y’all know :)

masterlist | series masterlist

—

“and she hates the crust on her bread–“ your older sister tries to inform.

you push her out your door, mindlessly nodding your head. “i know, i know, don’t worry she’s gonna be fine. now go, before you’re late.” you wave to her one last time before you close the door behind her with a huff.

your six year old niece is still standing behind you with her bluey backpack on her shoulders that has all the things that would entertain her for tonight.

“hi, sweetie. i missed you,” you crouch down to her level, helping her out of her shoes and taking off her backpack.

“i missed you too, auntie!” she smiles and takes off to your living room, giggling.

you had already put on her favorite cartoon on your tv, as you follow her with her bag in your hands before placing it beside the couch.

she’s totally immersed herself in the animated slice-of-life adventures of the dog family. you stand inches away from her, amused at how she has blocked out all of her surroundings.

you turn to walk into your kitchen, thinking of preparing something easy for dinner.

“auntie!” your niece calls out from the living room.

you hum in response, putting away the dried dishes from last night.

“is donghyuck-ie coming over today?” she asks, curiously. and you know just by her tone and the mention of her second favorite person (first is obviously me) she’s twiddling her fingers.

you chuckle to yourself. “yes, he’s coming over later though.”

you hear her gasp before it goes back to being silent, the faint sound of the tv echoing through your apartment.

you’ve noticed your little niece’s infatuation with your boyfriend and you and donghyuck think it’s the cutest thing. she loves playing with him when he comes over while you’re babysitting her, making him sit in the living room with her and color and play with her toys. she gets all shy and geeky when donghyuck walks with her holding hands.

your older sister finds it funny and amusing.

“tell your boyfriend to stop being so handsome yeah? my daughter is bragging to everybody that donghyuck-ie bought her a toy.” your sister groans into your ear, on the phone with you.

—

you’ve been busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, appreciating the comforting sound of bluey and bingo playing along. every so and so minutes you check on your niece by calling her name.

“yes?”

“just checking on you, you good?”

she hums cutely. “yes auntie.” you peek your head out, seeing her sprawled out on the floor with her backpack next to her and all its contents spread out. she’s drawing something in front of the tv, concentrating with her tongue poking out as she scribbled with her crayons and gazing up at the tv.

she crawls up to her feet, bending down to grab the piece of paper she was doodling on before stomping over to you.

“auntie! auntie!”

you raise your eyebrows, giving her your undivided attention.

she shoves the piece of paper in your face. “look!”

you lean your head back, blinking, trying to adjust to what she’s showing you.

she’s holding up a stationary bluey themed piece of paper that has blue textured crayon words written neatly across the printed lines.

‘dear sunflower ♡’

you gasp, bringing your hands to cover your mouth. “is this a letter for donghyuck?” you whisper to her, from her view, your eyes shaped into crescent moons and your hands are covering your smile.

your niece giggles, using the letter in her tiny hands to hide her face as the pig tails from her head bounce from her nodding.

“he’s gonna love it! i mean, who doesn’t love bluey?” you ask rhetorically, hands on your hips.

“right?”

the doorbell chimes throughout your small home, both you and your niece look at each other with big eyes. already knowing who’s behind the door. your niece runs out the kitchen and into the living room squealing as you make your way to let your boyfriend in.

“hi pretty.” haechan grins at you, his eyelids looking a bit heavy and you already know work was tough on him. he still smiles and extends his arms out for you.

you wrap your arms around his neck, playfully groaning when he squeezes you tight in his grasp.

he lets out a breathy laugh, grabbing your waist to pull you away to connect his lips with yours in a slow, gentle kiss. his hands roaming over your lower back and creeping down to your ass.

“sunflower!” you both break the kiss, you walk back to the kitchen while he bends down to greet the little girl.

“aigoo, hi cutie. how are you?” you hear him coo at her.

—

“thank u yn for the food.”

“thank you auntie for the food!” they both say at the same time.

you reach over the table to grab their plates and placing them inside the sink, your niece jumps up from her seat and runs out the kitchen. donghyuck takes this moment to snake his hands from behind to lace his fingers together so you can’t run.

his body towering over you, he leans down to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses on your exposed skin. “thank you for dinner baby,” he mumbles against your skin.

you smile, “of course.”

“sunflower!”

he pats your ass, pecking the top of your head before walking away. “yes bum bum,” he replies. the nickname that seemed fitting and grew on her over time, it being short for bumble bee.

“i made something for you.” the little girl shyly utters, the piece of paper in her hands as she shoves it in his hands.

he laughs lightly, sitting on the balls of his feet. “did you draw something for me?”

she shakes her head, her toothy smile on display, her hands behind her back as she sways back and forth on her feet.

you appear behind donghyuck, relaxing your hand on his shoulder.

it’s a comforting silence in your apartment, he’s taking the time to carefully read each word and reading a certain word over again because of the misspelling but he finds it endearing, his smile growing wider as he gets closer to the end.

‘xoxo, bum bum :)’

“hugs and kisses, where did you learn that from?”

“school!” she exclaims.

“school shouldn’t be teaching you how to win hearts,” he states with a playful pout.

she clasps her hands together, stepping closer towards him to point at the tiny prints. “i used my bluey stationary kit, do you like the paper?”

“i do, i’m very honored and i’m going to hang it up in my home. this is my first letter i got from a girl!” he whisper-shouts in your niece’s ear.

obviously you heard him and that made you nudge him with your knee, making him lose his balance.

“auntie you have to write sunflower love letters.”

he smirks, “yeah, auntie.”

#yeow6n #haechan fluff #lee donghyuck #nct fluff #haechan drabbles #haechan #haechan imagines #nct dream #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #nct haechan #soft haechan #boyfriend!haechan #nct x reader #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #lee haechan #lee donghyuck fluff

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arminsumi · 7 months

Text

♡ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟓

❝ ... it's been a while since I last fell in love.❝

All chapters | AO3

Pairing : fem reader / Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Synopsis : a kiss before your flight home.

Summer with you felt fuller and brighter than any other.

Waving sparklers in the humid night air. Sore feet after walking for hours. Mesmerized by the feeling of life whirling around you. Winning a squish mallow from a claw machine and watching Satoru and Suguru rock-paper-scissor fight over who got to keep it. Listening to Satoru and Suguru’s murmured conversations, and feeling giddy when you got the gist of something they said. Feeling your heart throb and ears perk up when they mentioned your name. Laughing embarrassedly into a pillow when you tried to speak Japanese and got everything wrong — Satoru's enamored smile.

It felt like you were in a rush to enjoy everything sometimes, because your return flight date loomed in the back of your mind. Suguru was nervous to show you Japan in a light that you'd never forget, and Satoru was just oblivious to all the sight-seeing and festivals because you were far more captivating.

On the train ride deeper into the city, Satoru sat thigh-against-thigh with you. The both of you were very consciously aware of contact, the press and the warmth. At your left, Suguru leaned close, the fabric of his t-shirt grazing your arm giving you butterflies.

Heads together, all three of you took turns in Satoru's diary; writing your names, scribbling, doodling, until the page was filled from corner to corner.

They talked about Nanami, who was going to meet you for the first time.

Suguru giggled at something Satoru said, so you asked what he was laughing at.

"Satoru's scared that Nanami is going to show off his English to you." he said.

“Oh?” you smiled.

("... and!") Satoru added dramatically, interrupting Suguru, ("He better not flirt with her.”)

Suguru went completely red in the face and laughed.

("Satoru, You're acting very boyfriend-like.")

("... oh, am I?")

("Yes.")

Satoru stopped talking, went redder than Suguru, and sat back in his seat like he was contemplating himself.

"What?" you asked, looking between them.

"Nothing." Suguru feathered, covering his face to hide his smile, "Nothing at all."

*****

Even you were taken aback by Nanami's English, because he spoke more elegantly than you did — so you can just imagine what expression Suguru had when he watched the two of you interact for the first time at the festival.

"Satoru's my senior at work, even if he doesn't act like it." he said. Satoru looked at him suspiciously as he spoke.

"Ohhh, I see." you nodded, "Then, you two met at work or...?"

"No, we went to high school together.” Nanami said.

You nodded again, "Ah."

"... he talks a lot about you." Nanami said, "Talks my ear off at the water cooler about this girl who lives on the other side of the world — with the biggest stars in his eyes. It's nice that you two could finally meet."

You smiled, "Yeah... this summer has been amazing."

"Have you ticked everything off your bucket list yet?" Nanami asked.

"Yes — though, I missed Tanabata." you said. “Maybe next year.”

The two of you kept talking. When you laughed at something Nanami said, Satoru threw a jealous look at him. Then he and Suguru talked under their breaths.

(“Are they flirting?”) Satoru asked suspiciously.

(“They are not.”)

(“It feels like they are.”)

(“… you really are acting like a boyfriend, Satoru…”)

*****

A blue night sky deepened as you three walked across the street crossing, closer to where residents were gathered and some dancing around a raised stage.

"I wish I could experience December here, too." you sighed dreamily.

"Why don't you?" Nanami asked.

"... the flights are too expensive." you replied.

"... what a shame. A romantic like Satoru would be over the moon to spend December with you." Nanami said. "Maybe next year, you two can go as a couple."

You acted shyer after realizing Nanami assumed you and Satoru were dating, and it was incredibly funny because Satoru misinterpreted your shyness to be a response to Nanami's flirting — so he interrupted the conversation right there.

Suguru stifled a laugh. He didn't say anything, just watched you three like it was a sitcom.

("Nanami, you look a bit taller. Did you grow?") Satoru teased, physically comparing heights with him — which he only ever did when they were kids.

"..." Nanami stared at him. ("Why are you like this?")

Suguru was trying so hard to contain his laughter.

While Nanami and Satoru went back and forth with each other, Suguru grabbed the chance to have his own moment with you.

He talked a bit louder over the singing and drumming, right into your ear, as you watched, captivatedly, at people performing bon odori around the stage.

All you remember was feeling like Suguru’s voice was in your chest, truthfully you can't remember what he was explaining to you about the festival.

Then he went quiet and stared at you softly.

A weird, familiar feeling took residency inside his chest, and he thought;

(Oh... It's been a while since I last fell in love.)

But even if you had paid attention to him in that moment, would you have noticed the tenderness in his eyes?

Suguru got startled out of his love-struck daze by Nanami, who was leaving early.

("Satoru finally got on your nerves, huh?")

("Yes… no, not actually. I've just got sore feet.")

Satoru teased playfully, ("You just want to go home and take a bubble bath and listen to jazz like the old man you are.")

("Satoru, you're annoying. That's absolutely what I'm going to do, though.")

Nanami said goodbye for the night.

The sky blackened and the crowd thickened with more people, so Satoru took your hand in his and kept you close.

After an hour, the three of you headed out of the festival and went in search of a quieter place. Suguru observed you and Satoru holding hands. He stared and stared, then forced himself to snap out of it.

Satoru was quietly thinking, then said dramatically;

(“He was totally flirting with her!”)

And to this Suguru burst out laughing so hard, like all the laughter he held back earlier came out. A man with a laugh like that was definitely popular with boys and girls in high school, you’re certain.

(“How do you know?”)

(“… it sounded like it!”)

(“I can’t believe you’re such a jealous guy.”) Suguru shook his head, bearing a big smile, (“You even got jealous at me for flirting with her.”)

Satoru shrugged guiltlessly. 「僕は僕！」

“What is going on?” you asked laughingly.

Suguru could hardly translate or speak as he had a laughing fit on the street.

*****

When you walked out of an alleyway into a busier street and saw the neon glow of lights of a 7-Eleven, and a cyclist going by, and inhaled the night air, and heard all the city noises, and felt all the city feelings, this feeling whirled around you.

"Life feels different here." you commented, looking around you.

"... oh really?" Suguru hummed sarcastically.

You nudged his arm. "Don't be sarcastic. You know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. That feeling... like a spark...?" he teased, just to see the look in your eyes.

He spoke to Satoru, and Satoru said something and Suguru chuckled and translated for you, " 'You'll miss that feeling when you leave for home.' "

"... I'll miss you two more."

Hearing sentence made his heart fluttery. When Suguru translated it, it just didn't feel the same as hearing it in your voice. It made him wonder just how much he was missing out on by not knowing your language. What feelings were being lost in translation?

*****

The three of you headed out further, getting a bit lost in the city for fun.

The hot night called for ice cream, so Satoru and Suguru rock-paper-scissor fought for who would go to buy some.

"... 最初ぐう... じゃん拳ぽん... あいこでしょ... あいこでしょ... !"

Satoru pulled a funny face after losing that made you and Suguru laugh. He went on his way to the convenience store, navigating through a detour, stopping to pet a cat on his way back, and meanwhile... you and Suguru were left alone together, with that spark clearly fizzing between your chests.

*****

At the park, the two of you lazed in the grass, side by side, while waiting for Satoru to return from the convenience store with ice creams.

Eyes directed up at the sky, propped on his elbows, hair messy after a long evening. Suguru momentarily closed his eyes in bliss at the soft breeze fanning by.

Next to you, Suguru stretched out his long legs and stared deeply at the moon. It was blazing. The longer he stared at it in silence the more this feeling struck him.

He took a sideways glance at you, and you were obliviously enjoying the cool night breeze.

(Does she have a clue about how I feel right now?) Suguru thought softly.

"月が綺麗ですね..." he murmured romantically.

"Hm? What does that mean...?"

He turned his head to look at you, totally smitten.

"... the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Oh. Yeah, it is." you agreed. "I haven't seen a moon so bright in a while."

Suguru chuckled dreamily.

(She's a clueless angel.)

No thoughts passed through either of your heads as you leaned into each other.

His features were too fuzzy to make out in this lighting, but you saw a hint of a tender expression on his face.

He inhaled deeply and got so high on the sweet, humid night air that he leaned into a kiss without thinking his action through — but it's alright, he only grazed his still lips over yours. He only hovered. It was just a sweet, shared breath if anything. Just a ticklishly light touch of lips grazing lips.

No thoughts. Just that spark in the air and heartbeats thumping quickly in your fingertips.

Then immediate realization hit him. He pulled away and apologized like he was shocked at himself.

"I'm so sorry." Suguru stressed, "I didn't mean to — I —I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay, don't apologize." you replied softly, unable to say more.

(What does she mean, "Don't apologize"? What does she mean…?)

Suguru began to ramble, and you watched his lips move as he spoke each syllable. His lips felt tingly, wanting— desperately — for a kiss.

He wanted to kiss you, but he couldn't.

"It's just — I haven't — you know, it's been years since... um, anyways. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore." He became out of breath, talking too fast.

Suguru drew in a breath like he was going to say something more, but then stopped speaking altogether because Satoru returned — with a plastic bag of convenience store ice creams swishing at his side.

“Hey hey.” he greeted the two of you, and sat down on the grass.

Satoru didn't sit between you and Suguru, rather, he sat in front of both of you, stretching his legs out onto the soft grass like a cat.

「顔赤いよ・・・」 Satoru wiggled his brows at Suguru.

You watched Suguru as he patted his hands against his hot cheeks to cool them.

Satoru giggled naughtily.

You looked between them and watched them have a small exchange, never learning what they said to each other in that moment. But you could gather Suguru's embarrassment and Satoru's teasing and mild jealousy.

Suguru grumbled to himself on the way home.

(We could have shared a movie kiss...)

*****

You fell asleep before Satoru — almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. He looked down at you for a moment, his gaze catching onto your parted lips, his ears picking up on your soft breathing.

(I hope you're dreaming of me.) he thought hopefully.

He stared for a bit, daydreaming.

The longer he stared, the more his face reddened and his heartbeat quickened. Eventually he crawled into bed next to you, keeping a distance but wishing so badly that he could cuddle you.

He was thinking about how unfair it was to be himself; to have to contain himself when he was such a romantic and emotional man, and not just that; a man in need of touching, kissing, cuddling. He felt a need for all of that more that night than at any other point in his life.

Satoru timidly inched closer and lifted his face to plant a kiss on your cheek. Just a tiny kiss. His lips hovered over you cheek, then over your lips. But he held back.

He pulled away slowly and smiled shyly to himself.

That satisfied his heart enough, he could calm down and sleep.

But in the other room, Suguru moved around sleeplessly in his bed like a hopeless insomniac.

*****

Curled into his pillow, cheeks warm, fist to lip and knees hugged, Suguru was daydreaming of how that moment could have gone differently if he had just kissed you.

And his daydream played out like a film, one full of scripted kisses, shot from every angle, replayed over and over to satisfy his little heart — the poor thing was beating in panic at his growing feelings.

Yes, he knew he liked you, but not like that. Not until now. Now that feeling was nearly in full throttle.

*****

Suguru's daydream of kissing you went on until it got light outside.

He thought, thought, thought. But a daydream wasn't enough to satisfy his need to kiss you. With a suppressed sigh, he rolled onto his side, hugged his ribs, and blinked his stinging eyes at the room as it lit up a dawn blue.

The room became lighter and lighter.

He leaned up in bed, blinked, then reached for his phone and opened yours and his chat. And he scrolled up into the texts that gave him butterflies. He stared at the blinking cursor, then typed out;

I wanted to kiss you.

Then he stared at your profile picture, and promptly erased what he had typed.

Instead, he wrote it in his notes app, as if it was his most guilty secret.

Then he cuddled back into his fortress of pillows, begged his mind for a dream of you, and fell asleep at 7 AM, sleeping a weak 3 hours before waking up again.

*****

You and Suguru were awake earlier than Satoru, who was still softly sleeping. The roar of early morning traffic reached the 7th floor, and the sunrise teased its appearance through the buildings.

Suguru watered the balcony plants in his flip flops.

And he did it lazily, in his baggy pants, with unbrushed hair. It was quite a sight to see, so you stared. He could feel your eyes on him and his heartbeat quickened.

He watered each plant with a cup of water, complaining that he keeps forgetting to buy a watering can for his ‘lil guys’.

Names were assigned to each plant, written on paper on toothpicks.

“… you named a plant… Dave?” you questioned.

“… what? It’s funny.”

He watered ‘Dave’ and looked closer, nearly nosing into the plant.

"Oh my god... he’s wilting." he genuinely panicked. "I swear I'm doing everything I can to keep him alive, it's like he just wants to die… keep it together, Dave."

You laughed and hovered over the plants with him. Suguru was frowning at his other plants as they looked unhappier than usual.

"Suguru, you're such a plant dad." you said.

His frown lifted, he looked at you and then his sweet smile lines showed up on his cheeks.

"Thanks."

When he made eye contact, and that something sparked in the air between you two. It sparked bigger than it ever had before.

"You look tired..."

I can't believe she notices that. How sweet.

He shrugged in response.

"I was thinking about you..." he trailed off.

You widened your eyes and went silent.

"— your flight." he lied and you knew it.

"... yeah, it's gonna be a long flight home." you swallowed hard, looking so deeply into his eyes that you got dizzy.

"You know what's weird? Right now, in this moment, it feels like you'll never leave." he said softly.

The following silence heightened the tension between you and him. He felt the urge to kiss you again. He felt it bad. His self-restraint was slipping, he couldn't discipline himself.

(A kiss is just a kiss, right?)

When you licked your lips, that’s when Suguru started to lean his face in. As his gaze flitted between your lips and your eyes, his heart panged.

He hesitated, you hesitated, he stuttered, you stuttered. He kissed you like a nervous mouse.

You were shocked even though you knew it was coming.

Even if the kiss lasted just a split second, that was long enough to catch a glimpse of heaven.

Suguru pulled back and looked at you unsurely.

"えーと" his lips twitched. "I — I'm — I — uh." he forgot how to speak completely, so stunned that his mother tongue and English tongue got tangled together.

You stared into his eyes and that's what got him, he went in for another kiss, this time harder – lips smacking together like you just needed each other. And as he exhaled against your face, you could feel all his passion.

His heart fluttered when you kissed him back with almost the same intensity. The heat and softness of someone else's lips was exactly what he needed at this time in his life, just to kiss someone who he really liked.

Gasping into the kiss, Suguru held onto your cheeks like you were his baby. When he ran out of breath, he pulled away and breathed a little heavier.

"I'm so sorry, I — " he said breathlessly.

" — no, it's o—o-okay." you stammered, feeling a bit out of it.

Both of you were digesting the moment when suddenly a bleary-eyed, sleepy Satoru came out onto the balcony, holding Mint against his chest. He was squinting and blinking at the morning sun.

Suguru immediately switched to nonchalance and acting as if nothing just happened. But his shoulders were stiff.

("Mint looks especially evil this morning.") his voice quivered a little.

("... you mean fluffy?") Satoru replied, petting Mint between her fuzzy ears.

("No, evil.") Suguru joked, ("She's a devil in dis—guise.") he choked on his words.

Satoru looked at him strangely and thought;

(Huh, Suguru doesn't usually choke on his words.)

Satoru stared at Suguru, looked at you, then looked back and forth between you and Suguru.

The air was thick.

"What?"

"What...?"

("What happened?") Satoru asked.

Satoru's sixth sense was insane. Like it was some scene in a comedy movie, he forwardly asked;

("Why do I feel like I interrupted something?") he said.

Suguru raised his brows and made a funny guilty face. You looked between them with wide eyes.

"I'm gonna go make some coffee..." you said, and scrambled to your feet like you were desperate to escape this awkward tension.

"... I'm gonna tell him." Suguru said.

"You're bluffing..."

"Nah, I'm an honest guy."

You groaned funnily, "Then I'm gonna go hide behind the coffee pot..."

Satoru looked confused. Once you headed inside, it was just him and Suguru there on the balcony.

The traffic was roaring louder by now. For a while it was the only sound between them, besides your distant clanking in the kitchen.

A long silence dragged out and then Suguru's words abruptly popped into existence.

"(YN)にキスした・・・"

"は?!"

Suguru made a guilty grimace and scratched the back of his head.

("What do you mean you kissed her? When was this?") Satoru's voice got higher.

("Uh, like right now.")

They went back and forth for a while. You heard them and had no idea what was being said.

