#but one of his friends came by n I can’t quite remember what was said but he was being playful

[gyuswhore]

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (2)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut, making out, breast play, fingering (f. receiving), p in v sex (protected + unprotected), oral (f. receiving) uhhhh i think that's it lmk tho

[A/N]: Part 2 !! shit goes down in this one so be prepared ig lmao. thank you for the love on part 1, i hope you enjoy the finale too hehe

For the third time this week, you wish you could squeeze your brother’s brains with your own two hands and watch it explode like a grape without legal repercussions. Or parental ones. 

You slam your phone down on the counter after you end your conversation with him, frustrated as you watch the empty shelf where you left your dinner for today in the fridge last night, and the other green box that was actually your brothers. Refusing to eat the dry PB&J he usually packs for himself, you slam the fridge door shut, trudging out the door to leave for work, thoroughly annoyed at the prospect of needing to eat out. 

It’s gone forgotten for most of the day, that is until the clock hits eight and you feel your stomach grumble, immediately putting you in a sour mood as you remember you couldn’t enjoy your pasta because your brother was enjoying your pasta. You only had another hour left, supposing you could wait till you get home to make dinner yourself, not feeling the burger joint across the street in the slightest. Eating a moonpie to satiate yourself for the time being, you go back to stocking the shelves for the new LP shipment, making a vague mental note to ask Mingyu if Jia liked the gift he picked out a couple weeks ago. 

Your opportunity arises almost automatically as you walk over to greet whoever came in, abandoning the opened box of bubble wrapped LPs as you hear the bell chime softly at the front of the store.  

Mingyu was here (again), hands occupied with a bag, looking relieved to find you emerging from the shelves. 

“Oh, you’re here. I was afraid you left already,” he says, smiling slightly. 

“Would’ve been closed if I did.” You nudge your head towards the clearly unlocked door, donning the neon open sign. 

He looks a little dumb, turning to look at the door. “Oh. Right.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Caught me at a good time though, I was just about to start wrapping up here.” 

He suddenly looks like he’s reminded of what he’s come here for, placing the bag on the desk next to him. “Seok told me to drop this off for you, he said it’s food.” 

Snorting, you take a look at the inside to find takeout from your favourite pasta place, which also happens to be your most expensive favourite pasta place. Seokmin felt bad enough to spend extra dollars on your dinner tonight, you guessed you could forgive him. 

You sigh as you speak. “And you strike as his errand boy yet again, sorry he’s been making you do all this.” 

“Did he piss you off?” Mingyu asks.

“Hm? He’s been pissing me off all week, this is him trying to get on my good side before I spit in his coffee.” 

He laughs at that, a toothy smile that has your stomach lurching. The flashback was brief but vivid all the same, his grin triggering a long forgotten memory. You could almost see the black studs in his ears again, his bangs falling in chunks on his forehead, his face turning into the boyish sixteen year old recollection on your kitchen counter, drinking cans of Monster and helping you lie to your mom. 

“Explains why he was ready to drop that much on a bowl of pasta.” 

“Hey, it’s good.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” He grins, “I’m gonna leave your pasta in your loving embrace, I have to feed my car now. Been putting it off till payday.”

“Oh, right. Thanks for dropping this off though, appreciate it.” You offer him a tight lipped smile. One that he returns, canines almost glinting in the light (but that’s just you). 

“No worries, I’ll see ya around.” You don’t remember what you were meant to ask him until he’s long jingled the glass door shut, walking to his parked car. You supposed it could wait, Jia would’ve liked anything he got her. You could ask him later, not wanting to have him turn around to answer the obvious question. 

The opportunity does not arise as easily as it did this time, a couple weeks passing in relative uneventful indifference, slow days at the store and nights in seven days a week. You were starting to wish you’d taken summer classes while you were stuck here anyway, the mundane days pushing you to believe you’d rather be busy than inexplicably bored. It’s not until your brother has a near mental breakdown from only having a sister as his main recreational contact that there’s a change. 

Mingyu sits on your couches in the dark, useless blanket thrown over his torso as both of his sock clad feet hang out in the air. To be fair, nobody’s looking at anybody as the eyes remain on yet another unnecessary explosion on the screen. You vaguely wonder how the ship hasn’t sunk yet. 

“What the fuck do you mean he’s been alive this whole time?” Seokmin utters, voice thick with the entire stick of butter he stuck into his bowl of popcorn. 

“Who funded this?” Mingyu mumbles from the other end, a deep frown etched on his face. 

“The people who funded the other three monstrosities.” You roll your eyes, inching your way into a sitting position, the ache making its way into the crick of your neck. 

“There’s more?!” The prospect had Mingyu hurtling into a sitting position, but not without his own set of winces as he feels the bones cracking and muscles aching. His hair is a mess, his hoodie nearly backwards, and you can’t help but laugh at the mildly confused and bewildered expression he has on. 

“Yeah, you wanna watch those too?” you ask through giggles.

Glancing at the final pub scene that’s playing on the TV, he's quick to mumble, “Fuck, no.” 

“I haven’t watched a real shitty movie in a while.” Seokmin groans as it’s his turn to stretch. “This was fun. Hollywood’s back.” 

Both you and Mingyu pointedly ignore his statement, your own mind debating whether you wanted to watch another movie. It’s not until you look up to see Mingyu doing something on his phone that you remember what you wanted to ask him. 

“Hey, Mingyu, did — Seokmin!” Your brother’s decided to begin his aerial stretches, touching his toes and cracking his back. You shift your head wildly to get a gap through his restless movements, eventually giving up finding Mingyu. He could hear you. “Did you – ugh – did you get to give Jia her present?” 

You aren’t sure what it is, but the way the question has Seok landing on his heels mid tip toe stretch and how Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up, you don’t doubt you’ve touched on something sensitive. There’s a part of you that wonders if it’s too late to take it back when both boys make eye contact with each other, but your brother beats you to it. 

“I, uh…forgot to tell her,” he lowtones. 

You look to your brother and then to Mingyu. 

“We broke up.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu smiles a little awkwardly, and Seok makes a strangled sound that may have been a laugh of his own. Or a cough, you aren’t too sure. “But…she did like the present, when I gave it to her anyway.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s good,” you manage, not knowing what to say. “Sorry that happened though…sucks.” 

“She ended it–” that has your own brows shooting up in disbelief. Kim Mingyu got dumped? “–over the phone, she decided she wanted to stay home for a while to figure out what she wanted to do. Uni wasn’t cutting it for her here…” 

“I mean, good for her, I guess. Hope you’re doing okay, though.”

He blows air out of his cheeks, scratching his neck. “I mean, we’re fine. Ended it on good terms.” 

Seokmin’s still standing awkwardly staring at the still running ending credits for something to do. “Should we get food?” 

“I don’t know, are you hungry?” Mingyu asks.

“How is the heartburn not getting to you yet? You basically emptied the country’s dairy reserves in a single popcorn serving,” you grumble. 

“Don’t underestimate my ingestional abilities,” he retorts.

Mingyu stares for a moment. “Aren’t you lactose intoletrant or something?”

Seokmin turns to him, mouth open as he points his finger, “You know, I might be.” 

“No you aren’t, if you were lactose intolerant then I’d be lactose intolerant,” you shoot. 

“Explain the empty can of air freshener in the bathroom after queso and chips?” 

“Have you considered during queso and chips that queso is a dip and not an optional beverage?” 

Mingyu’s cutting between you two before you can go on with your bickering, afraid he’d have to physically peel you off of each other if it goes on, “Let’s just go to a drive thru, you can get your lactose or…non lactose options however you like.” 

That’s how you’re shoved into the backseat of Mingyu’s car, Seokmin fiddling with the GPS to find the nearest McDonalds. 

“How do you not know where the nearest McDonald’s is, you live here,” Mingyu hisses as he takes his fourth right turn in a row.

“We always just order in, who sits in a car and goes to McDonalds.”

“Us apparently,” you lowtone to Mingyu from the back, picking at a crusty flower that you found in between the seats. They ignore you. 

“Okay, I think it’s this one. Dude, get a new GPS, this one responds after fifty years, of course it’s gonna take this long.” 

Their own bickering is starting to zone out into a buzz in your ears as you stare at a patch of leather behind Mingyu’s seat. You vaguely considered that you’re falling asleep. 

The streetlight has other plans, however, when you sense something glinting in the sudden light underneath the seat. Your interest is piqued, moving forward to see what it was. Mingyu senses you shifting and asks you what you’re doing. 

You don’t answer him as you shuffle around to catch sight of it again. And then you see it, a tiny necklace on the slightly dirty mat, a circle charm with a single ‘J’ in the center. You aren’t sure why you froze at the sight, the gold glinting prettily even in the dark. Leaving it there, you emerge from under the seat, trying to seem nonchalant. 

“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”

Mingyu’s common occurrence in the bookstore is starting to concern you, never catching him as the type to read something other than the occasional bad riddles on the back of a cereal box. You stand corrected however, as you find yourself trying to find a hardcover for him on the computer system, mumbling incoherently.

“Never knew you read.” 

“Well, now you do. This one’s really good though, you should read it too.” He notes, motioning towards the paperback version he brought with him for the book he’s finding. 

You snort at his suggestion. “Have you realised this is one of the most popular books in its genre right now? Hard to find someone who hasn’t read it.”

He frowns at the revelation, “Oh. None of my friends read it.”

Seokmin hasn’t opened a book for recreational purposes since he was twelve. As for his other friends…they didn’t exactly seem like the smart type either. You get up to move to the shelf the computer’s indicated, trying to walk off your annoyance at a particular memory before it begins to show. Mingyu follows you in your pursuit to find his book, skimming the shelves himself as he strolled behind you. 

“Oh, right, how’s that exhibition thing going? Forgot to ask about it,” you ask as you spot the box of the hardcovers at the top of the shelf. You grab the ladder that rests near the wall as he answers.

“It’s going pretty good, nearly done. I just need to send the final pieces over – what’re you doing?” 

You grunt as you begin to climb up the metal ladder, trying to get to the box. “Getting your book, genius.”

“Wait–” He moves to grab the ladder at the base as he watches you step higher. “Get down! I’ll go up instead.” 

“You get cold feet at the bottom of an escalator, be serious, Mingyu,” you grunt as you pull the box towards yourself, the ladder shaking with the force it takes, and it has Mingyu gripping the metal tighter. You pull the familiar cover out before closing the box back up. “There.”

“Why would you keep supposed bestsellers there, isn’t this like, in demand?” He grumbles as he continues to hold the ladder as you climb back down. 

“Ran out. Need to restock them at the front, but I’ll do that tomorrow.” You huff as you jump the last step, earning a loud yelp from Mingyu. 

“Chill out,” you chuckle as he puts the ladder away. “Okay, do you want me to look at anything else for you?”

“What would you recommend for my next imaginary adventure?” he asks as he picks out a random book from the shelf, trying to find the blurb. 

“Not that one.” You scrunch your nose at the sight.

“This one I know is popular. What’s wrong with it?” He chuckles as he puts it back.

“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet,” you call out as you walk back to the front.

“And believe you instead?” 

Oh, you wish.

Picking up your current read from the front of the store, you wait for him to reach the end of the opening where you stand to hand it to him. 

“You can decide that for yourself. Haven’t finished it yet, but it looks super promising. Try it out if you want.” 

He barely looks over the glistening title before handing it back to you, and you nearly assume he didn’t want it. 

“Ring both of them up,” he says, and then with a pause he continues, “And anything else you think is good too, I don’t really care.” 

Deciding you’d test the waters with this first recommendation, you only cash him in for two. He doesn’t question it as you do your job behind the desk, making casual conversation as he waits for you to find the right barcode. 

“How far are you with that one?” 

“The one I gave you? Just touched chapter 20, I think.” 

He only hums in response as he pays, grabbing the bag that you push towards him. 

“Let me know how you like it,” you comment before he begins to turn to leave. 

“‘Course.” He grins, and you can't help but grin right back. He leaves you in the store with a slight heat coming up to your cheeks, and a wad of gum in your mouth to keep your stomach in check. 

By the time the next day rolls around, it’s been nearly 24 hours before you hear from him again, his contact seemingly only ever gracing you within the walls of the bookstore – except he isn’t physically here. Mingyu texts you, and you nearly fall out of your chair at the sight of his name on your phone. 

It’s near embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone, passcode going wrong once, twice, thrice…you decide it’s the top five worst times your phone’s refused face ID. You’re slamming your fingers onto the screen harder than you should, watching the warp in the pixels at the pressure. By the time it does open its secrets for you, the annoyance has settled. Not at him though. 

[Mingyu]: hey [Mingyu]: i got to chap 20  [You]: what [You]: how [Mingyu]: started reading when i got home [Mingyu]: and then i got to 20 [Mingyu]: i think i pulled an all nighter [You]: you think? [You]: was it that good [Mingyu]: couldnt put it down [Mingyu]: i wanna talk about it but my eyes are closing  [You]: you know where to find me when you wake up

The typing ellipses don’t pop up after that, and you assume for the better that he’s succumbed to his afternoon drowsiness. If he was serious about that all nighter (which you don’t doubt, no way he could’ve plowed through twenty chapters and gotten any sleep), you assume he’ll be knocked out for at least the rest of the afternoon. 

Smiling to yourself at the thought of him wanting to text you about your matching achievements (and actively pushing your mind away from the blessed image of a napping Mingyu), you find yourself scrolling up the conversation, trying to remember the last time Mingyu had texted. That was easy to find out as the short scroll past the sparing details from your photography adventures landed you straight into late last year, a sparse conversation regarding your brother’s whereabouts when he wouldn’t answer his phone. 

You remembered the conversation. As mundane and ordinary as it was, it was difficult to forget the way your hands were shaking as you typed your one word replies, how your breathing was coming out uneven at a mere text back. You could argue there was less of that this time round, proud of yourself for learning to control your emotions better. 

There’s a train of thought that leads you to every recent interaction you’ve had with him. The conversations where you could look him in the eye, your relative indifference when he would show up unannounced, the disappearance of the wad of emotions in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. 

The latter may be slightly untrue, but you can't help but note how the ounces of fear within the concoction is gone. You were never quite sure what it was that you were so afraid of, perhaps the fateful night at Seungcheol’s party had answered that question for you, but still. 

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

Despite telling yourself it was the alcohol talking, maybe even a couple puffs of whatever — the mild disappointment remains. Thinking about the weeks following that, the moping and the hurt, you almost don’t blame Mika for acting the way that she did. 

Your brother had always been oblivious to all the frolicking in your heart that would ignite as Mingyu would enter the room, and for over a decade at that. And yet, it was during those weeks that he had noticed you acting like you had been dumped, asking you what on earth was wrong with you. 

“Did somebody say something to you?” he asks.

“Huh?” you frown, annoyed at the way he's planted himself directly in front of the cabinet that held your beloved moonpies. 

“You’re acting like you’ve been rejected by the love of your life. Nayeon’s not telling me anything and you’re being avoidant, what is up with you?” He huffs, hands on his hips. 

Oh, if only he knew how right he was. But you weren’t upset because the love of your life rejected you (anymore, at least), you were upset because he was a public asshole. 

It takes more coaxing from him to get you to start talking. It’s easier when he brings out the big guns: “D’you want me to tell mom?”

You tell him a little, not naming any names, much to his dismay. “Some guy was an ass, something about me being too easy or whatever.” 

“You’re upset because some drunk dude decided to run his mouth?” He scrunches his nose at the thought. “Ignore him, he’s stupid.”

“Thanks for the help, I’m cured,” you deadpan, pushing him aside to get to the gold inside the cabinets. 

“I could get Mingyu to help me beat him up, I just need a name.”

Oh. You briefly wonder how he'd feel if he had to beat up his best friend.

More than his attempts to sound like a cool older brother, the image of Mingyu beating himself up brings you more amusement than anything else. You crack a smile at the thought. 

That was months ago, yet you can’t seem to forget the hurt. Trying to shake off where your thoughts were taking you, you get up to take a walk around the store for something to do, fixing microscopic displacements on the shelves and wondering if you should restock something, only to realize you’d already done that when you came in, not wanting to whip out the ladder again to restock the ones you'd just landed from.  

Landing inevitably back behind the counter, you instinctively reach for the book wedged beside the computer. Your outstretched hand stops midway, thinking about how Mingyu’s reached as far as you in the story quite literally overnight. Retracting your hand, you decide you’d wait. 

The bell chimes signaling a customer, and you find yourself grateful for the distraction.

It’s nearing 8:30 when you decide you should close early. It was slower than usual today, the few walk-ins leaving without purchases too hefty, rendering you bored in your seat for most of the day. You’re locking the drawers of the main desk when Mingyu walks in with the familiar tune of the bell chiming, soft smile as he greets you quietly. 

“How was your nap?” you ask, trying not to giggle at his still dazed expression. 

“Pretty good, didn’t wanna wake up though.” His voice remains relatively coarse, and you don’t miss the light indent on his left cheek. It’s endearing, enough to have you wishing you could cup his face in a loving squish. 

But you don’t. 

“You don’t say,” you comment. Pointing at your own cheek as you continue, “You sure you don’t wanna take the night off too?” 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he looks down to fumble for his phone to see for himself in his front camera. The puffiness hasn’t gone away entirely, evident when he’s frowning and looking downwards, and the urge to squeeze comes hurtling back. 

“Did you drive like this?” 

“Uh, no, I walked.”

“Walked?” You try to comprehend if that was even more dangerous. He only nods. “Why?”

“Wanted to see you.”

It takes effort to not clutch your chest at the way your heart leaps. Kim Mingyu, you bastard. 

“Had to talk about the book.”

Your voice comes out a little more breathless than you’d like, but you hope his drowsiness skips over it. “You could’ve texted.”

He pauses as he mulls it over. “I mean, yeah…I don’t know. I just put my shoes on and came here.”

You decide you’d spare him the brain power and continue your remaining closing duties, talking to him as you move around the store. 

“We can take my car to my place, better than getting distracted here.”

He only nods in response. “Do you want any help?” 

“Nope, just need to turn off the lights and lock the doors. Let me grab my bag.” 

By the time you’re home, an XL pizza and drinks in your arms to satiate Mingyu’s post nap ravenous tendencies, you drop down on the couch with a huff. Seokmin hears the ruckus and appears from his room, not wasting time to break on the pizza with Mingyu as you leave to freshen up. By the time you settle with your own slice it seems as though Mingyu has roused himself significantly more than before. 

“Okay,” you huff as you land on the soft cushioning, “What did you think about the book?”

“Hard to believe this is her first book, it’s really good.” 

“Her world building is amazing, some of the best I’ve read.”

Your back and forth discussion grows increasingly passionate, forgetting the fact that your brother was also right there excluded from the conversation. His head shifts back and forth as the both of you converse, utterly lost. It would’ve been funny, except neither if you were actually looking at him. 

He manages to get a word in as one of you pauses for breath. “Since when do you read?” 

Mingyu gapes at the question, seemingly trying to find an answer. “Recently.”

“Why?” 

“What do you mean why? I just wanted to start reading,” he scoffs in a manner that could be described as exaggerated. If he’s trying to throw Seokmin off his scent, he’s succeeded, as he watches Seokmin get up and announce that he has work to do. That leaves the both of you alone. 

The conversation takes you into the late hours of the night, Mingyu’s prior nap releasing him from the chains of reasonable sleeping hours as he remains wide awake despite the 3 AM time on the dial. You manage to keep up with him, even when he follows you to the kitchen to brew a coffee. 

“Do you usually work this hard just to make coffee?” he asks as he watches you discard the used espresso puck. 

“We have a bottle of the instant stuff here somewhere for when I’m lazy,” you explain as you pour the fresh shots into the prepped ice and milk. “Doesn’t taste the same though.” 

“Coffee is coffee,” he says as he stirs the drink you push towards him. 

“Quite the contrary. Besides, the instant stuff fucks with my stomach, I’d rather not.” You take a sip of your coffee, glancing at the sink. “Will say, hate everything I have to wash afterwards.”

“I’ll do ‘em later, gotta pay you back for all the manual labour that went into this thing,” he refers to the latte he’s sipping on currently. 

“The appreciation is enough. We can make Seok do them in the morning for being a loser and going to bed early,” you snort. Mingyu laughs at that, the image of Seokmin doing dishes while the both of you sleep in. 

“You sure you don’t wanna call it a night?” he asks you as you place yourself on the kitchen counter. 

“I’m having fun, Mingyu, seriously. I’m off tomorrow too, I don’t have to wake up,” you reassure for the nth time. 

He doesn’t reply, only stares up at you from his leaned position. He’s chewing on his lip, and you find yourself unconsciously chewing at your own, the already raw skin stinging at the abrasion. Mingyu’s hands come up to your face slowly, like he knew it was hurting as he pulls your bottom lip to release it with his thumb. 

“You’re gonna bleed,” he whispers. His hand that grasps your chin doesn’t move, rough thumb continuing to graze at your lip lightly. 

“You never stopped picking at your lips, did you?” he wonders out loud, eyes trained on your mouth. 

Your own hand comes to lightly grip at his forearm. He remembers your habit, picking at the skin of your lips since near middle school, getting yelled at when you had to excuse yourself from the dinner table when they would bleed. 

“Old habits die hard.” Your voice is thick despite the gulp you had to take before opening your mouth. 

It was true, probably too much as you continue to look at his near perfect face. The oldest habit, the hardest to die. 

Mingyu drops his hand, landing it in your lap, your own hand still gripping his forearm. You aren’t sure what’s going through you as you trail your hand up further, to his wrists, to the dip of his palm, landing on his fingers. You grip his hand, tight this time. 

“I’m gonna jump,” you whisper, and you feel his grip tighten around yours as he braces to support you off the counter. 

You face him in silence, contemplating, “It’s hot in here, let’s go back out.”

He watches as you pick your cup off the counter and leave, not waiting for him to follow you. He finds himself trying to take deeper breaths, stalling, but not for long as he joins you back on the couch.

It probably came as a shock to both of you the first time Mingyu announced his leave much earlier in the night, when you stopped him, asking him to stay. It was silent for a few sparing moments as you both absorbed what had come out of your mouth, trying to make sense of it. You found yourself needing to coax him a little more to convince him he wasn’t overstaying his visit, that you were having fun. He sits back down, warning you that this was going to be a long night. 

You don’t think you could ever forget the absolute somersault your stomach performed, the after effects leaving you still as a plank. 

It was a long night indeed. And yet, when you found your eyes closing after a fight, much later on the couch with a large blanket shared between the both of you, Mingyu watches you doze off while leaning on the couch facing him, wishing the night was longer. 

If you were awake, you probably would’ve found yourself agreeing.

There’s a lot Mingyu has to learn about himself. He’s reminded of the fact nearly everyday. Especially right now as Seokmin runs his mouth sitting with him at a secluded booth in some bar. 

They had company, a couple guys joining them for dinner before leaving not too long after. That left him and a slightly tipsy Seokmin alone, who’s currently munching on a platter of crackers in front of him. He was bright enough, the energy from the others keeping him going as they played their drinking games and ate their obnoxious amounts of food. It was alot more somber with only the both of them left, his mood deflating as their friends slowly dwindled in number. That wasn’t about to stop him from ordering another beer though. 

“Summer’s so boring,” he grumbles in dejection, flicking a stray crumb off the table. 

“You chose to stay here,” Mingyu replies. 

Seokmin doesn’t answer him, but continues to look like a kicked puppy, a slight pout forming on his face. 

Mingyu fights the urge to scoff, “You can’t possibly be this upset about summer being depressing.” 

“It’s not about that.” 

Mingyu takes a swig of his own drink before sighing loudly, “What’s this about then?”

Seokmin says your name, and Mingyu is suddenly very interested. “She just seems to be doing a lot better since she started working at the bookstore.”

“Better?”

 “She told me about this guy a couple months ago.”

Mingyu’s trying really hard to not look visibly deflated, not that Seokmin would notice considering his state, but he attempts to sound nonchalant regardless. “Do we know him?”

“I – no, that’s not,” he huffs in exasperation, “She said she overheard him, basically calling her easy.”

“Easy?”

“I don’t know, something about her chasing his tail or whatever, she won’t tell me who it is. She hadn’t been doing too great recently and I’m pretty sure it was because of him.” 

It is dawning on Mingyu, embarrassingly slowly, that the guy Seokmin is talking about — may be him. 

His voice is hoarse, a little frantic. “And she’s doing better, you said?”

“Oh yeah, the bookstore’s been amazing for her. Not sure how though, ‘cause she just sits there doing nothing for hours.”

He can’t bring himself to meet Seokmin’s eyes, remnants of his memories flurrying around in his brain in an attempt to figure out what other bullshit he had spewed that day. He was sure you weren’t there, you couldn’t be.

“Maybe doing nothing was what she needed.” Mingyu’s reply is whatever came to him off the top of his head, mind still racing. 

“Hm, I guess. I was trying to get her to tell me, we could’ve chopped his dick off together,” Seokmin grumbles.

Mingyu winces slightly, eyes tight shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a protective hand that subconsciously reaches his crotch area. “Yeah, yeah totally.” 

“Fucker got let off easy, he should be happy she’s doing good.” Seokmin continues to ramble, voice getting increasingly louder. 

“Yeah…”

“She’s not easy. My sister isn’t easy at all! Running after his tail, my ass! She doesn’t need some motherfucker with bad hair to be running his mouth, drunk as a bitch.” He stabs a single chopstick into the spare piece of meat on his plate, and the force has Mingyu flinching slightly. 

“How do you know he has bad hair?” Mingyu continues to stare at the impaled piece of beef that Seokmin brings to his mouth. 

“I don’t need to know a motherfucker to know he uses shitty hair gel.” 

Mingyu may try to run his hair gel past Seokmin at some point. But right now, he’s only trying to make it out of the bar with his sex organs intact.

“Hey, we’re past this, remember? She’s doing great right now and that’s all that matters.” Mingyu sounds overly flustered, but he can’t bring himself to care as he attempts to reign in an angry Seokmin. They were garnering looks, and the last thing he wanted was to get kicked out before they had paid. 

Seokmin is still huffing and puffing, but significantly less so as he finds reason in Mingyu’s words. “I’m gonna find out who he is.”

“You hate living in peace.”

“My sister’s hasn’t had any peace because of this dickwad, I’m—” 

“OKAY! Okay, got it. We’ll figure that out when you’re sober.” Mingyu rises from his own seat as he finds Seokmin lifting his own butt off his chair in a near war cry. 

He manages to fend him off, waving for the bill before he has to pull him back from aimlessly marching to whoever’s house he had in mind. He calms down as they wait for the check, finishing the remaining scraps on the table in silence. 

Seokmin seems nearly back to his regular self after a few minutes, forehead creases smoothing over during his cool down time. He speaks, except this time it’s in a more socially acceptable manner.

“Hey, I’ve been noticing, you and her have been getting pretty close lately. I don’t know, it’s just, I woke up and saw both on the couch and —” 

“Here’s your bill!” The waiter cuts him mid sentence, placing the check on the table. 

Mingyu knew what Seokmin was getting to, and he was thanking every star in the galaxy for bringing the waiter into their lives at that exact moment. He’s quick to fuss over the glossy piece of paper, humming and making comments at their purchases to fill in any silent opportunities to let Seokmin continue. Mingyu’s slips his card in the wallet.

“It’s on me,” he announces as he flashes a quick smile to the waiter. “You can cut a ten for yourself.” 

“Wait, what — let’s split, what’s wrong with you?” Seokmin jolts up as registers what’s happening a little too late. 

“It’s fine, you can pay for the next one.” He says as he shifts around the table to look for his phone. “You should probably go to bed too, it’s getting pretty late. Sleep off the beer and whatnot.” 

Seokmin is left speechless as Mingyu gets up, grabbing his stuff. 

“Wait, your card—” Seokmin starts. 

“Is here,” Mingyu spews a quick ‘thanks’ to the waiter, waving his card in front of Seokmin so he’d finally stand the fuck up.

“Do I need to drag you out of that chair, let’s go!” he says, grabbing Seok by the arm to lift him off his seat. It was nearly funny how he couldn’t get him to stay within the vicinity mere minutes ago and now is begging for him to get up. 

By the time Mingyu’s jamming Seok’s key into your apartment, he’s tired of his endless rambling. He can only appreciate his drunk brain for not bringing up the last question he tried asking him. He’s opening the door, urging Seokmin to walk inside, slapping him awake from his nap against the wall.

Mingyu deems it best to physically put him in bed for the furnitures’ sake, pushing him in front to lead him to his room. Mingyu’s spent by the time he’s done and Seokmin is snoring, his back cracking from the hunched position he’s kept from tucking him in and taking his shoes and jacket off. 

He tiptoes out (despite knowing it’d take a marching band to wake him up at that point), closing the door as quietly as possible. 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Mingyu nearly jumps out of his skin, landing a mile as he hears your voice in the dark hallway, hand coming up to his heart. “Jeez— announce yourself, would you?” 

“In my own house?” you raise an eyebrow. 

“Just—” he waves you off as he comes round, standing straight. “I was putting Seok to bed.”

You inhale sharply. “Did you drink?”

“Me? No, but he’s knocked out right now, he’s probably gonna need a pill in the morning,” he replies. 

“Hm, I’ll see to it in the morning, or whenever it is that he wakes up.” 

“Yeah.” Mingyu is standing awkwardly in front of you in the dark hall, not having anything else to say. “I’ll get going now.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Get some sleep,” you say as you let him move past you. 

“You too, don’t know why you’re awake,” he chuckles quietly. 

“Couldn’t sleep, I’ll go to bed now though.”

The awkwardness is painful, Mingyu can feel it in his chest. But what he’s feeling more is the way you look in your night shirt now that you’re in the light of the living room, legs shown farther up than you’d usually let them go. He wonders if you're wearing shorts underneath, but slaps himself out of it when he realises he’s been silent for too long. 