("Thief.") Satoru said, calming down after a while.

("How am I a thief?") Suguru got defensive.

("You stole her kiss from me!") Satoru pouted childishly.

("... I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself.") Suguru lowered his head, ("Are you mad at me...?") he asked worriedly.

("... No, I'm not mad at you... well, a little bit.") Satoru mumbled, ("I'm more jealous than mad.")

(“So…”) Suguru looked at his best friend wearily. How could he not be furious? (“This is fine with you?”)

(“You can get away with it. If it were Nanami, I’d be throwing hands.”) he joked.

Suguru still felt like he was a puppy that did something wrong, but Satoru just didn’t seem to be taking it as seriously.

("... I've got a plan, okay.") Satoru said suddenly, ignoring Mint's silent begging for cuddles. ("I'm gonna kiss her at the airport, right before she leaves — ")

Suguru laughed, ("Are you procrastinating — ?")

Satoru cut him off and said 「やるよ！！！」 with such intensity and conviction that it made Suguru burst out laughing.

Hearing Suguru's laughter from the kitchen reassured you that everything went over fine.

*****

He stood in front of you.

(できるよ・・・) I can do it...

Satoru swallowed hard. Discretely wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Nibbled his lip. Tried to act natural in the airport, looking to Suguru for inspiration on being nonchalant.

You were testing the clock by waiting until the very last minute to get onboard.

Just like you were procrastinating to board your flight, Satoru was procrastinating to kiss you. The three of you exchanged a look.

"Oh.” Suguru realized, “Go ahead. I’m not looking. I'm a plant." Suguru joked, covering his eyes.

He gave you and Satoru space, he thought it was fair. If he had his moment with you on the balcony, then Satoru deserved to have a moment with you. Now he understood how all-consuming the desire to kiss someone was.

(It has to be now, when else? I don't know when she'll be back for her next visit, I could be waiting a whole year. The universe knows how impatient I am. I've got to have her lips right now.) Satoru thought anxiously.

His body stuttered.

You were thinking to yourself, is this the wrong moment to kiss him? Is there ever a right moment anyways?

"Satoru." you said in a tone of goodbye, and outstretched your arms to him.

He leaned down into your embrace like the awkwardly tall man he was.

You clung to each other's bodies for a while. Such a clingy hug already spoke volumes. But still, Satoru just wanted to go that bit further — to spell his love on your lips.

He wanted you to board that plane knowing what his love tasted like, to sit in your seat with lips freshly tingling.

Yes, he knew nothing in life ever played out like in movies or daydreams, so he was hoping just once it would.

Last-minute doubt filled him and he felt his mood drop.

(… maybe I shouldn’t.)

Just as he pulled out of the hug, you reached up, cupped his cheeks with conviction, and gave him the biggest kiss that he'd ever received in his life right smack there on his lips.

"...?" His knees buckled, and redness grew on his cheeks very quickly.

He blanked so hard, but only for a second or two, because he dreamily tilted his head off to the side and deepened the kiss.

(yeah, 恋している。)

You pulled back. He stammered, stuttered, totally stumbled. He was all over the place now. He couldn't form a thought now.

Even if someone would have told him that he was on planet earth, he wouldn't have believed them, because your kiss definitely sent him to heaven.

"は、はずかしいな・・・embarrassed, I'm embarrassed." He chuckled nervously.

Suguru watched as you two broke down into giggles, then he came over to you two again.

"You know, that was very cute and all," he said, spooking the life out of Satoru who was just totally in his feelings. "But even the last-minute procrastinators have boarded the flight by now."

"Oh my god!" you panicked, "Um, yeah! Okay, okay I'm gonna go... I love you two. I'll come back soon, I promise. I promise."

Hugging goodbye for the last time hurt, and seeing you get teary-eyed made it hard for them not to cry too.

You went through the gates.

Satoru felt like you tore a piece of him and took it with you, and his whole body wanted to chase after you.

You waved and gave heart hands to them as much as you could until you disappeared out of sight.

Boarding the plane felt like a dream. After stowing away your bag in the overhead cabinet, you took your seat and stared blankly, lips feeling tingly and alive with Satoru’s lingering feelings on them.

*****

It was all over too quickly. Satoru licked his lips.

Idling to the window to watch your plane take off, both of them felt like they were on the verge of crying, Satoru a little more than Suguru.

(まだいかないで。) Satoru frowned.

*****

At home, Satoru walked into his room and when he inhaled your lingering scent, god, he burst into tears so loudly that Mint got startled. Suguru came to comfortingly rub his back as he wept like a dog.

"悟、泣かないで。"

He didn't cry as hard ever again as he did that day, and he never even told you.

*****

It's hard to imagine that summer could have ever ended, but it faded away like a sweet taste fading on his tongue.

Satoru woke up the morning without you, and it took him a few seconds to realize that — he felt his fingers over the pillow and slowly opened his eyes.

(ああ、もう会いたい。)

Puffy eyes, dry lips, he reached for his phone.

You hadn't replied yet — still on your flight home, high up in the air. Probably staring out the window. Hopefully thinking of him.

He checked your live flight status, and laid on the pillow as he watched it, forearm concealing his frown, and he just stayed like that for half an hour. Watching that tiny plane move on the screen, over so many countries.

He zoomed out, and felt stricken, as if he just realized how far you actually were from him. And you weren't even home yet, home was still hours away.

"Wake up, princess." Suguru knocked on Satoru's door, then barged in after Satoru let out an I’m awake noise. "I could sense your damp mood through the door." He said.

Satoru groaned, "She's still in the sky..."

Suguru dove into Satoru's unmade bed. "Don't frown so much, you'll get ugly frown wrinkles when you're old."

"Mhm."

They were watching your live flight for a few minutes in silence.

"Let’s look through photos."

So, they both laid there, looking through photos, mumbling amongst themselves about little things and missing you like they've never missed someone before.

Then Satoru let out a long breath, rolled onto his back, and hummed happily to himself.

"I kissed her. I actually kissed her.” He said, thinking of you.

"... oh really? That's crazy. Me too." Suguru teased sarcastically.

"Shut up, you."

Suguru just teased further, "The only way you'll get me to shut up is if you book her a flight back to Tokyo and let her use her lips to silence me."

"She'll kiss me before she kisses you next time she visits." Satoru said confidently.

"... bet?"

"Okay, bet!" Satoru flared up, "I bet all my savings, because I know she loves me more."

"Then say goodbye to your savings."

They go back and forth, getting competitive.

"... I'll kiss her harder." Suguru said.

"No, I'll kiss her harder." Satoru said.

"I'll kiss her dumb." Suguru said.

"I'll kiss her dumber!" Satoru said.

Mint fluffed her tail and stared at her noisy, bickering owners. Then she leaped off and went on her way to the washing machine.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@miwanilla / @sukunasdirtylaugh / @coco-cat / @babydiamondblog / @mp3playerblog / @froufrousnowman / @lovesickramblingsofmine / @arminswifee / @instantmusico / @kaechannn / @sabo-has-my-heart / @yoonjinhusbands / @honey-i-will-come-back / @thirtykiwis / @satoruiloveu / @iamthedetective / @melaaaara / @xakilicious / @i-am-the-geek-overlord / @starrylibras / @beanluvsmilo / @kittytoru / @reese-is-right / @rains-mae / @c0pkiller / @baepsays / @hueanhdang / @fuck-imstillhere / @yourimaginaryfriiendd / @alwaysminhyuk / @andromidagalaxie / @vianna99 / @akumakitsune21 / @ducksdoughnuts / @itsnotmelo / @animechick555 / @hypernovaxx / @xkittiecatx / @ba-ks / @sleepy-waffle / @aphoenixnamed-angel / @polarbvnny / @satoryaa / @dedicatemyhearttoyou / @aiikuraa / @uno3 / @softnorth / @polarbvnny / @aphoenixnamed-angel / @boundedbyfate / @p1nkfluffysocks / @notahappyyoongi / @sullybrothersmate / @nissatamz / @bakugosbottombitch / @zhonglis-missing-wallet / @martothejay / @ringsofsaturnnnn / @givemeonereason / @rosariymchapter / @augustsosexy / @spicy-takimura / @li-m-ii / @strychnynegirl / @curvaliberate / @oyuki22 / @spicy-takimura / @li-m-ii / @euaphoria1 / @hexoolio / @notrlynicole / @maya-maya-56 / @elitesanjisimp

♡ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

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jjunieworld · 8 months

Text

february 14th 𓍼 🌾 ·˚ ༘

pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, some fluff if you squint, strangers (kinda) to lovers, college au, major character death, death in general (both on page and mentioned), kinda dead dove, talks about grief

synopsis: this has to be the worst day of your life. and just your luck, the day keeps repeating. over and over again. and you don’t know why. you get to relive the same day where you finally garner the courage to ask your crush, kang taehyun, out and get to relive the part where he rejects you each time.

word count: 13.6k┊masterlist

a/n: omg first 10k+ word fic!! happy birthday tyun!! this is lowkey inspired by a manga series called orange (which is one of my all time favorite mangas! you should really check it out because it’s so so so good but please look up tws), that one episode of supernatural where sam repeats the same day, and lowkey life is strange lmao. i am so so sorry my baby hyuka :( this was really interesting to write tho, so i hope you enjoy! ♡

if you had to experience another valentine’s day over again, you’d personally find and kill cupid yourself. you were sick of this day, sick of your confession, sick of the stupid crush you had. and most of all, you were sick of being stuck in this fucking time loop.

you don’t even know how you got in this situation. how the universe decided that, yes, y/n should experience the day where she gets rejected by her crush over and over again! wouldn’t that be so much fun? rest assured, it is not.

no matter what you did, your confession of liking kang taehyun always came to the surface, no matter how much you avoided him. whether that be from your actual mouth, or from someone else’s somehow. you didn’t even know how, since you haven’t told anybody about your crush—well, except your roommate chaewon, but that was purely coincidental and you were sure she wouldn’t tell anyone. and no matter what you did, or how you acted, or how you dressed, taehyun would always reject you.

this all had to be some sick joke that everyone was in on. what was the point of it all? you sighed as you woke up in your room, once again, on valentine’s day.

you looked over to your nightstand like you have for the five hundred and forty-seventh time. the confession letter you had spent so long on the night before—well, not the night before—was laying there. it's pretty pink paper with elaborate cursive writing, love doodles, and glitter mocking you. you glared at it as you got ready for your classes. you had tried once to leave it at your dorm room, to not give it to taehyun at all, but then your roommate showed up with it in the hallways.

“y/n! you forgot your confession letter to taehyun!” your roommate, chaewon, had practically yelled as she jogged over to where you were coming out of your class. heads turned to the both of you and you wished you could be six feet under. you quickly glanced around and made direct eye contact with taehyun, who was frozen mid stride with an open notebook in hand. you fled the scene and avoided him like the plague for the rest of the day, only for him to come up to you himself as you were getting lunch a good ways away from campus. “hey… about the confession letter… i’m really flattered, truly, but it just isn’t gonna work between us. i’m not looking for a relationship right now, i’m sorry.” he had said, before turning and walking away, leaving you gaping in the restaurant.

those words have been replaying in your head over and over for the past five hundred and forty-two loops. “it just isn’t gonna work between us,” at least he was kind about it.

you were tempted to just stay in your pajamas, but you’ve already done that last loop. yawning as you put your bookbag over your shoulders, you exited your dorm room and made your way to your first class of the day. no matter how much sleep you get in each loop, you were still dead tired. courtesy of staying up all night the night you made the confession letter.

realization hits you and you turn back towards your dorm at the same time that chaewon comes out of it, your confession letter in her hand. “y/n, you forgot your confession letter!” the both of you say at the same time, you mainly copying what she has said so many times before. “i know,” you added. chaewon’s eyes widened in shock, a smile spreading across her face. you took the letter from her and shoved it deep within your bookbag, definitely crumpling it.

“i’m in a time loop, chaewon. i know exactly what you’re gonna say.” you sighed and ran a hand down your face as you stifled another yawn. “sure, i can guess the next three words that are gonna come out of your mouth. lemon, eight, and cutie patootie, which are four words by the way.”

chaewon’s face dropped even more in shock. you just sighed deeper. “i’m gonna need your help today. that confession letter i made last night… it cannot get to taehyun. do you hear me?” chaewon just nodded and you gave a small nod back. you turned and began your way to your class again.

luckily for you, you shared your first class with taehyun. photography 101 with mr. kim. today’s class dealt with polaroid cameras, which you were also sick of dealing with. you sat in the empty seat near the window where you always sat and got your notebook out as class started to begin. if you were honest, you chose this seat cause it gives you the best view of your crush. the sunlight filtered hazily through the window illuminating taehyun’s features, making him look even more dreamy. it probably wasn’t the best idea, since you spent most of the class staring at him and wanting to take a picture of him; rather than paying attention to your teacher and what he wanted you to take pictures of.

you tried your hardest to focus this loop around. you wished that after how many times you lived this day, your crush would just disappear. i mean, you would think getting rejected five hundred and forty-six times would help right? wrong.

at first, you thought of the time loop as a blessing in disguise. there to help you fix your mistakes and finally get the guy you’ve been crushing on for a while now. wrong, again. for the first hundred or so loops you tried everything in your power to curate yourself to taehyun’s tastes. even going so far to dye your hair and buy a bunch of new clothes. nothing worked. it was hopeless. so now you’ve been spending the past four hundred and so on loops trying to get out of the loop. also hopeless. you just couldn’t crack what was keeping you here, on this day. and why you of all people.

mr. kim had given all the students in the class polaroid cameras, not the modern ones, but one of those old ones from the ninties. you rushed to get your things as class ended, polaroid camera in hand, when you ran face first into someone and spilled the contents of your half open bookbag all over the floor.

the polaroid camera had fallen from your hands and bounced off your foot, snapping a picture and momentarily blinding you with the flash. “if that camera is broken y/n you will be paying for it!” mr. kim’s voice had loudly spoken as you blinked rapidly and tried to get the spots out of your eyes.

“sorry!” you mumbled to whoever you bumped into as you crouched to the floor to grab your things. they crouched next to you and helped you. “don’t worry about it!” you heard a familiar voice say. you froze, hand in the air ready to grab your notebook, as taehyun’s voice rang through your ears.

the letter, you thought. the gears in your brain started working again, breaking you out of your frozen state, and you began getting your things off the floor faster. you shoved them into your bookbag without caring if things got bent or folded. taehyun handed you a couple textbooks, which you all but snatched from him, and also shoved those into your bookbag. after getting to your feet, you mumbled another sorry, before turning to fly out the door again.

“y/n, wait!” taehyun called from behind you. you froze again. please don’t be the letter, please don’t be the letter, please don’t be the le— you thought. you slowly turned and saw him rise to his feet, your notebook in hand. he held it out to you, a small smile on his face. “you almost forgot this,” taehyun spoke.

“thank you,” you replied in a small voice, returning his smile. you took the notebook from him and bolted out the class. on the brightside, at least it would’ve been a short loop if taehyun had grabbed the letter. no doubt, once he saw the big ‘to taehyun, from y/n’ on the front in big glittery letters he would’ve rejected you right then and there and the day would restart.

the only time the day has progressed past the rejection was the first ever day, before the loop started. you had been so excited to give taehyun the letter, even if the sleepiness was tearing you apart. it was valentine’s day, the day of love, and you thought that today was absolutely perfect to tell him about your feelings. after all, at least you wouldn’t be alone in sharing your feelings for someone.

everywhere you looked, new couples sprang up. it made you giddy inside. that’s going to be me, you thought. you couldn’t wait, you had the whole confession planned out. after your classes for the day were over, you were gonna wait outside the arts building for taehyun. the sun would be setting and with the perfect backdrop of a beautiful sunset, you would hand him your letter. taehyun would read it, a smile crossing his face, and he would accept your confession, making your wish come true. it would be written in the shooting stars. then the two of you would start dating and run off into said sunset, blah blah blah.

except, that’s not how it all happened. you waited outside the arts building, the setting sun in the background. you had waited for forty-five minutes, unaware that the class was delayed thirty minutes and that taehyun would stay behind for another fifteen for help from the teacher. by the time he came out, it was dark outside. you were cold and annoyed, and the confession letter was held limply in your hand, spare glitter piling up on the ground.

when you had silently handed it to him, he looked at the monstrosity in shock. it was clear at first glance he knew what it was, and it was only made even more apparent when he opened the envelope and read the letter inside. “o-oh…” he stuttered out, and your heart dropped and the deliberate blankness of his face. “y/n, i’m—“ that’s all you could bear to hear before you just nodded and swallowed thickly, tears rimming your eyes, and ran off.

you had cried in your dorm room all night. the whole interaction replaying in your head as you wished and wished for a miracle until you fell asleep from exhaustion. imagine your shock when you woke up again, confession letter on your nightstand and the day reading as valentine’s day. a joke, it all was, all you hoped. it wasn’t. only one good thing came from the time loop, nobody remembered anything from the previous loop. only the previous day, february thirteenth.

you had gotten back to your dorm room, not having classes until later in the day and desperate for sleep, when you stepped out of the way of chaewon’s hands. “how did you—oh my god! you really are in a time loop!” chaewon exclaimed. you stepped past her and made your way to your dresser to change your clothes. “yes, and i’m very tired and would like to sleep the day away.”

“well, what about taehyun? what about your confession? does he know yet?” chaewon asked as you slipped some shorts and a plain t-shirt on. you turned to her, shaking your head. “no, and it’s for the best that he never finds out.”

chaewon furrowed her eyebrows. “why did something bad happen in the last loop? how many times have you relieved this day?” you just laughed wryly, “you have absolutely no idea.”

“we gotta find some way to sway his mind!” she then exclaimed. you shook your head furiously, sitting down heavily on your bed. “there’s no use, chaewon. he doesn’t like me like that. like, at all.” you tried to keep the sadness from creeping into your tone. chaewon sat on her bed, a pout on her lips. “the only thing we can do is make sure that he doesn’t even see the letter at all,” you added.

“well where is it? have you tried burning it?” chaewon asked. you stood to retrieve your book bag. “i have actually, didn’t work.” it was around the two hundredth loop when you were getting deeply frustrated. there was a campfire party happening that you went to after avoiding taehyun for the whole day. you had thought that you were finally in the clear, even let yourself begin to hope a little. that’s when you decided to just burn the letter and let it all be done with.

it sat in the fire, the edges burning, before a magical gust of wind blew it out of the embers. right into taehyun’s hands.

you literally couldn’t believe your eyes. there was literally no way that the letter just did that. that’s when you knew that this loop was a curse, that you’d be doomed to repeat this day until the end of time. and probably after that too. your mouth had dropped, taehyun looked over to you with furrowed eyebrows. you get the rest.

“i know, you don’t like me…” you had trailed off, overlapping his words. you turned to walk away and the next thing you knew, you were waking up in your bed again.

you were rummaging through your messy bookbag when chaewon replied, “have you tried confessing to someone else?” you paused and turned to her. “i haven’t… actually…” you trailed in thought. this whole time you were so focused on your feelings for taehyun, you hadn’t even thought about anyone else. “i’m not sure it would even work,” you said. “even after all this time i still like him.”

“well, you have all this time… why don’t you try to start developing feelings for someone else and get over the feelings you have for taehyun?” chaewon said. you thought it over for a second. that doesn’t sound that bad of an idea. you already know that taehyun doesn’t and never will like you back, so what’s the harm? maybe it’ll actually work and you can be free from this loop. “who would i even like?” you asked, momentarily abandoning your bag.

chaewon pressed her lips together for a moment before shrugging. “there’s plenty of attractive people here, you could choose anybody!” you sighed deeply. “i can’t just choose someone to like… it doesn’t really work that way.” chaewon shrugged again. “it could at least help!”

you guess she was somewhat right. narrow the pool of people. you could go based on personality, or at least those the personalities you know of. whichever personalities clash with yours can get crossed off. “whatever,” you mumbled. “i guess it could work. i’ll think about it.” chaewon clapped happily as you returned to your bag for the letter.

heart dropping, you flipped your bag over and watched the contents inside fall to the floor. looking through the pile frantically, you came up with nothing. the letter was gone. chaewon called your name and you looked up at her, face paled. “it’s gone… the letter… it’s gone.” she crouched down next to you with furrowed brows and began searching herself. when she came up with nothing also, she sat back on the ground. “if you don’t have it, then where is it?”

that’s when you noticed a polaroid tucked under one of your notebooks. you pulled it out and stared at it. chaewon leaned over to get a look at it too. “taehyun must have it,” you said. the polaroid was a blurry picture of you and taehyun from class earlier that morning. “but if he has it…” you trailed. if he has it, then why hasn’t the day restarted?

you and chaewon spent the next forty-five minutes searching every nook and cranny of your room for the letter and still came up with nothing. you had explained to her how the time loop worked—as far as you knew it—and what it meant if taehyun had seen the letter. “so what does this mean?” chaewon asked, the two of you were sitting on your floor after cleaning up the mess you made. “i have no idea,” you replied. “i hope it means that all of this is over. but who knows if he actually has the letter. maybe somebody else picked it up when i dropped all my stuff.”

picking up the polaroid again, you stared hard at it. stupid camera. if you hadn't focused so much on it, you wouldn’t have ran into taehyun and dropped the letter in the first place. you rose to your feet, your class was about to start. “you’ll find it, y/n. and then maybe this whole day will stop repeating.” chaewon spoke, trying to comfort you. you just nodded solemnly, setting the polaroid on your desk.

suddenly you felt super dizzy and nauseous, and there was a heaviness on your heart. you held your stomach as you doubled over. chaewon jumped to her feet, her hand coming to your back as she bent to see your face. “y/n? what’s wrong?” all you could do was shake your head. you didn’t know. you’ve never felt like this before.

the next thing you knew, you were waking up in your bed to your alarm. you looked around your empty dorm room with confused eyes. did the day restart? you looked to your nightstand. there the letter sat. slowly, you got out of your bed and stood in front of it.

how weird. that has never happened when you restarted a loop before. taehyun didn’t even reject you, the day just started over. maybe it doesn’t have to be face to face? but, you didn’t get a text or anything. and if it was a mental thing, the day would be over before you even woke up.

you were getting ready for the day when chaewon came in from her early morning class. quickly, you explained to her the time loop again and proved the validity of your statement. “we’ll talk later about it, i have to get to class.” you said as you turned to the door. that’s when your eye caught something.

the polaroid you accidentally took from the last loop. it was still sitting on your desk in the exact place you sat it down. you ran over to your desk and snatched the picture, holding it up. you felt chaewon come up behind you. “what is it? oh! is that you and taehyun? when did you take this?” chaewon asked.

“i didn’t…” you trailed. “at least, not this loop. this is from the last loop. how is it here?” what is going on? chaewon took the polaroid from you to get a closer look. “that is so strange…” you nodded in agreement.

you left for your class after putting the polaroid back in a safe space on your desk. for the most part, the day was the same, except this time you took your time with your items and made sure your bookbag was zipped all the way.

when you were walking out of the classroom, you heard your name being called from across the hallway. you panicked for a second, thinking you forgot the letter and chaewon was here to spill your crush again. turning to the direction your name was called, you were shocked to see taehyun walking up to you.

your throat closed up the closer and closer he got until he was standing in front of you and you could hardly breathe. this was it, the letter somehow slipped from your bookbag and ended up magically in his hands. he was here to reject you and the day would repeat again and again. “i have more classes, but do you mind if we talk later on today? this afternoon?” taehyun asked. your eyes widened.

what did he want to talk about? you racked your brain for answers that didn’t come to you. this never happened in a loop before. usually, taehyun just straight up rejects you. “uh—sure!” you manage to push out, a nervous smile playing on your lips. he smiled back, handing you a small piece of paper with his number on it. “i’ll text you the when and where.” you nodded numbly as he said goodbye and walked away. did you just get his number? just like that?

“what do you think he wants to talk about?” you asked chaewon. “do you think he remembers the last loop? knows why it ended so abruptly and why that polaroid remained?” she sat across from you on the floor, a puzzled look on her face that was the same as yours. she thought for a moment before shrugging. “i honestly have no idea…” her face then lit up with a thought. “what if your letter from the last loop remained too and since he allegedly had it, he read it early? but since it’s the basis of the loop—or so you think—it got copied somehow?”

that actually didn’t sound too far off. it would help make sense of the way the last loop ended. also on why he suddenly wanted to talk to you. “you might be onto something, chaewon…” you trailed as you thought more on what she said. “but the loop resets when he rejects me, and he always rejects me. so if he had already read it, he would’ve already rejected me.”

“maybe the rules changed… you did say he didn’t explicitly reject you last loop. maybe things are changing. maybe the loop is starting to end and that’s why all these weird things are happening?” chaewon interjected. you sighed deeply and just shrugged. your head was spinning from it all. “i guess i’ll find out later today.” just in that moment you got a text from taehyun. you had texted him earlier saying that this was your number.

hey, it’s taehyun! can we meet at the benches next to the arts building in three hours?

you breathed in sharply. chaewon leaned over and pulled your phone down so she could read the text. “let me know what he says!” you just laughed a little and nodded, standing to your feet to get ready for your next class. you typed a quick text back to him.

yeah, that works for me. see you there!

you heart was pounding rapidly in your chest. you hoped that what chaewon said was true, that things were changing and the loops were finally coming to an end. you don’t know how much longer of this time loop you could take.

it was the meeting time for you to see taehyun. you had grabbed the polaroid from the last loop from your desk to ask him about and see if he had any answers. the chill of the morning had settled into a cool warmth. you saw taehyun waiting for you on the bench and felt goosebumps rise on your skin as you wished you brought a jacket.

his head turned to you at the sound of your approaching footsteps and he rose to his feet. “hi,” you said shyly as the both of you sat on the bench. you sat your bookbag on the bench next to you. “hi,” he replied, a small smile on his face. “what did you want to talk about?” you asked him.

taehyun turned to dig in his bag. your hands shook slightly in anticipation. he then turned back to you, a crumpled envelope in his hands. it was your confession letter. confusion washed over you. but your letter was in your bag? taehyun opened his mouth to speak but you held up a hand to stop him.

reaching in your bag, you grabbed your letter and held it out next to the one taehyun had and compared the two. they were exactly the same, except for taehyun’s version being crumpled and a little worse for wear. was chaewon right? both you and taehyun stared at the letters in confusion. “impossible…” you muttered under your breath.

you looked up at him, “there’s no way you should have this letter…” you were truly at a loss for words. taehyun’s confused eyes looked at you. “you dropped it…” taehyun began to speak before trailing off. you stared at each other for a moment.

“no, i didn’t—i mean i did, but that was… you shouldn’t—what is happening?” you stumbled over your words.

“wait… you remember dropping it? when we bumped into each other?” taehyun asked you. you stared at him with wide eyes. instead of answering his question you asked, “you’ve been repeating this day too?”

taehyun looked taken aback for a second before slowly nodding. your eyes never left him as you thought about what this meant. all those loops of you pining, changing yourself, and obsessing over his acception; all those things you did to try and get him to like you, he remembers? all those loops he rejected you over and over… you knew he didn’t like you, that much was obvious, but the fact that he remembered every five hundred and forty-eighth rejection caused your heart to hurt in a way you never thought it could.

embarrassment heated your cheeks. in order to save face a little bit, you turned and reached in your own bag for the polaroid. you held it out next to the matching letters. “how did these survive the last loop if…” you trailed off as you snuck a glance at him. you didn’t want to bring up how he rejects you each time you confess to him. he gently took the polaroid from your hands as he analyzed it.

taehyun’s face lit up briefly and he pulled out the polaroid camera from his bag. suddenly, you were blinded by the flash as he aimed the camera towards you. “hey! what the—“ you got cut off by another flash, this time aimed towards him. you watched him in confusion as he sat the pictures down on top of the letters and you both waited for the pictures to develop.

as the image came in, you could see how the both of you were blurred in them, yet everything else wasn’t. you leaned forward slightly to see them closer. even the bench wasn’t blurred. you took the camera from taehyun and ran up to the random person walking past. “photography assignment, sorry!” you muttered out before aiming the camera at the two of you steadily and taking a picture. the person looked at you weirdly before continuing on their way.

you walked back over to taehyun as the photo developed and stopped right in front of him in shock as the image developed. “what is it?” taehyun asked, standing to his feet and coming by your side.

in the polaroid, it was only you who was blurred, not the other person. “this is so weird…” you breathed. taehyun nodded in agreement. “do you think this has to do with the time loop?” he then asked, referring to the blurriness. shrugging a little, you leaned over to the bench and grabbed the other three polaroids and held them all together. “it has to,” you replied.

you then turned to him, “how does the loop end for you? is it different each time or does something specific trigger it?” taehyun’s eyes suddenly averted and you saw his shoulders sag ever so slightly. he moves to sit back on the bench. “um… it’s my friend… he—he dies.” your eyes widen and you stare at him for a moment, mouth agape. “oh! oh… i’m so sorry taehyun…” you trailed off, also sitting on the bench.

taehyun clears his throat, opting to change the subject. “how does it restart for you?” taehyun asks. you hesitate for a second. is it appropriate to bring up him rejecting you after he just told you that his friend dying resets his loop? “uh… well, this feels really inappropriate to bring up after everything, but it’s when you reject me.” you manage to push out. taehyun’s eyebrows raise as he glances over to you. the awkwardness in the air is so thick you’d have trouble cutting it with a knife.

“wait…” you trail off. you haven’t heard anything about someone dying today. does that mean he experiences more of the day than you do? “your day extends farther than mine does. if we’re both in the same loop, how does that work?” taehyun hummed in thought. “i’m not sure… but without any interruptions or changes, my day always ends at the same time. eight forty-five P.M.” he then looked up to you. “have you made it that far? or past it?”

you looked down at your feet, not wanting to meet his gaze. it only happened a couple of times, enough to count on one hand. the last being the one where you tried burning the letter and it didn’t work. “a handful of times, but it was only by avoiding giving you the letter. you always ended up with it somehow…” you replied. taehyun nodded, more to himself. he must’ve remembered the times. “well there’s two letters now,” taehyun motioned to the letters, “so maybe the loop will change? i mean, i obviously know about the letter and the contents and you’re still here. that has to mean something, right?” you nodded in agreement, ignoring the fact that he essentially just rejected you again. it honestly didn’t even phase you anymore after all this time.

“what if our loops merged and mine now ends when yours does?” you threw out. it would make sense as to why you’re still on the bench talking. taehyun shrugged, “it’s possible…”

you turned to him fully, your hopeful eyes gleaming in the sunny afternoon light. “there’s two of us now, i can help you save your friend! and we can get them and chaewon together and come up with a plan! maybe saving them is what gets us out of the time loop.” when you noticed that he wasn’t responding, you shrunk back a little into the bench. “…if you’re okay with that.” you added in a quiet voice.

you could practically see the gears in taehyun’s head turning as he thought. it was another moment before he opened his mouth to respond to your proposal. “i guess it wouldn’t hurt… and while we’re at it we can test the time loop merging theory.” taehyun finally said. a wide grin pushed its way onto your face. you began cleaning up your things, making sure to shove the letter back into your bag even if he already knew about it, as you stood to your feet. taehyun gave you a confused look.

“where are you going?” he asked you. you gave him a confused smile, “to go get your friend and chaewon… if we’re gonna save your friend we have to start now!” taehyun slowly began cleaning his stuff up. “but… we have classes…” you let out a loud laugh and taehyun stood to his feet after putting his stuff away. “what’s a class that you’ve experienced almost six hundred times to saving your friend?”

taehyun slowly started to nod, “you’re right.” you nodded back to him. “of course i am. let’s go save your friend!” you grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the direction of the dorms. chaewon didn’t have a class right now, if you remember correctly.

you wished you were in a loop of seeing chaewon’s face when you brought taehyun to your dorm room instead of him rejecting you. chaewon in fact didn’t have classes, you were right. you pushed the door open to your shared dorm room, scaring her half to death. chaewon’s eyes widened and her mouth went slack as you pulled taehyun into the room and shut the door.

“change of plans…” you spoke, turning to the two of them. you motioned a finger in between you and taehyun. “he’s in a time loop too and we’re gonna save his friend from dying.” if chaewon’s jaw could drop further it would. she sputtered for a moment, trying to push her words out. “i know, i know. i was shocked and very embarrassed too. but we have work to do.”

taehyun turned to you. “embarrassed?” he asked. you felt your cheeks heat up. did he really have to ask that question? “well… you did reject me almost six hundred times. and you have memories of every single one. that is very embarrassing for me…” you turned away from him, suddenly finding your desk very interesting, as you talked. you heard an “oh…” from behind you and felt yourself die a little more inside.

you pulled out an empty unused notebook from your desk drawer and turned back to chaewon and taehyun. chaewon managed to pick her jaw off the floor and her eyes weren’t as wide. “who are we saving?” chaewon asked. the two of you turned to taehyun. his eyes widened ever so slightly from the sudden spotlight. “um… his name is hueningkai. he’s my best friend.” chaewon nodded, looking down slightly. “let’s get to work then! we have people to save, everyone!”

taehyun then led the two of you back to where hueningkai’s class was happening, which was building b. the three of you were standing outside of his classroom when taehyun glanced inside. “he’s still in class, but we can just wait—“ he was cut off by you barging into the classroom. another good thing that came out of this loop is that you pretty much don’t have fear about anything anymore—for the most part.

you looked back at taehyun as the teacher stopped mid sentence and the group of students stared at you confused. “which one is him?” you asked him. taehyun gaped at you, eyes wide. you sighed and turned back to the class. “hueningkai?” you asked aloud. “please step forward. uh… it’s very import—important business that you’re needed for.” you then remembered the teacher and quickly added, “the dean sent us.”

the teacher waved his hand and a guy close to the back stood slowly. hueningkai packed his things up and made his way to the front of the classroom. you gave him an awkward smile as the two of you walked out of the classroom, shutting the door behind you.

it was dead silent as the four of you walked out of the building. once you were in the clear of listening ears, you stopped and turned. hueningkai’s eyebrows were raised in confusion, an awkward smile on his face, as he looked between you and taehyun. “there’s no important business from the dean, she lied,” chaewon said. taehyun stepped towards hueningkai. “look, kai, this is gonna sound really weird but—“

you stepped to hueningkai and put your hands on his shoulders as you looked him in the eyes. “listen man, you’re gonna die today.” you heard a gasp come from behind you and taehyun started to say your name. you ignored both. “but that’s okay! because us two—” you motioned to you and taehyun with a finger “—are stuck in a time loop and we’re gonna save you!” you released him and took a couple steps back, nodding to yourself with a satisfied smile.

hueningkai looked absolutely terrified. “i’m gonna die?!” he exclaimed, taking a step back. chaewon took quick steps towards him, trying to give comfort. “no! well… i mean, yes, but we’re gonna stop that from happening!” she gave you a sharp glare and you noticed that taehyun had his head in his hands. maybe telling him outright was a bad idea…

taehyun pushed the two of you back. “kai… you get into an accident at eight forty-five… you don’t end up making it. i’ve been trapped in this time loop trying to make sure that you don’t die.” hueningkai took a deep breath as he stared at taehyun with furrowed eyebrows. he then ran a hand through his dark hair. “okay… so i die today. never thought i would say that.” hueningkai looked between the three of you. “so how do i not die today?”

you pulled the notebook out of your bag as you began coming up with the pillars of the plan. “first, we all go together in some safe space where we know nothing’s going to happen to you. also so we can see how far we can push the day before it resets for taehyun and i.” you started. “how about our dorm room?” chaewon asked. you turned to taehyun and hueningkai. they looked at each for a second before shrugging. “let’s head there now then!” you added.

thankfully nothing happened on the walk from hueningkai’s class to your dorm room. chaewon had gone out to get snacks and other things for the long night you all were about to have. you all decided that you were gonna skip the rest of your classes as well.

you were in the process of writing the ways that taehyun had tried to save hueningkai that ultimately ended up failing when hueningkai asked, “just how many times have you watched me die?” there was a pained expression on taehyun’s face that he tried to mask with a wistful smile. he looked towards you, “how many loops has it been now?” you stopped to think. “this is the five hundred and forty-ninth loop.” taehyun turned back to hueningkai. “um… about five hundred and forty-seven times, give or take.” hueningkai’s face paled significantly.

taehyun scrunched his face up as he looked back towards you. “if this loop just resets, what’s the point of writing this all down then?” that made you stop dead in your tracks. what was the point? “can’t you take a picture of it?” hueningkai asked. taehyun had filled him in on everything on the walk to the dorms. you looked at him with knitted eyebrows. “well, you said the polaroids stayed when you went into a new loop… just take a picture of it!” he added.

you guess that made sense. “but what if they don’t stay since it’s not of us?” taehyun asked. you pulled your polaroid camera from your bag and held up the notebook next to taehyun’s face as you got close. you quickly snapped the picture and sat it down on the hardwood floor in the center of you all as you waited for it to develop. “problem solved!” you smiled. taehyun blinked rapidly at you.

just then, chaewon came through the door with a couple bags in her hands. “i got snacks!” she exclaimed. she sat them on her desk and sat in the empty spot of the semi-circle. “what did i miss?” she asked as she leaned over to look at the newly developed polaroid on the ground. “writing down all the ways taehyun failed to save my life!” hueningkai laughed, before he saw the grave expression on taehyun’s face. “joking!” he then quickly added. hueningkai put his hand on taehyun’s shoulder. “it’s okay taehyun, we’re gonna figure it out. i’m gonna get saved and you’re both gonna get out of this time loop!”

“speaking of…” you trailed. you held the camera up so the four of you were all in frame. “say cheese!” you said, smiling for the camera. you heard a chorus of “cheese!” behind you as you snapped the picture. you sat that polaroid next to the other one on the floor. “just to make explaining more easier.” you added.

“if you keep snapping pictures you’re gonna run out of film,” said taehyun. you laughed a little, “it’s practically unlimited, given the loop.” he shrugged slightly, agreeing with you. “have either of you figured out why you’re blurry in the pictures?” chaewon asked you and taehyun. you both shook your head. hueningkai perked up. “maybe it’s because everyone and everything around you is essentially stagnant. like, technically none of us change by the end of the loop. we’ll all reset. but the two of you do—even if it’s not physically. you have the memories and experiences of the past however many loops you’ve been through!”

it was as if suddenly things started to click into place. “you’re right! if you think about it, we’ve been in this loop for like a year and a half days wise. yeah, some days were shorter and longer than others, but a year and a half nonetheless! time around us is kinda frozen if you think about it. maybe the camera picks up on that and we’re blurry because we’re the only things in motion!” you were waving your hands in the air, speaking a mile a minute, hoping you were getting your point across. taehyun’s face lit up more and more as you spoke and he nodded along.

“do you think it’s the same with our phones?” taehyun asked as he pulled out his phone. you all shrugged. he turned the camera towards you all and snapped a picture. taehyun turned back towards you all with a confused expression. hueningkai leaned next to him over his phone. “what is it?” you asked as you leaned forward. “it didn’t even take the picture… how weird,” taehyun replied. you looked over at chaewon. she raised an eyebrow at you, “maybe it’s because it’s new technology?” none of you really had an explanation.

the rest of the night went by pretty insignificantly. you all had gotten a bunch of blankets to make a makeshift bed on the floor for taehyun and hueningkai. everything started to go wrong in the middle of the movie you were all watching.

the four of you were sitting on the floor, a laptop with the movie playing in front of you, when all of a sudden you heard coughing. you snapped your head over to hueningkai, who’s face was turning red by the second. “oh my god! is he choking?” you heard chaewon ask as taehyun started frantically hitting hueningkai’s back. you jumped up to grab a water bottle.

handing the water bottle to hueningkai, he croaks out, “it’s my throat…” he tried getting the water bottle open to no avail. “is he allergic?” you turned to taehyun and asked, referring to the popcorn you were all eating. he was practically drowning hueningkai with water as he rapidly shook his head. hueningkai was turning blue. you, taehyun, and chaewon were all flying around the small dorm room trying anything to help hueningkai but it seemed as if nothing was working.

suddenly, it seemed as if everything stopped. you looked to taehyun, who had frozen in his spot. he looked back to you, his eyes wide and glossy, and you realized that hueningkai’s chest wasn’t moving.

the next moment, you were waking up in your bed the morning of february fourteenth, marking the five hundred and fiftieth loop. you didn’t waste any time. the polaroids from the last loop sat on top of your dresser where you had put them before the movie. you grabbed them just as chaewon came into the dorm room.

convincing her wasn’t that hard to begin with, but it was significantly easier with the polaroids. especially the one of the four of you. the two of you rushed to your morning class that you shared with taehyun, hoping that he has the same idea with hueningkai.

you saw him rushing up the hallway opposite from you, a confused hueningkai in tow. you barely stopped for a breath when you reached them as you pulled out the polaroids. “time loop, understand?” you asked hueningkai. he looked at the polaroid for a brief moment before nodding. you exhaled and doubled over, you and chaewon had practically ran across campus. looking down, you also realized that you were still in your pajamas.

“um… so that didn’t work…” you breathed, turning to taehyun. he simply nodded, eyes to the floor. he too was in his pajamas. the two of you must’ve looked crazy. “i don’t understand…” taehyun trailed off. he led the three of you towards the exit of the building. “if he wasn’t choking, then how did he…” he added, looking off to the side.

you stopped and waved them all over to the bench to sit. taehyun ran his hands through his hair. “i don’t know,” you spoke quietly. chaewon and hueningkai both gave you confused looks. you forgot that they didn’t remember the last loop. quickly, you filled them in on what happened, watching as shocked expression took over their faces.

“and you’re sure you’re not allergic to popcorn?” chaewon asked, leaning forward to look at hueningkai. “butter? salt? anything that goes into making popcorn?” hueningkai shook his head, “no… not at all. i’m confused as to how that happened too.”

taehyun was quiet next to you. his head was in his hands and he was bent over. you put a hand on his back as you leaned down a little. “taehyun?” you asked quietly. you felt him inhale deeply. he sat up slowly and rubbed at his eyes.

“five hundred and fifty times…” taehyun started. “five hundred and fifty times and you would think that i would be somewhat used to it by now. use to death.” he dragged his hands away from his eyes. they landed heavily in his lap. your hand moved from his back to his shoulder. taehyun turned to his right to face hueningkai, “i’m so sorry, kai. i don’t know how to save you.”

you shook your head at that even though he wasn’t facing you. taehyun continued, “at this point, i don’t even know if it’s possible. you would think it would be, given the circumstances, but each loop keeps proving me wrong. i don’t know what else to do, but i can’t just let you die.” his voice cracked as he spoke and got lower and lower until his last sentence was just above a whisper. you felt your heart break at his sentiment.

you couldn’t help but think about how foolish you’ve been for the majority of this time loop. you spent so much time trying to get taehyun to like you back while he’s spent the whole time loop trying to save his best friend from a brutal ending. that time could’ve been spent coming up with ideas together, using your combined ideas to try and save hueningkai from death. but no, you were changing your appearance and crying over the fact he kept rejecting you. how idiotic. your face flushed with shame and embarrassment.

“we are going to save him,” you spoke confidently. taehyun turned to you, his face was stained with tears. “how? i’ve tried everything and nothing has worked.” you stood from the bench, thankfully the area around you wasn’t that populated with students.

“we have to get to the roots of the time loop,” you said, hitting your fist on your palm. “we don’t know how we got into it, we don’t know how to get out of it, and we don’t know why we’re the only two who are initially aware of it. so we have to start listing what we do know and work from there. we both know how the time loop restarts, and it has basically been confirmed that our loop restarts have been merged.” you didn’t want to outright list the reason, it was clear they understood what it was. no use in pushing the knife deeper into the wound.

you continued, “we need to know if there’s a general cutoff point to each loop.” chaewon nodded along, “do you remember what the time was when the last loop ended?” she spoke softly as she glanced over to taehyun and hueningkai. you shook your head. taehyun wiped his cheeks and furrowed his brows. “i think it was midnight?” he said, uncertainty in his voice. “i remember checking my phone like ten minutes before everything happened and it was 11:47pm.”