“Uh yeah, I’ll go now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

Mingyu replays the last five minutes in his head the entire car ride home, when he’s changing out of his clothes, when he’s brushing his teeth, when he crawls under the warm covers to finally call it a night. Mingyu thinks about what he said all those months ago at a dumb party, how he’s hurt you more than he thought he had. There’s an ache that plunges into him, the thought of you going through that because of him while he stayed blissfully unaware. 

He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do to make it up to you, but right now, he’s happy. Happier than he’s been in a while, falling asleep to the thought of you. 

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

You, on the other hand, are far from happy as you find yourself in yet another car related predicament. 

Having to run to work in the middle of July is never a preferred option, yet you find yourself needing to do it anyway when you walk out to your engine refusing to start. 

You really needed a new car. 

Abandoning the hunk of what was turning out to be just expensive scrap metal, you rile other options out in your head. 

Seokmin was long gone with his car. The bus was gonna take too long. No way in hell were you about to overpay a taxi to take you somewhere that was essentially just a 15 minute walk (read as run). 

So you find yourself slinging your bag as a crossbody, thanking the heavens that you at least didn’t need to change your shoes. You pray for your white sneakers as you run across town, blurting apologies to passerbys that would gape at your hurried form. As apologetic as you were, it didn’t compare to how sorry you felt for yourself, the heat pricking your skin in an agitated rise anytime you’d slow down. 

The AC is near heavenly as you gasp walking into the bookstore, red faced and hair sticking to your forehead. 

“Sorry,” you gulp frantically. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh god,” you hear your boss comment as she sees you walk in. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just need a minute. Car broke down.”

She ushers you in front of the AC, waiting for you to collect yourself before taking her leave. 

“I think I’m okay now, sorry about that.” Your chuckle comes out a little choked. So much for being convincing. 

“You really should get a new car. I have a friend who’s daughter is selling hers, do you want me to ask them for you?” She’s patting your shoulder as she talks to you, and you recognize her courage to look past the sweat that’s accumulated there.  

“That’d be great actually, thank you.” 

Your second blow of the day comes right after you’ve finally gotten rid of the buckets of sweat on your body, seating yourself behind your desk to do some digging of your own.

You immediately wish you hadn’t as soon as you open the first second hand market site, the price tags landing you somewhere between never happening and impossible. Groaning, you place your head in your hands as you try to think of what to do. You pray your boss would come back with a quote that isn’t as outrageous as everything else you’ve cursed your eyes upon, seeing as that seemed the only viable option for you. 

Closing the windows off your computer, you decide this was a headache for another time. You reach for your bag to rummage through it, only to find yourself in your third predicament of the day. 

You had forgotten your book. 

It shouldn’t have been a worry, considering you were in a bookstore and had access to about 56 more of the same edition that you could borrow for the day. Except it was a worry, because your copy had been religiously tabbed and annotated as you would read, not a single thought left to be forgotten in your head as they would spring up. You can almost see the pink cover sitting on your desk and you nearly begin to cry. 

You wonder if you could break your ‘one book at a time’ streak for the sake of it, picking up another one off the shelf to start. The thought nearly makes you gag, the anxiety of losing interest in your current one leading you to sit aimlessly at your desk for the rest of the day. 

What’s even more anxiety inducing to you, however, was the promise you’d made with Mingyu the week prior, to be finished with the book by the end of today so you could finally decide whether the end was worth it or not. The thought has you nearly picking up a copy off the shelf anyway, annotations be damned. Force of habit, however, forbids you as you are shunned by yourself to play solitaire for the rest of the day. 

Things seem to look up for you though, as you find yourself reading a text from Mingyu nearly halfway through your day. 

You hadn’t spoken to Mingyu at all for the entire week, caving when you found an excuse to finally talk to him to ask where he’d left off on the book. It was even longer before that, reaching the near three week mark where you were virtually zero contact.  

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you, his sudden absence raising a mild panic within you as your mind raced with the possibilities. 

Was he uncomfortable with you? 

Was he avoiding you? 

Were you less low key than you thought? Was he catching on to how you still weren’t over him? 

The wilder thoughts seemed to be laid to rest when you couldn’t take it anymore, texting under the guise of your mutual book topic. Your brain still couldn’t handle it, picking up minuscule details in his texting behavior. Perhaps his replies were choppy, perhaps they were shorter than usual, but it was enough to give your mind the rest it needed regardless of whatever the facts were. 

Needless to say, you were more than happy to receive a text from him first after weeks, immediately replying. 

[Mingyu]: hey  [Mingyu]: are you at work today?  [You]: yeah  [You]: i get off at 10 tho  [Mingyu]: can i see you today? 

You try to contain the growing flurry of excitement as you type. It was easier to stay casual over text, you find yourself appreciating. 

[You]: course [You]: are you coming to the store?  [Mingyu]: i’ll meet you at your place when you get off  [You]: okay!!! [You]: see you then 

There’s a ghost of a smile on your face as you switch to playing computer chess in celebration. Your day was going horribly, but perhaps it was to balance out the happiness you were feeling at the thought of seeing Mingyu in person after nearly a month. 

Were you being dramatic? Possibly. But you figured you’d been left waiting long enough. You let yourself have a spring in your step for the rest of the day, closing up nearly an hour early as you practically skipped back home, enjoying the significantly better nightly weather. Maybe you were abusing your employee privileges, but you couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. 

Humming to yourself, you're hopping into the shower as soon as you get home, wanting to freshen up as quickly as possible before he gets here. It was near heaven’s plan the way the day is unfolding for you. Perhaps the universe knew you needed the time to unwind today, bringing Mingyu to you despite the near four week gap. 

Grabbing your pens and your book, you settle on the kitchen counter to do something you’d been looking forward to all day, nearly giddy that Mingyu would be joining you to wind down with you soon enough. You’re invested by the time the doorbell rings, a simultaneous text from Mingyu, confirming that he was at the door. 

Opening the front door is probably the easiest thing you’ve done all day, grin at the ready as you greet him. 

“Hey,” you breathe out at the sight of him. 

“Hi,” he replies, slipping inside as you give him space to take off his shoes. 

Leading him into the kitchen, you comment lightheartedly, “Nice to see you’re still alive.” 

He chuckles slightly at that, “Yeah…sorry about that. I’ve been pretty caught up with…stuff.”

“The exhibition? Weren’t you nearly done with that?” you question as you pass him a glass of water. 

He takes a sip before setting it down again, both hands holding the cup on the counter. “It wasn’t that, I’ve been done for a while. Just waiting.” 

“It’s next week, isn’t it?” 

He hums in response, taking another minuscule sip of water.  

“What was it that was keeping you this occupied for so long then?” you continue with a slight snort, trying not to over analyze his slightly…off putting behavior. 

“Uh,” he starts, “Is Seokmin home?” 

“Seokmin?” you frown, confused. Was he here to see your brother? “He’s out. I thought you knew.”

“Yeah, I know. Just confirming.” 

“Oh.” You sit down on your own chair at the counter, trying to make sense of his mood. 

“Mingyu, are you okay—”

“I need to talk to you.” 

“O-okay.” 

It’s silent. Painfully so. 

“I don’t know how else to bring this up so I’m just gonna cut to the chase.” 

There’s no reply from your end as you simply stare at him in anticipation, wondering what on earth had him looking this serious as he faces you in his seat. 

“I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you. Never enough to match what you’ve felt, but I know you’ve been through the muck because of me, and it makes me feel horrible that I was the cause of something like that.” 

“Mingyu—“

“I want to apologize, before I say anything else. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. And I know an apology isn’t gonna take away what I did to you, but I just need you to know that I’m really, really sorry.”

His breathing is heavy as he talks, while yours is near nonexistent as you need to remind yourself to breathe manually. 

“I’ve done a lot of growing up in the past year. And I hate myself for making you a subject of that transition when you were the last person that deserved it. I’m happy to say that won’t happen again, because I’ve learned my lesson. For good.”

He pauses. 

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, because… because I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve it for what I’m about to say. I may be acting selfish right now but, I think you deserve to know after everything.”

“I love you. I love you so, so much it hurts. I…I’m sorry, I love you. I don’t know how else to say it but, I love you. And I might be hurting you even more with this but I swear I’m not lying. I love you.”

There’s tears now, heavy ones that drip down his face as he refuses to look back up at you, eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to halt the pure emotion that’s trailing down. 

You have your own wet cheeks, glossy, shaking eyes that don’t tear away from his hunched form. You’re listening. You’re listening to everything and it’s too much. 

“Mingyu,” you whisper. You give up on trying to talk as you let out a breath that sounds almost like a sob. 

It’s silent for a few more moments as you absorb everything that’s happening, mind running a hundred miles an hour yet, still as a rock. It’s too much. 

“Mingyu, I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.” Your voice is quivering, but you manage the words. “After everything. You’re standing in this very kitchen and saying this to me.”

The deja vu was overwhelming, and you’re projected back to last year when the both of you stood on these very tiles, as you poured your heart out to the man in front of you, only to be told you were an idiot to think he could ever love you like that. The words may not have been said, but the message was clear: you were not made for Kim Mingyu. 

And yet, you find yourself in front of an apologetic man, expressing his remorse. And oozing love for you, of all people. Why now? You want to scream. Where was this when you were ready to take him so willingly in your arms. 

You’re lying if you say you still don’t want to plant yourself in his hold to sob out your own wretched “I love you”’s. You wanted to go to him. To take what you’ve wanted for so, so long. 

But you can’t. You can’t do it. 

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m not asking you to do something about any of this. I’m not asking anything of you at all. I just need you to know.”

You bite back a remark, trying so hard to calm yourself down. 

“I think you should go.” Your voice breaks. “Please.”

Mingyu is gone. But his scent lingers. His cup remains on the counter, the same one he put his lips to. As he prepared to speak, and speak, and speak. 

You can’t stand to stay in the kitchen anymore. 

You were fourteen the first time Mingyu broke your heart. 

It was an accident, perhaps, considering you were willing to do absolutely anything to be around Mingyu when your brother would have him over. What you didn’t know this time, was that the both of them had company. 

Tiptoeing down the hall was easy the second you heard your brother's voice coming from the kitchen, announcing that he was getting drinks for them. The plan was simple; walk in under the guise of being annoyed at Seokmin for something and then relish when Mingyu would defend you from his inevitable rage — except this time you’d have a few extra minutes alone with him before your brother trudged back.  

Putting on the best annoyed face you could, you stalk past Seokmin’s room, immediately wishing you hadn’t. Mingyu was in your brother's room as expected, sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers with numbers and letters too complex. But he wasn’t alone. There was a girl that sat between his legs, turned over in his arms as they whisper to each other. They weren’t studying at all; the giggles and smiles were a dead giveaway. 

You halt in your tracks at the edge of the doorway in mild disbelief, brain computing the situation in front of you. They hadn’t noticed you yet, it was apparent with the way she leans into him to place her lips on his in a peck. 

There’s a yell of your name behind you as Seokmin sees you loitering around his room. You jump in surprise, not expecting him back so quickly. Your brother, too, isn’t alone, a girl of his own accompanying him with her arms full of cans, peeking over his shoulder to catch sight of your distressed form. 

“What’re you doing?”

Running was the worst thing you could do, and yet you found yourself doing just that in your cornered state. Catapulting face first into your pillows, the sobs coming before you could muffle them. It was humiliating, even more so when you feel your mother’s hand coming up to your shoulder in a stretch of comfort. 

“I yelled at him, he won’t do it again!” she attempted to reason with you, trying endlessly to get you to emerge from your cavern of comforters. 

“It’s not that!” you groan.

“What is it then? Darling, I won’t know if you won’t tell me.” 

Your mother gave up a little bit after that, and your brother had apologized for yelling at you; apologized for all the wrong reasons. You brushed him over.

There were worse things circling your mind in that moment, like the image of Mingyu in a liplock with another girl, the image of him holding her with all his limbs. 

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

“What the fuck, is wrong with the both of you?” Your brother swoops in like a pesky seagull and snatches the book right out of your hands, eyes blown in exasperation. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Give it back!” you yell, reaching for the book that he’s placed over his head. Climbing the couch does little when he simply moves away from you. 

“Not until you tell me what’s going on between you and Mingyu.” 

“Nothing is — ugh,” you drop back onto the couch in frustration. You take a deep breath. “Nothing is going on. Now can I have my fucking book back?” 

“No, you're avoiding each other.”

“He’s your friend, why would I hang out with him?” 

“Stop dodging the question!” he spits. 

“Stop dodging.” You exclaim as you jump for the book another time. 

“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” He throws the book to the corner of the room. It takes every fiber in your body to stop yourself from plucking every strand of hair off his head. 

“Seokmin!” you scream. 

“Your book’s fine. Is this about the guy you told me about?” He asks, hands grabbing you by the upper arms, forcing you to look at him. 

“No, it’s not,” you grit. 

“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” he repeats, making direct eye contact. 

“Because,” you start, exhaling deeply, “I’m tired.”

“It’s an exhibition for fucks sake, an exhibition with your face plastered all over it. You go in for five minutes and you’re out. Put something on and let’s go!” 

“I don’t want to go.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer. You’ve been doing nothing but go to work and stay home, you need air.”

“I need you out of my air,” you swat his hands away, thoroughly disgruntled. 

“I’m giving you twenty minutes.” 

He was serious, you realize as he begins to pound on your door with two minutes left to spare. You decided you weren’t about to be embarrassing and show up in your sweatpants, encasing the final shreds of dignity you had left. You couldn’t imagine being asked “who?” when the face on the walls doesn’t match with the one you brought to the place, not doubting the number of fancy scouters that’d be gracing the crowd tonight.

 Opting for a plain black dress and a coverup felt enough for you, your usual makeup and matching accessories helping you feel better about the bags under your eyes your concealer couldn’t quite erase. 

Seokmin says nothing for probable fear of having you landing back on the couch, choosing to ask you a simple, “Ready?” instead.

The drive is short and silent, the remnants of you and your brother's prior argument still hanging in the air. You weren’t about to apologize to each other, but you would let the hours cool you off before you’re back to your normal selves. For now, you’re glad to step out of the stuffy car, the anticipation having you needing to breathe in an elevated sense. 

The place is more crowded than you thought it would be, men and women in fancier than necessary clothes loitering the entrance carpeting. You suddenly feel underdressed. 

Catching Mingyu’s name is easy, the display at the front doing the most to highlight the star of the night, catching sight of him is proving a little more difficult. Not that you’re trying, but Seokmin’s embarrassing neck stretches are having you restraining yourself from pulling him down by the collar. 

Walking into the display is a strange experience, for you at least. The pictures are larger than you’d thought they would be, spanning the giant walls of the gallery. Your face is huge. 

There’s a few other one’s that scatter between the portraits, beautiful all the same. You find yourself wandering as you note the plaques next to the pieces, descriptions and words from the artist; Mingyu’s words. It’s easy to begin looking at the pictures through his eyes, the meticulous scanning you’re doing proving easier for you to zone out despite the crowd. 

You’ve gone through nearly every picture, approaching the last one, the one that looked a little more important than the rest as you take in its size. The steps you take towards the plaque are halted as you hear someone calling for you. You recognize his voice, how could you not?

Mingyu is weaving through the crowd to get to you, eyes locked as he tries to make way for himself. Your mouth is open by the time he’s here, mind frantic as you try to figure out what you should say. 

Congratulations.

You’ve worked hard on this. 

This looks great.

How’ve you been?

“You’re here,” he says, simple as that. 

“I’m here,” you breathe out, a nervous smile on your face as you look down at your shoes. 

“Seok told me you were here too.” 

Your head snaps up, “You were looking for me?” 

“I mean, it’s a bit difficult with the crowd—”

“Oh,” you cut him off before you could forget. “Congratulations, by the way. The turnout looks great.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s great.” His eyes skim around the large hall.

You hate how his craning is drawing your eyes to everything else. So to say the plain black button up and slacks he’s sporting, the thin chain he wears around the unbuttoned collar. You hate how he’s put in no effort, and you hate how it makes him look even better somehow. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks after he rounds back to you. 

Your reply is drowned in your throat as somebody calls for him across the hall, pointing at a mic in their hands. 

“I have to go address everyone, you’ll be here, right?” he asks, but he once again has no chance to listen to your answer when somebody physically drags him by the elbow and yanks him away from you. You lose sight of him in the crowd of people, his face disappearing.

It gives you enough opportunity to slowly turn around to go back to your plaque reading, exhaling loudly as you walk up to the final, biggest piece on the wall. It’s labeled as the focal point of the collection. It’s a picture of you, and for some reason, you can’t remember taking it, or posing for it at all. 

You recognize the mountain top, more so the grueling trek up the place for your last shoot with him. It’s a side profile, your arms folding over the railing, face tucked into your padded arms. A single ray of light illuminates your eyes, the background soft. 

The picture was an accident. A moment that may have gone forgotten, yet one that appeared right when it was meant to. A mistake made on purpose, one that manages to carry the weight of years. A slow accession of golden rays, dawn illuminating the subject in hues indescribable, except those that describe a feeling. A feeling in turn, indescribable.

Soft. Legible. New.

You take a step back. 

And another

Then another. 

You look at the picture, the picture of you. Taken the one time you weren’t actively posing for the camera, the one time he wasn’t meant to take a picture of you. It landed here, at the seemingly deserved position of a final piece. The piece that was meant to emulate all that the artist wanted to come out of his work. 

You crane your neck up higher, the name of the collection in bold block letters right above the picture that supposedly says it all. 

THE BEGINNING

There’s a ball forming in your throat, one that's cementing itself where it stays. 

There’s noise happening in your peripherals, somebody speaking into a mic on stage. You’re not paying attention until you hear his name. 

“I’m pleased to present to you the man of the hour, mister Kim Mingyu…” 

You watch with glossy eyes as he takes the stand, clearing his throat before he begins to speak. 

You needed to leave. 

Finding Seokmin is easy, and you thank every plane of heaven that it is, considering you’d rather be caught dead than be seen red nosed and teary eyed. 

“Let’s go home.”

“Huh? Right now? He just started talking.” Seokmin argues, tearing his eyes away from the stage to gape at you, only to note the expression on your face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Seokmin, you said five minutes.” You grip his sleeve tight. “Please, either give me the keys, or I’ll get a cab.” 

He pauses for a moment, and you immediately hate yourself for making him choose between staying for his best friend or leaving for his sister. He slowly comes down to grip your hand, pulling you away. 

“Let me drop you off home.” 

You’ve calmed down a significant amount during the car ride home, managing to convince (fight) Seokmin into going back to the exhibition hall before Mingyu noticed that he was gone. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you made him miss something as important as this just because you couldn’t control your emotions.

He hugs you at the door, tight, and you hug back just as strong, holding back the river of tears that suddenly threaten to let loose. He presses his lips to your temple, muttering a little ‘I love you’ before he leaves. He knew nothing, yet was ready to comfort you like he did.

You let yourself sob after that, as wracking and strong as they’d come. It’s freeing, to fall to your knees and simply cry like a child. You aren’t sure what it is that you’re crying about, yet you know all the same. The thought of both those things make your head begin to spin, causing another fresh wave of tears to come rushing down. 

Remnants of the day Mingyu spoke his truth to you in your own kitchen come tumbling back; the shock, the anger, the hurt, and despite everything, the love.

You loved Mingyu, you weren’t going to sit here and deny it when you were a mess of jewels on the floor with only his face at the forefront of your mind. You’re a liar if you say you don’t love him. You’re a liar if you say you’ll ever stop. 

Years and years of pining and wishing and praying, to hope that one day, Mingyu would open his eyes with the realization that he loves you the same. 

The day came. Your prayers were granted, your wishes came true; you no longer had to sit on the sidelines as an ignored constant. And yet, you found yourself wanting to be anywhere but in his presence as the prayer unfolded. 

Were you too weak to handle reciprocation? Have you gotten comfortable pining by yourself? Or was it something completely else. Were you still hurt by his words? Were you aghast at his audacity to have the courage to speak his heart to you, when you went years without doing so? 

Were you protecting yourself? Or were you actively throwing the golden chance you’d received right out the window? 

You’re tired, it’s evident with the effort it takes you to simply reach your bedroom, heels thrown somewhere in the doorway as you made the trek barefooted. Hoping your muscles would release the pent up tension at the learnt feeling of the mattress, you find yourself closing your eyes awaiting the relief. 

Still clad in your dress and makeup, you attempt to find the solace of sleep, knowing you’d feel nothing if there was nothing to perceive. The universe doesn’t seem to want to give you that luxury, your eyes wide awake despite closed lids. The thoughts aren’t showing signs of slowing down either, every part of your mind alive as you remain still as a rock on your bed. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been in bed, but as you hear the distinct jingle of keys in a lock, you know Seokmin is home. The door of your room is opened very quietly, and closed just as quick when he sees your form in bed seemingly asleep. 

You open your eyes for the first time in hours, the darkness remaining as you slowly sit up against the cushions. Your movements are sluggish as you stare into the abyss, brain quiet for once as you swing your bare legs over the mattress, slowly trudging down the hall to your brother's bedroom. 

Knocking slowly, you hear a slight shuffle before the door is opened, the light from inside the room illuminating the dark hall and forcing you to squint. 

“Did I wake you?” Seokmin asks, sporting formal trousers with his dinosaur pajama shirt.

“Uh, no, I was awake.”

“Why haven’t you changed yet?” 

You ignore him, cutting straight to the chase, “Can I borrow your car?” 

There’s silence for nearly three seconds before Seokmin speaks, “What on earth do you need my car for this late at night?” 

“Nayeon’s” 

“Bullshit.”

You let out a loud, loud sigh, “Will you believe it for now?” 

Your brother looks at you with an expression you can’t really pinpoint, eyes like he’s scanning into your soul. “The keys are at the door.”

You walk back to your room to grab your phone and your cover up, not bothering to change as you grab Seokmin’s keys and leave. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave the house so late at night, but your brain seems to have activated tunnel vision as you nearly stalk towards the car. You’re pulling up to where you need to be within minutes, the empty roads leading you on near autopilot. 

By the time you’re standing in front of the door, your desire to settle this once and for all turns pungent in your head. You needed to end this one way or another, you were tired of running in circles. 

Ringing the doorbell is easy, it’s just the realization that settles during those few moments of waiting that grab you by the throat. You were really doing this. 

Mingyu opens the door quicker than you’d anticipated, after briefly wondering if he’d already gone to sleep after the long day he’s probably had. His brows furrow as he registers you at his door, your name tumbling out of his lips in mild confusion. He’s still in the clothes you saw him last, and you doubt it’s been long since he got home too. 

“Promise me you mean it,” you say. 

“What?”

“Promise me you mean it.”

“Mean what?” The crease between his brows deepens as he tries to make sense of what you’re saying. 

“Whatever you said. Promise me you mean it. Promise me. On all the years we spent together, on every truth you've ever said to me. Promise on me that you mean it.”

The silence is deafening, yet you wait. You wait for him to respond. You wait for him to understand what you’re saying. 

Mingyu gulps before opening his door wider, expression neutralizing slightly as he invites you inside. “Why're you standing on the door? Come inside.”

“I’m not taking another step in your direction, Kim Mingyu, not until you answer me,” you snap. 

Letting his hand leave the grip on the door, he brings them both up to rub at his face, taking a simultaneous breath, deep and shaky. When he emerges his eyes are showing a hint of red as he licks his lips. 

Your grip on your own fingers tighten as Mingyu talks. 

“I want to rip my heart out for what it wants from you. I want to rip it out for what it did to yours. Believe me when I say I’ve forgotten how it felt to be this sincere. I love you. I don't deserve to say it, but I love you.”

There’s a beat that passes, one that you barely feel as you throw your bag on the floor of his entryway, grabbing him by the collar with both hands as you yank his face down to hover right in front of yours, nose touching, lips not quite. 

“If you’re lying to me,” you whisper, shaky voiced, “I’m gonna chop your balls off.”

Mingyu answers for you as he finally, finally closes the cursed gap between you, lips capturing yours in a long awaited kiss. You let him pull you inside as you move your lips against each other, the distinct click of the door signaling you were finally inside. 

His hands grip your hips and waist in a manner that’s near painful, yet you can’t find yourself complaining even as he pushes you against the now closed door, hard. His mouth leaves yours for what is barely a second, before your desperate hands move his face back in to continue what you’ve been wanting to do for years. 

His mouth is warm, the vaguest hint of champagne on his tongue. You wonder how many toasts he’s clinked and downed, how many times he thought of you as he celebrated. 

“I love you,” you mumble against his lips. 

Mingyu’s hands are pushing your body against his own, so flush and tight you can barely breathe. Like he’d rather die than bring space between the two of you in that moment. 

“I love you, too,” he mumbled back between kisses. “I love you so much.”

Both of your hands are beginning to roam, less innocent than the fingers tangled in his hair and digging into his shoulders, less innocent than the grips on your hips and neck. It isn’t until his hands are groping your ass that you begin to subconsciously tug at his shirt, wanting the wretched thing out of the way to finally feel him in full. 

There’s a warm hand that grips yours as he stops you, lips pulling away slightly as he rests his forehead against yours. There’s a wild moment of sobriety as you wonder if you’ve read the situation wrong, if you pushed too far. 

“You’re asking me for something I’m ready to give you.” He sounds breathless. “But I need to know if you really want it.”

He looks absolutely gorgeous with his swollen lips, your lipstick staining his own mouth, his messy hair from all the desperate fingers running through them. It takes one look into his bedroom eyes to have your yeses tumbling out your mouth. 

“I want it. I want it if you’ll give it to me. Mingyu, please.”

He leans in to give you a soft peck before pulling away slowly. “You can stop me whenever, just say the word.”

He’s facing you as he speaks, hands pulling you further into the house in slow and steady steps. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, I promise.”

By the time you reach the four walls of his bedroom, you’re itching to have his hands on you again, something he senses as he presses his hot mouth to your awaiting lips. His touches become decreasingly respectful as his hands run up your sides, thumbs brushing against the sides of your clothed breasts as he moves his mouth further down. 

Kisses line your jaw, reaching the joint as he nips at your earlobe teasingly. Pushing the coverup off of your shoulders is easy, fingers tracing the exposed skin as his mouth moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking teasingly. Your breathing is embarrassingly heavy. 

“You’re gorgeous,” you hear him breathe out. 

His fingers fit under the zipper of your dress not too long after, pulling it down to reveal your back tantalizingly slow. His hands smooth over your waist once he reaches the bottom, bringing them up to your upper body as you feel his palms grab your breasts in a soft squeeze. The moan you let out is small, but enough to encourage him to bring his hands to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders one after the other. 

“Do you realize how good you looked in this today,” he says. “Was so happy you came, so, so happy to see you after so long.”

Mingyu kisses you again in a slow, passionate manner, hands pushing down the tight fabric of the bodice to let it fall off your body to a pile on the floor. It leaves you bare save for your bra and panties. 

Mingyu lets out a groan at the sight in the dimly lit room, the sound checking in as one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard, the vibrations leading straight to your core like they belonged there. The focus goes back to his hands that continue to roam your body, mouth traveling further south to leave hot, open mouthed kisses on your cleavage. 

Your own fingers come up to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt, managing to pull a couple loose as you whine, “Mingyu.”

“Patience, my love.” He moves you backwards slowly as his mouth leaves your chest, pushing you into the plush of his mattress as you feel the back of your knees bump into the edge. “Let me take my time with you.”

He brings a knee up to the bed as he keeps his gaze on you, beginning to unbutton the rest of his shirt as you prop yourself up on your elbows. For once, you’re allowed to stare at the sculpt of his chest and abdomen, letting your gaze take you to the dipped V before the cut off. The mere sight of his fingers working against his belt have you needing to close your thighs for the sake of your now throbbing core. 

Only clad in his dark boxers, you let him climb over you in a way you can only describe as a prowl, inserting himself between your legs as he pushes your head up to the headboard. The hand that splays out on your thigh is having the muscle twitch, the anticipation for what he might do next gripping you. 

“Let me get this off of you,” he says with his hands toying with the elastic of your bra, prompting you to arch your back so he could reach under to unclasp it in a way you can only call professional. 

There’s barely any time for you to feel a semblance of embarrassment when he flings the padding away, mouth coming in direct contact with your breast in a harsh suck. The feeling has you moaning his name into the dark room, only encouraging his wet tongue to circle around the bud before going back to suckling. He doesn’t forget your other breast as he brings his hand up to squeeze the mound and play with your nipples the same. 

The sensations are overwhelming already, your hands gripping his hair in desperation as you throw your head back at his ministrations. The ache in your underwear is becoming increasingly difficult to resist, the foreign feeling of his mound against your inner thigh only coursing more want into your awaiting heat. 

Your chest is a mess of redness and saliva but the time Mingyu’s had his fill, pulling away to admire the work he’s left. 

“Fuck, Mingyu, please,” his name is the only thing that comes out in your pleas, hoping he’d give you wanted before you lost your mind for good. 

“I love this lighting on you,” he says simply, moving to sit on his knees as he takes his eyes up and down your practically naked frame. 

Both hands come in to push your thighs further apart, giving him better access to the gold that sits right in between. “You’re beautiful.” 

You feel the pad of his thumb come in contact with your clit in the lightest pressure, slowly brushing over the muscle as he continues. “The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He presses his thumb in further, pushing down to meet your hole, the source of the large wet patch on the fabric of panties. The whimpers the new feeling is having you let out are near embarrassing. Hooking his fingers around your panties, he asks, “Can I take these off?” 

“Yes!” you gasp out immediately, hip rising to let them slide the pesky fabric off and away. 

He wastes no time in bringing his fingers to your folds, gathering your arousal in his fingers as he spreads them across your throbbing clit. He’s rubbing the area in circular motions, the feeling having you wracking out sounds you never thought you could make. The sheets are bunched up in your grip as you throw your head back at the feeling that encases you, eyes screwed shut. 

“Oh, Mingyu,” 

That only encourages him as his other hand joins the party, a lone finger circling your entrance in preparation to plunge into you, slowly, all the way to the hilt of his finger. Zoning in on the feeling, the pump of his fingers into your core, the constant ministrations of his other thumb on your clit. Your hands leave his wrinkled sheets as they come in to grip his wrists and forearm, needing to feel his skin to anchor yourself into the present. Not being able to bring yourself to open your eyes, he takes it upon himself to insert another finger, encouraging your lids to fly open at the stretch and the loud moan that comes with it. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet, I’m barely pushing.” It may have embarrassed you a little if you weren’t so withdrawn from pleasure, the prospect only having you whimper his name even more. 

It isn’t when he curls his fingers inside you that you feel the need to stifle the sounds that come out of your throat, hand to mouth as the volume has you needing to shut yourself up. He brings his hand off your clit to grab you by the wrist, freeing your mouth of restraint. 

“Don’t,” his voice gravelly as he gets off his knees to hover over you, his other hand continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you in perfect motions. “I wanna hear your voice. I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you’re making.”

He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your mouth, fingers quickening their pace as your sounds grow louder, “Mingyu, I think I’m…I think I’m close.” 

“It’s okay, let go whenever, darling, it’s okay.” His other hand goes back to its rightful position on your clit, thumb circling the bud in quick motions as he encourages you to climax. 

And you do. The blissful release comes crashing into you hard, the feeling leaving nothing but white hot space in the expanse of your brain, letting the feeling take over as you melt into the sheets. “F-fuck…”

He doesn’t stop either hand till you physically have to push his fingers off of you, the overstimulation coming in hot. 

You don’t come around for a little bit, but feel every searing kiss he leaves on your skin in the aftermath. Pressed into your chest, your collarbones, you neck and your jaw. He makes his way up to your face slowly, pressing his lips onto your closed lids as you wait for your breathing to even out. His face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, leaning forward to press your own lips against his. 

“How was that?” he asks slowly, and you don’t miss the hint of a smirk on his face. You can’t help but break into a smile of your own. 

“Great.”

“Great?”

“Amazing.” You lean in to kiss him again, palms coming in contact with the expanse of his back as you move your mouths together. It’s not long before your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, hands coming up front to feel him through the fabric, palming him in the process. 

You feel him shudder in your hold, lips pulling away as he stares into your eyes. 

“What?” you ask in a whisper when he makes no other moves. 

“I’m trying to think if I have condoms or not,” he whispers back, and you can’t help but let out a laugh at his delivery. He begins to giggle with you, backing up as he reaches over to rummage through his nightstand. 

“Fuck yeah,” you hear him say as he comes round with the shiny pack. He’s giggling as he undoes the wrapper, the lighthearted nature of it all bringing a laugh to your own lips. 

Pulling his underwear down and off, you watch as he preps himself with the rubber, your own hand coming up in a trance to stroke his gorgeous length lightly, his palms ghosting over your hand at the feeling. Once he decides he can’t take it anymore he’s grabbing both your wrists to pin them beside your head in one swift motion, earning a gasp from you at the abruptness. 

“I’m gonna put the tip in first, let you adjust before I go in further,” he explains as he uses his knee to push your thighs apart to grant him more access. “I’m gonna listen to you throughout, okay? Just say so if you want me to stop, I’ll hear you.” 

When you don’t reply he continues, “I need to know you heard me, baby.” 

“I heard you,” you answer, and he finally lets go of one of your hands to guide his length to your entrance, gathering your remaining arousal. He’s sliding his tip across your folds, grinding onto your clit within his length and it has you nearly careening off the edge. 

“Mingyu, in, please!” you beg, and you hear him chuckle before he’s finally pressing the tip into your prepped hole. 

You almost breathe a sigh of relief as you feel him begin to push into your hot core, keeping his promise of only getting to the tip, before bringing himself out and going back in. He’s slow as he stretches you out, his hands coming up to the sides of your head as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. Lifting one of your legs, you wrap them around his waist as you grant him further access into you, one of his hands coming up to keep your raised leg steady. 

He halts when he finally bottoms out, pausing for breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just,” you manage, arms wrapped around his shoulders tight. “Give me a second.” 

When you give him the green light and he begins to move out slowly, only to thrust back in, you find yourself settling into the sheets more consciously, ready to take what he was about to finally give you. You’re both a mess of whimpers and sounds, the feeling overtaking any shreds of restraint you had left. His hands are groping you everywhere, his fingers finding your breasts again as he begins to toy with your nipples, all while thrusting into you at a steady yet equally maddening pace.

He feels amazing, beyond just his dick. The feeling of his body pressed against yours is heavenly, the tears beginning to slowly prick at your eyes as you let yourself melt into his hold, a metaphorical layer away from morphing into his skin entirely. The sounds he’s making are pure melodies, the groans, grunts and heavy moans floating around in your otherwise empty head like they’d never ever leave. They do more when they encourage the building feeling in your abdomen, your moans growing increasingly erratic. 

If the bed is creaking from his incessant thrusting, you don’t hear it. The only thing ringing in your head being the near closure you’re about to receive from him. “Gyu, I’m…”

“Shit, me too.” he grunts, and you believe him as his movements begin to grow sloppier, his hips slamming into yours with more force than before. 

And then it’s bliss, the feeling dropping in on your body as you feel yourself begin to spasm in his hold, the loudest moan ripping from your throat at the sensation. You’re contracting around him so, so good, and it’s enough to have him moaning into your own ear as he feels his climax come over him as well. 

He’s shooting his load into the rubber, and for a wild moment you wish he’d rip it off and finish inside you instead, your blabbering brain wanting to take all of him in. The fever passes in a few heavy minutes, Mingyu’s body is dropped on top of you, his length remaining inside your warmth as you both relished in the post sex haze. 

He’s first to pick his sweltering body off of yours, the cool air hitting your skin as he pulls out of you slowly. You’re still trying to come to earth, even when you hear the water beginning to run in the attached bathroom, even when he walks out in a fresh pair of boxers, walking over to your form on the bed. 

His fingers run through your hair as he places soft kisses on your temple, coaxing you to open your eyes. “Come on babe. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

When you make no moves to get up despite opening your eyes, he’s physically pulling you up to grace your head on his chest in an effort to take a step back into the world. His fingers continue to thread through your hair, massaging your head lightly as you breathe in his scent. You do end up getting up and letting him lead you to the bathroom, but only after he threatens to carry you there over his shoulder. The bath is already drawn when you dip your feet into the warm water, planting yourself inside as you lean against the walls of the tub.

“Gyu, why is it warm?” you whine, wanting a cooler temperature to hit your sticky body. 

He chuckles as he sits by the tub, hands coming in to wet your hair for you, “I’m scared your body’s gonna go into shock if I chucked you into a cold bath. You’ll feel better in a minute, love.” 

You don’t argue as he does most of the work for you, shampooing, scrubbing and conditioning. He lets you sit in the tub for a little bit as he leaves to get you a towel and a shirt, coming back to continue coaxing you to leave the tub this time. You grab his outstretched hand, pulling him down to sit next to you again. 

“Sit with me for a little bit, right here,” you say as you lean over the edge of the tub. 

“I can sit with you in bed once you’re dried up,” he tries to reason. “Under the covers. Where it’s more comfortable than hard acrylic, remember?” 

Pouting a little, you let him wrap you in a towel as you admit defeat, too tired to argue much more than that. He continues to shrug one of shirts over your shoulders, going as far as drying your hair before finally letting you crawl back under the covers. He joins you soon after, wrapping his limbs around you in a tight embrace, breathing in the mix of his own shampoo and your scent. 

“Are you okay? Did I do too much?” he asks quietly.

“Mhm,” you hum into his chest. “I’m okay.”

There’s a deep vibration in his chest as he finds your lack of response amusing, looking at your face that looks about three seconds away from slipping into dreamland. Nearly, he realizes, as your eyes are suddenly pushed wide open, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“What? What?” Mingyu asks as you sit up all of a sudden scrambling to find your phone. 

“My phone, where is it?” you ask as you ruffle through the covers. 

“Did you bring it with you?” 

You suddenly remember your bag that you threw in his entryway a couple hours ago, your phone nestled inside. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you attempt to stand up to retrieve it, only to find out the universe wasn’t about to let you do that. You don’t miss Mingyu’s chortle as he watches you nearly fall over after wobbling around like a fawn, your arms trembling as you pull yourself up back on the bed. 

“What the fuck?” you breathe out. 

“Get back on, I’ll get your bag for you.” He’s still smiling when returns, throwing your purse on the bed. 

You immediately unlock your phone to find Nayeon’s contact, choosing to leave her a text considering the late hour.

“What is it?” Mingyu asks again as he watches you type, arms coming up from behind to engulf you in his hold again. 

“I told Seokmin I was at Nayeon’s. He didn’t believe me but I’m telling her to cover for me anyway.” 

“Oh.”

The thought comes to you later than it should have, realizing you’d have to involve Seokmin in…whatever this was, sooner or later. 

“Don’t,” you hear Mingyu say behind you.

“What?”

“Don’t. I know what you’re thinking about. We can deal with Seokmin when we need to, don’t think about it right now, that’s my job.” 

“I-”

“He needs to deal with me being serious about you,” he continues, giggling, “Even if I have to make you run away with me.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

He brings your wrist up to his mouth, placing a kiss there, “It won’t. I promise.” 

The sitting up thing doesn’t last for too long, both of you wanting nothing more than to lay down for the lack of energy. Limbs are a tangled mess as you both lay in silence, tired but not wanting to go to sleep just yet. It stays that way for a while, head on his chest as you take in the aftermath of everything that’s happened. 

You just had sex with Kim Mingyu. He loves you back. And you know he means it. This isn’t a hyperrealistic childhood fantasy, this is real life. You’re touching him, he’s holding you, you can hear his heart beat, you can feel his skin under the palm of your hand. 

You’re distracted from your thoughts as you sense Mingyu reaching over the edge of the bed to his nightstand as he looks for something, bringing his hand over to show you a very familiar pink cover in his hands. 

“Oh,” you let out as you recognize the title, snorting as you remember where the verdict for that ended, “We were supposed to talk about the ending.”

“We could do that right now.”

“Uh, about that,” you say. “I never actually got to finish it.”

“You were supposed to be done like two weeks ago,” he frowns.

“I didn’t get to finish it the day…the day you came over. Couldn’t bring it in myself to touch it after that.” you say as you note the little tabs sticking out the sides, wanting to address them. 

“You can use this one to finish it then, it’s yours.” 

You glance up at him as he talks, opening the book to skim through the pages. And then you see it, tiny scribbles on margins, sticky notes at chapter ends with his thoughts, colorful tabs sticking out of every highlighted line, everything complete with a color coded key in the front.

“I saw you do it with your other books, found out it’s not actually a crime to write in books and…I guess it became fun.” he explains as he watches you flick through the pages. “I was gonna give this to you at some point. Sounded like a thoughtful idea in my head.”

You don’t answer him, simply facing him in silence before continuing, “I would’ve been sucking your dick right now if I wasn’t so tired.”

He throws his head back in a loud laugh, the high pitched noise sounding across the room as he nearly curls up from the hilarity. You don’t think it was that funny, but maybe it’s because you were telling the truth. You’re pretty sure you’ve joked about wanting to do that to someone who’d do something like this for you, perhaps you could find the transcripts hidden in some text messages with Nayeon later to show Mingyu.

 His laughter is contagious regardless, giggles of your own coming out as you watch him practically lose it. 

“I think you need to go to sleep,” you comment through bouts of laughter. 

He sighs a vocal sigh as he calms down slowly, agreeing with your suggestion that the near morning delirium was getting to both of your heads. You rest your newly acquired, yet equally prized possession to the side, finally turning in for the night as he reaches to turn his night lamp off. 

Mingyu moves to press his forehead into yours, not before placing a tiny peck into your lips as he mumbles against them in the dark, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you hum back as you press your lips together one last time, finally letting his breathing lull you into sleep. 

The mattress is foreign, so is the pillow, and so are the scents that linger in the room. It’s colder than you’d usually have it and the blankets feel different on your skin. And despite the most foreign thing in the room, the one that has his arms and legs wrapped around you, the one that whispered his love for you into your skin before drifting off, you find yourself falling into a sleep that’s more blissful than any you’ve had in a very, very long time. 

The sun is doing nothing to help itself against the tide of annoyance tht rises in your sleepy state. You’d get up and yank the curtains but can’t bring yourself to have the motivation to leave the soft mattress, simply bunching the blanket up to your face to block out the remnants of sun rays that invade the room. You’ve nearly lulled yourself back to sleep when you start registering noises coming from outside the bedroom walls, muffled yet familiar. 

Your brother is talking about something you can’t make out, Seokmin’s voice is undeniable despite passing through the folded layers of comforters around your head. You don’t doubt the presence of the sweat that’s probably already accumulated on your scalp. 

 There’s nothing that alarms you in the moment despite Seokmin’s yapping — that is until you hear a second voice.

You recognize it immediately as the sound of Mingyu’s talking, the words equally as muffled yet the intonation clear all the same. 

Kicking the sheets off of your overheating body, you squint as you open your eyes in a desperate attempt to reign yourself back to earth, recollections of the past twenty four hours hurtling back to you like a constant line of K.O’s. 

The gallery, the picture, the drive up to Mingyu’s place,the sex, the falling asleep in his arms. You sit up in Mingyu’s bed, clad in nothing but his own T-shirt as you realize your brother is downstairs talking to Mingyu, and you have no idea if he knows you're here. 

You realize very quickly that you’re trapped, being left with no other option than to remain in Mingyu’s bedroom until he comes back up to give you the clear, despite wanting to walk out to take the tiniest peek. You’re not sure what’s worse, getting caught or sitting in the growing pool of anxiety before Mingyu gets back. 

It’s a long, long twenty minutes, in which you’ve done just about everything to get to hear their conversation a bit better; or to distract yourself from the fact that it’s happening at all. Pressing your ear to the door before going back to make the bed. Freshening up in the bathroom before going back to jamming your eye into the keyhole (you aren’t sure why considering door faces a plain wall). You even hijacked a spare cup Mingyu had lying around the room to stick into the wall, hoping all those Mr. Bean cartoons hadn’t been lying to you. 

They were simply talking in a tone too low for your ears to catch (despite the Mr. Bean hack), and you resorted to scrolling on your phone to pass the remaining time. It’s catastrophic to say the least, when you’re met with a string of frantic messages from Nayeon as well as a couple missed calls from your brother. 

[Nayeon]: fuck [Nayeon]: i didnt see this [Nayeon]: he called this morning asking about you  [Nayeon]: i accidentally told him you werent here [Nayeon]: im so sorry where are you  [You]: its okay its my fault for texting so late [You]: i was at mingyus place [You]: ill tell you more later [Nayeon]: WHAT???

By the time Mingyu walks in, he’s mildly surprised to see you awake, pausing at the door as he takes in your huddled form. You sit up immediately, noting his still messy hair and the backwards sweatshirt he’s thrown on over his boxers. The question tumbles out of your lips before you can help it, “Was that Seokmin?”

“Good morning to you too,” he grumbles sarcastically, coming up on the bed to join you in your huddle fest. You’re a little embarrassed at the way you’ve greeted him first thing when he sees you, but his expression when he continues replaces it with something akin to fear. “And yeah, it was him.”

You want to ask him a follow up question, but you aren’t sure what to say, simply staring at him, hoping he’d get the hint and continue by himself. He does. 

“The idiot has a spare key so he just…” He trails off, rubbing his hands on his face,  “he just walked in straight to the room. Got the shock of his life, I suppose, ‘cause it woke me up while you kept snoring.” 

“He walked into the room?!” you nearly screech, hand clamped over mouth, horrified. “What did he say to you?”

Mingyu has the audacity to laugh, simply tugging you back down on the bed to hold you. You briefly wonder how he’s so casual about this. “There’s not really an expected reaction from someone when they find you half naked in bed with their sister.” 

The haphazardly shoved sweatshirt and no pants look was starting to make sense. “I heard you talking downstairs, what were you talking about?” 

“Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about,” his lips graze the shell of your ear as he snuggles further into you. “He wants you home by seven though.” 

You throw your head back in a whine, “God, what am I gonna do?” 

“You’ll be fine, he didn’t smack me, he can’t possibly be that mad at you.” 

“What was he then, ecstatic?” you retort. 

“I mean,” his energy shifts a little. “I think he’s just a little hurt that he wasn’t told.” 

“So you’ve done your damage control and now I need to pray he doesn’t disown me.” 

“God, you’re being so negative,” he comments and you can’t help but round up on him.

“And you’re acting like you don’t care!”

He’s planting a fat kiss on your cheek at your outburst, coming in to coddle you even more. “I’m kidding, I just want you to relax, don’t be upset.” 

“Has he given you his verdict yet?” you ask quietly.

He sighs at the question and you can’t imagine his answer being any good. “Not yet, pretty up in the air about it.” 

When he sees you deflate even more in his arms, he continues, “I’m sure he’s gonna come around, he loves you too much to not. It’s just a matter of time while he gets to make sense of the situation, don’t worry about it.” 

“I hope so,” you reply.

“We might have wash his socks for the next five years once he does, but it’s okay.” 

You can’t help but snort at the prospect, “His feet are stinkier than the regular human’s, are you sure about that?”

He grins, “I’d do it for you.”

You push his face away, rolling your eyes at his attempt to be sappy. “You’re gonna keep me for five years?” 

His smile drops as you feel the atmosphere shift in the slightest, his presence moving impossibly closer to you. “I’m gonna keep you forever.”

Hearing it is enough to have you lurching forward, closing the final gap between you so you can give in to the urge to kiss him. He’s enthusiastic to give back, pulling your body to face him entirely as you mumble between kisses, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

The rest of the day (once your anxiety’s calmed down, at least) is spent loitering around each other as you migrate around the house in random excess. He makes you breakfast, and you need to physically restrain him to stop feeding you every bite of pancake and bacon. You let him make your favourite for lunch though, after you finally admitted how much you truly liked his Chow Mein, going as far as to run to the store to grab the stuff he was missing. He returns with a bag of groceries, not missing an abnormal amount of moonpie value packs that he stashes in his cabinets because “you’re gonna be around all the time”. 

6:30 rolls around quicker than either of you would have liked, needing to wiggle out of Mingyu’s hold on his couch to change out of your half naked state. He continues to delay you another ten minutes as he refuses to open his car door to let you walk into the apartment building, leaning over the console to continue mumbling whines between your own consoling kisses. 

By the time you’re making the walk of shame up to your door, the pit of anxiety that began to brew this morning returns from its dormancy, no Mingyu here to help ease your nerves, Gripping your key tight in your hands, you brace yourself to jam and twist to finally end this matter once and for all (at least you hope you can). 

Seokmin is waiting on the couch for arrival like a parent waiting to catch their child in the act. He briefly glances over at you as you whisper a tame “Hi”, slipping off your shoes. He doesn’t reply as he merely grabs the remote to pause his show, casting a heightened awkward atmosphere at the silence that’s now engulfing the room. You tread carefully over to the couch, where Seokmin sits with his arms crossed. 

It takes one look at his face for you to suddenly want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. He didn’t look angry, and perhaps you would’ve preferred his aggression if it didn’t mean having to look at a hurt Seokmin. You sit in silence for a couple dramatic minutes, hoping he would start talking so you wouldn’t have to. Yet, when you realize you might have to say something anyway for fear of crushing under the pressure, you find yourself opening your mouth. 

“Are you upset?” Of course, he’s upset, you idiot.

“I just–” he starts, before sighing. “I just wish one of you would’ve told me what was going on.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” you reply. “I didn’t want either of you to have an excuse to be upset with each other, so I just…”

“I get that it was a recent thing but I think I deserved as much to know what was happening when I wasn’t around.”

You wince as speaks, realizing he hasn’t caught on to the fact that this isn’t recent at all — for you at least. “Um, about that…”

“What? There’s more?” he scoffs. 

“I, uh…I’ve liked him since like fifth grade—” He’s immediately jaw dropped, eyes bulged, taking a sharp breath. “But! In my defense, it was really obvious—it’s honestly your fault for not noticing.”

‘My–My fault?!” he sputters. “That’s like, forever, and you told me nothing? Mingyu told me this was recent, why did he lie?” 

“He didn’t, nothing happened till last night, I swear.” You cringe at what you’re entailing. “It was just me that liked him for that long, he figured it out pretty early on but…”

“He’s finally reciprocating now?” he suggests, almost sarcastically. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out lightly. 

“This is insane,” he blows out a breath of air, massaging his temples. 

“I’m not being stupid about him,” you mutter lowly, “This isn’t some puppy dog crush, especially not after so long.” 

He’s silent. 

“I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m jumping into this blind, especially for what it means for you too.” 

No response. 

“I’m sorry that you had to find out like this, it’s really not how I wanted it to go.” And when you’re met with even more silence, you find yourself continuing. “Please, talk to me. Cuss me out if you want, I’d honestly rather you yell at me.”

Seokmin sighs for the near hundredth time, finally looking like he might say something. “I want you to listen to me very carefully.”  

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, mind immediately going to the worst. Was he going to ask you to break up with him?

“I’m gonna choose to trust the both of you on this,” he starts, and you nearly melt into the cushions, “It’s your life, you can date whoever you want. And…I guess Mingyu is better than someone else. Probably uses bad hair gel though.” 

You’re catapulting yourself off the couch at the sound of that, throwing yourself onto an unassuming Seokmin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

“OW! Okay! Geez, get off,” he grumbles as he finally stops wrestling you to let go of him, hugging you back as you squeeze his shoulders tight. 

“I promise I won’t keep anything like this from you again.” 

“You better not,” he huffs as you let go of him, “Don’t think this means you’re forgiven. You still have a lot to tell me.” 

“I promise I won’t leave out a thing.”

The following weeks are near bliss, following your very loud confrontation with Nayeon when she gets back from her summer vacation, her screams at every plot turn having you praying for her neighbors. You doubt she believed you despite everything, not until she physically sees Mingyu come in one day, making a beeline to peck you on the lips before greeting anyone else. Her dropped jaw was very telling. 

Even now, as Mingyu sports the title of the lame alumnus that still hangs around campus as he grips your hand, walking through the grass, the double takes you’re receiving seem to be traveling quite fast. You wouldn’t necessarily blame them considering the trickier than usual dynamic you sport due to your brother (and you guess due to his reputation as well). 

But you also knew they’d be quick to die out as the newer batches of students come flying in — Mingyu will soon become a very well kept secret, in one way if not the other. 

His neighbors, however, must be wishing he had the same sentiment as well, considering the absolutely foul noises that are coming from his apartment. 

You’re learning very quickly that Mingyu’s innocent touchiness can turn into something of the opposite at any given time, exhibit A being now as you try your damn hardest to muffle the sounds coming out of your mouth as Mingyu works his own mouth on your cunt. The knees over his shoulders are shivering from the expense, fingers pumping into your hole as he rubbed a particular spot with his tongue that had you gripping onto his hair tight. 

As much as Mingyu loves to hear you, you find his other hand being brought up to place two fingers in your mouth for you as the perfect pacifier, sounds limiting extensively. 

By the time you’re coming undone, sprawled on his couch like you just ran a marathon, you’re quick to realize that he has no intention of letting you have a breather. It takes one shove for him to pull his pulsing length out of his pants, tip pushing into your still sopping hole as he invited all of him inside you. 

You’ll never forget the first time Mingyu fucked you raw, right after you told him he had the green light after taking your birth control pills. It was magic, you’ve never seen him this vocal as he finished inside you nearly four times in a single night. His moans remain loud even still, as he brings your thighs to press over your chest, basically folding you in half. The mere sound of your wetness as he pumps in and out of you is enough to have you nearly careening over the edge, especially when you feel a desperate hand reach out to rub fast circles on your clit. 

You throw your head back as you cum for the second time, pulsing around him in a grip Mingyu can’t believe has the ability to become tighter. It’s enough for him though, as he leans his forehead against your chest as he releases himself inside you. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it, watching you filled to the brim with his cum, even as it drips onto the blankets you’ve laid down below. He has half a mind to stuff the liquid back inside you, but fears you’re tired enough, the overstimulation too much for you. 

By the time you’ve cleaned up and resumed the movie you should’ve been done with hours ago, cuddled impossibly close to him, you find yourself remembering something quite out of the blue.

“Hey, not that I really care anymore,” you start, “But who were the guys you were talking to that day? From the party.”

“Stopped hanging out with them ages ago,” Mingyu scoffs, face souring at the mention of them. “I mean, it was me who said all that bullshit, but they weren’t exactly good influences either. Learned that pretty quick.”

“Oh,” you reply simply, letting your head fall back onto his chest.

He doesn’t seem to be having any of it, grabbing your chin to have you face him. “I’m still really sorry about that. I don’t care if you chase my tail for another fifty years, it’ll always be adorable.”

“Forgave you a long time ago, but I think I have a condition now.” 

He quirks a brow at your words. “What does her Highness ask of me?”

“That you chase my tail for another fifteen to make up for all the running I’ve done.” 

He’s laughing at that, agreeing to your condition as places loving smooches all over your face. “Consider it done.”

It’s later on in the night, both of you huddled in ratty hoodies and mismatched slippers, plastic bag crinkling along Mingyu’s arm as you giggle about something he said. You’re enjoying your fudgsicle in the peace and serenity of the 1 AM hour, making your trek home after raiding the corner store down the block. Mingyu suddenly halts in his tracks as he sees a particularly pretty set of flowers, illuminated by the fluorescent street lights. 

“Babe, babe, stand here let me take a picture of you.”

“What?” you frown, holding up your stick of iced chocolate. “I’m not done yet.”

You watch as he grabs the melting popsicle from your hand downing the entire thing in one go as you watch him, hand still outstretched and jaw dropped. “Mingyu, you bitch!”

He only smiles as he mulls the chocolate in his mouth, words basically gibberish, “‘ere’s more in the ba’, now go stan'!” 

You huff as you trudge to where he was asking you to pose, throwing a couple peace signs to satiate the home video urges in him so you could rip open your second fudgsicle. 

“Wait! You got a little chocolate on your mouth.” he announces, and you stick your tongue out to lick past the remnants of the sweetness. “No— wait.”

He walks over to you as your still trying to find the spot you missed, unassuming as he swings into your face to kiss the remaining off. “Oh, nevermind, it was nothing.” 

You push him off as heat crawls up your face, feigning annoyance at his antics. You decide to forgive him when rips open another fudgsicle for you, offering it with both hands, promising to not steal a single lick. You believe him, snatching the stick from him as you continue your trek home. 

It’s not until he’s attempting to send you the pictures he just took to your phone so you could post them (which, with the way you looked, fat chance) that he notices something in your albums. 

“Oh, are these grad photos?” he asks as he clicks the album open.

“Mhm,” you hum not paying too much attention as you walked and ate. 

“Why’s there only one picture here?” he asks as he pulls up to find nothing more left to load. 

It’s only then that you bring your full attention to your phone in his hand as you realize what picture he’s talking about, “Oh god, don’t look at that one.”

He does the obvious thing and opens it anyway, a louder than necessary “aw” coming out his mouth. “Why do you look like I’m about to eat you?” 

“It felt like it!” you whine, remembering the moment clear as day. “They kept pestering me to take a picture with you too, I was tryna book it out of there at first chance.” 

He giggles as he zooms into the photo, “I’m sending this to myself.”

You groan loudly at the thought, “God, just delete it, leave it alone.”

He tucks the phone into himself further, not letting you grab it. “No, you’re not deleting it. Why do you have it tucked into a separate folder if you hate it so much.”

He’s got you there, you realize quickly, and he reigns in his victory as he watches you grimace at the phone slightly, adding on, “it has a lot of feelings attached to it, I get it. But look, we can attach new feelings to it, now you’ll think about right now the next time you see it.”

“Think about you hijacking my fudgsicles? I think I prefer heartbreak,” you say, bringing your half eaten pop closer to your body in case he tries anything. 

You’re deemed correct when he replies, motioning towards your concealed treat, “Careful, I can still pounce when you’re not looking.” 

Shoving your hands into the swinging bag hanging on Mingyu’s arm, you bring out a thing of sausage and shove it towards him, “You leave me and my fudgsicle alone, go be lousy and suck on this or whatever.”

“You’d know alot about that, wouldn’t you?” he notes casually, grabbing the sausage anyway as he unwraps it to take a bite. 

It takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about while he stares at you with a mischievous expression, coming to shove him when the innuendo finally registers in your head. You do the opposite this time, pointing the melting chocolate toward him instead, threatening to smear it all over his white hoodie. 

He laughs at the sight, disarming you by simply moving your wrist away, coming to kiss you on the mouth hard regardless of your annoyed expression. 

“Love ya’” he giggles. 

“Hm.”

“What, hm? Say it back.”

You pretend to wonder, “I don’t think so.”

“Say it!” he groans, “Say it, say it!” 

You manage to wriggle out of his hold, booking it before he realises what’s happening. 

“Hey!” 

Your both probably waking up the entire neighborhood with how loud you’re yelling and laughing, and even when he manages to tackle you down on somebody’s lawn, coaxing the words out of you with borderline violence, you still manage to smile, thanking your lucky stars that you got what you wanted after all. 

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks with an undertone. 

“Thanking my stars they led me to you,” you reply. 

“More like the other way around. Needed the fattest fucking star to realize what was in front of me all along,” he jests himself. 