“and you said i was completely fine before…” hueningkai motioned over to you. you nodded. “so i would say that the general cutoff would be midnight, or the second before. it would make sense… you’re only limited to this one day within the loop.” hueningkai looked around at the three of you, seeing if you got what he was saying. you all nodded.

you motioned for them all to stand. “alright let’s go then!” taehyun stood and gave you a confused look, “go where?” you gave him a slightly amused look as you raised your eyebrows. “we’re gonna need a lot more than a notebook if we’re gonna plan this all out.”

you were thankful that you were on a college campus, so the confused and curious looks were at a minimum as the four of you carried four large poster boards across the sidewalks. you were heading to the library where chaewon had set up a meeting room for you all to sit down and work through your plan.

once you got to the library and the room chaewon had reserved, you breathed in deeply as you shut and locked the door behind you. hueningkai was laying the poster boards across the large table side by side. you walked over and began opening the pack of permanent markers you had bought as taehyun put both of your polaroid cameras on the table.

“okay,” you sighed as you began, opening the marker and leaning over the table to write on one of the poster boards. in big letters at the top you wrote ‘WHAT WE KNOW’ and added a bullet point for the loop ending at midnight, or the second before, exactly. “so we know that the loop ends at least the second before midnight.” you spoke and stood straight. “and we know that hueningkai wasn’t choking on anything. so that means we can conclude it was some magic of the time loop itself. the next thing we need to figure out is how to trick the loop.”

taehyun turned to look up at you from his seat next to you. “trick the loop? what do you mean?” before you could speak, chaewon did. “the day was just about to change, right, meaning that you had almost broken the loop. but at the last moment, hueningkai suddenly died. that means that somehow the time loop itself is aware. which means—“

“we have to trick it!” you, chaewon, taehyun, and hueningkai said in unison. their faces all brightened and you smiled to yourself. hueningkai’s eyebrows knitted together slightly. “but how do we trick the all-knowing time loop into believing i’m dead without me, you know, actually dying?” he asked, causing a couple chuckles to be let out around the room. the tension in the air lifted a little and your smile widened with newfound hope.

you leaned back over to the next poster board and reached over to the top of it. “by entering what i like to call phase two,” you spoke as you wrote ‘PHASE TWO’ on the poster board. under it you wrote, ‘WE KILL HUENINGKAI AND REVIVE HIM JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT.’ you looked up to wide eyes looking back at you. “and just how are you expecting us to do that?” taehyun interjected.

you smiled at him, eyes burning brightly, “it’s simple. we stop hueningkai’s heart three to four minutes before midnight—preferably three to be safe. in the seconds before it actually hits midnight, we perform cpr and save him!” it seemed like a good idea to you. i mean, it was really the only idea. hueningkai scrunched his face up, “i don’t know about this…”

“we’ll it’s either you die—briefly—and get revived, or you just straight up die. so pick your poison,” chaewon said. you heard taehyun mutter “jesus…” under his breath. hueningkai blinked at her.

“i guess either way i’m dying, so i would prefer it to not be permanent,” hueningkai spoke. you nodded in satisfaction. “how are we even gonna kill him in a way that doesn’t actually hurt him? in a way we can actually bring him back?” taehyun asked you. your smile fell slightly, you hadn’t really thought that part through. before you could say that you weren’t exactly sure, a phone ringing cut you off.

hueningkai looked around at the three of you with a sheepish smile as he pulled the ringing phone from his pocket. he looked down at the caller id, “it’s my sister. i’m sorry, i gotta take this.” a worried expression passed across taehyun’s face as he began to stand. “no, you stay. i’ll go with him. the two of you remember all the other loops anyways, you need all the information you can get,” chaewon said as she stood to her feet. taehyun hesitated before nodding and falling back down on his seat. hueningkai and chaewon left the room, leaving you inside alone with taehyun.

you pulled out the chair in front of you, which was directly next to taehyun, and sat down. you wished that your heart didn’t speed up at the fact that you were alone with him. even now, your feelings for him haven’t changed. you were still in love with him, the confession letter still sat heavily in your bag.

“y/n?” taehyun asked. you turned to him in question. “i just wanted to say thank you. you know, for helping me in all this to save kai. you didn’t have to, but you did anyways, and i’m grateful for that. clearly, i wouldn’t have been able to do it alone.” you smiled softly at him. “it’s no problem! i mean, we’re in this together. literally.”

taehyun laughed at that and it made your heart soar. you were happy you could make him laugh after seeing him cry earlier. glad that you could give him some hope in this fucked up situation. “seriously though, y/n. thank you,” taehyun smiled at you, his eyes boring into yours. you gave a nod in response, your smile warming. “i’m here for you!” taehyun’s smile widened.

you were just doing what anyone would do if they were in this situation. there wasn’t any need to put you on some pedestal and give you a good person award because of it.

before you could get too lost in taehyun’s eyes, you turned back to the poster boards with heated cheeks. under ‘WHAT WE KNOW,’ you began filling in everything that you were a hundred percent certain of about the time loop, taehyun aiding you. when hueningkai and chaewon came back inside the room, thankfully none of them harmed, the two of you were shoulder to shoulder, each writing on seperate poster boards. taehyun had used the third poster board to write down things he tried that failed to save hueningkai, ‘WHAT FAILED’ written at the top.

hueningkai and chaewon had sat in the seats across from you two, looking at everything you had added. “do you think there’s a way we could make these stay between loops? like the letters and polaroids besides taking a picture?” taehyun asked you, waving a hand with a marker in it over the poster boards. you sat back in your seat in thought and looked over to the polaroids that were spread out next to the cameras.

you tried thinking of an idea, but came up blank. “i have no clue. i mean, it has to be possible. we still don’t really know why there are two letters.” it was silent for a moment as everyone thought it over. “you said your loops essentially merged to join his, right?” chaewon asked you, causing you to nod. “and you said that when that happened, the letter was missing and the loop ended suddenly, causing the letter to duplicate and for you both to have one. now the time loop restarts for the both of you when he—“ she jabbed a thumb in hueningkai’s direction “—dies. have you tried seeing what happens what happens when… you know…” chaewon trailed, referring to you getting rejected.

you glanced over to taehyun to see that his eyes were fixed onto the table, cheeks flushed. you bet you didn’t look too different. you both haven’t really talked much about that part of the loop. granted, you had better things to worry about. “i mean… just to make sure that the loop doesn’t restart…” chaewon added awkwardly.

clearing your throat, you reached for your book bag to pull out the letter. you sat it on the table between you and taehyun and looked at him. “well… let’s try it so we can add it to the list.” just like that, awkward tension grew in the room.

taehyun swallowed thickly and reached for the letter. opening it, he read over the contents swiftly, already knowing exactly what it says. he looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours. “i… i’m sorry, y/n, but i…— don’t feel the same way about you.” taehyun folded the letter back up as he looked away. you looked down to your feet. the tension in the air grew thicker.

silence hung in the air for a few moments, before you couldn’t take any more of it. “okay! we’re still here, so…” you turned to write on the ‘WHAT WE KNOW’ poster board. you then looked around the room. everyone was avoiding each other’s eyes. “back to figuring out ways to kill hueningkai… any ideas that won't ultimately hurt him in the long run?”

“what if i held my breath?” hueningkai asked, causing you and the others to laugh. you breathed a sigh of relief as the tension started to dissipate. “that wouldn’t work, your body would literally make you start breathing again,” taehyun replied, a grin playing on his lips.

chaewon face brightened with an idea, “what if we drowned him!” you, hueningkai, and taehyun gave her a shocked look and chaewon then realized she said that a bit too enthusiastically. “i would rather not be drowned,” hueningkai exclaimed as he gave a small smile to chaewon, a laugh at the edges of his voice. she chuckled slightly in return.

“suffocation?” taehyun offered. hueningkai tilted his head, “and would you be doing the honors of holding the pillow over my face?” taehyun smirked at him and replied, “if you want!” as they talked, you were writing all the ideas down, excluding hueningkai holding his breath.

hueningkai clapped his hands together, “suffocation it is!”

“what if your body starts fighting back?” you asked, genuinely curious. hueningkai hummed in thought. from the corner of your eye you could see taehyun stifling a laugh. “make sure you tie me down then,” hueningkai replied.

“kinky,” taehyun muttered under his breath, backing away from hueningkai’s attempt to shove him from across the table with a grin. you finished writing and put the cap on the marker, tapping it against the table. “let’s get to it then!” you smirked.

suddenly, chaewon spurted, “what if when you past midnight, things change for the worst?” everyone stopped in their tracks and the room fell deathly silent. what did she mean ‘change for the worst’? the thought seeped into your head like ink and you tried not to let it spread over your thoughts. “that won’t happen,” hueningkai assured everyone, though he didn’t seem to believe his own words that much. if you were in his position—hell, you don’t even need to be in his position—you wouldn’t believe them either.

you glanced over to taehyun who, in turn, was already looking at you with wide eyes. his thoughts in them were clear; we all have to make it past midnight alive and well. all of us.

back at you and chaewon’s dorm, it was twenty minutes until midnight and you could feel the stress swirling around the room. you all basically spent the whole day in your dorm room, staring at the walls, too scared to eat or drink or even watch anything on the off chance it might somehow kill hueningkai.

at some point, chaewon suggested that you all got to know each other. you didn’t miss the sly smirk she gave you either, deciding to ignore it with a roll of you eyes. halfway through, she suddenly struck up a conversation with hueningkai about some school topic that you knew she didn’t have any interest in, leaving you and taehyun to continue the game alone.

deep down, you felt thankful for chaewon, even if she was deliberately trying to set you up right now. honestly, you didn’t know how you would’ve got through this time loop without her.

you and taehyun started asking the randomest of questions to each other. spanning from what your favorite color was to if you had to be any planet in the solar system, which planet would it be and why. your face was flushed with heat that you hoped he didn’t notice as the two of you grew closer. the confession letter burned hotly in your bag across the room, you could feel it like a tether to your soul, begging you to come closer. to reveal it.

during the exchange, you and taehyun somehow got closer and closer to each other as you answered the questions. the two of you were laughing and smiling at each other as your knees and shoulders brushed together from your closeness. you hadn’t even realized that chaewon and hueningkai were whispering to each other now as they stared at the two of you.

the night continued like that up till now. the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. hueningkai was laying on your bed, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. chaewon kept her eyes on the clock on her phone. she downloaded an app that allowed her to see down to the millisecond. you and taehyun were still sitting on the floor, just as close as you had been the whole day.

you looked at him and his eyes trailed over to yours from where he was watching hueningkai on the bed. you gave him a slight nod, squeezing his knee briefly before standing to your feet. “we should get ready,” you said. the others nodded in agreement.

ten minutes until midnight and the pillow was shaking in taehyun’s hands as he stood at the edge of the bed, looking down to hueningkai. you stood next to him and chaewon stood behind you, giving you updates on the time. “it’s okay taehyun,” hueningkai whispered as he looked at him. taehyun just shook his head solemnly in response.

hueningkai sat up, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed in between you and taehyun. “i’m gonna try holding my breath,” he spoke. taehyun opened his mouth to argue, but hueningkai swiftly cut him off with, “i��m holding my breath. if it doesn’t work, well, you guys are in a time loop...” he scooted backwards so his back was flush with the wall.

“five minutes until midnight,” chaewon announced. hueningkai looked at the both of you. “be ready to revive me…” he trailed. hueningkai opened his mouth wide, gulping in as much air as he possibly could before closing it tightly with puffed cheeks. he closed his eyes, letting his head hang and his body relax.

you felt something squeeze your hand tightly and glanced down to see that it was taehyun’s hand. you felt it tremble as his locked nervous stare remained on hueningkai. “two minutes,” chaewon breathed out.

hueningkai’s face was turning purple and you wanted to advert your eyes so badly but couldn’t let yourself. his body watch twitching as it fought against him and his eyes squeezed together tighter. at this point, you didn’t know if it was him or the magic of the time loop taking over. hueningkai’s body went still and he fell over limply, his final breath smoking out between newly parted lips, just as chaewon called, “one minute, it’s go time!”

taehyun was squeezing your hand so tightly you thought it might break, but you didn’t make any moves to remove it from his grasp. chaewon started to count to twenty and as soon as she hit it, taehyun jumped into action. he pulled hueningkai towards him and the two of you got him down to the ground as gently and as fastly as you could. chaewon started doing cpr on him and there was nothing you and taehyun could do but watch and wait.

chaewon had thrown her phone to you when she dropped to the ground, and you took over managing the time. “thirty seconds!” you shouted, as chaewon started pushing on hueningkai’s chest in regulated increments and blowing air into his mouth.

“ten seconds,” you managed nervously. hueningkai still wasn’t breathing. you heard taehyun’s heavy breathing next to you as you watched the numbers grow closer to midnight. with your eyes still on the clock, you took taehyun’s hand as the final three seconds were up.

you woke up in your bed, confession letter on your nightstand, on the five hundred and fifty-first loop. you jumped to your feet, wasting no time as you grabbed your things, when there was rapid knocking at your door. you turned to the door in confusion. when you opened it, a frazzled looking taehyun was on the other side. you beckoned him in.

“so stupid…” taehyun muttered under his breath as he paced the room. “so stupid to let that idiot hold his breath, what was i thinking?” you walked up to him and put your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stop his pacing and to look at you. “taehyun, take a deep breath,” you said as you stared into his eyes intently. you felt his shoulders rise and fall as he obeyed your command, his eyes fluttering closed. he took another before opening them again.

taehyun took your hands in his. “we’re gonna save him,” you said softly. “all of this isn’t just on your shoulders, okay? we’re in this together. let me share some of the weight.” taehyun’s eyes were trained to the ground as he nodded. just then, chaewon entered the room.

she saw the two of you, your close stance and intertwined hands, and froze mid walk. her mouth opened but you broke away from taehyun and strode up to her before she could say anything. “chaewon! we need your help! we’ll explain on the way.”

later that day, the four of you were once again in you and chaewon’s dorm room. ten minutes until midnight on the clock and taehyun gripped the pillow in his hands so hard his knuckles were white. hueningkai was laying flat on your bed again, looking up to the ceiling.

“five minutes, go time,” chaewon said as she moved closer to the two of you. you gave taehyun an encouraging smile as hueningkai closed his eyes. inside, your stomach churned. you really hoped it worked this time, you don’t know how many times you could watch taehyun essentially kill his best friend to save his life. your heart ached for taehyun, you didn’t know how many more times he could watch his best friend die—let alone be the one to kill him.

taehyun lifted the pillow mere inches above hueningkai’s face. the pillow shook from his trembling. “i’m so sorry, kai,” taehyun whispered, letting the pillow fall from his hands. he took a large step backwards and folded into himself.

you couldn’t let this loop go to waste. springing into action, you inhaled deeply as you pushed the pillow down onto hueningkai’s face. behind you, you heard chaewon say, “you’re on time.” chaewon was then next to you, holding hueningkai down to make sure he didn’t move.

“tw—two minutes,” taehyun’s voice shook. hueningkai’s body stilled once again and you and chaewon brought him to the floor to begin cpr.

“ten s-seconds,” stuttered taehyun. chaewon was laser focused on reviving as you sat and watched. in your head, you counted down. hueningkai didn’t wake back up.

sighing, you woke up to the five hundred and fifty-fifth loop; the others failing once again. four times hueningkai had died. four more times you had failed to save him. this time, chaewon had the idea of hueningkai drinking a bunch of energy drinks before his untimely demise to help jumpstart his heart better. when she said it, you all looked at her with amusement, but any idea is better than no ideas right about now.

taehyun was at your door again, like he was for the past four loops. when he entered, he immediately pulled you into his embrace. for once, the time loop was good for something, you thought. it’s a blessing that the two of you don’t dream, you feared that that would break taehyun completely.

you rubbed taehyun’s back as he tried to stop himself from shaking. he pulled away slightly as he looked into your eyes. “y/n, i know the two of us have grown closer through dubious means, but i am truly glad i got to know you. even if this time loop never ends, even if i have to watch my best friend die over and over and over again, at least you’re there by my side. at least you’re the constant hope that’s here keeping me grounded.” taehyun cupped your cheek, pausing to take a shaky breath.

briefly, he glanced over to your nightstand where your confession letter laid next to your unmade bed. “it’s funny, february thirteenth—god, that feels like a lifetime ago—there was a singular shooting star that night. i was with kai and he was egging me on to make a wish. ‘to always be by his side,’ i wished, ‘to be his best friend forever and to keep him safe. to stay in his moment of happiness where nothing can even fathom touching us.’” taehyun let out a wry laugh before continuing. “the night he first died, i prayed for a miracle, for something, anything. screamed at the sky at the fact that shooting stars were pointless.”

he looked back to your eyes, a glossy layer covering his own. you quietly inhaled at his vulnerability, it all taking you off guard despite the amount of times you’ve seen him cry now. you intertwined your hands together, like you’ve done for the past four loops.

“i know now that shooting stars don’t fly for me. that miracles are one in a million. but despite all of that, you still give me hope. and i know that no matter what happens, we’ll still see each other again,” taehyun concluded. tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes and taehyun brought his hands back to your cheeks softly.

it was as if time moved in slow motion, taehyun moving towards you. when his lips pressed to yours, it was as if all the stars had aligned. you felt the morning sun heat your skin through your open blinds. he was wrong, shooting stars did fly, and they flew for the both of you.

when you both pulled away, slightly out of breath, you couldn’t help the smile that was on your lips. “i made a wish too,” you said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. “that no matter the outcome, no matter if you accepted my confession or rejected it, you’d continue being the person i grew feelings for. that your smile would always light up a room and bring joy to all of those around you. that i’d get to see your smiling face, full of happiness, everyday. that you’d always be happy.” as you spoke, the smile on taehyun’s face only grew wider, warming your heart and proving your point.

“shooting stars do fly for you, i’ll make sure of it if i have to. and you’re right,” you booped his nose slightly making him giggle, “we will see each other again. and you’ll see hueningkai again on a day that isn’t this dreaded godforsaken day. i’ll make sure of it.” taehyun pulled you in for another kiss just as chaewon entered. the two of you didn’t mind her, pulling each other closer.

“ten minutes,” chaewon called. at this point, you didn’t even need her announcements. you had the time down to a science. you looked to hueningkai, “you’re gonna live. i promise you that.” he looked over to you, a wide and wishful smile spreading across his face. how you wished that he and chaewon could remember the loops with you and taehyun. the four of you had grown so close given the circumstances that it made you sad that the slate got erased each time. but, it also made you happy. once you were all out of this time loop you could start anew, fresh. at least, in a way.

no doubt this time loop will always follow you and taehyun, like a ghost clinging to your shoulders. i mean, it’s been all you’ve known for so long, how could it not? you just hope you’re able to move past it and finally live normal lives.

“i hope so!” hueningkai exclaimed. you felt it deep inside. this time, your plan was gonna work. hueningkai downed the small case of energy drinks, cringing at the taste of them, and laid back down. he nodded at you and taehyun, signifying he was ready. “five minutes,” chaewon spoke, passing her phone to taehyun. you gave taehyun a smile. it was going to work this time.

the pillow came down and hueningkai’s body stilled as there were two minutes until midnight. you and chaewon brought him to the floor and the three of you crowded around his body. taehyun took your hand, giving it a squeeze, as you looked at each other. chaewon began cpr.

ten seconds until midnight and counting, chaewon shouted that she had a pulse. five seconds until midnight, hueningkai gasped in a breath of air and his eyes fluttered open. for the first time in all of the five hundred and fifty-five loops you’ve been through, you watched as taehyun cried tears of happiness. the three of you pulled hueningkai into your arms, laughing with joy at the fact that he was still alive.

“it’s 12:01am,” hueningkai’s raspy voice spoke as he pointed to chaewon’s discarded phone next to you all. you let out a gasp as you and taehyun stared at each other with wide eyes. “we did it,” he spoke, disbelief rounding the edges of his voice. “we did it!” you echoed, a large smile breaking out on your face. you bent down and hugged hueningkai, “you’re alive!”

you felt a pull deep within you, and the next thing you knew, you were waking up in your dorm room again. confusion pulled your brows and you stood to your feet slowly, looking at the confession letter on your nightstand in slight horror. no, this couldn’t be. this was impossible.

taehyun burst through the door of your room a minute later, not even bothering to knock, with a sleepy hueningkai behind him. chaewon was a close second behind them. with wide eyes, taehyun exclaimed, “he remembers! the time loop, he remembers!”

“i remember too!” chaewon laughed. you all let out shocked laughs, not quite sure how else to react. the four of you fell into a group hug. you would kill to see an outside perspective of all of this. four frazzled college students in their various pajamas with the weight of the world on their shoulders, seeing things that nobody else has seen before. it would sure be a sight to behold.

“so is this just a regular day then?” hueningkai asked, his voice muffled between the layers of clothing. “we get through today and tomorrow will finally not be valentine’s day?” you laughed as you pulled away, the others doing the same. “we just gotta get through today!”

taehyun turned to hueningkai, “you will not be leaving my sight today. we don’t need to enter another time loop.” hueningkai laughed and just nodded, a smile lingering on his lips. “what’s another day indoors?” chaewon smiled.

you all spent the day in taehyun and hueningkai’s dorm instead of you and chaewon’s. you all desperately needed the change of scenery. at one point, you all became curious to see if anybody else remembered the last loop besides the four of you. hueningkai managed to convince taehyun to let him roam around the dorms with chaewon to find out, “i just can’t say no to him,” taehyun had said.

when the two of you were alone in the dorm room, you pulled your confession letter out of your bag and presented it in front of taehyun. he laughed a little, “what are you doing?” you smiled, pushing it towards him more. “will you be my valentine?”

taehyun took the letter and opened it, like he did so many times before that he could read every word by heart. tell you where each spec of glitter resided on the pink paper. he read over the letter one more time, mock surprise and shock on his face. “i like you too, of course i’ll be your valentine.” he pulled you in for a gentle kiss, smiling against your lips as you giggled.