It sparks a laugh out of you. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

#mingyu #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt #svt fluff #svt angst #svt smut #svt x reader #em.writes

[moonchild1]

 kim taehyung fic rec list (Ⅴ)

hello everyone i know it's been a while since i posted, work has been hectic, but i got some time and managed to finish a list so please enjoy i have a few lists ready to post so i'll que them up... here's my all time favourite taehyung fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs, leave a heart, reblog or even leave a message or feedback under their posts i know they would appreciate hearing from you, some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed you will be blocked ♡ feel free to recommend me some fics or just share what your reading right now i'd love hearing from you 🖤✨

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

only here to sin by @gimmethatagustd s a ft. namjoon

When your genius of a boyfriend returns to Harvard for his sophomore year of college, you never would have expected to have his worst enemy keeping you entertained in his absence.

our gray winter by @vyduan s a ft. jjk

“Were you looking for this?” Taehyung asked as he handed you the box of tampons you always bought. He remembered. You wanted to sink into the floor and die. Instead, you recalled your manners and said, “Thanks.” You put the box in your basket. “I can’t believe you remembered.” He beamed at you. It was patently unfair how he could look all glowy and soft while you looked… not like that. “Of course, Y/N.” If possible, Taehyung’s voice dropped even lower. “I remember everything about you.”

schemes and tricks to win her heart by @crystaljins ft. ksj

Rich company heir Kim Seokjin has a plan to win the heart of the girl of his dreams, and you, his little brother’s best friend, are dragged along for the ride. His younger brother objects, of course.

camboy!tae by @hisunshiine f s a

Give me all of your love, gimme something to dream about. KTH is your favorite camboy, and as a loyal subscriber, you are chosen to test out some new features on the platform he uses to go live. He’s really good at selling his viewers a dream, and as a thanks to a new milemark he’s hit on the platform, he’s choosing one winner to get their fantasy scene. 

tolerate it by @archivedkookie s a

Taehyung is your husband, and you love him. If only he loved you back; if only he cherished your love and not tolerated it.

what was hidden by @daechwitatamic s a ft. myg

This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You're assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg's The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there's a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one's "true self" versus one's "shown self", darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

complete faith by @daechwitatamic

It’s Taehyung himself who admits that it’s usually around the one-month mark that he starts to lose interest in his relationships. So even though you’re so drawn to him you can barely stand it, even though he’s attentive and funny, even though you’re helplessly crazy about him… when you start dating, you feel like you’ve got an expiration date from day one. But will it be Taehyung’s issues that get in the way, or your own?

and they were roommates by @hoseok666 f s a ft. jjk

it all started with a rejection from your longtime crush, jeon jungkook. you decided to confess to him on your last day of high school. after a harsh rejection and a rough summer dealing with the heartbreak, you were starting anew once your freshman year of college came. you were going to be sharing an apartment with two other roommates that you don’t even know. what a surprise you’re going to be in for once you find out it’s the one and only: jeon jungkook and kim taehyung. 

with a brush of fate by @yoongiofmine f s a

Your roommate was sure she found you the perfect man. Her boyfriend believed he found Taehyung’s soulmate. The only problem was that you never wanted to date an idol and he never wanted to drag you into this life. Taehyung didn’t even know what he wanted anymore and was tired of being criticized for simply growing up. You just wanted to finish university and do something for yourself. What started out with the meddling of your friends became something neither of you expected. Could the two of you be what the other is missing? Or would things just fall apart?

groovy by @kinktae f s a

Even in the 70s, it goes without saying that you shouldn’t have feelings for your best friend’s little sister. 

tempting by @/kinktae s a

Y/N is an angel. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She runs into a demon but, luckily for her, that demon doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, he just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

talk by @gukslut f s a

Finals week is kicking your ass, thank goodness you have a friend to help you relieve some stress. It’s a great arrangement, as long as no one finds out... as long as you don’t catch feelings. What could go wrong?

somebody to love by @cutechim

kim taehyung wins the heart of everyone he meets, and you—his self-proclaimed work “nemesis”—are not an exception.

tear you apart by @bratkook s

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear, ‘I wanna fucking tear you apart.’ demon au

clairevont by @/bratkook f s a ft. jjk

The second year of college starts off with a bang until you find yourself tangled in between your fuck buddy Kim Taehyung and his innocent room mate Jeon Jungkook.

free use by @littlemisskookie f s a

You tell your crush you want him to have full control of you in every way always. He obliges.

lost myth of truelove by @sugalaritae f s a

for six months you wait for him, a weekend spent together, finally able to reach the man your soul is tethered to.

because of you, blue by @ugh-yoongi f s a

nearly a year out from your breakup with taehyung, jin begs you for help saving his failing restaurant. the two of you aren’t exactly friends, but you feel some stupid sense of obligation and, really, what’s the worst that could happen?

true love by @jjkeverlast f s a

in which you're face to face with your ex again after 5 years, because both of your friends start dating each other.

obsidian by @kpopfanfictrash s a

The world of magic is divided into dark and light, witches and warlocks, choice and fate. You’re a prodigy of light, a witch who works within the police force. You’ve heard of Taehyung in passing, spoken in whispers as the warlock of dark who has the world holding it’s breath.  All this changes on the night you’re assigned as security for a mysterious singer named V and you come face to face with Taehyung himself. What happens after that might be fate.

baby, baby by @hobiwonder ft. pjm f s a

When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

entangled by @caelesjjk ft. jjk s a

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well. Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

buzzed by @junqkook f s a

maybe ordering a vibrator and letting your best friend open your mail wasn’t such a great idea.

queen cobra by @fantasybangtan f s a

when your boss offers the chance to take down the nation’s most lucrative gang from the inside out, you know you’ll do it no matter what the cost… even if that means entering an arranged marriage with the kingpin himself.

pulse by @rohobi f s a

You fell in love with Kim Taehyung during Medical School. Now living totally different lives in completely different hospitals, you're pulled together again as if by fate during a code black when someone plants a bomb in your hospital. 

things we don't say by @wintaerbaer f s a

Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

mars by @to-star-lake s a

ahistorical au, military au, yandere!taehyung

satisy by @suga-kookiemonster f s a

 “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do?

no kisses by @icedmatchatae f s a

It's championship week! The most anticipated week of the school year; however, leading up to the events, you and your council must collaborate with the football team to promote school spirit and pride. Unfortunately, you're forced to work with your number one enemy, Football team captain and fuck boy, Kim Taehyung, known for having a mysterious "no kisses" rule.

beyond desire by @strwberrytae s a

it’s never easy falling for your best friend when you have so much history. it’s especially difficult when you both share the same sexual desires and lifestyle. taehyung is a dominant CEO of a well known company in Seoul and you are an up and coming editor. while both of you come from a troubled and dark past, you lean on each other for support and comfort. what happens as your feelings blossom and grow over the years? what happens when you fear taehyung may be falling in love with someone else? will you confess your feelings or remain in the shadows?

one-shot

crazy for you by @oddinary4bts f s a

 you’ve known Kim Taehyung your whole life. When you meet again at a party hosted by your best friend, alcohol looses your lips and you spill your secrets to your childhood crush. Will Taehyung give in to your desire, or will you be struck by remorse?

seventeen times 17 by @cutaepatootie f s a

You loved him Seventeen Times 17.

ten out of ten by @shadowkoo f s a

For the past three years, Kim Taehyung has made it his mission to annoy you relentlessly on campus, finding every possible way to drive you up the wall during your shared classes. However, as you both enter your senior year, something strange happens. Taehyung begins to sense a shift in his energy, realizing he might just have some secret feelings for you. What unfolds when you make this earth-shattering discovery too?

under wraps by @jungkxook f s

there’s nothing you and taehyung seem to hate more than each other - except for christmas. having recently been dumped by your (now ex) boyfriend only seems to make this holiday even worse. but when taehyung suggests that you should pretend to be dating each other to save you both the embarrassment, pity, and bothersome questions from family and friends alike for a fun carefree month of celebrations, you can’t possibly say no.

always the bridesmaid by @kookingtae f s a

When you first meet Kim Taehyung, you’re determined to find every reason you can to hate him—or maybe he’s just looking for ways to get on your last nerve. But when a turn of events has the two of you working the wedding of the man you’re hopelessly in love with, you’re too late to realize the real reason to hate Kim Taehyung is because of the latest column he’s secretly writing: “Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride”, and it’s all about you.

any way you want it by @noteguk s

in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself. 

sharing is caring by @jjkpls f s ft. pjm

Taehyung is taken aback when his soulmate, Jimin, introduces his new girlfriend to him. Jimin tries to help them break the ice.

the end of all things (and the beginning of us) by @/kidguk f s a

the end of the world has come and passed, but there is still much to live for. there’s hope, there’s tomorrow, and there’s that guy you met while scavenging for supplies in an abandoned cinema. turns out he hates being alone, and the feeling is mutual.

aberrant by @kth1 f s

Meeting a handsome and rare fox hybrid was the last thing you had expected in a world of coexisting hybrids. What you also hadn’t expected was how this fox found a liking to you, showed up randomly at places where you were and next thing you knew - you were falling, hard, for the man.

lost in you by @/jjkeverlast f s a

the infamous kim taehyung, campus fuckboy and heartthrob is much more than you thought after an unexpected night.

the dinner date by @diortae f (ao3)

pretending to be on a date with your best friend to get a free meal at the fancy restaurant jeongguk works weekends at doesn’t sound so terrible, all things considered. there’s just one small problem: you’re pretty sure you’re in love with the aforementioned best friend.

until yesterday by @jimlingss f s a

You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

the forsaken by @yoonia s a ft. knj

In order to save your people from the danger of drought and hunger, your father had sent you out on a mission across the ocean to find the heart of nature that could bring back the prosperity which your land had long lost. As the Chief’s daughter, you took the mission as your responsibility, even if you had to let the man that vexes you the most join you in your journey, even if you had to ignore the Elders’ warnings about the dangers and all the vicious monsters lying in wait.

blacklist by @httpjeon f s a ft. jjk

after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

1-800-music-street by @/httpjeon f s

↬you’re enchanted by a street performer and then he saves you, resulting in multiple meetings one can only describe as fate.

farner boy i love you by @strawberrynamjoon f s a

↬Needing change in your life you decided it would be a brilliant idea to move to your uncle’s small farm, helping him and your cousin Jimin with the daily work. What you didn’t plan was to fall in love with your beautiful yet very annoying neighbour Taehyung, who seemed to make it his personal mission to tease you every chance he got. And what you expected even less was that he seemed to like you too.

waterloo by @/kinktae f s a

↬Taehyung is a famous but pessimistic art prodigy who doesn't believe in love. You are an art student studying in Paris, who sees the world through rose-colored lens and is a certified cheesy romance film enthusiast. And this is your love story. Or, “Well, it is the city of love. Maybe you just need to fall in love."

get you the moon by @bymoonchild f s a

↬Life has its ways of fucking with you, but you know you’ve hit 50 feet below rock bottom after being tasked to do a profile feature on Kim Taehyung, the varsity football captain, for your school newspaper. Pure torment awaits you, but this is alongside glassy eyes, pink cheeks and conflicted feelings that you’ve never dared to imagine with the likes of the devil incarnate.

fate of the fast & furious by @prolixitae f s

↬you’re a first-generation college student and taehyung is the hot guy with a love for motorbikes who lands the job babysitting for your family while you’re away.

fast & fearless: what comes first by @/prolixitae

↬taehyung is used to earning his keep through illegal street races, and he’s got every reason to win that upcoming promise of prize money for an old friend. but when the odds don’t fall in his favor, he turns to babysitting. enter, you: a first-generation college student with too much to lose to be spending all your time with a troublemaking biker. who also happens to babysit for your kid brother.

cobalt blue by @hobivore s ft. jjk

↬you ask Jungkook to draw you like one of his French girls. 

let it snow by @/suga-kookiemonster f s

↬it all started by accident, but it continues by choice—even before you began sleeping together, things with your friend taehyung have always been comfortable and easy. simple, and this new arrangement between you is certainly no exception to that rule. well...that's definitely what you thought before a major snowstorm traps the two of you in his apartment over the holidays. now? now, it is quickly becoming apparent that things are a bit more complicated than you realized.

muse by @/suga-kookiemonster f s

↬this could finally be tae’s big break, but he’s nervous and struggling to find inspiration. luckily, you’re willing to support him in all ways necessary.

falling, falling gone by @johobi f

↬Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection. So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

new tricks by @geniuslab f s

↬When your newly adopted puppy turns out to be a lot more work than you expected, a cute dog trainer comes to the rescue. You soon become friends, but you begin to realize friendship might not be all you want.

guns & roses by @chateautae f s

↬he was cold-blooded, stone-faced and ruthless; a formidable force anyone in the criminal underworld sought to destroy. and he didn’t care, so long as it was never you.. anything but you.

saudade by @chateautae f s a

↬a demanding idol lifestyle was something taehyung and yourself were all too familiar with. it wasn’t so hard when considering your unconditional love for one another, but lately, taehyung wasn’t the same anymore; and you decide it's time to find out why.

strands by @xjoonchildx s a

↬taehyung can't figure out how he got separated from his men, or how he ended up stranded in these woods -- hurt. the only thing he knows is that he has no choice but to rely on the beautiful, secretive stranger who's found him.

cheap skate by @/gukslut f s

↬Who doesn’t know Taehyung and his lady? Cutest couple in town, I’d say, and have been since they started dating in their college days. Oh, that was a while ago, though. And still, they’re happy as can be in that place they have together. Almost hate seeing one without the other, y’know, it’s like seeing just one testi- oh, right, I’m not supposed to talk like that. Anyhoo, I only say that because I saw Taehyung at a jewelry store the other day while I was buying my sweet Jiminie his presents. Maybe that boy’s finally gonna pop the question, but I do hope he’s got a good plan for it. Something sweet and romantic. Maybe I’ll find out after Jiminie gets back from that cabin he’s visiting. 

definition of love by @taegularities f s a

↬When the gorgeous student from your literature class starts showing interest in you, you discover that there's much more to him than his know-it-all facade. But is this realization enough to get through your insecurities and secrets?

↬looking for other kth fics or the other members check out my library for more

#kiki's recs #moon's recs #kiki!fic!rec #taehyung #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fic recs #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfction #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung:smut #taehyung:fluff #taehyung:angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung oneshot #taehyung series #taehyung drabble #favourites!kth #taehyung fic #taehyung x you #taehyung bts

[sohnric]

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.

wc: 21k

warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.

working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.

a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to

ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say. 

You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is. 

Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.

Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no. 

Until one fateful day, of course. 

You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.

“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”

“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”

Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.

“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it…. 

Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.

“Wait– newbie–”

The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”

“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.

Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.

“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do. 

Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.

“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.

You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job. 

Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.

“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.

His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”

“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.

“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”

“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.

You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.

Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall. 

You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.

What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.

Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you. 

Why?

The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy. 

More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.

It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy. 

Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.

The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take. 

He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch. 

He just laughs.

Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window. 

The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.

Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.

The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.

When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.

That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.

Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.

The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness. 

There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.

His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence. 

It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?

His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.

“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.

As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.

Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side. 

“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”

“My dad’s watching.”

“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.

Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”

You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.

You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.

Oh, how foolish of you.

You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.

“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.

“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin. 

The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.

“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.

“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.

Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!” 

If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news. 

The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today. 

That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift? 

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.

“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.

Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out… 

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”

“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.

“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”

With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.

Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.

“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.

“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building. 

“I know what those are–”

“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.

“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.

“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?” 

You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”

“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”

“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”

“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall. 

…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.

Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.

Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.

“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.

“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to. 

If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same. 

A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.

“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.

“Sunwoo–”

“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”

And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.

And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.

Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face. 

It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.

It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.

You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.

You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.

You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)

There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.

You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.

This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate. 

The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.

“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?

“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.

“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”

“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.

“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve). 

“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.

Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful. 

“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.

“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.

It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.

“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.

“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.

A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on. 

And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work! 

Wrong.

Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie. 

There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working. 

Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.

“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.

“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”

Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs. 

“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.

“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?” 

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more. 

“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.

You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”

“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.

“Look, I really can’t-”

“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.

“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool. 

The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.

You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life. 

Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)

In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours… 

Yeah. Not too many.

So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half. 

The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)

Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted. 

Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…

Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…

Wrong.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.

“Fuck, man–”

“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”

Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.

“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.

“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.

“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”

“Kim Sunwoo–”

He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”

You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.

“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.

“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”

The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk. 

“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.

“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.

You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.

“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)

Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”

Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face. 

Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.

It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.

Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.

Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.

Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth. 

“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.

Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.

Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside. 

He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)

Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.

Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency. 

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not. 

His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema. 

Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.

You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.

“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak. 

Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.

“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”

The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now. 

“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment. 

“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.

“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation. 

“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening. 

A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)

The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.

You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?

The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.

“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.

Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”

A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.

There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure. 

You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.

Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on? 

“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.

Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.

“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat. 

“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”

“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”

“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.

“What…?”

A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.

That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.

There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.

Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or. 

Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.

“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.

“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”

“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.

“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.

“Probably,” he admits.

You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.

Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”

His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”

“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.

You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…

And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions. 

It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.

Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.

Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket. 

It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control. 

“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.

“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”

“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.

He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”

“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”

“Sir, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”

Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning. 

“So?”

Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?” 

Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you. 

“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way. 

Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”

“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.

“That’s ridiculous-”

“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.” 

Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.

It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.

“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–” 

“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.

“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.

“I’m sure he will.”

Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers. 

You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.

“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”

“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.

You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”

“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement. 

“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.

“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.

“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”

“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”

“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”

“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall. 

You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”

And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside– 

only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold. 

As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.

It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.

And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.

“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.

“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”

One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.

“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you. 

Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.

Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.

You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain. 

You force yourself not to care.

Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle. 

“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.

“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.

“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.

When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs. 

“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.

Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.

You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.

“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.

Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game? 

Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.

“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.

Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.

You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun. 

The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.

“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.

“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video. 

Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.

Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt. 

When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.

“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”

“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”

Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.

“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.

“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.

The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.

“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.

“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”

“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.

Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.

“Oh come on–”

“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything. 

Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.

Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.

A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.

Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.

“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.

Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it. 

Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.

It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.

The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.

“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema. 

The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours. 

Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.

All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.

“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.

“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”

A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief. 

“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says. 

“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”

Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.

“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.

“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice. 

“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold. 

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.

Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”

“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite. 

“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”

“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment. 

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”

“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.

“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N, come on–”

“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.

Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.

“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)

Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look. 

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else. 

The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?

You decide you no longer want answers.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)

You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.

Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.

Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express. 

You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.

Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.

“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?” 

Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.

“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”

“Grab a chair…?” 

You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though. 

And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.

“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.

Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross. 

Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)

“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual. 

“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.

“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”

Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.

“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N. 

“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”

“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.

Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.

“What–”

“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.

There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool. 

A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s  in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.

The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.

They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him. 

The choice is yours.

Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild. 

He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.

As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do. 

Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.

The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?

“Why–”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.

Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him. 

His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by. 

Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.

“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.

The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.

His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.

Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.

“Sunwoo!”

The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”

The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.

Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.

You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.

Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now. 

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.

It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates. 

You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks. 

The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.

It’s the first snow of the season. 

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.

He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.

You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.

Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”

The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.

The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.

It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.

Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.

Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.

Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.

More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face. 

The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.

The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head. 

“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male. 

He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.

Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.

“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.

“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land. 

His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.

“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.

Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color. 

“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”

“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”

The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”

Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?

Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh. 

The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really. 

One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.

#dbn: holiday party #deoboyznet #sunwoo #kim sunwoo #the boyz #tbz #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo scenario #sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo fluff #kim sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo imagine #sunwoo imagine #the boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz fic #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagine #tbz x reader #tbz fic #tbz fluff

[just-jordie-things]

home run - inumaki toge

word count: 5.5k warnings: swearing, idk anything about baseball so it’s mostly made up summary: toge helps coach you on how to play baseball before the big game for the exchange event.  you can’t stop flirting with each other.  (unestablished relationship!) more info: aged up characters! jujutsu tech is a college, still usual first and second years a/n: remember when i said this edit had me in a chokehold well i wrote this forever ago for myself and the toge loving bbies :) ___

When it was announced that the second portion of the Jujutsu Exchange Event would be held via baseball game, (y/n) visibly paled.  So much so that she’d been instantly teased by one of her underclassmen for her obvious discomfort.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to play baseball!” Nobara threw her head back as she cackled obnoxiously.  “It’s the easiest sport!” 

“Kugisaki don’t be rude” Megumi grumbled, kicking his friend in the ankle as punishment for laughing at her superior.  He seemed to be the only one who cared about such formality.

The group of them, the first years and second years, had been heading back towards the building for a lunch break in between events.  She dragged her feet along the path, wishing time would slow down and stop altogether before she had to step foot on that field.

“I know how to play,” (y/n) defended herself, but her hold on the strap of her sheath tightened with her anxiety.  “I’m just not good at it” She admitted in a quiet voice.

“That’s okay! We’ll try to give you an easy position then!” Itadori offered kindly.

She gave the boy a weak smile, grateful for his positive attitude, but still feeling the pang of embarrassment.

How she sucked at such a simple game was beyond her.  Had it been a proper duel, she would be an excellent candidate.  Swinging a sword- or nunchucks or spear or axe- came easy to her.  Which she was able to demonstrate in the first part of the event.  She’d scored quite well for her school, even when outside forces interrupted the fun and games and things had gotten real very fast.

But when it came to swinging a bat and hitting that dumb little ball, she whiffed it almost every time.  It was humiliating, knowing she had the strength to cut a head clean off a body, but couldn’t play a game that was mostly catch.

Her pace slowed until she lingered behind the rest of the group, who were busy assigning positions for the coming game.  If the ground swallowed her whole for the next few hours, she wouldn’t complain.  

“Tuna tuna” 

Lifting her gaze she found Toge stopping in his tracks as the rest of their classmates headed up the stairs without them.  Even with his collar zipped up, she could see he was smiling at her, undoubtedly pitying her helplessness.

“Put me to sleep, Toge,” She sighed dramatically, to which he chuckled.  “I’m serious,” She mutters at him.  “This is going to be so embarrassing, I wish we could’ve just done something else.  Like archery” 

He shrugs his shoulders, before glancing back at their friends again, seeing they were already headed inside, and apparently hadn’t noticed their separation from the group.

He turns back to her again, and tilts his head for her to follow him.  She does so without question, partially because she didn’t want to sit through an awkward lunch where the group planned what position would be easy enough for her to handle, but partially because she had taken such a liking to him that she’d follow him anywhere he tried to take her.

This wasn’t new.  Since the day they met the two of them had been close, hitting it off like they were old friends reunited.  His cursed speech never proved to be an obstacle, it hadn’t taken long for (y/n) to understand him as if onigiri ingredients was her foreign language choice in grade school, and she made an effort to always ensure they were having proper conversations that she’d have with anyone else.

Well, not entirely.  She didn’t exactly flirt with everyone else or whisper with hushed giggles with everyone else, but you get the point.  They clicked.

It doesn’t dawn on her where he’s leading them until they’re approaching the baseball field, and when they do, she lets out an exasperated groan.

“Toge, no” She whines, giving him pleading eyes to spare her from more embarrassment.

He rolls his eyes back at her, and grabs her by the wrist to drag her along the rest of the way when she tries to plant her feet and stay put.  She could go boneless and let him literally drag her, but she stumbles and follows along anyways.  Perhaps once he saw how terrible she truly was at the sport, he’d give up on helping her practice and ditch her out here.

Although she knew this couldn’t possibly be a real possibility.  He wasn’t capable of doing such a thing.

“Salmon!” He cheers when he finds that all of the equipment for the event had been prepared, helmets and gloves sitting neatly on the bleachers, and a tall basket of baseball bats ready to be used.

He pulled one out, smacking the head of the club in his other hand as though to analyze it, even though they were all brand new and had never been touched.

He looks up at (y/n) with a grin that just barely peeks out of his collar.  She frowns back at him.

“Don’t do this to me,” She pleads.  “I thought we were friends” 

He laughs again, and tosses her the bat without warning.  At least her reflexes are sharp enough that she catches it without difficulty.

“Salmon!” He cheers for her, and she shoots him a more deadly look.

“I can catch things,” She mutters, turning her gaze to the bin of baseballs and the gloves lined up on the bleachers.  “It’s the rest that I’m shit at” 

He scoffs at her in disbelief, but he had yet to see the proof.  (y/n) chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched him select his own bat, and then nod at her to follow him to the plate.

If she ran away, he probably wouldn’t chase her down, she figured as she followed him up to the white rubber base- just as untouched as the rest of the equipment.  She dismisses the idea just as quickly as it crosses her mind though.  She wasn’t capable of ditching him, either.

Toge gestures for her to stand a bit in front of him as he takes his stance at the plate.  She does so, holding the hilt of the bat loosely as she rests it on her shoulder.  He continues to gesture for her to understand what he’s doing.  First it’s to his feet, spread evenly but not too far from one another, just enough to keep his balance solid.  Then he bends his knees the slightest, probably to give him a good range of motion.  She could understand this much.

Then he holds his bat out towards her as he carefully maneuvers his hands around it’s handle.  His grip tightens, and then he looks up at her expectantly, as though asking, got it?

She nods back at him wordlessly, and then he goes back into straightening up his stance.  Her eyes track every movement with intense precision, wanting to commit every detail to memory.  From the angle that his left elbow rests at, to where he holds the bat just behind himself, ready for the swing.

He raises his eyebrows at her, which she doesn’t notice right away since she’s too busy studying everything about his stance rather than his face.  She could almost hear the teasing voice behind the look he’s giving her.  Good, right?

“Mustard leaf?” He asks, in that exact tone she’d heard in her head.

“Yeah yeah, I got it” She nods.

He nods back at her, and then slowly goes through the motion of a swing, so she could clock every detail.  After he finishes the follow through, he repeats the motion properly, swinging the bat with full force.  Enough so that she can hear the aluminum cutting through the air.

He asks his question again when he’s done, and again, she nods at him.

“Yeah, I think I can handle that,” She says.  “Should I pitch for you?” 

Toge shakes his head and waves his hand for her to come up to the plate.  When she stops just in front of him, he giggles, and drops his bat to the ground so he can reach out and take hold of her shoulders, so he can properly guide her to the base.

Despite the way her face heats up when he keeps his hands on her as she tries to copy the way he’d just been standing there, she doesn’t mind feeling a little shy about it.  Feeling shy around Toge wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as having him teach her this simple sport.

In fact, it was never embarrassing to be reduced to a blushing mess around him.  It happened too often for her to feel any shame in it, but it helped that she often brought the same behavior out of him, too.  She just couldn’t see his pink cheeks when he’s standing behind her, mumbling unintelligibly as she took her stance.

She’s certain of herself once she raises the bat behind her shoulder, almost knocking him in the head, but Toge swerves and hopes she doesn’t notice.

“How’s that?” She asks with confidence.

His hands fall from her shoulders as he checks her over, and he winces behind his collar.  His lack of response has her looking over her shoulder with a frown.

“Really?” The confidence is zapped out of her straight away.

He chuckles, and shrugs his shoulders with a small smile as if to ease her worry.  Then his hands are on her again, guiding her arms to the proper places where she’d have the best range of motion.  The toe of his shoe taps the inside of her left foot, silently prompting her to slide it out just a bit further.  She follows the instruction until he raises his hand.  Then he gives her a beam and a nod of his head to confirm she was positioned just right.

“You’re sure?”

“Salmon” He reaffirms.

He steps back then, twirling his finger around in the air so that she could show him her swing.  She looks unsure, but she lets out a breath and lets her body follow through as naturally as she could.

She feels good about it, but she doesn’t know any better.  When she looked over to Toge again, he had just unzipped his collar, ready to cheer when she swung just fine.  Instead, he wears what she would call his polite smile.  It was his friendly way of displaying something wasn’t quite right, but he was too nice to critique harshly.  (y/n) frowns back at him.

“That bad?” She asks quietly when he approaches her again.

His smile brightens and he shakes his head at her.  He was far too nice to her.  If Maki was training her, she gladly would have laughed in her face before barking out orders on how to shape up.

Toge hand waves about, telling her to take her stance again.  This time her footing is just right, and he beams proudly at the improvement.  She manages a smile back at him, his silent praise giving her a little more confidence in learning.

He does a little circle around her, making sure everything is as it should be.  There’s a pause in his step just behind her, where she’s holding her bat.

“Bonito flakes” He pats his hand over once of hers, and she fixes up her grip on the handle, then turns to look at him.

“Like that?” She asks, not sure of what her mistake had been.

It must not have been fixed, because he reaches his hand to hers, gently fingers prodding at her hand in silent instruction until she loosends her hold.  He quickly raises his hand away again, giving her a thumbs up.  Her grip was still secure, but her knuckles weren’t white with tension now.

After that, Toge comes behind her again, poking at the top of the baseball bat before giving her an affirmative nod to take a swing.

She does as told, slowly of course, so as not to smack him in the face on her follow through.  He stops her before she even finishes, his hand patting her shoulder so she’d fix up her stance again.  Third time was the charm, and her posture and hold are perfect as she straightens up.

“Tuna” The quiet instruction to pay attention is whispered in her ear as he takes a small step closer so that he could guide her properly through the swing.  

One hand lays over hers on the handle of the bat, and the other slides around her opposite arm until it stops at her elbow.  Her face is so hot now she wishes she was wearing one of those dumb helmets to at least hide it a little.

He guides her through the motion slowly, his hand on her elbow wobbling a little.  It takes her a second to catch up, but she realizes he’s telling her that her swing was uncoordinated.  She nods in understanding.

Before she gets the chance to take her stance again, he’s already guiding her back to the proper position, his eyes studying her grip carefully to be sure everything is in order.