“will you be my girlfriend?” taehyun asked once you pulled away. your smile widened, “i don’t know… maybe you’ll have to ask me over and over and over for me to decide.” he playfully rolled his eyes at your teasing. “i’ve liked you since the beginning, you know. you didn’t think i didn’t notice you staring at me in class? sitting just in the right seat so i’m always in your view?” you face heated tremendously and taehyun laughed as his thumbs brushed over your warm cheeks. “you didn’t notice that we were always in at least one class together? how no matter where one of us sat, we could still see each other?”

you pressed your lips to his to shut him up, not needing any more embarrassment. “i’ll be your girlfriend,” you chuckled as you pulled away. “it’s already bad enough you remember the early loops—god, i’ll never live that embarrassment down!”

“it was cute to see how much you liked me! i only rejected you because i had to focus on saving kai. if we weren’t in that stupid time loop we would’ve been together ages ago!” taehyun said, causing you to smile warmly at him. you laid your head on his shoulder and he laid his head on top of yours. “you know, at the campfire party, i was gonna ask you out but you spoke before i could and the loop restarted before i could say anything.”

you pulled away and whipped your head to face him, “what?” you urged him to explain himself. laughing, taehyun said, “yeah! when the letter magically flew into my hands? i had came up to you to ask you out but you assumed i was there to reject you again, which i mean, i don’t blame you for…” you looked at him in shock.

shoving taehyun lightly, you gasped in disbelief before pulling him towards you into a kiss. the door to his dorm jiggled dramatically, causing you both to pull away with a laugh. chaewon and hueningkai came into the room with shielded eyes. “you both decent?” chaewon asked. you just shook your head at them which chuckling, “we weren’t doing anything, assholes.” they uncovered their eyes and stepped further into the room, closing the door.

they sat down in front of you, giving each other a look and then high-fiving. you raised an eyebrow at them. “finally the two of you got together! chaewon and i were talking and it’s ridiculous how you both didn’t see how much you liked each other,” hueningkai said. you looked over to taehyun to see him roll his eyes, a small smile on his face.

the four of you stayed in the dorms for the rest of the day, hanging out and chatting together. you were happy you were getting to know them better, even if you did slightly freak them out with information they technically never told you about.

you were all leaned over chaewon’s phone, five minutes until midnight. taehyun’s eyes were on kai like a hawk and you could tell kai was nervous too by the way he kept fidgeting with the string on his pajama pants. “deep breaths everyone, everything is gonna be okay,” you said encouragingly. inhales we’re heard around the circle and the tension started to lift a little.

“ten seconds,” chaewon announced. you all watched as the numbers climbed to midnight, and then to 12:01 and 12:02 and all the way to 12:05am. taehyun let out a long sigh of relief, closing his eyes briefly. “thank god, i’m starving!” kai said. you and chaewon jumped to your feet in excitement. “we fucking did it!” you shouted in celebration, pulling the two boys up to join you. you pulled the polaroid camera from out your bag and snapped a picture of the four of you, needing to cement this occasion forever.

“finally, february fifteenth, i could kiss the ground you walk on!” taehyun murmured, pulling you all into one big hug. you held onto them all. you had all made it, together. you tightened your grip on them, and you were never letting go.

taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @hueningm1ckey @dani-is-tired @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie

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vampyresovereign · 3 months

Note

pooka..pooka..!!! do Leona dating HEADCANONS!

*rubs your feet*

your wish is my command pooka doodle... -isa<3

DATING LEONA KINGSCHOLAR HEADCANONS

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Quick Synopsis: just a bunch of general headcanons of what leona would be like in a relationship + little drabbles in between Tags: Use of Y/N, use of "herbivore" nickname, reader is not Yuu, no specific physical description of reader, reader is a Night Raven student

HOW YOU TWO WOULD MEET

From the way the books/vignettes portray him, I'm going to be real and say I see Leona as an introvert, maybe go as far to say he's kind of a shut in. OBVIOUSLY not as much as Idia, but he doesn't really strike me as someone who would be actively looking for love like that (at first.) definitely not the type to do the cliche "locking eyes with object of affection for the first time and just falling head over heels" shtick. to me, it seems like he's just tuning everything out until he eventually graduates, which is why for you to be even considered, you'd have to be a constant, like someone he's always getting partnered with in classes or a mutual friend. sorry guys.. no hallway crushes here.

In all honesty, you were less than ecstatic when Crewel had decided to partner you with your fellow classmate, Leona Kingscholar.

He had never done anything to you personally to give you a negative impression of him, but it was just his demeanor and how he carried himself around the general public. Not speaking in class, you could barely recall his voice, and constantly maintaining that annoyed scowl.. When he was awake.

Did you mention that he had no shame about sleeping in class?

He just.. intimidated you. When it was about time to shift to your station with Leona, you grabbed your things and awkwardly sat down in the chair next to him. He was leaning back on the chair, eyes closed, ears twitching slightly to let you know he sensed your presence.

Whatever little assignment you two had to do would last a week at most, maybe even shorter than that, so Leona was under the impression he wouldn't have to care about you that much.

Little did he know.

CONFESSION HEADCANONS

One thing about Leona is that the man has a TRUCKLOAD of pride inside of him. Though, he's not stupid. He watched Falena fall in love with his future wife, he's seen old friends get into relationships. He is no stranger to love. When he realizes he has feelings for you, his first instinct would be to gaslight himself and try to deny it, especially if you were someone smaller or more sensitive than him. He didn't come to Night Raven to fall in love, especially with someone like you. If anything, it should be the other way around (haaah.) It wasn't even his choice to be on campus to begin with. However, the more he thinks about it, the more he tries to ignore it whilst spending time with you, the more unbearable it becomes to keep his feelings bottled up. The first person he confides in is Ruggie, but not with a direct approach. He'd ask him little one off questions, like "What would you do if _______" or "If you had a partner would ________." Ruggie would most definitely be confused at first, wondering why Leona, who was never once interested in romance was suddenly asking for his opinions on the topic, but Ruggie is smart. He'd see you two hanging out frequently, put the pieces together, and absolutely bombard Leona with questions and jokes. Essentially, Ruggie suggests that the only solution to this "annoyance" as Leona puts it, is for him to grow some balls and tell you how he feels himself. That has Leona grumbling. Expressing your feelings means being vulnerable with someone, something Leona would not be caught dead doing. This isn't fair, where did all his confidence go? If he looked at you any longer, he guessed he going to go into cardiac arrest from the way his heart pounded in his ribcage, like a ticking time-bomb.

"Hey, is everything okay? You said you wanted to talk," You exclaimed.

Leona scratched his head, avoiding eye contact for a few seconds before focusing back on you and your concerned expression. This was embarrassing. There were worse things he hadn't hesitated to say to other people before, but asking you out was of course the thing that had him fumbling like an idiot.

"So.. Remember that movie trailer you kept yappin' about?"

"Of course I do, I've wanted to see it for a while."

"Well, you're in luck. I bought us tickets to go see it Friday night, if you want."

Your lips curled into a small smile, and you began to look genuinely excited. "Really? That's actually so cool of you!"

"Mhm. But by us, I mean just us."

You raised an eyebrow. "...Are you asking me out?"

A light red tint painted his cheeks, indicating to you that you had absolutely hit the nail on his intentions.

"Herbivore, do you want to or not?" He quipped, suddenly getting defensive.

"Alright, alright, sure. It's a date."

ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

After that little movie date, it didn't have to be said, but both of you knew that the feeling was mutual. It wouldn't take long for Leona to start referring to you as his partner, and vice-versa. He wouldn't act much differently than he did when you two were "just friends," but he'd definitely be more territorial, teasing, and affectionate in public. I imagine him to be kind of annoying too, walking up to you with your friends and greeting you by saying some shit like "WSG LIL BRO!" and then proceeding to headlock + give you a noogie in front of them. 😭😭 now.. where did all this sudden energy come from? A few months ago, Ruggie remembered Leona never wanting to get out of bed, avoiding classwork and avoiding people in general if he didn't have to talk to them. But when the two of you start dating, he starts to care a lot more about things he considered insignificant. He suddenly starts to notice how frizzy his hair gets over the course of the day, and brushes it periodically so he'll look good when he meets you after your classes. He puts on a nicer smelling cologne. He starts to take notice of his spending habits. Yeah sure, he's a prince, he got mad money, but at the same time, the numbers are starting to go down because he bought you flowers, expensive jewelry, and more clothes all in one week. He also makes an effort to get to know your friends and interests. It's not like he didn't care much before, but he really likes to listen to your voice and hear you talk. He could do it for hours, falling asleep to it and waking up to it. Speaking of falling asleep, yes cuddling is involved in this relationship. He's lowkey a bad influence. You've gotten in trouble multiple times because you've asked to use the bathroom, using the hall pass as an excuse to roam around in the botanical gardens until you find him. He ALWAYS convinces you to stay with him and take a nap, resulting in you oversleeping and getting detention. But it's aight. Y'all are in detention together. In conclusion, mans is head over heels for you. Screw his head for this sudden vulnerability, and screw you for keeping him around, making him fall deeper everyday.

DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO GET THE FUCKING WEIRD SMALL TEXT WITH RANDOM BIG LETTERS GLITCH OFF IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT BUT ITS PISSING ME OFF -isa<3

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar headcanons #ts is NOT proofread ngl

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orchidyoonkook · 2 months

Text

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 7

Title: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel flies home, Yuri flies back, Jungkook can't stop thinking about the other night. And you? Gods, don't even get me started.

Warnings: T, language, fluff (?), angst, reader is ~not~ okay for a chunk of this, bye bye Nel! it was nice to meet you, Yuri being the bestie she is, playful antagonism, JK thinking a lot, some photography technical words but nothing scary, reader is painting again, shocker.

Word Count: 4,463

Release Date: July 9, 2024. 2:00PM

A/N 1: Hi this was supposed to be released like a month and a half ago but then i went to europe and my brain was anywhere but near electronics. Anywhooo here she is, as always thanks for waiting and I'll try to be more consistent now that post vacation depression has kicked in.

Sometimes life works out incredibly conveniently for you, like when Nel’s flight leaves a half hour before Yuri’s gets in at the same airport.

But then it sucks again as your week with Nel flies by so quickly it feels like you’ve had no time at all while also having so much because of all the new memories you’ve both made.

Currently in a rideshare and airport bound, because you will be in no way okay to drive back, your grip on Nel’s hand is strangling as you take in every last second of time you can get with him. He keeps giving kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, mouth; anywhere he can get access to really.

He doesn't want this week to end just as much as you don’t. Fuck this fucking sucks so much.

The driver pulls up to the terminal drop off, and you both exit. Nel grabs his bag from the trunk, now filled with little mementos from your week as well as his clothes. A pressed flower from the greenhouse, museum postcards, a doodle you did for him while he was sketching, and more, all tucked away for safekeeping. All the only physical things he can hold onto until he sees you next.

Walking into the airport, you make your way up to the check in desk, paperwork already in hand. Nel checks in and you request an escort pass, determined to spend every last moment together.

There’s a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying to swallow. It’s thick, like a ball of unending peanut butter you can’t get down. And your chest feels like a black hole has opened inside of it, right where your heart is supposed to be. Every second that ticks away allowing another drop of the warmth you have with him to be sucked right out of your sternum.

Painful doesn’t even begin to describe this feeling.

As beautiful as your week was, the reality of the present is setting in, and the closer you get to his gate, the closer you are to tears. You’re trying your best to blink them away, but you won’t be seeing him until winter break, and even then, that’ll only be for a day or two at most before you have to wait till summer to see him again. So it might as well be goodbye for those full 6 months.

It hurts. It hurts so bad to have to go through this over and over again, to have this separation from the one you love, even if it’s only temporary. Funny how temporary can sometimes feel like forever when you’re in the middle of it.

Funny how the concept of temporary doesn’t make the gash in your heart open any less.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he has too. The faster he goes, the faster he can come back to you.

You hate that he has to go in the first place. You just want him to stay. Please, just stay.

But he can’t.

You reach his gate and before you know it, his flight’s being called to board and your tears refuse to stay inside any longer, the lump succeeding in its plot of victory. They spill down your cheeks in silent rivers, wet splotches on the neckline of your shirt forming as they flow.

Maybe they’ll create a little lake in the hole he’s leaving you with. There’s certainly enough of them to fill it. Something to fill the void a little until you can see him again.

Nel takes one look before scooping you into a crushing hug, a desperate echo of the one from a week ago. His own tears now staining.

“I love you so much,” he says. You don’t see his eyes squeeze shut, nor do you see him memorizing your smell, as he kisses the top of your head. And his voice wobbles as he whispers, “It’s not forever, it’s just for now.”

He says those words every time you two part, whether it was for a day or a year. Never goodbye or so long. Never see you later.

They’ve always been a small comfort in otherwise shitty situations.

“Just for now,” you get out through quiet sobs, gripping onto him even tighter as you shake.

It takes you a couple deep breaths before you can say anything without breaking. “I love you too. Please be safe, message me when you land, and do well on your final exams.”

He smiles at that last bit, and your tears free themselves again. You’re going to miss seeing that smile in person.

Nel pulls you in once more, tighter. “It’s always harder when my good luck charm is halfway across the world, but I’ll manage.” Your sobs stutter with a broken laugh, and you’re pretty sure his sweater is going to have tear stains on it. “I promise I’ll message as soon as I can. And I’d wish you luck but you never need it. You always do well.”

The announcement for final boarding calls and both of you freeze in each other's arms. You don’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to go.

But he has too.

You separate only enough to kiss. It’s messy and wet and gross, but you don’t care. It’s the last one you’ll have for a while and you never want it to end.

But it does.

Nel pulls away, and you reluctantly let him. He grabs his bag with one hand, the other holding onto both of yours as he backs away until he can no longer reach. Your arms drop to your sides with the traces of his warmth on your skin.

You watch as the boarding crew welcomes him on, and he takes one look back at you.

You wave, mouthing ‘I love you.’

He mouths ‘I love you’ right back, and turns the corner.

You waited for Yuri at her terminal after dropping off Nel and taking five—okay ten—minutes to violently sob in the bathroom.

She took one look at your half smile and puffy eyes and smothered you in a hug. Smelling like sunshine and ocean water, it was exactly what you needed.

“It’s okay Sweets, you’ll see him again before you know it. This year will pass by so fast, just you see,” she tells you through your whimpers, the tears having returned the second her arms were around you.

They dry sometime on the way home. It was a thirty minute ride back to school, and they fell silently for a solid twenty before you even got in.

You hate goodbyes.

But Yuri’s seen this three times now, and she always knew that a warm drink and junk food were in your immediate shared futures when she did. Screw healthy coping methods. It may be 9:30pm on a Sunday night, but that won’t stop you from downing a pint as you drown your sorrows in sweet, sweet cookies n cream.

Yuri also knows you need a distraction, so she doesn’t hold back on telling you every detail of her vacation.

The duke from a few weeks ago had been a dud. ‘Shit personality and even shittier sex’ according to Yuri. No consultation needed.

But this new guy from the Ilcalos Islands sounds promising. He’s a Count of something she can’t remember but in her words, “big heart and even bigger dick.”

That makes you giggle. And you’re happy for her.

“Bitch, the second night he did this thing with his tongue and an ice cube and oh. my. god. I think I’m in love. That man could do whatever he wanted to me and I’d still say thank you afterwards,” she’s rambling at this point and you’re mentally apologizing to the driver for having to hear all of it.

You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all; gladly welcome it actually. You want your mind anywhere other than the present right now.

You don’t want to start crying all over again. By the morning you’ll be fine, you’ll have let out everything you needed too. But between then and now, it’s a matter of mentioning the wrong words or seeing an intriguingly designed building that could trigger those pesky tear ducts.

So you listen to Yuri go on and on about this guy, all his techniques and what she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since she last saw him. His number is already saved in her phone under a very inappropriate name, but you expect nothing less from her.

You love her for it. For this.

For knowing what you need to stay afloat right now and not allowing you to throw the anchor overboard with your leg chained to the end.

You really fucking hate goodbyes.

You’re staring at him.

Like, full on, no bars held, staring at him.

And Jungkook’s pretending he doesn’t notice.

You’re sitting in your chair and he’s back in his beside you at greenhouse cafe. Your half done painting of pink flowers sits in front of you, his laptop screen’s filled with this week's newly assigned ‘Studio Portrait Techniques 1’ homework.

His half finished coffee on his table. An empty pastry bag on yours.

His hands on his keyboard, yours gripping a brush.

And you’re staring at him.

He’s hoping it’s because this is the first time you’ve seen him since Nel left.

But it’s probably to do with the fact that he hasn’t looked at you once today. Or the fact that he’s barely spoken at all when he usually can’t seem to shut up when it’s been more than 48 hours since he last saw you.

Because it’s also the first time he’s seen you since he was with Adaline, imaging she wasn’t Adaline.

“You’re acting weird,” you say.

“No I’m not,” he responds a little too quickly, eyes still focused on his computer.

Yes he is. He really, totally is.

“Yes you are, you won't look at me and you’ve barely said two words since I got here.” Well your knack for observancy is still intact.

Normally that's a good thing, but right now?

“Did I do something wrong?”

No. No you didn’t.

He did.

He let his emotions get the best of him in a moment of weakness. He let himself become so overwhelmed with feelings he isn’t allowed to have. He let them win for a single night.

And now if he isn’t paying the goddamned consequences.

After that night with Adaline, Jungkook had woken up filled with regret. He’d crossed a line he didn’t even know he should have drawn in very dark, very permanent ink.

For letting himself, just for one moment, imagine what it would be like to be with…

And things are harder than ever to shove down now. He can’t look even look at you without thinking about it. About what he did. What he wanted.

Wants.

Fuck, he’s in over his head.

Jungkook forces himself to look at you, putting his years of social training and emotional masking to good use. It sure as hell came in handy during times like this.

Because you can never know.

He can’t lose you because he's unable to get his shit together. It’s not your fault he feels like this.

So he lies. Both to you and to himself, hoping it might help him believe it.

“Nothing’s wrong Dali, just focused on my work is all. We got assigned a big project on Monday and I’m planning out all my shoots.”

You look hesitant, like you can see right through his bullshit excuse that was only a half excuse because this project is massive.

“If you say so,” your tone implying you don’t believe him, but thankfully, you let it go and lean closer to him to see. He pretends his breathing doesn’t hitch, “What’s the project?”

“It’s my final assignment for a class, I have to do a series of five portraits. Each one with a different style, capturing a different emotion, and they all have to be of the same subject to show the true versatility of my work. It’s easy to make things look different when it’s different people being photographed,” he explains.

Therefore, this assignment, and all of its working parts, is huge. He’s glad it’s due in the middle of December because it’s going to take him almost a month of planning to get it all together; backdrops, concepts, costumes, previsualization, focal lengths, props, equipment, lighting setups, etc. And then when the planning is over: to shoot, narrow down and edit.

But that’s the point of it. To have the students demonstrate they know how to effectively expand on the definition of a ‘portrait’ instead of having one concept in mind and sticking to it.

‘To broaden your creative approaches to seemingly simple constructs,’ as his professor would say.

He loves the way this professor does assignments. How she layers them so that not only does he learn how to shoot multi-concept ideas for the same project type, allowing him to add to his creative portfolio, but they also force him to break out of the expected conclusions for an idea and think outside the box.

“Oh wow, that is a lot,” you say. Because you understand long running projects. 50 hour paintings don’t just happen in a day. “Do you have any ideas yet?”

“Yeah! I have them all already, actually,” he turns his computer towards you and you see a point by point list of summarized ideas.

- Bright and bold - happy, bright smile, colourful gels - Black and white, soft light: gel or bounce? Silk diffuser - profile with water falling on face - relieved - Focused on passion - candid, regular colour. Diffuser? Or silk flag? - Normal colour profile, stark lighting - serious, front facing body, profile facing left, no visible clothing, “regal” _|(_*-*)>_. Flag. - Mysterious - black background, white smoke, barely visible model, lower half of face painted black, upper half white, striking purple eyes (contacts?). Flags. Gels?

“I’m really excited for this project,” he says, “it’s just the prep that’s going to take a while. Getting it all mapped and planned out. It’s mostly concepts right now.”

You nod, understanding once again. Though very different mediums, visual arts and photography are similar in many ways.

“Adaline going to be your model?”

It doesn’t surprise him you think that, but he has no intentions of ever using Adaline for assignments or homework.

“Actually, I… uhh…” he trails off. Jungkook’s trying to get the words out, he is. But they’re surprisingly difficult for some reason, and getting caught in his throat.

Which makes his earlier anxious state come back in full force.

It shouldn't be this difficult. It won’t be the first, second or fifth time he’s asked you.

Get the words out Jeon. Put on your professional face, this is nothing new.

He fails, instead, his voice comes out barely above a whisper as he says, “I was going to ask you if you would.”

You somehow hear him.

“Me?” you look dumbfounded.

“Yes, you.” He’s always used you for homework assignments before, so he’s not sure why all of a sudden this is surprising. Maybe because it’s a final assignment versus a weekly one? The effort will be greater?

“But you have Adaline? I assumed that she would take up the position of model when you guys started going out.”

Oh. That makes more sense.

But that is one mistake he won’t be making again, because he did ask Adaline.

Once.

It was recent, Nel was still here and he didn’t want to disturb you because of that. Plus Jungkook was just trying to get a jump on his upcoming assignments anyway, taking a page from your book.

So he asked Adaline. And she leapt at the opportunity, like he expected.

What he didn’t expect, was when she essentially directed, staged, lit and posed every. single. shot. so that she would look her best.