He’s so close now that she can feel his soft breaths on the back of her neck, and baseball is quickly becoming the furthest thing from her mind.  The hand that is resting on hers is so soft but so firm in it’s hold, making sure she didn’t strengthen or loosen her grip in the slightest.  If she shuffled back even an inch, her back would hit his chest.  It’s unbearably hot today, she’s grateful she thought to tie her hair up so it wouldn’t stick to the back of her neck, but she has half the mind to close those last pesky inches of space between them.

“Mustard leaf?” Toge’s hand pats at her elbow, beckoning her to pay attention.  He must’ve noticed she’d zoned out.

“Sorry,” She mumbles, snapping back to reality.  “You’re being distracting”

She’s scolding him, he can tell in the tone that she doesn’t mean it to be one of her more usual flirty comments.  Nonetheless, Toge preens, grinning down at her, even though she was trying to avoid looking at him.  It was hard, seeing as he was right there, and even standing behind her he was tall enough that he could see a blush creeping up her cheeks.

This time, rather than let her swing on her own, he moves her through the motions himself.  It’s horribly slow, especially when her swing reaches it’s apex and he’s pulled even closer from the motion.  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she struggles to keep her focus on paying attention to her form.

“Salmon” Toge gives her a smile as he finishes guiding her through the follow through.  He’s certain she has the technique down now, but when she looks at him, her expression is defeated.  His brows furrowed in confusion.  “Mustard leaf?” 

“This isn’t going to work,” She huffs, lowering the bat until it almost hits the ground.  “It’s too..” She trails off, waving her free hand around in a sporadic motion.  “Too much!” 

He seems to catch her drift, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles at her.

“Don’t laugh at me”

He sticks his bottom lip out at her in a dramatic pout.

Her brows pinch together before drawing upwards, pleading with him not to mess with her more than he already had.

“I’m sorry I’m not getting it!” She cried, her leg bouncing with her irritation.  “But you’re the worst teacher!” 

“Bonito flakes!” He took offense to the comment, and (y/n) gave him a deadpan look.

“You know what I mean,” She says in a quieter volume.

He tilts his head and feigns a confused expression, just to watch her blush and squirm.

“You’re being a jerk you know” She tells him, her eyes locked on his even when he walks closer and grins in her face.  He’s waiting expectantly for her to explain what he already knew.

He flustered her.  It wasn’t the first time, and most certainly wasn’t the last.  But truthfully, Toge hadn’t been aiming to flirt with her.  He just wanted to help her out with her swing.  Seeing her blushing and flustered was just an added bonus.

She’s the first to surrender.

“Okay fine,” She lets out a heavy breath and raises her bat again.  “Show me one more time, then you can pitch for me” 

Toge’s grin is plastered on his face as he repositions himself again, but this time she swears he’s standing just a little closer than before as he guides her hand and elbow through her swing.

He lets out a low whistle when he draws her back again so they can practice through it one more time, even though (y/n) was certain now that she had it down.  She starts to pull away, but before she can tell him that she thinks she has it now, he tuts at her and drags her back towards him.  This time her back does hit his chest, and she doesn’t protest again.  

Even though her footing is all off, and there’s no way she could deliver a proper swing when his chin is tucked against her shoulder where her bat should hover.  He’s close enough that he can see- and hear- the heavy gulp she swallows.  He giggles at her before pulling away the hand he had on her elbow.  He lets out a small mumble of an onigiri ingredient she doesn’t quite catch because his breath is hitting the crook of her neck and he’s just so close that she feels dizzy.  He brings his hand up to her neck, knuckles skimming over the nape and then along the junction of her shoulder so he could pull away the few strands of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail.

She giggles at the ticklish feeling, and he forgets that he’s supposed to be coaching her as he raises his fingers to brush over the spot again.  This time she tilts her shoulder as she laughs again, a jerky motion as the muscle reacts on it’s own accord, but it brings his face closer to hers as she does so.  He laughs to himself just from hearing her giggles as he continues to tease the sensitive spot.

“Toge!” She tries to shove him away, but he’s quick to drop his other hand from where she had a hold on the bat, wrapping his arm around her front and holding her hip firmly so she couldn’t wiggle away from him.  He laughs almost too joyfully as she continues to giggle and squirm in his hold.  “Toge! Qu-quit it!” She stammers over the relentless giggles he forces out of her, and it seems to only spur him on further.

She’s reduced to broken gasps between her fits of laughter, and the bat falls from her hand before she realizes.  Even when it bounces on the sand and rolls across the ground she doesn’t pay it any mind, too busy using her free hand to try to grab at his arm and get him to loosen his hold on her.

Her attempts are futile.  His hold on her is firm, and even when she gets a good grip on his sleeve, he retaliates by keeping her snug against him, and then lifting her off the ground altogether.  Her feet kick and scramble, somewhat from the lack of ground beneath them, more-so from the way her body reacts to his continued tickling.  Both of her hands are now occupied by gripping onto his arms to keep her anchored somehow, but even in the delirious state he’s sinking her into, she knows he wouldn’t drop her.

Eventually Toge’s laughing at her too much to care about continuing to tickle her, even though he took great amusement in it, he was now entertained enough by having her in his arms, even if she was kicking at the air for him to put her down.

She’s shouting his name between bursts of giggles that still escape her like after shocks.  The sudden bout of goofiness from him is a little lost on her, but even as she hollers at him to put her down, her threats are empty.  She sinks into his hold and accepts whatever fate he has in store for her.

Her head tilts back until it hits his shoulder, and she can just barely peek up at him.  His face is split with a grin, lavender eyes hooded and dazed as he gazes back down at her.

Toge’s never needed words to flirt with her.  Sure sometimes his texts had certain incriminating emojis, and the notes he’d pass her in class were also damning evidence of his affections.  But (y/n) could feel all of that coming from him just from the way he looks at her, like right now.  He had an intense gaze, and she was sure that if she was brave enough to not break away from the eye contact, that she could penetrate his mind and read his thoughts directly.

Finally, he sets her down, his grip on her loosening, just as her hands on his forearms did once she had her feet on the ground again.  She giggles at him, giving him a cheeky little smile as she turns to properly face him.  Her hands take hold of his wrists as she ensures the proximity between them doesn’t shift too much.  

Logically they should get back to perfecting her swing, the lunch break would be over soon and the game would begin shortly after.  Not that logic is able to cling onto a single thought in her starry eyed stupor.  She looked up at him like he was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen, softening before him in her gaze and the smile on her lips.

She had been patient, at least she thinks she has.  She’s enjoyed the little game they’d been playing, the lingering touches, the flirty remarks met with longing gazes.  Their mannerisms were anything but platonic, and if anyone were to snatch their phones they’d scramble to delete their messages with each other.

But it had been quite some time of this game as she’d affectionately referred to their… whatever this was.  And her patience was wearing thin waiting for him to make a move.  She didn’t know what he was waiting for, she was certain that she’d made her position clear.  Especially now, clinging onto him and staring up at him expectantly.  It was just the two of them, and they were so close, it wouldn’t take much for him to just fucking kiss her already-

Toge’s movements are quick as he pulls his arms so his wrists fall out of her hold, only for him to squeeze her hands quickly before moving past her.

“Tuna mayo” He beckons her to follow him back to the plate, but she’s stunned in place for a minute.

Did he really just brush that off? She shook her head as she went back to home plate, picking up her bat and tapping it against the ground to shake off the excess sand that had clung to it when she’d dropped it.  Had she not communicated well enough through her eyes? She’d stared at him with her best ‘kiss me now!’ look.  Her brow furrowed as she watched Toge grab a glove and baseball from the leftover equipment.

He jogs out to the pitcher’s mound, giving her a thumbs up and an affirmative cheer.  With a determined look on her face, (y/n) straightens up her stance, her hands curling around the handle on the bat until muscle memory took over and she found the correct hold on it.

Toge throws a perfect pitch, his movements clean as his long limbs work in harmony to send the baseball hurtling towards her.  Her eyes never leave the ball as she tightens her grip, takes the smallest of steps forward, and swings.

The crack sounds so loud the aluminum trembles in her hold from the harshness of her hit.  Even Toge’s impressed enough that he’s frozen as his eyes follow the flight of the ball over his head.  He was confident in her ability, after some coaching anyways, but he wasn’t expecting such a solid swing.  Had Jujutsu Tech gone the cheap route and got wooden bats, he was certain this one would’ve been ruined.

As if having the same thought, their eyes simultaneously rip away from the ball’s trajectory towards the outfield, and they look at each other expectantly.  

They both break into a full sprint in opposite directions.  (y/n) drops the bat haphazardly as she takes off for first base, and Toge’s racing to the outfield in the hopes of miraculously catching the ball before it lands.  However, it’s already begun it’s descent so the odds are slim to none.

(y/n) knows she should keep her focus on running and hitting all the bases properly, but she can’t help but throw her head over her shoulder to keep an eye on Toge.  He scrambles to grab the ball just as she’s touching second base.  

She squeals with delight when he makes a break for home plate, and tries to push herself to run faster, but she’d already decided to give this run of the bases her full power, seeing as it was just the two of them.

He’s gaining on her when she crosses third, and a string of laughter escapes her from the anticipation.  It’s not a real game, but her competitive nature had been tapped into as soon as she struck that ball, and now all she cares about is winning.

As home plate nears she can feel Toge getting closer.  She doesn’t dare look at him again, instead opting to do whatever it took to get her on that plate before he can.  Her heart is racing, she’s panting for air, the sun is beating down impossibly hotter, but she doesn’t care.  She’s about to take the win.

Toge has other plans, darting around her and coming up on the plate with more speed than before.  She gasps in offense at his drive to take this from her, but it sparks that competitive fire in her again, and she comes up with a faster plan.

With as much momentum stored as possible, she drops to the ground.  She falls with grace but hits the sand unceremoniously.  The course grit is uncomfortable on her skin as she slides across the ground with the force of her body weight.  Her dominant leg is outstretched, foot angled outwards in the hopes of touching that damn white plate before he can.

She cheers in premature victory when she feels the brush of solid rubber against her sneaker.

The pride is short lived when she feels another foot collide with hers just as the rest of her body is sliding over the plate, and before she can stop herself, she’s effectively tripped Toge right off his feet, and he’s falling to the ground.

They both barely let out a yelp in surprise before he’s crashing into her.  He just barely braces himself with his palms hitting the sandy ground on either side of her head, so his full weight doesn’t hit her, but she’s still properly knocked the wind out of him.

The look of shock on her face fades away as she begins to giggle.  The corners of her eyes crinkle and her smile only grows wider as the giggles grow louder.

“I did it!” She cheers loudly, even though his face is inches away from hers.  “I hit a home run!” 

“Bonito flakes” Toge mutters, and she’s not sure if he’s cursing for her knocking him down or if he’s correcting her because technically in a real game that wouldn’t be a home run, but she doesn’t care.

She ignores his indignation completely.  Her hands shoot up, grabbing either side of his unzipped collar, earning a startled look in response from the sudden impact.

Her eyes light up, and Toge blinks to make sure he’s reading this look right.  The way her lashes grow heavy as her eyes flicker in between his a few times, before lowering to rest on his lips.

His lips? She’s looking at his lips? 

In her moment of not paying attention, his own gaze lowers, mentally tracing the soft edges of her smile.  He thinks he’s quick when he brings his line of sight back to hers, but she’s staring right at him again, and her smile is brightening, having caught the glance.

“Just kiss me already” 

She’s barely finished the command and he’s obeying it like she was the one who bore the snake eyes and fangs.  Leaning down the rest of the way so quickly his hands shuffle in the sand to fix his center of gravity before his lips slant over hers.  She kisses him back instantly, and with fervor, her soft lips moving against his in a quick pace.

Once Toge has a good balance, he shifts so that he only needs to hold himself up with one hand, so that the other can gently cradle her jaw.  His fingers skim over her neck before resting in her hair.  He’s getting sand all over her skin, but she’s already covered in the stuff from her showboating slide to home plate, so he figures she won’t mind.

She hums in delight as her own hands begin to travel.  The sound is heaven to his ears, and his nose prods against hers as he moves to deepen their kiss.  She’s tracing over his shoulders and then the nape of his neck before diving into the soft strands of platinum blonde that aren’t even damp.  Seriously, didn’t they do the same amount of sprinting just now? He didn’t break a sweat? 

The thought makes her let out a little chuckle, and their kiss finally breaks when she does.

Toge’s brow furrows at her in the slightest, wondering what she could find so humorous, but she looks so pretty like this- laughing, beneath him, with kiss swollen lips that were his doing- that he doesn’t even mind.  He just admires her while she blinks a few times to ease her vision to the sunlight.

“It’s nothing,” (y/n) mumbles when she sees the faint confusion in his expression.  “Was just startin’ to think you’d never make a move” 

Toge chuckles back at her, finding some humor in the comment.  He’d been waiting for her, she was the one with all the flirty remarks after all, but he won’t complain.  He could tease her about it later.

He leans back so she could sit up properly, and takes her hand to help her up to her feet with him.  She begins to awkwardly brush the sand off of her clothes, but quickly realizes it’s no use and gives up.  They share a laugh at her weak attempt to dust off.

“Have you guys been out here this whole time!?” 

A distant holler steals their attention, and their classmates are making their way to the field.  Toge frowns at the realization that their alone time was over, and now they had to gear up for the finale of the Exchange Event.

(y/n) notices the sour look, and squeezes his hand to bring his attention back to her.

“Hey, how about another game?” She suggests with a glint of excitement in her eye that should make him nervous, but he nods eagerly.  “If we win this game, we can hang out in my room after,” She suggests, and then her cheeks turn pink.  “And make out some more?” She adds in a softer tone, the confidence in the offer evaporating as soon as she’s actually saying the words out loud.

Toge’s face lights up as he nods in agreement to her rules.

“What!?” Panda’s voice booms and echoes throughout the field, and was likely heard even past that.

Toge and (y/n) share a wince.  They’d conveniently forgotten about Panda’s enhanced hearing abilities.

Judging from the curious looks from the others and Panda’s erratic movements as he spoke, it was clear that he was telling everyone else what he’d overheard as well.

“Cheer for me when I hit a home run?” (y/n) beams at Toge, who nods back at her happily.  He raises his hand, sticking his thumb and pinky out before shaking his hand in a ‘hang loose’ motion.  A simple action he did often to show support for his friends.

“Salmon” He affirms.

“Okay, I’ll cheer for you too” She says sweetly, standing on the tips of her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, before making her way to their approaching friends, eager to tell them about her success with baseball.

They were more curious about the bases she hit with their resident cursed speech user rather than the actual bases of the game.  

… then again, so was she.

___

a/n: breathe if u want me to write a part two where they celebrate winning the game teehee

xoxo ~ jordie

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[eunoia-writes]

Confessions • Felix Catton x Reader

Summery - after a night of drinking bottle after bottle of wine Felix makes a confession which spirals his and y/n’s life into a whirlwind of romance only to be momentarily put on hold due to his jealousy.

Warnings - Drinking, jealous!Felix, Felix being a bit of a dick, secret romance

There was a soft humm of laughter from the other room while y/n walked into the dimly lit kitchen in search for the other wine bottles. She opened the fridge grabbing a bottle of Red and a bottle of white before she walked back into the living room where everyone was sat reminiscing on old summers stories. She placed the bottles down before sitting back down next to her friend, Farleigh.

“Y/n… do you remember that guy that put the love note your dorm letter box?” Indi said laughed as Felix groaned while y/n just nodded. Felix grabbed the bottle of red and topped up her glass before Turing to face his friend Indi.

“Can we not talk about this for the 100th time?” Felix asked

“Oh but why it was so adorable the way he fumbled over his words and laughed at everything y/n said.” Indi added

“Y/n doesn’t need someone who laughs at everything she says or can’t form a coherent sentence. Hell she’s smarter than all of us.”

y/n couldn’t help but blush slightly. Yes it was wrong and juvenile of her to he crushing on her friend who protects her no matter what cost.

“That’s real sweet of you, Fi.” Oh how he adored that nickname she gave him

“Anything for you.” He said looking at her for what could have been slightly too long

“We should really head off.” India said sharing a look with Felix y/n couldn’t quit read.

“We’ll see you guy tomorrow?” Felix said his arm wrapping around y/n’s waist. The pair had always been close and the physical touch of their relationship had never bothered either of them.

“Definitely we be here around 2.” Farleigh Said before the three of them made there way out of Felix’s flat

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying?” y/n asked as she helped Him clear away a few things. Felix smiled

“you’re always welcome to stay here you know that.” Felix said pouring the last of the wine down the drain as y/n leaned against the counter

“What was that look Indi gave you about earlier?” y/n more asked him, he immediately stopped what he was doing and turned to her

“What do you mean?” He asked confused

“Fi, don’t do that you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She said as he moved closer to her

“Fine fine, she has been telling me how I should tell you that it wasn’t Daniel who wrote you that letter, it was me.” Felix said

“Fi that’s not funny.” She said looking up at him “come on tell me what it was.”

“Im being serious y/n, I had the biggest crush on you when we first came to Oxford.”

“oh come on that’s not true.” She said she didn’t realise how close they now were neither did he

“I still do.” he whispered

“Felix.”

“I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He whispered just inches away from her

“Stop it.”

“Y/n.”

“Felix.”

“That’s not funny.” Instead of saying another word Felix just leans in kissing her softly which she immediately reciprocates a surge of electricity coursed through them, igniting a passionate exchange that transcended words. Time seemed to halt as Felix pulled her impossibly close wanting nothing more than her close to him.

“Believe me now?”

—

The pair had been seeing each other for a while now they decided to keep it a secret knowing the complications of their loved ones finding out. They wanted it to be there’s and there’s only.

Felix, with a playful smile masking the excitement in his eyes, told Farleigh he was going for a run. This wasn’t anything new for him every so often Felix took himself off on a run to clear his head if Farleigh wasn’t so caught up in himself he’d of probably noticed the escalations in the amount of times his friend seemed to be disappearing. This worked in their favour though.

Felix jogged down familiar paths, exchanging pleasantries with others on campus as he made his way to the back road that was far less traveled by to the one place he craved to be.

"Hey there," Felix greeted, panting slightly from his faux jog. Y/n grinned, as he walked into her flat and straight over to her "Thought I could use some company for my workout ." They chuckled, finding solace in their secret rendezvous.

Things were going well for a while the two sharing nothing but pure unadulterated admiration of each other Beneath the facade of friendship, stolen glances and secret smiles told a tale of something deeper. Their perfect secret relationship thrived in the subtleties – a brush of hands, lingering gazes, and whispered confessions hidden amidst the mundane. The world remained oblivious to the symphony of emotions playing out beneath the surface, allowing Felix and y/n to savor the intimacy of their unspoken connection for themselves. Y/n adorned nothing more than the late nights in his arms talking about anything they could think of but what she hated most was waking up to an empty bed.

It had been almost three months of sneaking around before anything of great significance had its effect on them. All until the party at Farleighs new flings flat.

As they mingled at the party, Felix couldn't shake the knot of jealousy tightening in his chest. Y/n , unaware of Felix internal struggle, engaged in casual conversation with a charming boy named Jake. Felix gritted his teeth, feigning a smile while attempting to mask the possessiveness bubbling within. In a strained attempt at nonchalance when y/n returned to his side later that night, Felix remarked, "Jake seems pretty interested in you tonight."

Y/n, oblivious to the brewing tension, responded with a casual shrug, "Oh, he's just friendly."

Unable to contain his frustration any longer, Felix snapped, "Friendly? Or maybe you're enjoying the attention a bit too much, y/n." The words hung heavy in the air, and y/n's eyes widened with surprise and hurt.

"What's your problem?" Y/n shot back, her own defenses rising. Felix fuelled by the fear of losing y/n to the allure of someone else, retorted,

"My problem is that everyone thinks you're fair game. Maybe it's time they know the truth – that we're more than just friends."

Y/n now fully grasping the depth of Felix's jealousy, countered, "Are you threatening to expose us? You know we can't do that, Felix. Fuck me you were the one who wanted it to be a secret so bad." The argument escalated, echoing the clash between the passion they shared in secret and the turmoil of emotions exposed in the harsh light of reality.

“Oh fuck me y/n, maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything If you weren’t such an attention whore!”

“Excuse me!” She said through gritted teeth trying not to cause a scene

“Don’t play dumb, god forbid my attention is on something other than you for a moment you start acting like a brat.” Felix said and y/n couldn’t believe what she was hearing, how dare he talk to her this way. She wasn’t one of his little flings that only lived to please him. She had more respect for herself and wouldn’t bat an eyelid at leaving if he didn’t treat her the way she wanted.

“I don’t know where you get off speaking to me like that but you better cut that shit out.” She said tempers growing for the both of them

“God I could have anyone I wanted but I choose to be with you and do nothing if you -“ Felix began at this point it was soon to turn nasty between then

“No one asked you to do nothing.” She snapped

“Fuck off.” He mumbled under his breath pinching the bridge of his nose as she turned to look at him arms folded across her chest while they stood on the balcony

“I will fuck off, I told you do what you want Felix.” she was staring daggers at him while he let out a frustrated sigh there friends all a few feet away watching the whole ordeal go down not a single of of them having a clue what was happening.

“Like you wouldn’t go off at me if I even looked at anyone else!” He said usually if someone as tall as Felix was getting pissed off at you while towering over you it would be enough to intimate anyone, but not y/n. She wasn’t one to back down from an argument.

“Well I didn’t ask you not to, do what you fucking want. Talk to a few girls shag them for all I care I’ll just fucking laugh at ya.” She spat clearly pissed off at not only him but the thought of him touching anyone else made her skin crawl.

“Maybe I will!”

“You know what Felix, go fuck yourself.” Y/n almost yelled as she stormed out of the flat knowing he wouldn’t dare follow her.

The argument with Felix lingered in her mind like a relentless echo, leaving her overwhelmed with a torrent of conflicting emotions. As she stormed out into the night, the crisp air did little to cool the heat of frustration burning within her. The music and laughter from the party slowly faded, replaced by an unsettling silence that mirrored the void growing in her chest, each step marked by the weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she fought to maintain composure, not wanting to reveal her vulnerability to the indifferent darkness. The dimly lit streets witnessed the internal storm playing out on y/n’s face, the glow of streetlights casting shadows that mirrored the turmoil within. With each step, she found herself grappling with the realisation that the argument had not only fractured her connection with Felix but also exposed the fragility of the carefully constructed façade they had maintained.

Alone in the dark, y/n finally allowed herself to cry, the frustration and heartache escaping in silent sobs that mingled with the night's hushed symphony. The journey home became a painful pilgrimage through the shadows of her own unresolved emotions, the echoes of the argument haunting her every step.

Days passed in a heavy silence between Felix and y/n after their heated argument. Felix grappling with a mixture of regret and longing, found the absence of y/n more challenging than expected. Each passing moment without her presence heightened the ache in his heart. Felix had never felt this way before. No one had every evoked the same emotions from him that y/n does and the lack of communication became increasingly unbearable. Felix scrolled through old messages, the weight of the unsent apologies pressing down. Pride clashed with the undeniable truth – Felix missed y/n more than words could express. Swallowing the pride, He finally sent a hesitant message, "Can we talk?" The pause that followed felt like an eternity.

Y/n - Come over?

Felix shot up from his bed wasting no time rushing over to her flat rehearsing exactly what he wanted to say to her , everything from how sorry he was for the way he treat her and that he should have never spoke to her that way because he let his idiotic jealousy take the wheel to how stupid he feels for making her keep what they have a secret and how he wants nothing more than to shout it from the rough tops. However upon letting himself in with the key she’d given him not too long ago that all faded when He walked into the flat to find her curled up on the couch in his jumper and her beloved blanket she’s had for as long as he’s known her.

“Y/n.” He whispered as she stirred from her sleep while he sat down on the edge of the couch a few feet away from her

“Hi.” She said as she sat up rubbing her eyes slightly bringing her knees to her chest as she looked over at him

“I’m so sorry baby.” He began but before he could go on his tangent of how sorry he was and how much he adores her she whispered almost inaudibly

“Do you not trust me?” Felix felt his heart sink he hated that he’d upset her

“I do trust you baby, i was just being jealous I should have never taken it out on you.” He said cautiously moving closer to her not wanting to make her uncomfortable “I hate the idea of someone else looking at you the way I do, the idea of you making someone feel the same way you make me feel.”

“I’d never do that intentionally.” She said looking at him with her big do eyes that made him melt the same why they did when he first saw her

“I know… I’m so sorry for speaking to you like that and I’m so sorry for making you keep us a secret.” He told her as she shuffled closer to him letting him pull her into his lap

“What?” She asked confused

“You’re my girl, and I want no I need everyone to know that.” He told her and she couldn’t help but smile. Felix had never outright claimed anyone so y/n couldn’t help but feel special that she was the first

“But Fi, I don’t want you to feel like you have too… baby come on it’s about time I tell my parents and everyone else you’re my girlfriend.” Felix watched the way her eyes lit up as he said that word

“Girlfriend?” she whispered while Felix just nodded leaning in to kiss her softly “I like that.” She mumbled into the kiss

“Missed you.” He whispered as he pulled away

“I missed you too, I’ve hardly slept not having you here next to me.” Felix let out a sigh of relief knowing that she missed him just as much as he missed her.

“Then let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Felix scooped her up carrying her into her bedroom just as he had done so many nights before. In one swift motion he laid her down before crawling beside her and letting her get comfortable as she found her place on his chest.

“Y/n.” He whispered his hand running through her hair. It took her a few seconds to hum in response but he didn’t mind “I love you.” He said the words lingering in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Y/n absorbed the sweet declaration like a lullaby. The words wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, and a tender smile played on her lips as sleep gently claimed her. In that moment, the room held the echo of those three precious words, affirming what they both already knew before they both drifted into the night.

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #saltburn #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton saltburn #felix catton fluff #felix catton fanfic #felix catton x y/n

[starkwlkr]

can you please do a part 4 where ruby’s finds about pregnancy and become jealous, but charles and yn only notices when one night charles is kiss and talking with yn’s belly and without them notice she’s going to her room and do a suitcase, when she returns with them she having tears in her eyes and tell them she going to live with her grand mere since them don’t need and want her anymore now they have another baby, and them become all fluffy with charle’s and yn talking to her and ruby’s being the biggest daddy’s girl

sorry abou my english, i hope you understand

jealousy, jealousy | charles leclerc

ruby is so real for this because i almost did this when i was younger (tbh i still get jealous when my mom praises my other cousins because her and i have a complicated relationship ENOUGH TRAUMA DUMPING SORRY)

When Ruby was told she was going to be a big sister, it didn’t go as planned. She was pretty straight forward about it too.

“Why do you need another baby?” She asked her parents one night during dinner. Charles and Y/n were confused. Ruby always talked about all the kids in her class having siblings. “You have me.”

“Ruby, we love you very much, the new baby isn’t going to change that.” Charles spoke to his daughter.

“Okay,” she wasn’t quite convinced yet. She looked at her mom and noticed her stomach was bigger. “Why is your belly big? Did you eat a lot?”

“Ruby Jules, that’s not a nice thing to say.” Charles sighed. He always wondered how his mom managed to raise three boys, he was having trouble with just Ruby. He made a mental note to thank his mom for everything she had done. “Mama’s belly is big because that’s where your baby brother or sister is. You were in mama’s belly too.”

“No, I wasn’t. Uncle Arthur told me I came from the hospital. I saw pictures of mama and me.” Ruby said, grabbing her juice box from the table and drinking from it.

“Yes, we were in the hospital but before that you were in my belly.” Y/n added.

“When does the baby get here?” Ruby wondered. “Do I have to share my room? I don’t like sharing my toys with a baby.”

“The baby isn’t going to stay in your room. They’re going to stay with mama and daddy. They’re going to be too small so we have to take care of them.” That’s when Charles made a mistake.

It took almost three whole years for Ruby to actually stay in her own room. When Charles would put her to sleep, Ruby’s little legs would take her right back to her parent’s room. Ruby wasn’t afraid of the dark or the ‘monsters’ in her closet, she just wanted to hug her daddy while she slept.

“Why does the baby get to sleep in your room? Why can’t I?” Ruby asked.

“Ruby-”

“I’m leaving.” Ruby mumbled and got down from the chair. She angrily stomped away then a few seconds later, she reappeared just to grab her unfinished juice from the table, then she finally left.

“I knew we should’ve waited until tomorrow. We could’ve gotten her a cake or taken her to the park. She hates us, Charles.” Y/n frowned. She picked up Ruby’s plate and walked over to the sink. She started washing the dishes when Charles came up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her small, but visible bump.

“She doesn’t hate us, mon amour. She just doesn’t understand. A couple years from now, her and the baby are going to be best friends.” Charles kissed Y/n’s cheek.

“I hope you’re right.” Y/n put down the washed plate and turned around to face Charles.

“I am right and I’m also right about this one being a boy. He’s going to be a strong, smart boy like his dad.” Charles bent down to place a kiss on Y/n’s belly.

“Really? Because I remember you calling yourself stupid.” Y/n teased. Her hands started playing with Charles’ hair. “And what makes you so sure that baby leclerc is going to be a boy?”

“I just know. We already have a daughter, having a boy would complete our family.” Charles smiled at his wife. “I love you already, baby leclerc.” He looked back at the bump.

Ruby watched from a distance as her dad kissed her mom’s belly multiple times. It broke her heart hearing them call the new baby ‘baby leclerc’. Why couldn’t they name it differently? That’s was her nickname. The baby wasn’t even here and they were already stealing from her. That’s the moment when Ruby decided she wasn’t wanted anymore, not when there was a new baby coming soon.

The four year old walked to her room and started going through her closet, looking for her small princess backpack. When she finally found it, she unzipped it and began to pack her some clothes along with a stuffed animal, her doll, two euros and a book with bedtime stories.

If her parents weren’t going to love her then she was going to the one person she knew would love her no matter what. Pascale lived right across the street from them so Ruby knew exactly where to go. She put on her backpack, grabbed her stuffed animal and walked back to the living room where she found her parents cleaning up before going to bed.

“And where are you going, little one?” Charles quickly noticed the girl with the backpack.

“I’m going to grand-merè house because you don’t love me anymore. She loves me, she gives me ice cream.” Ruby said in a low voice. She didn’t think she was going to cry when she told her mom and dad she was leaving, but here she was, tears coming out her eyes as she stood before them explaining why she was leaving.

“Baby, we will always love you. The new baby isn’t going to replace you. Come here,” Y/n grabbed her daughter’s hand and led her to the sofa so they could have a proper talk. “We love you and the new baby isn’t going to change that. What made you think we didn’t love you anymore?”

Ruby wiped away her tears. “I heard papa call the baby my name. And they’re going to sleep in your room.”

Y/n brought the crying girl into her arms for a hug. “I’m sorry if you felt like we didn’t love you. We love you so much, my pretty girl.”

“I’m sorry for calling your brother or sister baby leclerc. If you want, you can name them. What do want to call the baby?” Charles poked Ruby’s cheek, making the girl laugh.

“I want the baby to be called Steve!” Ruby said confidently.

“Steve? Like the guy from Blues Clues?” Y/n asked.

Ruby nodded. “He’s funny and we sing old macdonald had a farm together!”

“Okay, baby steve it is.” Charles chuckled as he took the girl from his wife’s arms. “I love you, Ruby Jules. You’re my special girl, but don’t tell mama or else she’s going to get jealous.” He whispered to her.

“Okay, daddy.” Ruby nodded, giggling as she did so. “I love you too.” She hugged Charles, her giggles getting louder as Charles tickled her sides.

“Say goodnight to mama … and baby steve. It’s bedtime, baby leclerc.” Charles said.

“Goodnight mama, I love you. Goodnight baby Steve, you’re okay.” Ruby kissed her mom then copied Charles’ actions from earlier and kissed her mom’s belly.

“Goodnight, my pretty girl. I love you too.” Y/n kissed Ruby’s cheek and watched as Charles took a laughing Ruby to her room.

Y/n sighed and looked down at her belly. “Baby Steve.” She chuckled at the name. “Come on Steve, it’s bedtime.”

#formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 x reader #ferrari #f1 one shot #baby leclerc series #starkwlkr

[saberlight1]

let the light in — lucy gray baird

pairing: lucy gray baird x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, Y/N usage, established relationship, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: i adore lucy gray so much !! i had to write about her i swear! she is my fav girl rn, and i hope you all enjoy this !

masterlist

After you cheated to help your tribute, Lucy Gray, you were banished to none other than District 12. Well, at first it was said to be 11, but you bribed the Peacekeeper’s with the remaining money you had.

At least in banishment you could attempt to find your songbird.

It was quite upsetting at first when you heard the news, mainly because you had to leave your friends behind, Coriolanus and Sejanus. Your family didn’t care much for you, and you felt the same about them.

But you didn’t have much to loose, so you were content with the decision— even if life in the Districts was very different than what you had previously known.

The first week, you didn’t see a glimpse of the brunette, but you were also extremely busy with settling in. You got a small apartment and a job as a nurse for the Peacekeepers.

It wasn’t until Saturday night when you were invited by some random girl from work to the local pub, known as the Hob. Needing some liquid courage you decided why not and tagged along.

But the second you stepped into those doors and heard that all-too familiar beautiful voice singing, your heart damn near stopped.

You can’t take my charm,

You can’t take my humor.

You can’t take my wealth, ‘cause it’s just a rumor.

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,

No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.

She sung the same song she did the first time you saw her, the smile on your face only growing as she came into view. You continued your walk throughout the crowd, splitting off with the people you came with to get closer to the girl.

Thinkin’ your so fine, thinkin’ you can have mine.

Thinkin’ your in control, think you’ll change me,

Maybe rearrange me, think again if that’s your goal!

She smiled brightly as she strummed her guitar for the intermission, as when she turned her eyes fell onto you. Shock was obvious on her face, the girl almost stopping the strumming of her guitar by it. The wide eyes she had were replaced with smiling ones as it sank in. You sent a small wave and a nod her way, the girl’s smiling only growing as she ran back up to the mic.

Can’t take my sass, can’t talk my talkin’.

You can kiss my ass, then keep on walkin’.

Nothing you could take was ever worth keepin’.

Oh, nothin’ you could take was ever worth keepin’.

She sang her heart out, her eyes and that smile never leaving your gaze.

Nothing you could take from me is worth dirt.

Take it, ‘cause I’d give it free, it won’t hurt.

Nothing you could take was ever worth keepin’.

No, nothing you could take was ever worth keepin’.

Her and the Covey Band finished the song with cheers and claps erupting from the crowd, more specifically, you.

“Thank you, 12, for another night.” She bowed, nodding before leaving the stage.

You followed her with your gaze, shuffling through the crowd in an attempt to get to her. After a moment of shoving and apologizing, you finally got backstage.

You walked through the corridor. “Lucy Gray?” You called, cautious with your steps. You nearly jumped out of your skin when she jumped on your back.

She let out giggles at your yelp, smiling against your hair as she left kisses on your neck and shoulders. The feeling of her lips on your skin sent tingles down your spine as you remembered the kisses you shared through fences in the moonlight.

“Y/N!” She smiled, jumping off your back to properly hug you. She pulled your into her arms, her head going into the crook of your neck.

“Hi,” You whispered as she pulled back, a smile on her face.

“I thought I’d never see you again, oh, I thought they killed you. That’s what the rumors around here said.” Her southern drawl mixed with her concern pulled a smile out of you.

“I’m okay, they just banished me here.” You explained, you hand coming up to rub her worry lines away with your thumb. She smiled at the action, her hand rubbing your arm lovingly. “Other than a few punches, they treated me well. Bribed ‘em into putting me in twelve, y’know I had to come back for my songbird.” You brushed some hair behind her ear.

She turned a light shade of pink at the nickname you gave to her the first time you met at the train station. “How long are you stayin’?”

“Forever, I guess.” You shrugged. “I don’t really have anyone else to go back to, really. My parents pretty much disobeyed me, and all I had at the Capitol were Coryo and Sejanus.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She grabbed your hand, squeezing.

“It’s alright, bird. I’m with you, that makes it okay.” You teased, smiling.

She stared into your eyes for a moment, her honey eyes flickering down to your lips. Without a word, she turned on her heel, her hand still laced with yours and pulled you into a small room.

You followed with furrowed eyebrows, opening your mouth to say something, but the second the door closed you were pinned to it, her lips on yours.

You moaned against her lips in shock, your hands coming up to cup her cheeks, deepening the kiss. Her hands squeezed your hips as she smiled against your lips. When you pulled back for air, the smile never left her face.

“I missed you, so much.” She whispered. “I can’t wait to introduce you to the Covey, they’re gonna love you.”

Your thumb rubbed against the scar on her cheekbone. “I can’t wait either, bird.”

She left another kiss on your lips before turning on her heel, and running to the corner, rummaging through a chest on the floor.

You walked over to the middle of the room, a love-sick smile on your face as you watched the girl.

She turned back to you with the same rose you gave her all those weeks ago in the train station, a mischievous glint in her eye. When she was eye to eye with you, she presented it with a curtesy.

“Y/N, will you give me the honorable title of your girlfriend?” She asked, a teasing smile on her face with a serious tone in her voice.

“Why, yes, Ms. Baird, I would love to.” You accepted the rose, your cheeks dusted pink as she ran forward to connect your lips again, giggling.

Your heart was full as you held your songbird, love being shared in your kiss. Yeah, you thought, I’m gonna be okay here. 

And in the arms of your lover, nothing could hurt you anymore.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #lucy gray baird x fem reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray my beloved #lucy gray #lucy gray baird x reader #tbosas #coriolanus snow

[purplekissinger]

I am the pretty thing that lives in the castle

And I pray one prayer - I repeat it till my tongue stiffens - Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you - haunt me, then!  Emily Bronte, ‘Wuthering Heights’.

Y/N became a ghost instead of Myrtle. She couldn't care less about Tom. He wishes he could say the same. Wordcount: 3k.

At their first meeting, Tom even shrieked a little (as he later justified, solely because Y/N took him by surprise). He crept towards the sinks that bathed in the bluish light of the moon, and did not at all expect that someone would jump at him from the ceiling with a  “Boo!”

“Boo,” Y/N said reluctantly and passed through him like a light bluish cloud. Tom closed his eyes, but didn’t feel anything.

“Good evening to you too,” he said, looking at her cautiously. Y/N floated up to the ceiling and was now studying the stucco, running her ghostly finger absentmindedly over the frozen gargoyle masks. “What's new?”

“As you may guess, absolutely nothing,” Y/N responded, “but I like that you’re trying to be polite. It's nice.”

“Do you feel ‘nice’?”

“Not really. I'm using words that I learned in life, but they don't quite describe my experience because I've never experienced anything like this before. I'd rather you be polite than rude, and that's my new “nice.”

Tom looked at her, a luminous spot against the black wall, which trembled slightly, like the wings of a strange butterfly. Y/N died wearing a thin shirt, but there was no longer any way she could be cold or get sick.

“If I didn’t know you were a Ravenclaw, I would have guessed by now,” he said.

“I was different when I was alive,” Y/N said judiciously. “More lively”

“You sure were”.

“No, I mean it. I can't explain it enough for you to understand, but this experience is...changing. Everything becomes so transparent, unreal. If I were the same, I would have already cried barrels of tears and flooded the toilet”.

“There is someone who is eager to do that for you,” Tom said gloomily. “Myrtle has been whining all day long, telling everyone what a wonderful friend you were.”

“Me?”  Y/N sounded surprised. “I can’t remember that we were friends. However, I did stand up for her a couple of times…”

Tom kept silent a little longer, angrily tapping his fingers on the broken edge of the sink. When falling, already dead, Y/N hit her head here. They didn't fix the sink, instead, they put a lock on the toilet door, but Tom sneaked in almost every evening.

“Is that why you’re not angry at me for killing you?” he finally asked.

“Well, technically you didn’t kill me. You just released a basilisk, which also didn't do anything against its nature, so it's kind of like an accident. Although I can understand why you didn’t tell anyone about it all,” Y/N said. “No, that’s not the reason why”.

“You are very understanding,” said Tom. “Is it okay if I stay here a little longer? I need to prepare an essay on the history of magic, and tomorrow is the final match between the badgers and Slytherin. All of Hogwarts is shaking”.

“Make yourself at home,” Y/N said indifferently.

She went down to the Chamber of Secrets with him when the time came to seal it. Hovering silently two steps behind him, she looked at the tunnels and rusty gratings that were many, many centuries old, and for the first time something like curiosity was reflected on her transparent face. For some reason this made Tom feel almost happy. Y/N’s curiosity became almost human when, rustling its scales, a huge snake slowly crawled out of the black hole in the wall and surrounded them with a ring, and put its terrible head so as to get a better look at the guests, and hissed in greeting.

“I've read that those who speak Parseltongue can look a basilisk in the eyes and survive,” said Tom, looking down, “but I don’t want to test that.”

Y/N  looked fearlessly with her dead eyes straight into the face of the creature.

“Yes, the cost of a mistake would be very high,” she said. “What is your pet's name?”

“Susie,” Tom said quietly. “It's a girl”.

Y/N smiled weakly.

“Hello, Susie,” she said. Susie let out a squeal that sounded more like a laugh. “Nice to meet you. Unfortunately, this is not for long, because we have come to seal the Chamber of Secrets forever.”

“For a while,” Tom corrected her. “Susie, I'll be back, I promise. I don't know when, but I'll be back”.

He closed his eyes and stretched his hands forward. The basilisk poked its terrible mouth into his chest, and Tom hugged her. 

***

When Tom returned to school the next year, no one noticed anything, and he even began to think that the ritual did not work, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of the toilet on the third floor, a quiet exclamation was heard from under the ceiling:

“Oh! Tom, what happened to you?”

Like a feather or a petal, Y/N slowly descended towards him. Tom looked at her and thought that flying suited her well.

“Is it that noticeable?” he asked suspiciously.

“You have become very small,” Y/N said, flying around him. “Like this,” and made a small circle with her hands. “Where did half of you go?”.

This is how he learned that ghosts see the effects of Horcruxes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised. “Who was it?”

And Tom told her. About everything, about how he found out who the Gaunts were, about how he found his uncle, about the Riddles, about how scary it was to look at his father’s corpse, because he was so very alike him, about how he made a Horcrux right there while the bodies were still warm. It was easy for him, he wanted to talk, to free himself from every detail, take it out of his head, let Y/N look, discuss, judge.

She was in no hurry to judge. She just said:

“This could backfire on you.”

“How?” Tom suddenly felt offended. He just now realized that he would like her to admire what a cool magician he is, and maybe even clap her hands.

“I know more than you,” she said vaguely. “Not everything, perhaps, but more. Yes, I’m still on the threshold, but from where I’m standing, it’s clear that you acted very rashly.”

“What do you mean by ‘still’?"

She didn't answer.

All autumn, winter and summer he went to visit Y/N, even leaving textbooks in a niche by the window. It was quiet and somehow very cozy there, the light from the window was so gentle, and on sunny days the stained glass windows seemed to light up with colored lights. Y/N was silent for the most part, but seeing her figure out of the corner of his eye and hearing her thoughtful humming under her breath was... nice. This was his new “nice”, because something inside of him began to change inexplicably, irreversibly and horribly.

In winter, he asked her to come to the Yule Ball, and she agreed, and she blew out all the candles and ruined the chandelier. Oh, the chaos!.. And in the spring they celebrated Y/N’s first Deathday Party. For this occasion Tom stole a lemon pie from the kitchen, but Y/N politely thanked him and said that she couldn’t eat that. She fluttered back and forth, he chewed on the pie, they argued about the technique of using Fiendfyre, and it was a nice evening.

“I won’t come back here in the fall,” Tom said suddenly, because in fact that’s all he’s been thinking about for the last few days.

“I know,” Y/N said. “You are in seventh year. I can count to seven”.

“But I’ll come back someday,” he said stubbornly. “I just don’t know when”.

“I think I’ve already heard this once”.

“I’ll come back for Susie too, don’t you worry.”

“And what will we do then, riddle me this?”

“Seize the Ministry of Magic,” he blurted out. “Y/N, I'll miss you. Will you miss me?”

“I would like to tell you something nice in response, but I’ll tell the truth. Maybe I won't be here soon.”

He suddenly felt very hot. Then terribly cold.

“What do you mean you won’t be here? Where are you going to go?” Tom asked in an unnaturally high voice. “Aren’t you here forever?”

“Not really,” Y/N answered evasively. “You see, when I died, I was not at all ready for this”.

“Can anyone possibly be ready for this?”

“You must be ready, Tom. Now I know that. I was confused and made... the wrong choice. Stuck on the threshold. Didn't go any further. But I can step forward at any moment, I just need to think it over carefully and make a decision”.

“Can’t you step back?” Tom asked. He did not put hope into these words, but it sounded nevertheless.

“No,” Y/N answered simply. “I died, Tom”.

He rested his hand on his cheek and watched her spin, arms outstretched, right up to the ceiling, the invisible wind blowing her hair. He said:

“I regret that I didn’t know you when you were alive. I think we could become friends.”

“We could,” Y/N agreed. “But for this to happen you shouldn’t have killed me”.

Tom jumped up sharply and, his burning face hid in his hands, quickly walked out of the room. The door slammed so loudly that the noise echoed throughout the entire corridor.

***

Tom did not soon cross this threshold again.

He walked from Dumbledore's office after the first unsuccessful job interview in his life, he wanted to get out of the castle as quickly as possible so as not to endure this humiliation anymore, but his feet themselves led him to the third floor.

“You have become even smaller,” said a familiar voice, which he had only dreamed about in the morning. Loud, distant, but somehow comforting. “You're barely visible”.

Tom was silent. He looked and still did not believe that he was seeing her again. Finally he grinned and stepped forward.

“But you’re still the same,” he said.

“The same, but not quite,” Y/N objected, going down to meet him. “I thought a lot and almost decided to take a step further”.

“But not yet?”

“Not yet. This is a complex process, and it doesn't get any easier now that I have all the time in the world”.

“What exactly are you doing?” Tom asked, leaning against the wall. A forgotten feeling of comfort covered him in a cool wave. He felt like he wanted to stay.

“I’m thinking,” Y/N said. “A lot”.

“Don’t you need to, I don’t know, take revenge on your murderer?” he asked and realized that it sounded like a request. Lord Voldemort had a lot of requests that day.

“No, thanks,” said Y/N. She looked him up and down with a curious look and added: “It seems to me that there’s not much left of him anyway.”

Tom tiredly sank to the floor and tucked his legs under him. He wanted to talk to her again and again, so that she would answer sharply, but always to the point. He wanted her to scream at him, to rush to claw his eyes out, he wanted her to thirst for revenge.

“I sometimes saw you in my dreams,” he said. “Like we’re friends or something.”

“I have nothing to do with this,” Y/N said. “Have you made any living friends over the years?”

“Wait for me,” Lord Voldemort said without listening to her. He wanted it to sound like an order, but it turned out to be the third request.  “Y/N, I figured out how to defeat death.”

“Sure you did”.

“I am not lying. I really fought it all this time and almost won”.

“I wish you would know how stupid you look now.”

“Are you going to listen or not?! I tell you, wait, I will bring you back, I will fix everything, you will be alive again, I will get you out…”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Lord Voldemort's promise?”

She smiled. Unable to look at her, Tom stormed out.

***

The third time he returned to the castle was on May 2, 1998. He walked along the empty corridors of the third floor, and his steps echoed loudly. He was going to congratulate Y/N on her yet another Deathday. In his hands was not a lemon pie, but an Elder Wand.

The door to the girls' toilet was blown off its hinges by the explosion. He crossed the threshold and saw that the stained glass windows were broken, and golden dawn rays were pouring into the room. For a second it seemed to him that the place was empty, that he was late.

“Oh, Merlin!” a familiar laugh rang out. “What's happened to you, Tom? You have become so very small, smaller than a mouse!”

She came down from the ceiling as before, but for the first time he saw her in the pink rays of the sun, and she seemed almost alive. For the first time he saw her almost alive.

“Come with me, Y/N”, he said softly. His hand trembled a little, grasping his wand. “I will bring you back to life. I will give you back everything and  even more. Soon I will have the Resurrection Stone, and you will live again”.

She laughed even louder, twirled as if in a dance, and he felt uneasy.

“Stupid, stupid Tom,” Y/N said. “Still don’t get this, do you? Everyone gets smarter over the years, but you seem to only get dumber”.

And no Avada Kedavra could shut her up.

“But I'm glad you came. Really, I am. I wanted to say goodbye to you, Tom. I'm finally making that step”.

“No,” Lord Voldemort said in a changed voice. “Don’t. Don’t you dare”.

“Or else what?”

“Don't do this”, when was the last time he begged for something, pleaded? Was it with her?! “Stay. Stay, Y/N. I told you, I'll bring you back!”

“You forgot the magic word”. Y/N giggled. She sank to the floor and looked at him cheerfully and seriously at the same time. “I feel sorry for you, Tom”.

He had heard it once before, but coming from her it sounded and felt like “Crucio.”

“I have to go, really. There's no time to chat. I’ll tell you one more thing. Soon you will be offered a choice one last time, so please, please, don’t be stubborn. Can you do this for me?”

Tom looked at her desperately, afraid to blink, and still missed the moment when Y/N melted into the air.

***

The empty platform shines white, as if it were covered with snow. There are no trains here. No people, too. The bench blackens on the platform like a wound. A faint whimper came from under the bench.

A girl is walking along the platform.

She is wearing a thin shirt, but there is no way that she could be cold. The blue tie is fluttering in the invisible wind. She hurries to the bench, bends down, carefully takes out the bundle of robes from there, and opens it, and smiles a little and carefully presses it to her chest.

#harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #voldemort x y/n #voldemort x reader

[the0doreslover]

Hi do you still do requests if so i have an odd one for you.

Ravenclaw reader has a headache and asks for a remedy from one of the Gryffindors, Fred gives her a Potion in a bottle that she drinks all of it. It's not until her second lesson that she starts feeling funny, she realized it's a combo of LSD and water so she trippin. She normally quite shy and reserved. Realising she cant concentrate she skips her lessons and stays at the tower where's she meets Theodore Nott and is giggling like a child. He finds it amusing and she confesses he situation.

chemical romance

it may of been the fact that you hadn’t been sleeping very well for the past couple of nights but you woke up with a splitting headache, causing you to wince in pain at every slight movement you made.

You had just about made it out of bed and into the great hall when you took a seat at whatever table was closest.

you ended up on the gryfindor table surrounded by some of your friends

“you look like shit” ron laughed

“thank you ron, always so sweet”

“what’s going on with you?” hermione asked genuinely curious for her friend

“my head is killing me” you explained

“freddy don’t we have something for that?” george asked his brother with a smile

“are you talking about our new and improved headache remedy” fred replied a bit to animatedly

“i’ll honestly take anything”

“anything?” they asked at the same time making you regret your statement

“don’t do it y/n you can’t trust them” harry piped in

“thanks for your concern harry but i’d literally take slugs if that got rid of this headache”

“if you want we can give you slugs as well” george smiled

“don’t test me”

after breakfast you followed the twins to their dorm and sat quietly on george’s bed while you waited for them to cure you

a few minutes later they came out with a bottle, after pouring it into a cup you were shooed out of their dorm

“so i just drink this?”

“yeah, drink you won’t know what hit you”

you were about to ask what they meant by that before you saw the door being shut in your face

“well, thank you” you shouted at the door hoping they could hear.

wasting no time you quickly gulped back the liquid and started walking to your class.

Potions, one of the most long lessons in your timetable.

you were currently trying to brew a sleeping draught with seamus finnigan while also waiting for your medicine to take effect.

once snape assessed your potion you sat back down and closed your eyes for a second

“hey y/n what are you doing after classes?” you heard seamus ask you

opening your eyes you froze at the change in scene, your vision started going fuzzy, you blinked a few times to try and fix it but instead it made it worse. Now things were breathing?

you couldn’t focus on what seamus was asking you, and instead were just trying to understand what was happening to you.

“i was wondering if you would like to hang out?” his voice echoed like a loud microphone

you looked down at your hand and watched as it left a trail as you waved it. Looking back up remembered a book you read last year on muggle-

those ginger twits gave you drugs.

luckily for you it wasn’t that high of a dose but despite that you still were finding it hard to concentrate on anything.

“so what do you say?” seamus asked again while that question rung in your mind sounding quite odd

you laughed, not on purpose, you swear

“you don’t have to? no need to laugh at me” he grumbled

you quickly shot up attracting some eyes of other students

“sir i need to leave” you said with a smile looking at a random student who looked a lot like snape.

“i’m over here miss L/n, what is the reason?”

you tried your best to locate where he said that from and quickly thought of an excuse

“i’m not feeling well!” you laugh and accidentally said to loud before giving up and quickly grabbing your things ready to shoot out the door.

snape had just about excused you, not believing your situation as you laughed in his face, once you had been allowed to go you wandered the hallways shouting insults aloud

“stupid weasleys, that’s illegal!”

“how dare they give me drugs”

“i’m going to kill them”

despite your anger you couldn’t stop yourself laughing

you shortly found yourself at the entrance of the astronomy tower.

finding no point in going to your next lesson you went up the stairs.

you found looking at the floor quite interesting to be honest, the way the tiles were moving was quite calming to you

you were still grumbling insults towards the twins when you got to the tower

“you alright?”

you jumped at the voice and quickly looked up, despite your vision being a bit off you could make out the face of the slytherin, Theodore nott.

“yeah” you laughed

“alright”

you both started at each other in awkward silence before you burst into laughter yet again

“did i say something funny?” he looked amused

“not you” you smiled

“this is the most i’ve heard you say in all the years i’ve shared classes with you”

“haha very funny” you said trying to be sarcastic but ending up laughing your ass off “i’m sorry, i really am sorry”

“no way” he said, his eyebrows raising and mouth turning up into a grin

you of course could barely make out the objects around you

“what?” you asked

“you’re on drugs!” he said and this time it was his turn to laugh

“no no no” you said trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably starting a chain of laughter between the two of you

“i cannot believe this! Y/n L/n is on dr-”

you quickly shot forward and tried to put your hand on his mouth, but ended up covering his eyes

“no one can ever know this” you whispered while he nodded

“what did you take?” he asked

“i…. don’t know?” you grinned

“you’re funny” he replied

“trust me, i’m not i’m only interesting right now because i’m on drugs… wait am i going to become a drugaholic? shit i’m a drug addict!” you panicked suddenly not finding the situation funny

he sat down leaning against the railing while you followed.

“you’re definitely in the panicking stage but don’t worry i think you have to drugs everyday to be a drug addict” he smiled “you’re fine”

you smiled back and almost forgot, you were actually talking to a slytherin!

almost forgot

“i shouldn’t be talking to you” you said turning away from him

“oh yeah? why’s that”

“you don’t like my friends” you answered

“can’t i not like you’re friends and like you?”

“it doesn’t work like that” you said looking back at him now

“why can’t we make it work?” he said softly

“you know i have barely been able to see your face this whole time” you laughed changing the subject

“why’s that?” he asked

“your blurry”

you both bursted into laughter again

“we should go somewhere else, there’s a class in here next”

“we? no i’m going to sleep this off, have fun going somewhere else” you said beginning to walk away. You felt him grab your hand, turning to face him he smiled

“for the record i always found you interesting”

he let go then walked right past you

you watched his figure go down the stairs and stood frozen for a minute

“wait theodore! i can’t go down these stairs, i could just about go up them, i’ll fall and die!”

#harry potter #hogwarts #fanfic #slytherin #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #draco malfoy #weasley twins

[lovefoolholland]

about you - theodore nott x reader

summary: the train reminded theo of you. thestrals reminded theo of you. what did theo remember about you that wasn’t as heartwrenching? 

warnings: angst, a couple of lines from little women (greta gerwig’s movie) 

a/n: i can’t stop picturing theo as a the 1975 type of guy. like, he gives off matty healy’s vibes, you know? 

English is not my first language! 

The platform didn’t quite spark memories of you, but boy did the compartment he and his friends shared sparkle something.

“Theo!” exclaimed Pansy Parkinson, clearly confused by the looks on Theodore Nott’s face “Are you alright?” 

That was an understatement. 

“Indeed” he answered instead. 

“You don’t seem alright” Blaise inquired, and Pansy gave him a glance. 

“I’m just tired” Theo said, rolling his eyes. 

“Tired of spending all summer thinking of Y/N, I’m sure,” Draco’s voice spilled like venom, and Theo turned to look at him with a dark demeanor in his eyes “am I wrong?” 

“Shut up Draco” Pansy said, and then looked at Theo with an apologetic smile. 

“It’s fine,” Theo heard himself answer “but you’re incredibly wrong. Apparition always tires me.” 

No one mentioned Y/N again, but Theo could feel the tension in the air. 

The compartment reminded him of the smell of freshly baked cookies, and how – somehow – you always managed to smell like that. You’ve mentioned before that you’d stayed over at the Weasley’s for a couple of days before going back to school, but it had never occurred to him until later in the relationship that cookies were something Molly Weasley surely did the morning her children (and her friends’ children) left for Hogwarts. 

Now, he missed the smell and he missed having his head dipped into the top of your head while his arms tangled on yours as you read some boring book that had to do with the classes to come. 

“We’re here mate” said Blaise when everyone but him had gotten out of the compartment. 

“Thanks” he said, and watched as a bunch of students started walking towards the thestrals that always drove everyone to the castle. 

He didn’t find you in the crowd. 

He got up and got out of the train in order to get to the castle in no time. He didn’t want to keep depressing himself over his failed relationship and the memories everything in Hogwarts brought him upon with. 

At least not until he saw your wild hair waiting for a carriage. 

“Hey” he said, and you couldn’t help but jump in place once you saw him. 

“Oh, hi” your voice was as soft as the day he left you “, waiting for a thestral?” 

He stared at you for a solid minute, watching how you curved your hands in your robes and a shy blush creeped up your cheeks. He then nodded. 

“Yeah,” you nodded along “how long have you been here?” 

“Not that long” your voice came out squeaky, noticeably ashamed “I just got off the train. I fell asleep.” 

“What?” he asked, quite interested now “Why? Didn’t your friends wake you up or…?” 

“I was alone” you said, pulling your lips together. 

Of course you were. 

“Right,” he said, uncomfortable “we should probably start walking. 

“We should, yeah.” 

The two of you made your path down the castle in silence, both of you unconsciously thinking of the other. 

Theo remembered the first time he got on one of these carriages. He was incredibly nervous, and that’s when a girl with a bright smile sat next to him and started asking him questions. Just… Asking. She didn’t know about his nerves, if anything, she was interested in meeting new people and getting to know them. 

That girl was you. 

Four years later, during the Triwizard Tournament year, he had told you about the Yule Ball during your ride to the castle and had noticed the way your cheeks flushed when Draco mentioned he was going to ask Pansy to go with him, pretty proud of himself. 

Days later, he asked you, and you went together. 

Now it all seemed like a daydream, a cruel, plain daydream he had the day he told you he didn’t want a relationship with you anymore. How he told you that anyway or another, you were an obstacle in his life. 

How stupid of him. 

“How has your family been?” you asked, head tilting towards him. 

He frowned. 

“Father’s been pretty busy. And mother's portrait has been asking about you.” 

Of course he had to say that. 

He looks up to you to find a startled, yet satisfied expression on your face. He feels as if hot porridge has been spilled all over his face and neck because he knows he has turned red out of embarrassment. 

“Send them my greetings” you simply say before accelerating your pace “, come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.” 