All he did was click the capture image button when she said too.

And after the shoot, before he could even think to look at the pictures, Adaline was already there, holding his camera, going through them and deleting any picture she deemed ‘ugly.’

He was left with less than 20 images from the shoot where he was ordered to take over 200. And she even made him switch out one of the three he narrowed down for one she liked better.

So no, he would not be asking Adaline to model.

Ever again.

“Nah. You’re a lot easier to work with because you don't care how the pictures turn out, and let me do my thing. Adaline cares a bit too much, and has to have approval on all of them before I submit.”

You snort. “Seriously? Is she that self absorbed?” a quirked brow places itself on your face to match the smirk now on your mouth.

That’s new.

Your tone towards Adaline has always been neutral, if not a bit sharp when he talks about her.

But this one? It’s like you know her, and knew she was like that, but didn’t know it was this severe.

Adaline is very popular...maybe you two met and it didn't go well?

It certainly sounds like you don’t like her, if those six words were anything to go by. Which, he guesses they shouldn’t, but he knows you well enough by now to know the difference.

And if he’s honest, that wouldn’t shock him in the slightest. You two are nothing alike, and thank god for that.

He covers for Adaline, like any boyfriend would. Though it stings a little bit.

“She’s just careful about what images could be leaked to the press. Can’t really blame her for that.”

Your face changes minutely, as if a second of understanding passes through before you turn to go back to your painting, and mutter, “no, you can’t,” placing a splash of pink on a flower.

He returns to his work as well, switching the portrait assignment out for a different one. He needs to get his mind off it for a while before circling back.

And the fact that you didn’t answer him.

Deciding on a Design and Visual Culture assignment due next week, he dives in head first, resuming his earlier state of focus and avoidance.

Jungkook’s editing a picture when you stretch.

You often hunch over your work, so you try to stretch every 30 minutes or so. Your arms are in the air and he catches a peek at the nearly finished floral study.

They’re some kind of vibrant pink dangling flowers, and you’ve captured the likeness of them quite well, to no surprise of his, so he goes to compliment it but you beat him to the punch.

“Shots blurry.”

Jungkook does a double take at his laptop screen. He’d spent the better part of 40 minutes editing the image and hadn’t noticed that.

Because it’s not. It’s perfectly crisp and clear.

When he looks back to you, you have a shit eating grin on your face.

Ah, he knows that look.

You love to tease him about little things like that, giving him mini heart attacks. ‘Pay back for that first day,’ you claim.

Well…

Two can play this game, so he plays off your comment.

“Oh, you're right. Thanks,” and he switches to another image.

Your grin falters but you recover quickly.

“No problem.”

See, while you know how to playfully harass him about his pictures, Jungkook knows how…particular you are about your colours. How they need to be labelled correctly instead of by their umbrella terms like ‘blue’ or ‘red.’ Because blue or red could mean any one of the dozens of ‘sub colours.’

‘It’s not blue, it’s cerulean,’ you’d remark.

‘That’s not red, it’s burgundy,’ you’d correct him.

You’re always correcting him, and it makes his pants tighten a little bit every time. But that’s on the other side of the line he does not cross anymore. A nice, big, fat, permanent, protective line.

Jungkook settles for a more subtle method of attack. Using this little fact and your ridiculously extensive knowledge of flowers against you.

He never thought the defense and attack lessons his father put him through would come in handy like this. But he’s glad for them now. It was the only time he could ever outsmart you.

He gestures to your canvas. “Those pink flowers are pretty, what are they called?”

“Their common name is Lady’s Eardrop. And they’re magenta.”

Hook, line, sinker.

He doesn’t even have to try, you walk right into it every time.

“Lady’s eardrop? That’s a weird name…do they come in other colours besides pink?”

You don’t look up as you reply.

“Magenta, and yeah. Some are plum and magenta, some are a buttery white and magenta, and then some have this like, almost dark tangerine hue, but they’re a different type, longer. Not the same as those,” you point with the end of your brush to the greenhouse, where the fully magenta lady’s eardrop sits in the window.

“And are these pink ones your favourite?” he’s really trying his best to keep a straight face as yours contorts with an eye twitch at every use of the word.

“They’re. Magenta. And sure, but the plum ones are pretty too.”

“Noted, the pink lady's eardrop are your favourite among eardrops.”

You break, turning to him, voice raising in minor annoyance. Jungkook bites his cheeks to keep a smile at bay.

“They are magenta. Not pink. Pink entails a lighter hue, there’s more titanium white in pink. That,” you point again, “is very clearly, magenta.”

He has to.

He can’t help it.

You’re sexy when you're assertive, he thinks. Tip toeing on that nice, big line.

But also hilarious.

“Same difference.”

He can see the fire in your eyes blaze.

“No, not ‘same difference,’ they’re magenta!”

He’s leaning in. “Pink,” eyeing your lips as you speak.

You lean in too, enunciating every syllable to prove your point. “Ma-gen-ta.”

Your noses are mere inches from touching.

“They’re pink, Van Gogh,” he backs off before he does something stupid that he’ll regret, “Don’t get so invested.”

You back off too, sass still very evident when you reply, “They’re fucking magenta, asshat. Two completely different colours and you’ll label them as such around me.”

You’ve always had a mouth on you. One you aren’t scared to use when necessary, especially around him. So he doesn’t push any farther, knowing he’s already gotten what he wanted and then some.

But also because sitting has become slightly uncomfortable. There was a stiff breeze, he tells himself.

Thank god for baggy, oversized hoodies.

Returning once again to his work, he puts an elbow on the table and places his hand on the left side of his face to hide the massive smile that’s trying its best to turn into a smothered laugh.

Unfortunately for him, he lets his Princely guard down around you and so he forgets to force it down to an uncomfortable degree like he would at the palace. His laugh slipping out as a strangled noise and he quickly turns it into a cough, hoping you don't notice.

But you do, because it’s you. Of course you do.

And the look on your face is priceless.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” he says way too high pitched. “Nooo, I would never, one hundred percent intentionally, say pink just to get back at you for pointing out the non-existent blur in my perfectly clear picture.”

He can see you trying to control your features, can see you failing and giving up by facing your canvas again, smiling to yourself.

“I was wondering how many times I could get you to say it. I think that was somewhere around ten? Gotta be a new record.”

You roll your eyes at him, but your quirked mouth remains.

“You’re such a dick,” you quip.

“Yet, you like me anyways.”

You mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Awe, c’mon now. Fess up.”

A pause, before, “I said I just remembered I don’t know your favourite colour.”

No you most certainly did not, but he’ll let it slide.

“Black.”

“Ugh, boring.”

“What?”

“Boring,” you say again with absolutely no hesitation and proceed to grace his eyes with your own. “And technically not a colour. Black’s a shade.”

Jungkook offers up a non-smothered chuckle, saving his throat from further shenanigans.

“Whatever, Seurat, it’s still black. What about you? What’s Miss High and Mighty All Knowing of Colours’ favorite?”

“It’s still a shade,” you repeat.

“It’s still my favourite. Answer the question,” he presses.

You give him an unimpressed stare.

“Violet. Royal violet. The one your dad wears a lot,” your expression softens to one of wonder as you continue. Like you didn't just refer to the King of the nation you live in as ‘his dad’ so casually. “And when it’s not that, it’s this bright yellow. Like sunflowers or daffodils. Or the colour leaves turn in the fall when the light hits them from above just right.”

It’s Jungkook's turn to stare now. You look lost in your own head, envisioning the colours you describe, seeing them dancing in your eyes. And he can’t help himself, you glow when you speak about something you're passionate about.

“Why two?”

“Why not?” you answer, still dreaming, colours swimming in oceans of thought. Your voice is almost whimsical. “Don’t you get bored of one colour for too long? It’s nice to switch things up every now and then.”

His reply brings you back down to earth, albeit slowly.

“Red.”

“Hmm?” you touch ground.

“If you won’t accept black, then red. The rich dark one, like blood.” He chose the first colour that came into mind, not really caring which one.

He did like red. Red looked good in many ways. On cars, clothes, lips...

But he chose the first one that popped into mind because after hearing your favourite colours and the reasons why, he started to like them more than all the others too.

“Red’s a great choice, strong,” you say, allowing him the blanket term just this once.

“Thanks.”

There’s a moment of comfortable quiet between you before you break it.

“When do you need me for the shoot?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows find his hairline.

That was a yes, right? You’re saying yes?

“Uhm…soon, I’ll let you know the specifics when I do.”

“Sounds good.”

He was going to leave it at that, but adds, “Thanks, Y/N.”

He hasn’t said your name since the assembly.

Always nicknames when talking to you. Always.

Never your name.

Not once in two months. Almost three.

You—

An inhale.

You…like it.

The way it sounds coming from his lips.

Exhale.

Chapter Eight: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

A/N 2: She's shorter but chapter 8 is like 11k so far, so I hope that makes up for it!

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 6 months

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twelve of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K (I got really carried away)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ just in case. References to sex, Implied Sex, Heavy Making Out (not really explicit, but also not real un-detailed…), Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soft Soldier Boy, Angst, Fluff.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

A/N: The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

**************************************

1984

You take a sip of wine, leaning over your coffee table to pull another photo from the Rosewood box perched on the edge. It's your birthday, your 65th birthday to be exact, of course one look in the mirror revealed that you barely looked over 30. To some women that might be a welcome thought, but given your current situation it wasn't.

It marked the fourth year since you told Ben that you were unhappy on Payback and as a supe, told him that you wanted a normal life, and four years after you'd let him talk you into staying. But this was the year. You were going to tell him that you were done, that you were moving on and getting out.

Unfortunately the only person you had to convince about letting go was yourself, because leaving meant giving up Ben. And you weren't sure that was something you could do. You were having a hard time convincing your heart to let go of him or rather the old version of him, that only made it's appearance when it was the two of you. The memories that tied you to Ben were tight and difficult to unravel. You couldn't imagine your life without him, couldn’t see past this moment in your life.

But that's why you had to go. You knew you were in too deep. Fantasizing about a relationship with someone who would never love you the same way you loved them, hoping in something that would never happen. And you needed to let him go, whether it be the new version of him or the boy you used to know, you needed to let Ben go.

The Rosewood box was filled with photos, old doodles, memories, and objects from your past. Usually it was stored under your bed, but tonight you had dragged it out into the living room to reminisce on your birthday. It was a tradition you started a few years ago as a way of remembering the past. Sometimes it was a welcome distraction from the way things were now and tonight you were letting it be a last supper of sorts, to indulge in the memories Ben and you had shared over the years before you told him that you were leaving.

You had no idea where you were going, but the thought excited you a little bit. Finally striking out on your own for the first time, doing something for yourself for once, it felt right.

Leaving Ben was the only thing that felt wrong. You wanted him to come with you, for him to choose you the way that you chose him that night, but you knew he wouldn't. He liked this life too much to let it go, he thrived in the spotlight, embraced everything about being a supe that you hated, and so you would let him go.

You look down at the strip of paper in your hand. It was a collection of photos from a photo booth, yellowed with age, but lined up one by one from the first baseball game Ben ever took you to, one of your favorite memories from your childhood. You were wearing the ridiculous pinstriped hat and Ben looked as handsome as he always did, smiling wide with his dark hair hanging in his face. It was hard to look at it now, hard to look at Ben and you when you were so young, and you didn't know where your lives were going to go.

Your eyes drift to the velvet case pressed into the corner of the wooden box. You had kept the ring that Howard got you, well, technically you had tried to give it back but he refused, begging you to reconsider.

Sometimes you thought about throwing it away. It was ugly, but it was a reminder. Not a reminder of Howard, you could barely remember what he looked like, but it was a reminder of the night Ben asked you to come with him. You could remember the earnest look in his eyes, how he cupped your face, and the promise he made to you. The future he promised had been filled with so much possibility, but you weren’t sure anymore. You think about the years you'd spent together and how leaving felt like the end of an era.

But it was necessary, breaking away from all of this would be good. Yes you would miss Ben, but you needed to move on. You knew that deep down. Because you wanted something more than all of this, and the night Ben asked you to come with him you thought he could give it to you, but after all these years you understood that he couldn’t and that he didn’t want to.

Someone knocks loudly on your door.

“One second.” You take the last sip of wine before standing and crossing the room to open the door. “Hey what are you doing here?”

Ben is standing in the hallway outside your apartment, looking handsome as always. He's wearing a tailored dark suit with a black tie, his hair is combed back from his face, dark stubble graces his rugged jaw and a wide smile pulls up at the ends of his lips that makes it very hard to focus on anything else. “Happy Birthday Sweetheart.”

“I’ve had too many birthdays.” You laugh and wave a hand to brush it off. “What are you doing here, I thought you had an interview about the premiere tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night was the premiere of the third and final installment of Anti-Communist films that Ben was currently staring in. The first two had been utterly ridiculous and you knew that the one tomorrow would be just as pointless. Which you knew for a fact, because one day Ben asked you to meet him on set and you saw a scene he was filming, not to mention one time he tried to get you to run lines with him and you told him you'd rather drop dead than read Countess' lines, who took the co-star role when you refused. Ben’s offer of the co-starring role to you had been his way of appeasing you after you told him you were unhappy. When you refused, Countess had been more than willing to slide into it. Who was still trying her upmost to get into Ben's pants, but he still completely ignored her, which gave you an unmeasurable amount of joy.

“I told them that I couldn’t miss my girl's birthday.” Ben smiles wider. “Plus I’d much rather spend tonight with you than those fucking vultures and I’ve never missed your birthday.”

Instead of the words "my girl" filling you with happiness as they had the first night Ben said it in the dancehall, they only make you frustrated. He had called you that several times over the years you'd been friends and each time it made you more and more angry. You were tired of it. Tired of Ben acting like Ben only when it was the two of you. Tired of Ben acting like he cared and like he wanted to be more than friends only to crush you the next day. Tired that he called you “my girl” and then did nothing that meant more than friends. You loved him more than you’d loved anyone ever, took care of him, did everything you could for him, and each time when he didn’t acknowledge it, you felt like you weren’t enough. It made you feel like a kid again when you tried your upmost to please your mother only to have her be disappointed in you each time.

“That’s sweet.” Anger and frustration burns in the back of your throat, but you push it down with a tight lipped smile.

“And I got us reservations, so go get dressed.”

"What?"

"I got reservations. Come on." Ben makes a gesture with his hand.

“Oh I’m okay, I was just going to-“ You motion back at the bottle of wine, the couch, and the box of photos.

“No. I’m not going to let you sit here on your birthday. Come on. Let’s go.” Ben takes your arm and turns you around gently pushing you towards the small hallway that leads back to your bedroom with his hand on the small of your back.

You brace yourself for the warmth that follows with the brush of his fingers against you, but each time you're unprepared for how it makes you feel when he touches you.

“But I don’t have anything to wear! And if you do have a reservation, how much time do I have?” You argue, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid dinner.

As much as you wanted to go, you didn't want to sit there and pretend to be happy. You were tired of doing that, but then you raise your head to look Ben in the eye.

He's smiling down at you the same way he always has, looking like the boy who climbed in your window after flunking out of boarding school to bring you paint and your resolve wavers. You hated saying no to him.

Damn it.

“By the time you stop making excuses it will be time to go. And as sexy as those pajamas are, you can’t wear them to a restaurant.” Ben teases, tugging on the bottom oversized paint-splattered shirt you were wearing

“Fine.” You grumble, cheeks flushing bright red as you snatch the shirt from his hand. “Give me ten minutes.”

**************************************

"Shut up." Ben laughs from across the table at you. "Your mother loved me!"

His laughter is contagious, making your own release from your lips and ease the tension you are holding in your chest.

The Italian restaurant is small and filled with the soft lit of music from the band in the corner, the rich aromatic smell of food, and has the calming atmosphere of a intimate bar. When Ben parked out front, you were surprised. He usually liked the restaurants on page 6 where other heroes would be found eating and places where he could be photographed for the news, but this place was different, it was almost, special. And the way Ben was acting was unusual.

He'd walked around the car after he parked and took your hand in his, to lead you down the steps to the front door where a hostess had asked for his name. Ben had used his real name rather than Soldier Boy for a reservation and when you walked out of your bedroom wearing the dress you found at the back of your closet that you had for emergencies, you swore you saw his eyes darken as they trailed across your body making your breath catch in your chest. It was odd. Ben had taken you out for your birthday before, but tonight seemed to be filled with a palpable tension and electricity that you couldn’t place.

Then again, you were probably imagining it like always.

The restaurant was perfect, it made you forget about being a supe and the glamorous lifestyle that Ben indulged in and allowed you to pretend that you were normal. However, while you sat there together, you tried not to think about what you were going to have to tell him eventually, that you were leaving. He would ask for an answer why and you’d try to tell him the same thing you told him four years ago while avoiding screaming “because I love you, you fucking idiot” at the top of your lungs.

But it was difficult to find a way to tell him, not when he had a soft smile on his face and every few minutes Ben would find some reason to touch you. So you allowed yourself to indulge in this, to have this last wonderful memory together before you have to tell him. And in doing so, you let yourself forget being a supe, forget everything else but Ben and you in this moment.

"Oh sure, you were her favorite." You snort into your wineglass. "She put a crucifix up over my window to keep you out. Every time you went to a new boarding school, she prayed in the living room with a rosary to God begging him to keep you far from me and she cried whenever you came back. Not to mention when you got me thrown out of boarding school she forbade me from seeing you-"

"But you couldn’t stay away." Ben sing-songs with a grin before taking a sip from his glass. "And your roommate was a fucking snitch."

"She was." You smile down at the table. "I also think she was a little jealous." You lean back in your chair, holding the wineglass in your right hand.

"Oh and why is that?" Ben's smirk widens.

"Don't make me say it-" Your eyes roll.

"Oh I want to hear you admit it." He leans towards you across the table, eyes shining with a mischievous glint that makes it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Not going to happen.” You look around the room to distract yourself with the other couples.

All the tables around you were full of people sharing stories, holding hands, brushing feet under the table and for the first time you weren't jealous of their love. The couple next to you was practically breathing the same air, leaning towards each other with sappy looks in their eyes. You were happy for them, allowed yourself to be filled with compassion at their happiness. You remember what you said to Ben four years ago, about wanting to have someone to come home to, someone who loved you and then remember the night at the dancehall watching the elderly couple dance under the twinkling lights holding each other close and gazing deeply into one another's eyes.

You wanted someone to look at you like that, wanted someone to share you life with. You wanted that so badly, that in this moment you knew that you were making the right decision leaving because you would be closer to getting it, because the man across the table from you might be your best friend and have your heart, but he didn’t want to be more. And as much as it hurt to leave the only man you’d ever loved, you knew it was the right thing.

Ben taps his index finger on your left hand where it rests on the table between you, drawing your eyes back to his. "Did I lose you Doll?"

"Hmm? No sorry. I was-" You smile at him. "Distracted. What were you asking?"

Ben's gaze shifts to the couple sitting to your right, the one you were watching a second ago, who are holding hands on top of the table. The man says something that makes his date laugh and lean towards him to grasp his other hand. The way he smiles at his date makes you smile. Ben's eyes slide back to yours and an odd look flashes through them that you can't identify.

"You know what I was asking." His index finger begins to brush over your knuckles in a smooth circular motion. Warmth trails with his touch, sending goosebumps dancing up your left arm.

Shock buzzes at the back of your mind, you didn't understand why he was doing that, Ben had barely had anything to drink tonight, in fact that was his first and only Whiskey. Not to mention when he showed up at your door he seemed more sober than usual. He didn't smell like reefer. So for him to touch you this much was unusual, especially when he wasn't drunk or high.

“Come on Sweetheart.” He smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

"Fine. Pearl thought you were devilishly handsome and was upset that I danced with you when I had Howard-"

"Don't mention that pussy." Ben’s smirk drops into a frown and he stops moving his finger against the back of your hand.

"I don't understand why you were so jealous of him." You try not to think about how much you wish he would start moving his finger again.

"I was not jealous of that idiot." Ben rolls his eyes.

"Uh-huh. After all these years, you still can't admit it." You tease him taking another sip of wine. It was giving you a pleasant buzz that made you feel just a little bit warm and bold enough to make you brush your thumb against his where his hand sits only a few millimeters from yours.

If he was touching you, you thought that maybe it would be okay for you to touch him, maybe it was okay to pretend that he wanted to hold your hand as much as you wanted to hold his, like the couple next to you were.

"I will if you admit you were jealous of Missy Callahan." Ben's eyes trail down to your thumb before looking back up at you, waiting for your answer.

"I was not-"

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can hear your heartbeat Doll.”

“Just as I can hear yours Darling.” You smile back at him.

“Y/n.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous smile. "Fine, I will admit that was a little jealous of her, but she was awful. She was dumb as a rock and she was the most terrible gossip-"

"I knew it." Ben smirks.

You sit there in silence for a minute gazing at Ben, your eyebrow raised. "I'm waiting."

"Oh I'm not going to admit that I was jealous of Howard. I just wanted to hear you say the thing about Missy." Ben laughs, beginning to run his index finger against the back of your hand again. His eyes on yours, as if he's gauging your reaction.

"Bastard." You roll your eyes at him. "Did I tell you that I saw Howard?"

"What?" Ben looks surprised.

"Yeah, when I went to my brother's-" You clear your throat remembering when you saw Howard four years ago. You don’t know why he went to your brother’s funeral, but he was there, gray hair slicked back staring at you open mouthed. The last time you'd seen him was the day after he proposed, when you tried to give him back the ring and he refused, stating that he wanted you to keep it, to think about it. He never got over the break up, never dating anyone else, never married. It had been an awkward reunion, especially since he kept trying to corner you, but you evaded him expertly through the crowd. You weren't interested in making awkward small-talk about the past forty years.

Ben's hand finally slips into yours, intwining your fingers together because he understands what you’re about to say. "I'm sorry I didn't go with you, I should have."