“Wait, T/N,” the lights of the path leading to the school flick a little, and you stop in your tracks as he reaches to you “how have you been?” 

You open your mouth and then close it. It almost seems as if you want to tell him everything about your summer but… But you can’t. 

“Good,” you say, and start walking, slower this time, to the castle “my parents have been pretty busy too. The Ministry is going mad over the news of the return of You-Know-Who.” 

“Yes, of course,” he says, and then slightly smiles “did you stay at the Weasleys?”

He’s met with silence. You look at him with suspicion, and he notices. 

“What?” 

“What is the point of you asking these questions?” 

He scoffs. 

“Alright, sorry. I won’t be asking anything else.” 

“No, Theo– I mean, Theodore,” your breath hitches in your throat “it doesn’t bother me. At all. You know it never will.” 

He knows what you’re asking. 

But why? 

As the two of you step into the entrance of the castle and Flitwick tells you to register yourselves, Theo realizes why. 

“I’ve missed you” he confesses, and notices you try to evade his eyes “, Y/N–”

You take a sharp breath before speaking. 

“Stop it,” she says, and he notices the tears forming on your eyes “Theo, you’re being mean.” 

“Mean?” he asks, eyes narrowing. 

“Yes, mean” you emphasize in the word, and suddenly the two of you find yourselves right at the doors of the Great Hall. 

Theo realizes neither has the intention of going in. 

“I’m telling you how I feel, I don’t see how that’s mean.” 

“No,” you say again, and now inevitably make eye contact. He instantly regrets, you’re on the verge of tears “you don’t get to say this, not after hurting me so much.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Not when I haven’t forgotten about you, not completely” you hiss, and take a step back. 

Theo’s mind runs wild. 

“You haven’t forgotten about me?” 

The choice of words amuses him. How can you forget all that you’ve been through? From sleeping in each other’s arms on the train to the sight of you wearing captivating robes to the Yule Ball, dancing until the last song ran out. 

“No, okay? I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but I can’t” you say, tears sprinting down your cheeks as they turn red “I miss you on the train, I miss your arms around me, and I never know what to think about but…” 

“You think about me” he finishes off, and takes a step towards you “, do you think I’ve forgotten about you?” 

He knows you know that’s impossible. 

You put your lips together tightly and look up at him with a frown. 

“No.” 

“That’s right,” he says, cupping your cheeks with your hands. He cleans the tears with his thumb “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” 

You close your eyes once you feel his skin against yours. 

He silently dips his head and kisses your forehead. You still smell like freshly baked cookies. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You simply nod. 

He sighs and dips even more, sliding his hands against the back of your neck before kissing you more feverishly than before. Both of your heads spin as every student storms out of the Great Hall, and even a poltergeist calls you two out. 

“I will never forget you,” he assured you “all I can think about… Live about, is you. I’ve never stopped.” 

You smile and nod, opening your eyes and clenching him by the robes surrounding his body. 

“Never let go, Theodore Nott.”

#the 1975 #about you #harry potter #wizarding world #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott one shot #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott smut #theodore nott angst #theodore nott blurb #theo nott fanfic #theo nott fanficion #theo nott imagine #theo nott one shot #theo nott fluff #theo nott smut #theo nott angst #theo nott blurb #draco malfoy #golden trio #slytherin

[ahlyasimps]

Two is Better Than One [S.S.] & [O.G.]

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x GN Reader Summary: When you smell two unique scents in the Amortentia Potion, you wonder how you'll ever be able to decide between the two. But maybe you don't have to. A/N: Requested by nikathingz! I have two nostrils, one for each scent and I'll be putting them to good use. 

Professor Sharp stood at the front of the classroom, a twinkle in his eye as he surveyed the eager faces of his students. "Today, we will be learning about one of the most powerful potions in existence," he announced. "The Amortentia Potion."

Everyone murmured excitedly, leaning forward in their seats as Professor Sharp began to explain the properties of the potion. You were equally as excited, after all this was the famed "love potion". "As you all know, the Amortentia Potion is a powerful love potion that produces a scent unique to each person who smells it," he said. "It's important to remember that this potion is not to be taken lightly, and can be dangerous if misused."

You listened intently as Professor Sharp described the ingredients and the brewing process for the Amortentia Potion. Your curiosity growing, what would you smell you wondered? You spotted movement out of the corner in your eye and turned to look at one of your desk partners. Sebastian Sallow, notorious troublemaking student and an incorrigible flirt. The two of you and Ominis Gaunt who was seated to your left had been friends for years at this point. They're both handsome in their own way, Sebastian had this youthful charm to him while Ominis was more refined and cold.

You admired Sebastian's skill and determination, and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about another late night trip down to the library or recounted one of his many duelling feats. But there was something about Omnis that intrigued you too, he might have seemed colder at first but he was probably one of the funniest people you knew. Always ready with a quick retort whenever the two of you banter.

Professor Sharp's voice drew you out of your reverie. "I'll demonstrate to you all the brewing process." He said, carefully measuring out the ingredients and explaining the steps as he went. Everyone watched in awe as the potion began to take shape, a shimmering pearlescent liquid that everyone was leaning forward to get a better look at. You could hear people whispering behind your back, wondering if they would get a chance to smell it.

"Now, who would like to volunteer to smell the potion and describe the scent?" Professor Sharp asked.

Several hands shot up, and the professor selected a Hufflepuff student named Lenora. She approached the potion with trepidation, inhaling deeply as she took in the scent.

"It smells like…old books and metal," she said, her eyes widening in surprise. "And there's something else…I can't quite put my finger on it."

Professor Sharp nodded approvingly. "Very good, Lenora. 10 points for Hufflepuff. That's exactly the kind of response we're looking for. Remember, the scent of the Amortentia Potion is different for everyone, depending on what they find most attractive."

The rest of the class took turns smelling the potion, each one describing a unique and intoxicating aroma. The air was thick with excitement and anticipation. As Ominis was sat to your left, when the potion came around, he would be the first to have a go between the three of you. 

Finally, it was your turn. You took a deep breath and leaned over the potion, inhaling deeply. As you did, a rush of sensations flooded over you. You smelled the sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla, but there was something else too. A hint of musky scent that was familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

You looked around the room, trying to find the source of the scent. And that's when you saw him. Sebastian Sallow, sitting only to your right, his eyes fixed on you. Suddenly, everything made sense. You had always been drawn to him, and now you knew why. You were in love with him.

But as you turned to ask Ominis what he smelled, you caught a whiff of a new scent in the potion. It was his scent. While different from Sebastian's, it was equally as alluring. It was the scent of freshly cut wood, mixed with a subtle hint of cologne and was.. that peppermint? Your heart skipped a beat as you realized that you were in love with him too. But this was a rare case, normally people only smelled one scent belong to one person. You smelled two unique scents in that potion.

You looked back and forth between Sebastian and Ominis, feeling torn. How could you choose between them? They were both so different, yet both equally amazing in their own ways. Ominis was still staring off looking contemplative but as if sensing your eyes, he looked in your direction.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice low.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. How could you possibly explain what you had just realized? But before you could respond, the bell rang, signalling the end of class.

"Alright everyone, that's all for today. You're dismissed!" Professor Sharp said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You gathered your things, still feeling a bit dazed from the experience. As you walked out of the classroom, Sebastian and Ominis fell into step beside you, both looking at you expectantly.

"So, what did you smell?" Sebastian asked, grinning.

You looked at him, then at Ominis, and finally back at Sebastian. "I smelled cinnamon, vanilla, freshly cut wood…and cologne," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Sebastian's grin widened. "Interesting. I smelled cologne and wood too, but also a hint of [your favourite shampoo scent]."

Ominis stayed quiet, but you all continued walking in silence for a few moments, he spoke up. "I smelled vanilla, cinnamon and [your favourite shampoo scent]."

Silence once again engulfed the three of you as you all took time to process this new information. You couldn't help but feel like everything had changed.

"I don't know what to do," you admitted, feeling lost. "I don't want to hurt either of you." How could you possibly choose between two people that you cared about so deeply? It didn't seem fair to either of them.

"What if... you don't have to?" Sebastian said cautiously. "I mean I'll just come out and address the troll in the room since none of us want to say it out loud. We all smelled each other in that potion, didn't we."

"We did." Ominis replied, understanding where Sebastian was going. He made a move as if to reach for your hand and you met him halfway before grabbing Sebastian's hand too.

"3 people dating each other? This is really going to piss off the Gaunts." You said feeling laughter bubble up inside you.

"An unexpected perk." said Ominis, his lips forming a small, but fond smile.

Sebastian look at you both with obvious affection in his eyes, glad you were all on board with the idea.

And as you felt the warmth from both the boys beside you, you knew this is where you belonged. Where the three of you belonged. In each other's arms.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt imagines #ominis gaunt imagine #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow imagines #sebastian x read #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagines #hogwarts legacy imagine #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian x ominis x reader #sebastian x reader

[box-of-roses]

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅. I hear you .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

♡ Synopsis: You can hear the thoughts of your soulmate; What happens when Sakusa finds out you’re his soulmate and tries to plan the perfect way to tell you

♡ Characters: Sakusa, Y/N

♡ Possible Warnings: Mentions of tests and failing, good old fashioned teasing

♡ Words: 2.3K

Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Series Masterlist

From the moment you’re born you are able to communicate with your soulmate. No one is exactly sure how it works but their thoughts become yours and vice versa. A lot of the time what you hear is nonsense. Since everyone grows up with it constantly in their brain it’s easy to filter out the nonsense from actual conversations. Let’s start from the beginning though shall we?

Y/N is born. Maybe not quite that early, let’s skip ahead to the first coherent conversation you remember with your soulmate. It was just after you had failed a test, which was shocking because you believed you had done well on it.

‘Hey, I don’t know what’s going on over there but will you stop panicking?’ Hearing a voice in the midst of your stupor made you jerk your head up and look around. Seeing nothing on the horizon your brows furrowed and your lips contorted into a frown. ‘Did your parents or teachers not talk to you guys about soulmates? We communicate in our heads.’

That made much more sense as to why you could hear someone talking to you but couldn’t see anyone. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me, your panicking made it hard to focus.’ You rolled your eyes at that and stood back up. ‘Just go ask to retake the test if you’re so worried about it.’ That was actually a good idea now that you had thought about it.

And thus the first interaction with your soulmate. Even if they were a bit blunt. You didn’t have many conversations in the early years of your lives. As you approached High School though the conversations came much easier.

‘What high school are you going to?’ You looked down at the three papers in front of you.

‘I’m not telling you that. You might be my soulmate but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a creep.’

‘You’ve literally known me your whole life and can hear what I’m think.’ You rolled your eyes. It was a bit of a habit when dealing with your soulmate. ‘I’m stuck between a couple. We can meet generically if you want or we can go to school together.’

‘Itachiyama.’ What?

‘That’s where I’ll be going to school.’ You felt a smile growing on your face at the news. You pulled out your laptop and began filling out the entrance form.

‘There’s no guarantee that I’ll get in but I’d like to meet you. Talking to you is nice.’

‘I enjoy talking with you too. Now go to sleep, we’re on the same time and I don’t want to listen to you complain about not getting enough sleep.’ It was little things like that. They reminded you that this was in fact your soulmate. Not just a friend that comes and goes. Someone you're with for life, for better or worse.

‘Goodnight K’

‘Goodnight N/N’

You had gotten into the school. Yet you still hadn’t met your soulmate. Well, that’s not entirely true but you didn’t know that you had met your soulmate. The universe works in mysterious ways.

‘I can’t believe it’s been months and I still haven’t met you.’

‘Maybe you have and don’t know it. It is a possibility. It’s a big school and we’re bound to cross paths at some point.’ With a laugh you finished off your notes.

‘I don’t want to force too much. I think it’s a bad idea to figure out a time or place to meet, I have faith in the universe that we’ll meet at some point.’ Tempting the universe too much was never a good idea. Enough movies and shows have taught you that much. Although, it was tempting. Why would it let you get into the same school? Be in the same vicinity but never meet. Not truly at least. Questions for once you found him.

You at least knew that much. Your soulmate was a him, his friends teased him relentlessly for smiling if you said something funny. That he played a sport, and that you two were at the very least friends. You had details but they were still vague enough that it made it difficult to find him.

Day in and day out you would look at people in your classes and wonder if he could be one of them. He of course laughed at you when he heard the thoughts run rampant in your head. If he was in your class you didn’t know, what you did know though was that he was happy you were looking for him. ‘I’m glad you’re looking for me.’

‘Wow? I never expected such a statement from the reserved K’ You smile as you scribble on your paper. Hearts, lines, letters. ‘My mom wants me to join a club.’

‘Which club do you want to join?’

‘Aren’t you in a club?’

‘Yes.’ He wouldn’t tell you which one no matter how many times you asked. “It’d be too easy if we narrowed it down.” He would say. That’s the point. Years of having this voice in your head and no face to go along with it. It was a little frustrating. Your eyes scanned your classroom, many of your classmates had found their soulmates. Purposely going to the same school and meeting each other. The difference between you and them was that they pushed the universe.

You and K had a delicately practiced dance. You would push and he would pull, sometimes he would push and you would pull. Memories of the high school conversation passed in your head. It had been so easy to get that information from him. Why was this so hard? Shaking your head you packed up and went to the bulletin board to see which clubs needed help. What caught your eye immediately was volleyball. You enjoyed the sport well enough. The team was looking for a manager.

‘I think I’m going to apply to be a manager of a sports team.’

‘Maybe it will be mine.’

‘I hate when you do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘I say something and you tease me for being hopeful.’

‘Maybe I was giving you hope.’ You hadn’t thought of it like that. You had always thought of it as him shutting down your attempts. Maybe he was giving you hope, he told you what high school he was going to. He told you he was on a sports team. So now here you stand looking at the sports section of the board and the first thing your eyes landed on was a almost hidden away post.

‘Did you hang up a post?’

‘If I did you wouldn’t know. If I didn’t you still found one that caught your eye and are trying for it. Take a jump. I’ll try to catch you if you fall.’

‘That was cheesy, even for me. But, thank you.’ With newfound courage you walked to the gym, it wasn’t loud since it was before practice. The team would be away on lunch at the moment. You quickly found the coach though. “Hello, I’m here to apply for the manager position for the volleyball team.” You smiled and held out your hand after approaching the man. He looked at you and nodded. He shook your hand and gave a run down on the things you would be expected to do.

“If that’s not too hard you’re welcome to the position. Show up here Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Thursdays as well but that will mostly be a quick stop to let me know if you see anything that I don’t catch and their grades and such.” You nodded along to the information with a wide smile on your face. From what you heard of the team they were really good. And there was a silent hope that you would meet K here.

“Alright, see you after school then coach!” You left the gym and went to lunch yourself. ‘K! I got the position!’

‘That’s nice, why are you yelling though?’

‘Because I’m excited.’ You huffed and sat down at your table. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing your lunch.’

‘We literally talk the whole lunch period everyday. Why are you so worried about it? Did someone say something?’ You smiled at his thoughtfulness. The more you two talked the more thoughtful and caring he appeared.

‘No, I’m just nervous for my first day on the job.’ You knew he was rolling his eyes at that.

‘No need to be nervous. You’ll probably be doing easy stuff and getting introduced to everyone.’ You knew he was right and it was silly to be nervous. You were still nervous though. What if you meet him and he doesn’t like you? ‘Stop. I can hear what you’re thinking, remember?’ Oh. Yeah. That.

‘If we meet I’m sure I’ll like you.’

‘You can’t know that for sure! What if you find me annoying?’

‘You’re not. Lunch is almost over, go to your last classes and then we’ll see if you picked my team.’ You were still nervous but he worked at reassuring you. Even though it didn’t calm you completely it was still nice.

One last skip for now. No one wants to sit in their thoughts. Or at least it’s not healthy to. Let’s see how you’re doing as a manager shall we?

Once you arrived in the gym again you began setting things up. It seemed you were early. Oh well, the coach said that it would be helpful to set up on days you got there before everyone else. Once the net got set up you went searching for the volleyballs. They’ve got to be around here somewhere.

“I would check in the storage closet.” A sudden voice shocked you and you jumped. You turned around and came face to face with one of your classmates.

“Komori right?” He nodded.

“I’ll check with you, the others should be getting here soon. Sorry you had to set it up by yourself.” He seemed nice, you had very minimal interactions in class but you always knew him as kind.

“It’s no problem, I’m your new manager so it was the least I could do.” He smiled at you as he showed you the cart of volleyballs.

“You’ll be meeting my cousin today. Don’t mind him, he can be a little off-putting when you first meet him.” Okay, well that was worrying. ‘K, I met one of the team members and he’s already told me to be careful of someone.’

‘You’ve got this, I wish I could talk but I’m about to start practice and I don’t think either of us wants me to get hurt.’

‘I don’t know, you’ll have more time to talk to me that way.’ You smiled and of course Komori noticed. “Soulmate?” You kind of forgot he was there but nodded.

“Yeah, apparently he’s about to start practice and made a joke.” Komori nodded and helped you push the carts out into the gym. The team had arrived by the time you guys had gotten back. One of them caught your eyes though. The tall dark haired boy. Sakusa. A lot of girls in your grade talked about him and how they wished he was their soulmate. Your cheeks heated up when you remembered you had a soulmate. Now was not the time to be gawking at boys.

‘Who are you gawking at?’

‘No one!’

‘Mhm, like I literally didn’t just hear you tell yourself to stop looking at someone.’

‘It’s nothing, one of the people on the team is just cute that’s all.’ You rolled your eyes and put on a smile before introducing yourself to everyone. “Hello, I’m L/N F/N. I’ll be your manager starting today. It’s lovely meeting everyone.” You stood back up and gave them all a smile. You noticed one of the players stiffened at the interaction. Maybe that’s what Komori said when he said his cousin could be a little off-putting.

You let them get to practice after that though, not wanting to hold them up any longer. Your eyes didn’t leave Sakusa though. He was mesmerizing to watch play. He looked like he enjoyed it. A stark contrast to him looking disinterested a moment ago. Get it together Y/N.

You had been spacing out for so long that it was time to pack up when you finally returned to reality. Komori said he would help you clean up but surprisingly Sakusa also agreed to help. Doesn’t he hate new people though?

‘You have that effect on people. No one ever hates you.’ Your cheeks heated up and you almost dropped the volleyball you were holding.

‘SINCE WHEN WERE YOU SUCH A FLIRT??????’ You placed the ball in the cart and looked around to see if there were anymore as you tried to calm yourself down.

‘I don’t know. I didn’t feel very good listening to you gawk over a guy for my entire practice.’

‘MAYBE IT WAS YOU???? EVER THINK ABOUT THAT???’ Not seeing anymore you turned back around to push the carts back to the storage room.

“Hey L/N, why do you look so flustered?” Komori being ever so helpful to point it out made you even more flustered.

“Because my soulmate decided to be unhelpful and flirt with me.”

“They don’t usually?” It was Sakusa’s turn to chime in now.

“No. Or at least not so obviously.” The boys helped you put the carts back. ‘Thank you so much for that. Now you’ve got people questioning why I’m acting the way I am.’

‘You’re welcome. Get home soon, it’s getting late.’

“Well, it was nice to meet you guys but I need to head home now.”

“See you later L/N”

“Yeah, see you.” With that you left the gym excited that you made more friends.

And with that chapter one is complete. I’m going to write the first chapter for all the installments of the series before continuing with a specific one. So, stay tuned for those! My askbox is open if you would like to request something and love you guys! Hope you enjoyed!

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

Taglist:

Masterlist

#haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff

[foreverinadais]

bad date: j.l

summary: you find yourself on a bad date. in desperation, you call your ex, jake lockley, hoping he can help you. which he does, in ways you never could've bargained for.

warnings: smut (eek), dry humping, kissing, light choking ig??? jake puts his hand around reader's neck, fluff, teasing, reader's date is a twat like he seriously sucks, angst but not with jake, no use of y/n or pronouns :) ~part of the ex! mk series but can be read standalone!!!~

word count: 3.4k

ex!mk series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

It felt wrong to be on a date. Extremely wrong. You felt as though you were being disloyal, despite having no commitments, no one to be disloyal too. The events of a couple of weeks ago were still freshly embedded in your brain. It was as though every time you blinked, you remembered a different detail from your conversation with Marc, or a different look from your car ride with Jake, or a different touch from your comforting of Steven.

You had never been quite so confused.

You almost cancelled the date that had been scheduled for quite some time. But doing that would admit you weren’t over your exes. And admitting that would put all the work you had done in getting over them to shame.

So, you got ready, put on your finest outfit with the glamour you desired, and got a taxi to the restaurant you were meeting him at.

He seemed nice enough over text. You had shared stories, even laughed at his pick up lines. He was handsome in a way which felt… unnatural. You struggled to find attraction to other people after so long denouncing everyone. It felt odd to look at a person, that wasn’t your person, in any way other than politeness.

He had embraced you, even kissed your hand, and you worried as you felt nothing. He had opened the door for you, even pulled your chair out, waiting for you to sit and still… nothing. He was perfectly nice.

Until he started talking.

“I just do not understand the people who say looks mean nothing. I mean, obviously, I am attractive, I know that. And you’re decent looking. We’re attracted to each other, nothing wrong with that.” You cocked an eyebrow, taking a long sip of wine as you hummed.

“Right. I mean, I think appearance is surface level. Other things matter more, like how much you laugh together, your morals… good conversation.” He scoffed, waving over the waiter with just his hand. Ew.

“Should’ve known you would think like that. Crickey, wonder what other opinions you have in that brain of yours?”

“Actually, I have a lot.”

“Right, Would love to hear about those, that’s why I came on this date.” The sarcasm dripped off his words and anger bubbled in your stomach. You opened your mouth to talk when the waiter came over, notepad in hand. “I’ll have the steak -rare- with the potatoes and veg. Gotta get the protein in after a work-out.” You cringed and the waiter shot you a sympathetic look.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the lasagne, please. With garlic bread.” The man in front of you chuckled, but it felt cold.

“Are you sure? Don’t want to have to kiss you with garlic breath.” Your stomach lurched at the thought of kissing him, but it was by no means a positive feeling. You would rather be sick.

“Make that extra garlic.” You said, and the waiter nodded with a smug, ‘certainly.’

Your date talked at you for the next fifteen minutes. He told you his life story, his career, about his friends and their “absolutely wild times, we go kinda crazy, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You were relieved when the food came out, so you had a moment of silence.

You wanted to leave. To shout at him, get up, and go. But you knew that wasn’t smart. He seemed like the type to follow you out the restaurant and ridicule you for making a scene, before claiming he was a ‘nice guy’.

You stuffed another piece of garlic bread in your mouth as you attempted to plan your next move. “These potatoes are vile. God, you want something done right, I can’t even eat this.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead shrugging.

You had eaten at supersonic speed to rush the date, to get home and snuggle under your covers watching a shitty romcom whilst eating the leftover cake in your fridge. You were relived as he swallowed the last bite of food, putting his cutlery down and sighing deeply. “Well that was a load of shit. The food, I mean, not you, darling.” You almost threw your food back up but managed to keep it down.

“Hmm. Right, should we-”

“Dessert first, right? Not that either of us need it but can’t have a date without something sweet.” The wink he sent you made your whole body curl in disgust. If you had to spend more than thirty seconds more with him, you were sure you’d end up stuffing your ears full of cheese just to never him speak again. This was the worst date you’d ever been on. You weren’t expecting the best date ever, but at least something to distract you from-

The idea hit you all at once.

Pulling out your phone, you pretended to look concerned, opening the one contact you knew would be readily available right now. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” You said as your date just shrugged.

Standing from your chair, you found an empty corner, hitting the call button and desperately holding the phone to your ear. It only took a couple of rings before you heard the familiar, “Yes?”

“Jake, you gotta pick me up. I’ll act like you have an emergency and you need my help or something, and then I’ll hastily leave, and you can get me in your cab and-”

“Woah, woah, slow down. What’s goin’ on? Estas en peligro? Are you in danger?” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Nothing like that. I’m just… this is kinda awkward but I’m on a date.” You could imagine him tensing up as his breathing changed slightly. “But it’s terrible and awful and I just, if I spend one more second with him I’ll end up killing someone.” Jake chuckled, and you scoffed. “It isn’t funny! Look, you owe me. And here’s your chance to pay me back like right now. As fast as you can. I don’t care how many laws you break getting here.”

“Relax, Carino. I got in the car when you started talking.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat and your heart skip.

“Thanks, Jake. I’ll send you my location.” He hummed, and you hung up, quickly sending the restaurant name before returning to your date.

“I’m so sorry but my friend’s had an emergency. This has been… lovely… though.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have too, yeah.”

He scoffed, and you noticed a shift in his persona. “Figures. Everyone leaves me.”

“Nonono, it isn’t anything like that! My friend-”

“Likely story. You know, I’m too good for you anyway. You won’t get a date with someone like me again.”

“Well, thank fuck for that. In fact, I’m deleting every dating app I have just to make sure I never do!” It came out before you could bite your tongue, but fuck, it felt good.

“Whatever. Didn’t want to fuck you anyway.”

“Excuse me? That’s all this was? God, you’re such an arsehole! Fuck you, I’m leaving. I’ll pay my half at the till.” He started ranting about something, about how you ‘probably couldn’t afford it’ and how ‘you’re lucky he’s being nice’ but you were already walking away.

You paid for your meal, apologising to the waiter for the arsehole’s rude behaviour, but she just smiled and handed you a piece of dessert in a takeaway box; “It’s on the house.” You smiled, ignoring the shouts from your date as you left the restaurant.

You were beyond grateful to see him. He was wearing his driving gloves, the rough leather ones that you loved. He had got out the car, waiting anxiously to see you. You saw his sigh of relief when he did. You couldn’t help yourself.

You practically ran toward him, watching his face of shock turn to acceptance as you reached his arms. You wrapped an arm around his waist, careful not to drop your food as he engulfed you in a hug. “Hi.” You whispered into his chest, beyond grateful he was there. You knew you could look after yourself. You didn’t need a man to come to your rescue.

But he wasn’t just a man.

Secretly, you were looking for an excuse, any excuse, to call them again.

“That bad, huh?” He said as you pulled away, scanning your face as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

“Worse.” You wanted to convey a serious composure. It had been terrible. But if you didn’t laugh, you’d definitely cry. Jake rose an eyebrow as you began chuckling, covering your mouth to try to contain it. But eventually, it started pouring out, until you were out of breath laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Jake asked but couldn’t help smiling himself. “Huh?”

“It was the worst date ever.” You managed to get out, and even though Jake couldn’t quite understand, your laughter was so contagious, he couldn’t stop himself from joining in. People passing by shot you a few weird looks, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you released your emotions in the healthiest way you had for a while.

Eventually, you calmed down, wiping a tear from under your eye as Jake looked at you in admiration. “Want a ride?” You smiled, glancing back at the restaurant before nodding. Jake opened the door for you as you climbed in the cab.

“We have to stop doing this.” You said as Jake had pulled up to your flat. You had told him every detail about your date from hell, down to what seasoning you had on your food.

Jake had listened neutrally, apart from whenever you mentioned that man. His blood boiled as he thought about you on a date, thought about another man looking at you, making comments about you.

But he ignored the jealously, instead focusing his negative feelings on your date. “He sounds like a fucking asshole. Should’ve gone in there and given him a piece’f my mind.” He had said,gripping the steering wheel, but you brought him down, assuring him you had taken care of it and would be deleting him off every app you had him on.

“Doin’ what?” He asked, and you gestured between the two of you.

“Picking each other up? Calling each other? Seeing each other at all?” Jake nodded, but smirked.

“Almost like we can’t get enough of each other.” He teased and you tried to ignore the effect he had on you.

“Almost like you can’t get enough of me.”

“Ey? How’d ya reach that conclusion? You called us.”

“You called me first! I thought it was just something we did now.”

“Sounds like it’ll become a bad habit.”

“Maybe. But sometimes, I like being bad.”

“I remember.” The air shifted and suddenly, there was too much space between the two of you. You watched as he gulped, watched as the vein in his neck tensed and his lips twisted up in the familiar way they did.

“Thanks for the lift. Again.” You said, chuckling lightly, trying to clear the fog in your mind.

“Right. Anytime.”

“Anytime huh? That’s dangerous.”

“Maybe. But I like danger.”

“I remember.” You teased his words from earlier, and he shot you a small smile. Fuck, you wished he hadn’t looked over; and so did he. You held eye contact a beat longer than you had intended, your heart skipping a beat as his eyes flicked briefly towards your lips. You swallowed harshly, pulling yourself away from the moment, forcing yourself to make a move out of the car. “I should really…” You pointed toward your flat, smiling awkwardly as he nodded.

“Right. You should rest. I’ll see you, well, whenever either of us need a lift.”

You chuckled, nodding, “Well, thanks.”

“Por supuesto, anytime, seriously.” You didn’t want to leave. This felt different from every interaction with them since you had broken up. Something was screaming at you to stay, and you didn’t think it was the remnants of wine left in your system.

No, it was as if an invisible force was willing you to him, to his scent, his warmth, his stupidly attractive smirk. He noticed your hesitation, eyebrow raised in question. “If you’re gonna sit here all night, lemme know so I can turn off the engine.” He teased jokingly, and you forced a laugh.

“ ‘m going now, just… preparing for the cold.” He nodded but didn’t look convinced, amusement lingering in his features. “Okay, ready now!” You felt suddenly embarrassed, deciding to get the inevitability of your leaving over with. “Goodbye, Jake.” You said quietly, sticking your hand out as if to shake his hand.

“You want me too…”

“I don’t know! I thought it was a nice, civil gesture to end this terrible evening with!”

“A handshake…?”

“Fine, it was dumb anyway-” You began, retracting your hand before he grabbed it with his gloved one.