It was weird that Ben wasn’t with you, but it was also weird because you tried to comfort your sister in law and her son and his family, but it felt forced. Ben was the only person who understood what it was like for everyone to age around you while you stayed the same. Standing there to celebrate the life of your brother while you, yourself couldn't die completely or even age felt awkward. You found yourself longing for Ben when you were away, wishing that he was there to hold your hand or try to deflect some of the awkward conversations, none of which were focused on your brother and were all about you being a supe. You hated how much you depended on him.

After the funeral you had stayed in Philadelphia an extra week to help your family and when Ben called to see how you were you broke down on the phone. Ben had showed up within the next hour at your hotel and sat with you while you cried. It was one of your favorite memories, because Ben held you gently against him, whispering "It's okay Sweetheart, I've got you" while you pressed your face into his shirt, letting the smell of whiskey and his cologne soak into your skin. It was so unlike him and it made you believe that Ben wanted more, but then he never acknowledged it, like always.

"Ben it's okay, you were there when it mattered. And you went to both of my parent's funerals. Surprising because my mother would have hated that you were there. Always said you were going to ruin my life." You meant for it to be a joke, but the look in Ben's eyes shifts to something more vulnerable for a millisecond before it hardens again.

"Did I?" He asks quietly. Ben looks down at where he was holding your hand, his thumb beginning to move over the smooth skin on the back.

The question catches you off guard. It was the very question that you had been considering the past few days before you finally decided to leave all of this and your best friend. But the truth was you didn't believe that Ben ruined your life, you blamed yourself, blamed yourself for loving your best friend, blamed yourself for loving someone who didn’t love you the same way.

And it wasn’t that you hated your life, it was different than what you would have planned for yourself, but you liked parts of it. Not to mention you would have hated it more if you had said no to Ben and married Howard. If anything, Ben had saved you and you were thankful for that.

Of course the way he's looking at you and holding your hand is making it difficult for you to consider leaving. It seemed like every time you tried, Ben would do something like this- take you out to dinner or act like he wanted you and only you, and then you would reconsider. Four years ago it had been him holding you after your brother’s funeral and now it was this.

"Ben." You sigh, squeezing his hand and putting as much love into your gaze as you can. "No. You didn't. If anything you freed me. I didn't want to be with Howard and I was too afraid to say it until you asked me to come with you.”

“He could have given you a life though. You said that’s what you wanted.” For a second you think you see Ben’s eyes flick to the couple on your right with his words.

Your mind stutters to a halt in surprise. He remembered what we talked about four years ago? After he almost killed Noir?

“Um-" You clear your throat to recover. "And if you remember that conversation, you should also remember I said I didn’t want that life with Howard.”

“Yes, but you said you wanted to marry someone.” The ends of his lip twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Still waiting on that wedding invite.” His thumb is stroking long smooth patterns on the back of your hand, making your throat tight and making it impossible to think.

“I’m sure you’ll get it any day now. Legend is happy that I finally said yes.”

“I should have known. Y’all looked pretty cozy at that party two weeks ago.” Ben laughs. “So if you’re engaged to him, does that mean you don’t want your birthday present?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, I’m too old for birthdays.”

“Then why did you come out with me?”

“Oh I’m just going to write this off as old friends having dinner. That or a kidnapping. You practically dragged me to the car.”

“Be thankful I let you change.” Ben replies.

“I don’t know, I think I would have really made a statement with my paint splattered shirt and sweatpants."

You’d chosen the dress you were wearing at random. It was a dark green, the same color as Ben’s supe suit, off your right shoulder cinched around your waist and fell elegantly to your ankles. It was one of your favorites, something you believed accentuated your body effortlessly.

"They were something. Though I think that you-" Ben pauses, dropping his eyes to where he's still holding your hand, before looking back up at you. "Um-"

"What?" You smile.

He clears his throat, a soft smile on his face. "I think you look beautiful now too."

Your next words dry up in your mouth, there's not a shred of joking or teasing in Ben's eyes. Ben had said it before, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but now there is only sincerity. And it makes your heart jolt out of rhythm.

He said too. That means that he thought I looked beautiful before when I was-

"Thank you." You flush red and squeeze his hand. "I don't think you look too bad yourself, you know, for a old man." You add that last part because you don’t know what to say when he's looking at you like that.

Ben's smile slips into a frown. "You should be nicer to me, I got you a birthday present."

“See, you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen it.”

“I thought you didn’t want it.” The mischievous glint is back in his eye.

“I could be persuaded.” You smirk.

Ben releases your hand and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a long navy blue velvet box wrapped in a thick silver bow before sliding it across the white tablecloth.

“You get me another paintbrush?” You smirk running a fingertip over the velvet top to examine it while acutely missing the feeling of his hand grasped in yours.

“Something like that.”

“Did you steal it?” You pick up the box and wave it for emphasis, remembering all the times Ben stole little things from the stores that lined Downtown Philadelphia and the box he had hidden under his bed filled with random trinkets.

You never understood why he did that. Ben's family was almost as wealthy as yours and although his father didn't approve of anything Ben was doing, he never cut him off.

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans on the table towards you, his eyes filled with excitement.

“With how much money they pay you for those ridiculous films you shouldn’t be stealing anything.”

“I’m sure if you sold your artwork instead of shoving it in the closet you’d be just as wealthy as me.”

“Yes, but my grand plan is to have you pay for everything so I can continue to use you and I can’t do that if I’m rich."

“You can use me anytime sweetheart.” Ben winks.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, but can't stop the blush that stains your cheeks at his insinuation.

Everything about tonight felt just like old times, the way he joked with you and the way you couldn't stop smiling, but at the same time, something else nagged at the back of your mind. The handholding was new, as were the compliments and deeper conversation, especially because Ben wasn't drunk or high, and yet he was being gentler than usual, almost soft. And that was something Ben never was, at least not in public.

You tried not to be frustrated with the turn of events and just enjoy the moment, but deep down you wanted to know.

Was Ben doing this because he cared? Or was he doing this because he sensed I was unhappy and that I was leaving and he thought this was the only way to keep me around?

“Come on, open it.”

“Fine.” You smile down at the box and slowly slide off the bow. “Please tell me you have photos of you trying to tie this bow. Preferably while you were wearing your supe suit.”

“I already destroyed the evidence.”

“Figures.” You sigh. “Would have been a nice birthday present.”

“I think this is better, but given the pace you’re going at I’ll still be sitting here waiting for you to open it at your next birthday.” Ben takes a drink from his glass.

“Which I won’t be celebrating.”

"Oh you're going to. I’ll make sure.”

You roll your eyes at him, before finally opening the velvet box and your next joke is forgotten as you struggle to catch your breath. You were expecting something art related. Ben always got you brushes, paints, colored pencils, and any other art supply-like gift, because he knew that you liked those things but not tonight. Because for your 65th birthday Ben decided to get you something that took your breath away.

Nestled in black velvet is a pearl necklace, elegant, beautiful, catching in the fluttering warm light of the restaurant as the band in the corner continues to play a jazzy tune that makes you remember the records your father would listen to while he smoked before bedtime.

“Ben-“ You begin to say, but you can’t finish your sentence, you're too surprised to say anything else.

Not once in all the years you’d been friends had Ben bought you jewelry. Shopping for his birthday was harder, his last one you had gotten him a pair of silver cufflinks that he was currently wearing, but each time you bought him something like that it didn't feel like you were revealing too much about how you felt and it never felt like a gift you would give someone who was more than your friend. But now, staring down at the necklace that Ben bought you feels, intimate almost romantic.

“I remembered how upset you were when you lost the one your dad got you.” Ben says slowly, his eyes on you. “I know it’s not the same one, but the lady in the store said it was the most like the ones they made when we were younger and I thought-“ He rubs the back of his neck. “Um- I thought you’d like it.”

You smile, still unable to speak, fighting the happy tears that build behind your eyes. You had lost the necklace your father got you a few months ago and you tore your entire apartment apart to find it. Ben had walked right into the middle of the chaos and found you a sobbing mess.

Your father had bought it for you on your 23rd birthday. It was your first birthday as a supe and your first one away from home. Your father had it delivered to you with a vase of fresh cut lavender, because you couldn’t go home and he couldn’t get away. It was one of the last things you had from him, besides the antique watch perched on your wrist.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” You swallow the ball of emotion lodged in your throat.

“I do listen to you.”

You look up and raise an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.” His soft smile makes you feel light headed and makes you wish all over again that you had the courage to tell Ben the three little words that you'd always wanted to.

“I don’t know what to say-“

“Too much? Because I can take it back and buy you a paintbrush-“ Ben starts to reach for the box, but you catch his hand against the table tangling your fingertips together.

“No. It's perfect. Thank you Ben.”

He looks relieved by your answer. “You’re welcome.”

The soft sounds of conversation swell around you mixing with the tinkling of utensils against plates and the music that pours from the band in the corner where a singer dressed in a long red sequined gown sings a familiar song. But you can't stop admiring the necklace nestled in the fabric, your hand still clasped in Ben's on top of the table.

Ben finally breaks the silence. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”

You blink for a minute to comprehend what he was asking, raising your eyes to his genuine smile. "Please.”

Ben stands from his chair and comes around behind you as you gently twist your hair out of the way, so he has access to your neck. His rough fingertips brush against the smooth skin of your neck sending a shiver down your spine that you hope Ben misses because how would you explain that? When he secures it at the back of your neck you look down at the pearls, holding them between your thumb and forefinger.

"They're beautiful." You whisper, before looking back up at him.

"Yes, beautiful." He responds, but Ben isn't looking at your necklace, his eyes are locked on your face.

What is going on?

"Ben-" You begin to say, attempting for the first time to ask him why he does this, acts different around you, gives you hope and then takes it all away, but he interrupts you.

"Come on." His hand falls on yours and he pulls you up out of your chair, weaving through the other tables to stand in front of the band in the corner. His right hand finds the small of your back, while his left gently holds your right in the air.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ben smiles. "We're dancing."

"No one else is dancing." You look around the room at the couples sitting quietly together enjoying their meals, who have begun to watch Ben and you sway to the music.

He leans forward to whisper into the curve of your ear. "Then let's show them how it's done Sweetheart."

You can't help but laugh at him, enjoying the way that he feels pressed against you, how it makes you feel alive in the best way, how you feel safe in his arms. Being here, swaying to the last few notes of the song with him made you reconsider leaving again. Ben was the only person who knew you completely, inside and out, the only person who seemed to understand you. Choosing to leave him would be like choosing to leave home, because after everything you'd been through, Ben was home.

As soon as the song ends, the one that follows is familiar, a tune that sparks a memory at the back of your mind. You raise your eyes to Ben's. His are crinkled with his smile, a mischievous glint behind them.

"Ben, did you tell them to play-"

"Yeah. I told them to play our song." He whispers, holding you tighter against him.

The memory of the night you first danced warms against your skin. You remembered it well. It was the night that you almost told him you loved him, the same thing you were considering right now. You couldn't believe that he remembered the song you danced to. You smile at the memory of that night, when Ben punched Howard in the face and it gave you a sickening amount of joy.

“What are you smiling at?” Ben asks you.

“I still can’t believe you hit him.” You shake your head with a laugh.

"He hurt you. And I didn't like that he made me stop dancing with my girl."

You sigh before you can stop yourself the phrase immediately making the laughter dissipate and making the warm feeling at his touch fade. Tonight Ben was again making you think that he wanted to be more, and worst of all it was making it harder to leave. Because what if this was him trying to tell you the only way he knew how? What if this was him finally admitting that he loved you and you just left?

"What?” He frowns down at you.

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that.”

"What?"

"Your 'girl'." You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the frustration from making you say more.

“You don't think you are?"

“What do you think it means? To me it means being in a relationship with someone. We have been friends for over fifty years and you have never once said that you wanted to be more-"

"I did try to propose.” Ben jokes, not understanding that you’re upset.

"Really? That was your proposal?" You scoff rolling your eyes. "A joke while you were sitting on my shitty couch drunk off your ass while trying to apologize for almost killing Noir and telling me that you hate when I get in your way? Forgive me for imagining some big gesture and for not swooning."

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Oh please-“

“I’m fucking serious.” He shrugs.

“What?” You look him in the eye to look for the teasing glint, but it's not there, Ben looks serious.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Ben’s eyes lock with yours. “I also didn’t apologize for almost killing him. And I do hate when you get in my way."

"Yes, I figured that given how angry you looked." You roll your eyes, glancing to look at the couples around you again, but this time the happiness you felt for them is gone. The jealousy is back coupled with the frustration of Ben acting like Ben and then pulling a complete 180 the next day and making you question everything. Because you wanted to exist in the moments that he was still Ben and you didn’t want to leave him, but you did want to leave Soldier Boy. The problem was right now all you saw was Ben and you hated that you couldn’t enjoy it because you knew it would end. Someone would piss him off or he’d get drunk or high or go down the rabbit hole with some other woman and Ben would be gone.

You didn’t understand how he could go from hot to cold so quickly.

“But I didn’t lie when I said I’d never hurt you.” Ben's voice rumbles up through where his chest is pressed against yours.

You want to say that you believe him, but after the past forty years you weren’t sure anymore. And that thought hurt more than anything else. You didn’t know your best friend anymore, and it scared you.

Your eyes are leveled on Ben’s chest, by now he’s stopped swaying you to the music. You know what will happen when you look up into his eyes, he'll make a joke or say something like the last forty years never happened and you'll crumble like always. You can feel his breath against your face, the warmth of his body transferring through his chest and soaking into yours.

“Y/n, please look at me.” He releases your hand and cups your cheek to tilt you head upwards to him. The one still planted on your back slides down to your waist, tightening around you as you lock eyes with him. “You know that I’d never hurt you. Right?”

Ben's eyes lock on yours, the love and care reflected in the irises makes your body burn. He's never looked at you like that, looked at you like you were the only woman in the world and deep down it makes you want to pull him close and whisper the three little words you've wanted to say for fifty seven years.

You focus on Ben's words to shake it off, it was the same thing he’d said four years ago, but this time the air between you is charged with electricity.

And you can’t take it anymore.

“Why?” You whisper.

It catches him off guard. “What?”

“Why are you different with me? When the cameras stop rolling, when the team goes home, when it’s just the two of us, you’re different." You stop to catch your breath. "Ben, I’ve known you for fifty seven years. And in the last forty you’ve changed. But not around me, not when it’s just the two of us. You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night, we talk, we laugh about the past, you sleep in my bed, you call me 'your girl'-”

“You’ve known me longer than anyone else-” His hand is still cupping your cheek now, thumb gently brushing against the smooth skin making your throat tight.

“But even before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. You were always around me, showing up, taking me out to do things in the city. Ben, we both know how you are. I watched you chase after whatever caught your eye and even now-“ You shake your head frustrated. “But you never act that way with me.”

Ben is quiet for a minute, his eyes searching yours, soft green in the fluttering lights above your heads. “Because you’re different y/n. You’ve always been different.”

“But that doesn’t tell me why Ben. We’ve been doing this for so long and I want-“ You sigh frustrated with yourself because you can’t say it, can’t say that you want him. “I mean I’m not sure if I can-“ You were going to say that you weren’t sure you could do this anymore, that you wished he would let you go, wished that you could walk away, and wished that he would stop giving you hope that the two of you could be something more because you couldn’t do it.

But the words are stopped when his lips meet yours.

You inhale sharply in surprise, before your entire body melts against his, deepening the kiss as you drag your hands up into his dark hair, while your mind goes blissfully blank. Ben’s mouth is firm but tender against yours, moving in a slow dance that makes warm tingles trail down your spine. The hand that was on your cheek, joins the other on your waist. His hand tightens on your hip as your song continues to play while the other presses against the small of your back to secure you against him. The solidness of his chest is familiar, molding against your curves in the best way as if he was made for you and you were made for him. You feel his thumb begin to circle slowly against the fabric on your hipbone and suddenly you remember the night he helped you loosen your corset and all you wanted was him. You never thought it would feel like this.

When you finally pull away for air, Ben doesn’t let you go far, he leans his forehead against yours, the look in his eyes is surprisingly vulnerable, as if he thinks you’re going to push him away.

“I-“ He begins, his green eyes are wide almost afraid.

Why?

You raise your hands to gently cup his strong jaw, searching his eyes with a smile to confirm you aren't going anywhere, before pulling him back to you for another kiss that makes your toes curl in the tight shoes you forced them into an hour ago. Ben sighs into your mouth, a soft sound that surprises you. You had seen him kiss other people before. Ben was anything but gentle, but now you believed that he reserved that gentleness just for you and it made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle.

When you pull back again, Ben’s forehead is still against yours, his eyes bright and unmoving from your face. For a moment neither of you speaks, too afraid to break the silence.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours Sweetheart?” Ben asks, the deep rumble of his voice working up through where your chest is pressed against his. His expression is gentle, and he brings up one of the hands that was on your waist to trace the pillow of your lips with his thumb.

And before you lose your nerve your smile curves into a smirk. “Took you long enough Benjamin.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Make me.” You mutter against his thumb.

And then he’s kissing you again, moving his lips in tandem with yours while your heart flutters and dances. And you never want it to end, because he's kissing you like he never wants to let you go and you're kissing him like you don't want him to.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Ben mutters against your lips with a smile, his deep eyes catching yours. "Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you, never has been, never will be."

Your heart warms, cheeks blushing with his words, because even after all these years, Ben still knew exactly what to say. You hold his face reverently, admiring the familiar dips and curves, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben." You whisper back before you kiss him and allow yourself to fall again, hoping that this time he’ll catch you.

*************************************

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask Ben, gesturing with your free hand towards the kitchen.

Standing in your apartment feels different post kiss. It feels like this all represents something bigger now. The apartment, him coming upstairs even though he has spent most of the nights here since you bought it and of course the way he’s looking at you, how he’s been unable to stop looking at you since he kissed you.

“Are you going to get it for me?” Ben is still holding your hand, had held it the entire car ride, only releasing it when he got out to open the door for you and then took it again as you walked up to your apartment. His thumb is moving across the back in a soothing motion that makes you want to curl up in the warmth that trails behind like a cat in the sun.

“I’m sure you remember where it is”

“Mhmm.” Ben is eyeing you again, the green in his eyes darkening in a way that makes your throat tight.

You’re not sure who moves first, all you know is that someone closes the distance between you, and you lose yourself in him. Your curves melt against the hard muscles of Ben’s chest and arms as he pulls you into him, his hands gripping your waist so tight that you know there might be bruises but you don’t care.

Your hands trail up his muscular chest to tangle in his hair, pulling at the darkened strands and forcing his mouth harder against yours.

He tastes like whiskey and smoke, night and day, and all those bittersweet moments you’ve shared over the years you’ve known him. There is no semblance of Soldier Boy left behind, it’s just Ben and you and it's everything you wanted for so long. The kiss is charged with so much emotion and tension you feel something inside you snap and warmth floods your body in its wake. Ben moans into your mouth, his hands coming down to sweep low over your curves and ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

There had been others try to do exactly this. Other heroes you politely declined because you didn’t feel anything for them. You remember the kisses with Howard, passionless, boring, but being here with Ben was like nothing you’d ever imagined. The subtle scratch of his scruff against your cheeks makes you lose all feeling in your legs, his strong embrace makes goosebumps burn against your skin, and the sounds he’s making against your lips makes your heart seize in your chest.

He backs you up and you both fall on the couch in a tangle of limbs, his body caging you beneath him while his fingertips boldly trail against your body, finding places that make you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his smirk against your lips and you’ve never felt more sexy in your life. Ben’s moans against every piece of skin he can get his lips against make you blush crimson and echo his cries with soft sounds that make him grip you tighter. His hands are everywhere, coaxing along your curves, discovering places that you didn’t know could be sensitive and that make you gasp and arch against him as he continues to kiss you.

Everything about this feels right, feels perfect, as if you were both made for this exact moment. The subtle drag of his hands against you, the firm assertive way he holds you beneath him, how your body responds to his touch, and the way your heart continues to swell in your chest, frantically beating as if it wishes to break free. You forget about all the other women he's ever been with, all the others he's probably held close, nothing else exists at this moment, nothing else exists except him and you here on this couch. His lips ghost to your neck as he sucks a mark into the column of your throat and you realize he's saying your name over and over the way that no one ever has.

There’s a loud ripping noise and you understand that Ben ripped off the bottom half of your dress, the tattered remains just barely brushing against your thighs. But you can’t be angry with him for that, not when everything he’s doing feels perfect.

Ben’s hands slowly begin to push up the bottom of your now ruined dress and you come back down from your high, feeling the gentle press of his fingers against your thigh as they begin to move upwards.

“Ben-" You breathe.

You hate how breathy your voice sounds, but the new sensations running through your body are almost too overwhelming for you to gain control of. If you weren't both as indestructible as you were you would be afraid of the possibility of killing Ben.

He moans into your neck, working his hand up further to a place that makes your grip his shoulders tight and you leave bruises of your own, because you’re the only person strong enough to bruise him, to leave marks against his almost invulnerable skin. And it makes a shudder go down his spine.

"Ben wait-"

He stops, looking down at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated in a way that almost sends you back into a frenzy with him. "What's wrong?" He is also out of breath, chest rising and falling fast. You can hear his heart beat thundering in his chest, beating in tandem with yours.

“Before we do this I just want to tell you that I’ve never-" You bite your lip nervously. "I've never done this before.”

“This?” He looks confused, withdrawing his hand from under your ruined dress.

“Well- you know." You gesture between the two of you. "This.”

"You've never had sex with anyone before?"

"No." You flush bright red wondering if that's a deal breaker for him. If he wanted someone more experienced. "I’m sorry."

He sits there for a minute, staring down at you. "Why are you apologizing?” Ben’s hand brushes your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture, so different than the heavy caresses of his hands against your curves he did earlier.

“I don’t know.” You whisper embarrassed. “I just- everyone else has and I’m pretty sure you have with millions of people.”

“Well not millions.”

“But still.” You suddenly think that this was a giant mistake, that you should just go to your room in shame. You drop your eyes to his chest embarrassed.

His hands are stroking along your waist, toying with the frayed edges of your dress. “Y/n.” He whispers.

“What?” You mumble.

Ben raises his hand to cup your cheek, turning your gaze back on him. The way he’s looking at you causes a hot jolt of energy to race down your spine and makes you wish that you were more confident or knew what you were doing.

He’d been with hundreds of women all kinds of women and what had I been doing all these years? Nothing and no one. I’m not really sure if I understood the mechanics OF sex- but oh how I wished. My head was just getting in the way of everything else as usual.

“I will admit that I have slept with a lot of women.” Ben sighs. “But it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if I’m the best person for this-“ And for a moment you think he looks almost worried.

Why would he think that?

“I’m sure. I want it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you.” You breathe, running your hands through his hair, your cheeks flushing bright red with your confession, afraid that you’re saying too much, giving too much away as to how much he means to you.

“Really?” Ben smiles in a way that makes your breath catch.

You nod.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” The darkness in his eyes shifts to something else and for a moment it’s difficult for you to form a sentence. He leans his forehead against yours, searching your eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ben whispers it like a secret.

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you Ben.” You whisper, knotting you hands in his hair.

“You do?”

You nod your head. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m just as capable of hurting you-“

“Maybe.” The look in his eyes is back, blazing through his green irises in a way that makes your throat swell closed. He bends over to whisper against the curve of your ear. “Then again, I kinda like that Sweetheart.” His lips brush just behind your right ear, making a shiver go down your spine. Ben smiles at your reaction before he dips down to kiss you, but it’s different, the kiss is soft, trusting, and not the previous manic haze of desire it was previously. “ I know you think it’s a big deal, but I like that I’m your first. Because it means that no other man has touched you, made you feel any of the things that I’m going to do to you, and that I’ll never have to share you with anyone else.” His grip on your waist tightens possessively. “That you’ll be completely and utterly mine and no one else can do a damn thing.”

You inhale and try not to faint from the darkened look in his eyes. “Well when you put it that way-“

“Come on.” Ben stands from the couch.

Before you can get up to follow he picks you up like you weigh nothing causing you to automatically wrap your thighs around his waist as he kisses you feverishly again, wiping your mind of anything and everything but him.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, entangling your hands at the nape of his neck to secure yourself.

“I’m not going to let your first time be on some shitty couch.” He mutters against your lips while adjusting his grip under your legs

And with that he takes you down the hall and kicks your bedroom door closed behind you.

********************************************

A/N: Well it finally happened. Unfortunately this is also when all hell breaks loose…

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

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#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #jackles #the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

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slut4fangs · 2 years

Text

Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time

Part 2

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female reader

Summary: An innocent game of teasing your best friend Eddie drives him to the point of obsession and lust. Taboo as it may be, Eddie Munson can’t seem to keep his hands to himself when it comes you, his best friend who he's fallen head over heels for

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, Eddie is really slutty & irresistible, soft dom Eddie, condescending mean Eddie that's obsessed with reader, Eddie being a sweetheart too, mentions of Ronance, sneaky sex *Steve is in the same room as it’s happening, a lot of other sexy things that I want to be a surprise, etc.

Author's Note: This was originally going to be short & sweet, but I got too into it. Oh, and make sure to comment & reblog if you liked it. It really helps and encourages me to share my writing. Enjoy! <3

There’s been a change in Eddie Munson lately that you couldn’t ignore. Ever since you started hosting Friday get togethers at your new house, Robin and Nancy being your roomates, you noticed Eddie started looking at you differently. Robin and Nancy were too busy being lovebirds to note this change in behavior, but Steve was all too perceptive. The last two times he pulled you to the side to ask if there was anything going on between you two.

"No, we're just friends. I know he's been...off lately, but it's probably nothing."

"Maybe he has a crush on you," Steve nudges your elbow with a smile, you scoff at this.

"He does not," you assure Steve, laughing it off.

"He's been doing more than just staring you know, I see the way he passes you in tight spaces and always wants to sit next to you on our movie nights. And he stares at your ASS, like constantly. You need to talk to him, because if he's making you uncomfortable I'll kick his a-"

You interrupt Steve, "Don't. I'll handle this, I'll talk to him next week on movie night. Besides, I don't really mind it that much," you shrug and cross your shoulders, trying to sound nonchalant about this admission.

The truth was you really didn't mind at all, in fact, Eddie's longing looks and lingering touches ignited something in you. It was thrilling when he did it. Two weeks ago Eddie offered to help you cook dinner, hovering over you as you stirred the pasta. Eddie had dipped his head onto your shoulder and held onto your hip pressing himself to your ass, sniffing the pot of pasta, his head lolling over to ask you if you thought it needed more garlic salt.

"I don't know, what do you think? You think it smells edible?" You couldn't concentrate with him this close, much less answer truthfully. Your head was clouded with the closeness of him, the heat from the pasta fanning both of your faces. You felt warm in more than one place.

Eddie took the spoon and had you taste test, "hmm, maybe oregano," you answered.

"Here you got a little something," Eddie used his thumb to wipe away some sauce from the corner of your mouth, then proceeded to lick his thumb. It was almost pornographic the way he did it, sucking on his thumb for a brief moment that felt like forever. In that moment all you wanted to do was ask him to put his fingers in your mouth.

Then there was the time Steve offered to take everyone to the lake, Robin and Nancy had a date night already planned so they were out. But that left you, Eddie, and Steve being the only ones going.

"So, whose the third wheel in this situation," Steve joked while driving Eddie's van to the lake, you were in the passenger seat and Eddie was in the back. Eddie seemed to be distracted doodling in his notebook, maybe he was writing something, you weren't sure.

"No one's third wheeling, god, uneven numbers don't mean shit," you say rolling your eyes at Steve.

"You say that, but someone always feels left out when there's only three. Robin and Nancy somehow even it all out, maybe it's because Robin has enough personality to fill a room and make everyone feel included, and special, you know?"

"You're just pissy because Robin couldn't come," you tell Steve, he rolls his eyes right back at you and laughs.

"No shit, she's my best friend. I guess I'm still not used to not giving her rides everywhere, ever since Nancy got a car I feel like I don't see her anymore. It blows, but hey, seeing her less means I get to see more of you. That's always a plus," Steve says, and you're never really sure if he sees you as a potential love interest or just flirts casually. Either way, it made you blush a little.

"Yeah, you think so?" You say, blushing in the passenger seat.

"I know so," Steve smirks, glancing over at you and your heart jumps a little.

Eddie pipes up from the back, "get a god damn room, jesus christ," he tries to hide the hurt in his voice. The thought of you with Steve made him jealous, even though Eddie had a crush on Steve, he couldn't help being so drawn to you.

Steve pulls into a nearby gas station, "do you guys need anything, snacks, drinks? It's on me."

"I'm good," you say.

"Cherry coke," Eddie answers, Steve nods and shuts the drivers door, leaving you and Eddie alone in silence.

Eddie's the first one to talk, of course, "why do you get the front seat and I sit in the back?"

"What, do you wanna trade or something. I don't mind," you say turning to Eddie. Eddie's wearing a white tshirt and black swim shorts, you've never really seen him this casual and it's sort of taking you aback but you try not to stare too much at the way his white tshirt is see-through enough to show his tats underneath.

"We can both sit up front, how about that," Eddie lights up with the idea.

"How does that even work," you ask, a sassy tone resonating in your voice.

"I'll show you," Eddie says climbing out of the back and opening up the passenger door, climbing in and lifting you up to place you on his between his spread legs. "See, now it's fair, we both get to sit next to King Steve."

You can't help but notice how Eddie's hands rest on your knees, drawing little circles. For once, you're speechless and little do you know, it will take a week to process what happens at the lake.

It was nightfall and the three of you had made a fire, made smores and hot dogs, telling ghost stories and drinking wine and beer. When it hit 12 am Steve refused to sleep in the van like Eddie suggested because, "If I'm going to camp, I'm going to do it the old fashioned way on the ground in my sleeping bag. Enjoy the van, I'm sleeping next to the fire."

"Good for you, Harrington," Eddie says crawling into the back of the van where he had set up an air mattress with blankets and pillows, I'm not big and strong like you."

"Goodnight, kids" Steve says playfully before cuddling up in his sleeping back next to the dying fire.

"Are you coming," Eddie asks, you're standing right outside of the van, cursing yourself for not bringing a sleeping back. Eddie stretches a hand to meet yours and you take it, hopping in the back of the van with him where he shuts the doors and it becomes increasingly clear how close you two were on the edge of the air mattress.

"Thanks, by the way," you blurt aloud, "I don't really like the idea of sleeping on the ground anyways," you hold a pillow to your chest. You're wearing your bikini from the lake swim, feeling a little self conscious from the lack of clothes.

"Do you want my shirt," Eddie asks, taking his shirt off and handing it to you.

"Sure, thanks," you start to put it over your bikini but Eddie stops you midway.

"You shouldn't sleep in wet clothes, you'll get a cold. You should probably take this off," Eddie says tugging at your bikini string, untying the top for you and tossing it to the side of the air mattress.

You scoff in flustered disbelief, Eddie speaks up again, "put it on, sweetheart," referring to his tshirt. You did so, thinking that was the end of that. But Eddie wasn't done yet, he had to make you more flustered to make up for witnessing you and Steve flirt on and off throughout the night. It was driving him fucking crazy.

"This too," Eddie pulls the string to your bikini bottoms, tossing them on the mattress and fiddling around in his bag for a pair of his boxers. You're speechless as Eddie climbs over top of you and dresses you in his blue boxers. It felt so intimate, being undressed, and then dressed in his clothes. It was exhilarating as much as it was caring. Eddie had already changed out of his swim shorts and into sweats.

"Thank you," is the first thing you can think to say to Eddie, he's hovering over you, staring at how cute you look in his clothes. He thinks he could probably get off to just seeing you in his clothes alone. The thought of jerking off over you while he stared down at your body crossed his mind, the way your face would look so cute and shocked at the vulgar act. But he pushed the thought aside and put the idea in his spank bank for later.

"Don't mention it," Eddie says laying down next to you, "you're probably cold, aren't you?"

"Well yeah, the lake was freezing," you answer and then Eddie's pulling you to his chest to keep you both warm. You two were face to face and your jaw was agape at how forward and casual he was being simultaneously, Eddie laughs quietly and touches your chin. "What, cat got your tongue? What's wrong, honey? You can tell me," Eddie says in a mocking tone, his hand grabbing your ass shamelessly. He felt this was more subtle than jerking off over your body. "We're just two friends trying to keep each other warm, don't be weird," he's smirking at you and all you can think about is kissing that smart ass smirk off his face. It didn't help he was only wearing his sweats, he knew exactly what he was doing to you. It was time you one-upped his antics with your own.

You shiver, "I'm really scared, Eddie. Do you think it's safe to sleep in the woods like this, we're basically the textbook definition of victims in slasher movies right now. Can you hold me?"

The question stopped Eddie dead in his tracks, you asking him to hold you wasn't something he saw coming. "Oh, you're scared, huh" Eddie said in a mocking tone, jutting out his bottom lip in a pouted frown. "Poor baby, you're scared of the dark, aren't you? C'mere sweetheart, I'll protect you," Eddie said with a wolfish grin spread across his face. You didn't hesitate to jump into his arms, hugging his chest and burying it there for comfort.

"Thank you, Eddie," you say breathlessly and now he decides he's fucked. You were perfect. The more this happened, the more it didn't feel like a fun little cat and mouse game anymore. Eddie's feelings for you were real, the way he felt about you made that clear. But Eddie decided to stay in character, risking telling you his feelings just felt too...vulnerable? He didn't know, he'd never quite felt this way about anyone before. It was all new to him, the feeling of never wanting to let go and risk loosing everything. He wanted you to be his everything, but he forced himself to play it safe anyways.

"You are really cold, wouldn't want you to catch hypothermia," Eddie says, hands trailing up your shirt to grope your breasts and roaming down your hips leaving a trail of fire where he touched you. It felt like your whole body was on vibrate, "has anyone ever touched you there?" Eddie's said this while he snapped your underwear to your skin and you yelped in surprise.

"Ow, Eddie. I don't know what you mean," you said, the clueless act had Eddie's head in a spiral. He didn't know if you playing the same game he was to keep this going, to keep the excitement at a high.

"What are you saying, Princess? No one's ever been here, not even Steve," Eddie says teasing you, his finger tracing your slit over your underwear.

"No, Eddie. He hasn't," you kiss his jaw, "let's just go to sleep please."

"So he's never fucking touched you at all then, don't lie to me," Eddie's voice rises and he's clearly mad over something he's only imagined.

"We've hugged, that's it," you admit, that was a half lie. You and Steve had kissed but it was experimental and you both laughed about it afterwards, meaningless flirting suited your friendship you both decided. Steve did teach you how to kiss though, he insisted upon it, he kept saying how he knew all of these tricks and taught them all to you. It was hot, but still you only saw the flirting as just the way your friendship was, it was never serious, only fun. Eddie didn't see the flirting between you and Steve as fun and carefree though, he was jealous, jealous he couldn't have you for one. And jealous he couldn't have Steve either, but soon, he decided his hormones were driving him mad and there wasn't much else to do about it besides watch you like a hawk and to always be around so nothing happened between you two.

"Liar," Eddie says gritting his teeth, his hand sliding into your underwear to play with your clit while he seethed.

"Eddie what are you doing," you say, your pussy throbbing at the mere thought of Eddie being jealous, and the feeling of him inside your underwear made you hot. Suddenly, the freezing lake's cold wrath was gone, all you could feel was fire.

"You like it though, you like making me angry. That's why I have to punish you, baby, I'm sorry," Eddie said sinking two fingers in your hole, curling just right and just deep enough to make you squirm in his grasp. Eddie's other arm held you close to him, imprisoning your body to his.

"I'm sorry," you said and kissed Eddie softly, your moth open and welcoming his tongue. Eddie moaned into your mouth and wondered how experienced your really were, you knew how to kiss, that was certain. But the way you did it so eagerly, your tongue pushing his, and the way you sucked on his bottom lip made him groan.

"You're about to be fucking sorry, don't give me that pouty lip," Eddie fucked your pussy with his fingers relentlessly, wishing it was his dick instead. "On second thought, you shouldn't even get to wear my clothes. Take them off, now."

"Eddie please, why are you being so mean. This isn't fair I'm not lying," you say, but you were and he could fucking feel it in the way you stammered.

"Did you hear me, strip. Take off my fucking clothes before I make you," Eddie said, anger in his voice. You were so turned on your pussy squeezed his fingers and he gasped, "fuck, did you just squeeze me?God, that's so fucking hot. Now be a good girl and take these off," Eddie bit his lip, completely blissed out at the way you moaned his name and how wet you were for him. It was just like heaven.

"No!" You said, "you can't make me sleep naked!"

Eddie furrowed his brows, it was clear you were a brat and needed to be bossed around to get off. "Fine, I'll do it then," Eddie rolled you onto your back and tore your clothes off, he had never been this hot and bothered before and it was overwhelming but freeing. "You're sleeping naked with me as your punishment, when you decide to be a good girl for me I'll let you wear my whole fuckin' closet." Eddie hovered above you, pinning both of your wrists with his ringed hands, staring down at your naked body. Then the idea from earlier popped into his head again, he was going to jerk off over your body he couldn't resist the idea.

"Stay like that," Eddie said pulling his sweats down so his cock sprang free. Something in you couldn't help but wish he would fuck you right then, but Eddie started jerking off instead, staring at you. His cock hitting your stomach as he pumped it in his hand. "I'm going to come on your pussy, fuck baby you look so beautiful," Eddie spread your folds open with his fingers. Rutting against your clit with the head of his cock, "touch yourself for me." You did, you moaned Eddie's name and he lost control, your pussy covered in his come.

"Fuck," Eddie exclaimed, laying down beside you, scooping you up in his arms so your ass was to his front. Eddie sank two of his fingers in your hole, playing with the come on the outside and occasionally pushing the come inside you.

The two of you curled up into a blanket the rest of the night, Eddie fell asleep with his fingers inside you. You fell asleep speechless and wanting more.

Now it was movie night at your place again, it was dark and all the lights were out as you all watched The Shining for the fifth time. Robin and Nancy went to bed early, like usual whenever Nancy had work early the next morning. Steve was passed out on the loveseat, arms crossed over his chest, sleeping like someone's father that said "I'm just resting my eyes," then fell into a deep slumber, minus the snores.

Eddie had made a point to sit close to you, draping his arm around the couch adjacent to the loveseat. When Robin and Nancy went off to bed, Eddie seemed to inch closer and closer until he was thigh to thigh with you.

"Are you cold," Eddie asked you, his arm moving to hold your waist, pulling you closer for warmth.

"Yeah, it's always really chilly in this room," you drape your leg over Eddie's thigh as casually as you can manage.

Eddie's eyes drop to your thigh, taking in the sight of your tiny pj shorts that left little to the imagination. "I can warm you up," Eddie said eagerly. You bit your lip and nodded at him.

Movie nights were like sleepovers occasionally, Eddie was dressed in only a pair of boxers like usual. It was normal, Steve wore his old basketball shorts shirtless too, it's not like Eddie was being inappropriate. He was comfortable in your home, that's the way it was supposed to be. You only wondered if having these thoughts about your best friend was also the way it was supposed to be. All you could think about was the way he was in the van, you wanted to see that side of Eddie again.

Eddie reached behind him to grab a fuzzy throw blanket and placed it over you two, his hand going back to squeeze your waist, and then your thigh, rubbing you there. His eyes were trained on the movie, trying to look distracted while his hand kept inching toward your heat. Suddenly Eddie's hand rested on your clothed pussy, his fingers curling so that you could feel his middle finger poking at your hole slightly, still unmoving to do anything else, the two of you stayed that way for a few minutes in silence, neither of you saying anything like it wasn't happening. You felt your chest rise shallowly and your hand reached inside Eddie's boxers where your hand rested on his hard cock.

Eddie took this as a chance to slip his hand inside your shorts, his middle and index fingers curled inside your pussy. Your hand moved under the covers, stroking him while you two kept your eyes fixated on the movie. But all you could think about was how Eddie's fingers were slowly fucking your underneath the blanket.

"You're so warm. Do you wanna cuddle, I need more heat," Eddie said, what he really meant was he needed more of your heat, specifically the heat between your thighs.

"Mhm," you lay down, Eddie spoons you from behind, covering you two up with the blanket and making sure Steve was still asleep.

Eddie nuzzles into your neck and kisses you, his hands reach up to cup your tits. Eddie keep one hand up your shirt, his other hand pulling your shorts off, all the sudden you feel Eddie's cock slot between your thighs. You gasp and Eddie covers your mouth and shushes you, "shh, this is the best part, sweetheart," Eddie refers to the movie while his fingers work your clit expertly. Eddie kisses your cheek and then your mouth, "need you to keep every part of me warm, hm?" Eddie whispers this into your ear, then slams his cock into your wet hole, wanting nothing more than to hear you moan with his hand over your mouth. Slow, hot, and wet strokes of Eddie's cock fills you while he keeps his hand over your mouth to keep you from waking up Steve.

"I've wanted this for so long, baby. You have no idea how long I've waited to feel this pussy, I knew you'd be ready for me. I can't seem to keep my eyes off you ever since you sat on my lap two months ago when we were playing cards. I know you didn't mean to, but you kept wiggling around. I know you felt my dick digging into your ass, that's when the secret touches started. You didn't tell anyone about that, did you?"

You shake your head no, you didn't tell Steve about the touches and when it actually started. You knew he wanted you, it was all about the back and forth game you two were playing, the secrecy. He'd touch you accidentally, and you'd do the same back, feigning innocence to keep the ongoing game more exciting. You had him on edge, waiting for the right moment to act on the desires that clouded both of your minds.

Eddie's hand still clasped over your mouth he spoke about that first night, "at first, I thought it was an accident. But once you felt my cock get hard you kept wiggling and then you, fuck- you really started humping my thigh. You rode my fucking thigh when everyone was too drunk to notice, I jerked off in your bedroom that night. Hand down my pants, I came in my own pants. I stained my underwear and left early, holding my jacket over my front. You knew exactly what you were doing, don't act so surprised that you love my cock inside you. You've been waiting for it for so long," Eddie whispered in your ear, giving you full body chills.

Eddie spoke again, "when I let go of your mouth, don't make any noise. Just do what I say, and I might go easy on you." You do what he says and turn to face him, he turns you around to face him and hikes your leg over his hip and you sink down onto him, letting Eddie fuck you as fast and hard as he wants. You can't help yourself, you smother Eddie in kisses all over his chest, neck, and end at his lips, you suck on his tongue and you can hear a deep moan come from him. The two of you go wide-eyed and glance to see Steve stirring under his covers, you and Eddie pretend you're sleeping, Eddie covering both of you up to your necks. You two close your eyes and pretend to have fallen asleep, cuddling innocently, as Steve wakes up and makes his way to the guest bedroom.

You start to move but Eddie grabs your ass with vigor and slams you back down on him, "I didn't say to move, baby. Be a good girl and don't torture me any longer, please." It's demanding, but mainly pleading of him. Eddie's desperate to keep this going for as long as possible.

"I'm not going anywhere, Eddie," you kiss his cheek and Eddie smiles at you, wide and Cheshire-like, like he's up to something.

"So you're saying you're my little cockwarmer now, guess that's better than cock-tease," he chuckles and you swat his arm. "Hey, I like you whether you're a cockwarmer or cock-tease, as long as you're near my cock we don't have a problem," Eddie laughs at his own ridiculous statement, being that he was still completely serious in all he was saying though.

"I'm going to miss our little game though, that was so exciting," you say grinding yourself on Eddie.

"I bet you do, you just love to torture me don't you, babydoll. We can play games all you want, that's fine. But the more you tease me the rougher I'm going to be, you know that though, brat," Eddie chokes you, bringing your lips to his for a passionate steamy kiss.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, babe."

#my fanfics <3 #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #perv!eddie munson

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