“No, no, c’mon.” He squeezed your palm with his own, and your skin tingled at the contact. The friendly gesture was corrupted in your brain as he shook your joined hands, a smug look on his face at the way your breath hitched. “There, happy now?”

You couldn’t think. Could hardly breath as you shook your head, ‘no’. Because it wasn’t enough. No amount of contact would ever be enough.

You didn’t think about the possible aftermath of your next action. You couldn’t think about anything but him. With zero hesitation, you were shuffling forward in your seat, hands falling on his jacket as you pulled him toward you slightly. Your lips barely grazed his, but it was enough to send your heart soaring.

No sooner than you had done it, you pulled away. It was his move. His cho

Jake looked to your gaze, then down to your lips, repeating the action twice. His eyes were glazed over, and you were sure his mind was reeling, his alters talking over each other, but he couldn’t hear anything apart from your heavy breathing and all he could smell was your perfume-

His hands cupped your cheeks, a small groan leaving his lips before they were on yours. You sighed in content, moving your lips with his as if you had never stopped. Your hands found his hair, tugging on the familiar locks gently as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

You didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. It felt so familiar yet so distant, as if you had only ever dreamt of moments like this. When in reality, you had kissed him thousands of different times. And it all came flooding in to this moment.

Jake pulled back slightly, breathless. You wondered why he had stopped, about to ask when you felt his thumb trace your bottom lip. Your breath hitched as he pulled lightly, your mouth obediently opening for him. He smiled before pulling his own lip between his teeth, eyes dark as he gently pushed his thumb into your mouth.

You made a noise of shock, but quickly pushed it away as you swirled your tongue around the tip of his thumb, inviting him to push further. Jake groaned, almost in disbelief, eyes never leaving yours. “Fuck, baby.” His words were drawn out, like they always were in situations like this. It drove you crazy. “C’mere, need you t’ be closer.” He said, voice husky as he apprehensively removed his thumb from your mouth, quickly silencing your groan of disapproval with his lips.

Jake pulled you over the gearstick, careful you didn’t hurt yourself, not that you cared at all about your safety right now. He sighed in relief as you swung your legs over his lap, straddling him as your arms looped around his shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer. “Relax, Carino, ‘m not goin’ anywhere.” He chuckled against your lips, but you hardly heard as you rolled your hips forward.

His chuckles turned into groans as you found a pace, desperate to feel him against you, everywhere. Jake held onto your waist, helping you move rougher against him, trying to keep kissing you but fuck it felt so good.

You pulled away first, breathing heavy in pleasure as small moans left your lips. Every sound you made only amplified what he was feeling, and he couldn’t help but clash his lips to yours just to swallow them.

“Jake.” You whimpered, and he couldn’t recall a time his name had ever sounded so good. It was euphoric, just hearing you say his name.

“Fuck, baby, you sound ruined, and I’ve barely even touched you.” His words elicited another moan from you as your head fell into his shoulder, hips rolling faster to chase a high you couldn’t reach on your own, or with any other partner you had tried with since them.

Jake squeezed the flesh of your waist, still guiding your movements as his other hand went to the back of your neck. He tugged you up, watching as your bottom lip slipped between your teeth. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Lemme hear what I do to you.” He pulled your lip out from your teeth, and you let out a broken moan, eyes squeezing shut as his teeth bit possessively at your neck.

“Who’s makin’ you feel this good?” His voice had an edge to it, dark and dirty. It made your thighs clench harder around him.

“You.” You whimpered, eyes rolling back as you felt yourself hurdling closer to the edge.

“Not that prick from your date, huh? Ey, look at me. Who makes you feel like this? Need’ta hear you say my name.”

“You, Jake! Always you!” You practically sobbed, overwhelmed and so, so close. All your senses were heightened, and you couldn’t recall the last time you had felt this level of pleasure. And he hadn’t even touched you yet.

Jake chuckled darkly, his hand slipping up to your neck, squeezing only slightly, but it was enough to send your mind reeling. “Thaaat’s it.” His words were drawn out in arousal. You were at the edge, practically falling off, and Jake could tell. Even after all this time, he could read your body perfectly.

“You can let go, Carino. Let go f’me, c’mon, there you go.” He cooed as you clutched onto him, gasping and repeating his name like a mantra as you reached your peak. Jake kissed your shoulder, stroking at your back as your body shook with aftershocks. “Did so good f’me, baby.” He whispered and you practically melted against him.

The windows were covered in perspiration from the events inside the car, and your heavy breathing filled the car. Jake whispered terms of endearment in your ear as you snuggled into his body. It was hot inside his car, yet somehow, you couldn’t get enough of his heat.

Eventually, you felt strong enough to speak, lifting your head up to face him, skin glowing in a thin layer of sweat and euphoria. Jake’s smiled matched your own as he cupped your cheeks, bringing you in for another kiss. “Wow.” You whispered against his lips, and he chuckled, agreeing.

You stroked the side of his face, tracing the details of his skin with soft fingertips. Jake leaned into your touch, savoring the softness of your actions. Neither of you were thinking about the consequences. And if you were, neither of you cared. Not right now. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. He had almost forgotten that happiness existed outside of you.

“It’s late.” He said suddenly, and you sat up straighter. “You need rest, especially now. I don’t wanna disrupt that.”

“Wait, what? I just kinda figured… you don’t want to come up with me?”

“Well… I thought you were finished.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t get to…” You looked down at his lap, at the prominent issue still there, and you smiled teasingly.  

“Trust me, baby, that was all I needed.”

“But I want to make it up to you.” You innocently ran a hand down his chest, stopping just before his belt and he tensed.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want too. If you want too.” You watched as he tutted, before nodding. “Please?” Your voice was soft but seductive as you ran a hand through his hair, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his jaw, then his cheek, then just next to his lips.

You felt drunk on him and you didn't care about what this could mean. How far it could set you back. You were too far gone, too deep already. You needed him. You always needed him.

Jake groaned, squeezing the flesh of your waist. “Joder eres tan bueno -fuck you’re so good-  when you ask so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

a/n: i have never written smut before so this was a fun venture into it!!! i promise more parts are coming. i was conflicted on how to do this chapter but it kinda found it's own end. the next one will involve our other two boys yayyy :) i am really enjoying writing this series. thank you so much for reading!!!

tags: @rmoonstoner @marinalor @readingfan @neteyamsluvts @howellatme @nana90azevedo @midgardian-witch @daddyjackfrost

#moon knight #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley #jake lockley smut #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader #moon knight angst #moon knight fluff #ex! jake lockley

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol use, recreational weed use, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n, not quite smut but we're getting close folks

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 3

You don’t see Steve for nearly a week after that - you hang around the radio station quite a bit, as you usually do, but never manage to run into him. You should be thankful for that - for how peaceful it is. It’s not even like you want to see him - no, why would you? He’s a pain in your ass, and you should be thankful that you can do your job in peace. 

No, it’s not actually at the station that you see him next - though, it’s tangentially related. You’re at perhaps your second-favorite place in the world - Varsity Vinyl, the local record shop downtown. It has some of the best selection you’d seen, and you always find yourself there - buying for your own growing record collection, or rooting through the used and discounted bin to help stock the station’s vinyl library. It’s where you find yourself on a Saturday afternoon, flipping through records while figuring how much money you actually realistically are able to spend.

You don’t see him, not at first. He’s standing further down the aisle, and when you finally look up and spot him, you nearly jump - he’s just staring at you, eyes wide. You straighten up, just holding eye contact - you feel like two wild animals sizing each other up, deciding whether to run or fight. You’re truly deciding between those two options when he clears his throat.

“Oh - uh, hey,” he says, quieter than you had expected.

“Hey.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, a beat of silence passing between you. Then, you both find yourselves speaking at once:

“Your party was fun the other night -”

“Are you okay -”

You both pause, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Sorry, uh - the party was fun last weekend. Thanks,” you say quietly.

Steve shrugs.

“Oh, yeah - glad you came. You… you seemed like you were having a good time.”

Like I made an absolute fool of yourself, more like, you think to yourself.

“Oh! I mean - I guess. Sorry if I got a little - uh -”

“It’s fine, don’t worry - we’ve had worse,” Steve assures.

He hasn’t said anything about bringing you home. Part of you is convinced that Eddie was misinformed, and Steve didn’t actually bring you home that night - that is, if it wasn’t for that stupid note. The note you probably should have thrown out, but stuck into a desk drawer instead - to refer to later, just to make sure you weren’t crazy, you had reasoned.

But now, Steve is standing in front of you, more quiet and withdrawn than you’ve ever seen in the past four years of knowing him.

“So, uh - thanks,” you say quickly, almost mumbling.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“For, um, getting me home safe - I don’t really remember it, but -”

He waves you off. “Oh, that - don’t worry about it. The hardest part was getting you to tell me your address,” he says, laughing. “You were wasted.”

You groan. “That’s…embarrassing.”

He smirks. “Honestly, yeah, a little bit. But most people were gone by then, so… your secret’s safe with me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean - I’m surprised you didn’t tell everybody - how I was, you know, throwing up all over your apartment, being a drunk idiot -”

Why didn’t he? It’s leverage - a way to make people lose respect for you, and gain more for him. A part of this stupid, pointless power battle you two seem to always be involved in, seeing how far you can push one another. His response is unexpected.

“You don’t actually think that little of me, do you?”

You don’t really know how to answer that.

He scoffs. “Look, it’s not my fault that you can’t hold your alcohol for shit. But, I’m not going to go around telling everyone that, okay? Christ -”

He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome, though.”

You suddenly feel like a bit of an asshole - Steve is used to you throwing insults his way, but this time, it seems to have struck a chord with him.

“I was in a really bad way, wasn’t I?” you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He nods. “Honestly? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. You really don’t remember?”

You shake your head, face feeling flushed with embarrassment. He just sighs.

“What do you remember?”

You rack your brain for a moment, biting your lip absentmindedly as you think.

“Um - I remember playing Kings with everyone… and, uh…”

I remember you coming in from the porch with what’s-her-face on your arm -

“-and it gets fuzzy after that,” you say quickly.

“Oh, okay - wow, that’s pretty early on. Well, you did some shots with Eddie and Robin - you got on the kitchen table at one point ... I think you threw up over my balcony… and after that I, uh, hung out with you in the bathroom while you threw up some more, and brought you home.”

You freeze. “Wait - you babysat me, like, the whole time? I thought that was Eddie -”

“No way, Eddie was too high to help anyone. I was stone-cold sober by that point, thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you say, wishing you could sink into the floor. Steve fucking Harrington knew what you looked like keeled over a toilet and puking your guts out… dammit.

“It was pretty gnarly, but… it’s fine. Really, it’s okay.”

For maybe the first time in his life, it sounds like Steve is being sincere with you. Another beat of silence passes, then he’s clearing his throat again.

“So… you have any big plans tonight? A repeat of last weekend, maybe?” he asks casually. You furrow your brow, confused.

“Um - do you actually care?”

He shrugs. “So what if I do?”

“Well - no, after last weekend I’m not sure if I ever want to drink again -”

“The most famous lie ever told,” he cuts in, grinning. You just roll your eyes, and pretend to be interested in perusing the records as you return to flipping through the crates.

“-but it just so happens that I do have plans tonight,” you say quietly.

“Hot date?”

You scoff. “I’m going to Fuze Box. Nancy’s covering some bands for an article for the campus paper, and I figured I’d check out who's playing tonight.”

WAMC has a long-standing relationship with Fuze Box, a small music venue for local artists and college bands. A lot of students and station members play there, and shows at the Box get advertised a lot on the air. You try to go to local gigs as much as you can - though, you haven’t made as much of an effort lately, too overwhelmed by other responsibilities as station manager. Nancy’s article is a good excuse to go, for the first time all semester.

“So, you don’t know any of the bands playing tonight?” he asks, leaning against a shelf and crossing his arms.

You shake your head. “Nope - just figured I’d check it out, go in blind. Maybe I’ll even put some of the bands in my radio slot next week, if they’re selling CDs or something.”

Steve grins mischievously.

“Right - well, have fun, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, and know that any semblance of an awkward peace between you two is gone - the Steve you know and love (to hate) is back. You turn to make a clever retort, but he’s gone, having stalked off to a different aisle.

You’re not sure what he’s up to, but part of you now has a sneaking suspicion that he might show up at the venue tonight just to piss you off - it’s such a Steve move.

As you go to the checkout, you do your best to shake it - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

*****

“Thank you - we’ve been Lime of Decision - goodnight!” the lead singer shouts, a collection of hollers and applause following. The lights go up a bit, some venue staff coming out to the stage to adjust the equipment for the next band.

“Lime Of Decision is… a choice,” Nancy says, scribbling something into her notebook.

“Yeah, that’s because their name is literally meant to be a joke,” you say absentmindedly.

“What?”

“Jason, the lead singer? His ex-girlfriend is in a band called Lemon Of Choice, so it’s like…funny. I think.”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Which band is better?”

“Definitely hers,” you say immediately.

You and Nancy both stare at each other for a moment, and break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?” she asks.

You shake your head, holding up the cup of beer you’re still nursing from the beginning of the last band’s set.

She disappears into the crowd, and you sigh, taking a drink as you once again survey the room. If Steve actually is here, you haven’t spotted him yet - maybe he decided that getting on your nerves wasn’t worth actually paying the cover at the door. Or, maybe he actually had more important plans - maybe even with that girl he was all cozy with at the party -

You stop yourself - why do you care? If anything, it should be a good thing that he doesn’t seem to be here. 

There’s two more bands left to go - you had glanced at the flier on the way in, but only recognized Lime Of Decision in the lineup. So, when Nancy returns with a new drink and the lights begin to dim again, you just hope the next band is better - it can really be hit or miss at these sorts of shows.

Darius, the radio station’s tech engineer, is emceeing the show. He steps out on stage to introduce the next band, earning a smattering of cheers and hollers thrown in his direction.

“Alright, alright everyone! Settle down - that includes you, Hagan - Jesus Christ, okay - can we give it up for the amazing bands we’ve heard so far tonight?”

You clap along with the rest of the crowd, rolling our eyes at the sound of particularly rowdy hollers from the back that you just know comes from Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin.

Darius’ eyes narrow.

“Dammit, Munson - when I said a month-long ban, I meant it -”

You glance back to see Eddie flipping Darius off - famously, Corroded Coffin got a temporary suspension from Fuze Box for smoking weed in the green room. But, the ban actually being enforced… not likely.

Darius rolls his eyes, struggling to get the room back on track as he taps the microphone.

“Okay, okay - everyone, can we please - if you all can shut the fuck up - okay, whatever. The next band up tonight - you guys know and love. They’re a Fuze Box favorite - and no, they are not promising anything with the name. Give it up for Free Beer!

You can’t help but laugh at the band’s name - you instinctively turn to Nancy, who is doing her best to stifle a giggle as she writes something on her notepad, squinting in the dark.

It’s during those few seconds while you’re looking away that the band takes the stage - which is why, when you glance back, you freeze as you see who’s standing front-and-center.

Steve stands at the mic stand, an electric guitar slung over his shoulders as he smiles at the crowd.

You freeze. Other band members - including Robin and Argyle, who you know all too well from the radio station - come out onto the stage behind him. But you’re just staring at Steve, dumbfounded.

You knew he had a band - scheduling them to perform on the air was always a nightmare for you, which you knew Steve did on purpose. So, you had never learned anything about them on-principle. You hadn’t heard a lick of music, didn’t know who else was in it, or even the goddamn name - until right now.

Nancy’s eyes are on you, you can feel it. You turn briefly to look at her.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks, glancing at where Steve stands on stage. You shake your head.

“God, no! I - I’m an adult, I can be in the same room as Harrington,” you say, laughing nervously. You’re not sure how much you believe yourself. She stares at you for a moment, then just nods, turning her attention back to the stage, where Steve is stepping up to the mic.

“Hey guys - we’re Free Beer. I’m Steve -”

A few feminine voices cheer from the back. Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head that you’re worried you’ll go blind.

“Thanks, ladies, love the enthusiasm. So - let’s just get into it. Ready to hear some songs?”

There’s an eruption of cheers through the audience - one of the biggest reactions of the night so far.

“Alright - this one is called ‘Closer,’ I hope you enjoy.”

From the moment he plays the first chord, something shifts in the room. The crowd becomes less rowdy, less chatty. No - everyone is really listening. Some are even singing along - how the fuck do this many people know the words? 

You want to hate it - you want the set to be something you’re tolerating, something that makes you look forward to the next band coming out. But, despite your efforts, that’s not what happens. Because the band is good. Robin is killer on bass, and Argyle is a formidable drummer, despite his perpetually laid-back persona. And Steve - it’s like he was born to do this.

Aside from having a pretty good voice, and being an excellent guitarist, he’s actually a good frontman. He’s charismatic, knows how to work the crowd, and somehow, he makes the tiny stage of the Fuze Box feel as exciting as Live Aid. 

You want to scream - of course he’s good. You catch yourself moving along to the music every now and then, and immediately stop yourself, hoping nobody sees. At one point, you swear Steve sees you. His eyes land on yours - or, at least, in your direction. You think you imagine it - it’s a big enough crowd, and you’re far enough back that he probably can’t see past the first few rows. That is, until he smirks, in the way that you know he reserves only to taunt you, to challenge you.

Fuck.

*****

You find yourself heading down the hallway after Steve’s set - you’re looking for the bathroom, shouldering through the bodies packed into the narrow passage. Part of it is because your beer has finally gone through you, and more so because you need a minute of peace and quiet, just to stare at yourself in the mirror and talk some sense into yourself. Steve’s band can’t be good - that would be a problem. If you didn’t know who was part of it, they’re the kind of band you would buy records for, keep a spare CD in your car, and even include as part of your radio show. But…it's Steve.

You had purposely never gone to any of his shows - you never listened to any in-studio sessions they did at the station, and God knows you would never ask Steve about his music. What the fuck?

Part of you also wants to smack him - of course he was performing here tonight - he looked you in the eye at the record store today, heard you were coming here tonight, and said nothing. Next time you see him, you decide, you’ll ignore him - you won’t even acknowledge that you saw him perform. If he asks, you’ll tell him you left the show early, long before he came on stage. You won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you sat through his whole set, let alone enjoyed it.

You can’t exactly remember where the bathroom is - was it all the way at the end of the hallway? None of the doors are really labeled, which tracks for Fuze Box.

You knock on a few doors and jiggle the handles - one is an electrical closet, the other is locked and seemingly empty. You finally reach a door at the end, and give it a gentle knock - nobody responds. You try the knob, and it gives way. After shouldering your way inside, you wish you hadn’t.

Apparently, instead of the bathroom, you’ve managed to find the green room - although, to call the backstage area of the Fuze Box a green room is generous. It’s really a tiny room with a worn out couch, a cracked glass coffee table littered with ashtrays, and lighting so dim that you have to squint to figure out exactly where you are as you slip through the door.

It’s only once you’re inside, when it’s too late, that you realize you’ve walked in on Steve.

His back is turned to you, but he jumps slightly and turns when he hears the door open. He’s wiping his brow with a towel, and he grins when he sees you.

“Hey, sweetheart - wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

You stand in the doorway awkwardly - why couldn’t the rest of his band be hanging out here with him? That way, you could throw out a blanket ‘you guys were great’ statement. But now it’s just him, staring at you, his face saying why the fuck are you here?

“Oh - sorry - I’m in the wrong room,” you say quickly, your face feeling hot as you start to back away.

“Okay - sure you are,” Steve says sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” you ask, stopping your retreat.

He shrugs. “Don’t know - you just seem to always conveniently stumble into me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Try to stop me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you just groan with frustration, taking a few steps towards him.

“Jesus, I - I don’t know if it’s like, a weird sick game to you, or you’re just always trying to piss me off - or if you just can’t help and flirt with everyone -”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

You stop, folding your arms in indignation.

“No - I mean, kind of, but probably as a joke - I know what you’re up to, Harrington.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“This bullshit you keep pulling,” you say, gesturing between you two. “This - like, always sabotaging my shit, and getting in my way - but then like, this stupid nice-guy thing, where you drive me home when I’m drunk and don’t tell anyone, but then like you trick me into watching your stupid band perform -”

He scoffs. “Trick you? Be serious -”

“You knew I’d be here tonight - you knew, and didn’t say anything -”

“Well given your track record, sweetheart, if you had known I’d be playing, I’m sure you would’ve been front row!”

You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as you try to search inwardly for a reply. Your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He’s smirking now, just like he did on stage. As always, he’s too confident, too sarcastic, too Steve. He’s taken away your ability to even come up with a halfway decent retort. It pisses you off.

“I - that’s not -”

Your blood is rushing to your head, roaring in your ears, too enraged to even let you think straight anymore. You’re marching right up to him now, prodding his chest with your finger.

“I don’t like you,” you say. 

“You don’t say?” he drawls, still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Stop doing that -”

“Doing what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Stop distracting me -”

“I distract you?”

You want to kick yourself.

“I - well - only because you’re so -”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“-fucking annoying.”

He cocks his head, like you’ve only mildly piqued his curiosity instead of insulted him.

You sigh. “What?”

“It’s just - you didn’t seem to find me very annoying last weekend when you tried to kiss me.”

A beat. You just stand there, jaw agape as his words hang in the air between you like smoke on a hazy summer’s day.

“That’s not funny,” you manage to say.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him - the next band has started outside, a distant din that should be distracting. But all you can focus on is Steve - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the way you’re close enough to smell that he had just had a cigarette.

“I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart - right before you puked your guts up in my bathroom, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat. Don’t worry - I didn’t let you. I really thought you would’ve remembered, until I saw you in the record store - then I realized you didn’t remember jack shit.”

You feel like you’re making this up. He’s just saying this to get under your skin - he must be. It’s the only explanation. Because you’d never - 

“You’re lying.”

But he’s just staring at you, and you’re starting to get the sickening suspicion that this isn’t a joke.

“You’re lying,” you repeat, though it sounds more like a question this time.

He’s taking another step towards you, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, sweetheart - in vino vesco, or whatever. You know - how people say and do what they’re really thinking when they’re drunk -”

“Veritas.”

He stops, furrowing his brow.

“I - what?”

You can’t help yourself - you just can’t.

“The phrase is in vino veritas - it means truth. I think vesco means food or something, you’re missing the whole  -”

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re always such a -”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you’re kissing him. You don’t mean to do it, you swear - but he had gotten so close, the heat radiating off of him too much to ignore. And, he was really pissing you off - you didn’t need to hear another word out of his mouth.

You fist your hands in his t-shirt, your lips on his, messy and desperate, like you’re trying to prove a point. And he’s kissing you back.

Steve kisses the same way he argues - he’s aggressive, his hands coming up to grab your face and pull you closer. He tastes like cigarettes and cheap beer, his aura hot and desperate as it envelops you. 

The band plays out in the venue, the audience cheering and singing along - but, all you can hear is Steve’s labored breath against your lips, your own heart thudding in your chest.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue, another argument you were both desperate to win. But, right now, you’re losing. Because he’s guiding your body, and you’re responding, stepping backwards until your back is hitting the cinderblock wall.

No words are spoken, just breathy moans and the sounds of your lips moving in unison. It’s not remotely romantic - it feels more like fuck you, I’m trying so hard to hate you, why can’t you let me -

One of his hands has traveled down to your waist, gripping it firmly enough to tell you that he wanted more. You feel his hand start to move, slipping under the hem of your shirt and gently brushing the warm skin of your lower back. His hands are calloused, rough against the softness of your skin. You let him start to explore, unable to stop yourself from quietly moaning against his lips. 

You know you should stop - but you can’t. It’s addicting, the way he’s still fighting with you as his tongue enters your mouth. Is this really happening? Maybe this could’ve gone on for hours. That is, until -

The knock on the door makes you both jump, pulling apart as quickly as you had crashed together. Steve is staring at you, breathing heavily, his pupils blown and lips a bit swollen. You imagine you look similarly. He takes a step back, separately himself from where you’re still frozen against the wall.

“Yeah?” Steve calls, voice rougher than before.

“Are you decent?” a voice asks from the other side of the door, barely audible over the sound of the band currently on stage.

Steve looks like he’s fighting laughter, but he just shakes his head, back facing the doorway.

“Nope - you’re good,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again.

He doesn’t need to say it - the look he’s shooting your way is enough.

Not a word.

Robin enters, grinning.

“Hey, we were just going to - oh, hi.”

She’s spotted you, and you just know she has questions.

“Hey, Robin,” you say quietly. “I, uh - I was looking for the bathroom. Ended up in here - I was just telling Steve how much I liked your set.”

Robin beams. “Thanks! It’s fun to see that you came out - haven’t seen you at a gig in a while!”

You nod. “Oh, yeah - I’ve been trying to get myself out there more -”

Steve scoffs, and you want to slap him. If Robin notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“- but, um - I should go.”

Robin nods. 

“Yeah - I was just coming to find Steve, we’re all going to head to WT’s for a drink - uh, do you want to come?”

She’s probably just being polite. But, you shake your head vigorously.

“No, I’m good - sounds like it’s a band thing. I should get going anyway - I’ll catch the end of this set,” you say, gesturing towards the sound of the band on stage echoing from down the hall. You still haven’t made eye contact with Steve, not since Robin entered the room. So, you just give her a curt nod, and do everything in your power to head out the door without looking like you’re bolting.  You’re screwed.

author's note: thanks for your patience y'all! I'm going away to Ireland on a work trip for about 3 weeks starting tomorrow, so I'm hoping to do some writing while I'm there, but no promises! As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

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[killstarrs]

hazy

hamzah x fem!reader

1.3k words

cw: handjob, virgin!hamzah, weed, angst if you squint

a/n- this is rushed and so bad but enjoy!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

you had come over to hamzah’s place a couple hours ago to smoke and watch megamind, which was a weekly routine for the two of you. you’d known him for 3 years, and you consider him one of your best friends. but there was a small problem; he was in love with you. the worst part is that you loved him too, but you were to scared to act on it.

…

mandy had come to you about 4 months ago with a secret she couldnt keep.

“i dont even know if i can say this,” she mumbled, her head resting in her palms.

“whatever it is it can’t be that bad,” you replied, giggling.

“y/n trust me, it’s bad,” she said, facing you with a serious expression.

“im ready for whatever it is,” you say, confidently.

“okay…so i overheard martin and hamzah the other night,” she started.

“what were they talking about?” you ask.

“uhh….you.”

your face flushed. what could they be saying that was bad about you? you started going through your head to try and remember any signs of them not liking you, but struggled. you had known them for 3 years now, surely they wouldnt be your friends if they didnt like you, right?

“did i do something? do they not wanna hang out anymore?” you ask, trying not to let the burn in your throat expose how badly you dont want it to be true.

“uh quite the opposite actually. hamzah was talking about you, like nonstop. martin got annoyed from only talking about you and asked what was wrong with hamzah. and hamzah was all like ‘i think im in love with her dude’ and then i ran away from the door because i got scared,” she replies, giggling.

your heart really sank then. face instantly going red.

“oh,” is all you could get out.

“see i knew you’d be upset, but what do you think?” mandy pushed, slightly suspicious of your crush.

“oh! uh i dunno, wouldn’t that end our friendship?”

“only if you dont like him back, which you definitely do. you know him better than martin, just go for it.”

“i dont want to loose what we have now.” you reason, still in deep thought.

“why are you afraid of loosing one good thing when you know it could turn into something greater? just go for it.” she reassured.

“i’ll see what i can do”

…

so here you were, stoned out of your mind, watching megamind defeat titan with hamzah’s usual commentary.

“he could’ve tried a little harder,” he says, annoyed with how weak megamind was acting.

you weren’t focused on the movie though, your eyes steady on hamzah. he noticed, growing nervous but not pointing it out. he couldn’t bare it anymore, you cant just look at him like that.

“dude are you okay?” he asks with a smirk on his face, slightly laughing.

“oh yeah sorry,” you avert your gaze and sit up straighter, which hamzah didn’t appreciate. you came over in sweatpants and a hoodie, but his a/c was broken so you were now only in your sweatpants and a tight black tanktop that perfectly displayed your boobs. you catch him looking at your chest for a second, only to blush and look away.

you don’t know if it’s the weed or how touch starved you are, but you decide to be bold.

“hamzah, have you ever kissed anyone?” you ask, blushing but keeping a straight face face.

he looks at you, red eyes wide and cheeks flushed. he felt his palms get sweaty and his pants get tighter.

“uhm…wow i uh no..i havent.” he coughed out, looking away. “it’s kinda embarrassing.”

“it’s not embarrassing.” you say, tilting your head and looking him in the eye. you try not to smirk at his nervous expression.

“do you umm, want me to teach you?” you ask, sounding too innocent for what you want to do to him.

“yes please.” he whimpers out, dick twitching in his pants.

you move closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him. you look him in the eye and he stares back with a pleading stare. you slowly move to hold his face in your hands, and he feels like he’s gonna pass out. you kiss him gently.

hes never felt anything like it. the intimacy if it makes his head spin. he moves his head with the rhythm your soft lips made, deepening the kiss. you move your hands to his neck and he groans.

you guide his lips in the right direction, slowly prying his mouth open for you to explore. he gasps at the sensation, whining a little.

he still has his arms at his sides, awkwardly playing with the hem of his hoodie. you break the kiss and he pouts, only for you to pick up his hands and put them on your sides.

“you can touch me hamzah.” you breathe out, focused on kissing him again. he’s rock hard.

he slowly moves his hands to explore the expanse of your back. tugging at the skin on your waist. you move your kisses down his cheek and onto his jaw, peppering small kisses there. he’s lightheaded. all he can hear is the sound of your kissing and his heartbeat pounding.

you make your way to his neck, licking and kissing the short right under his ear. he whimpers. not like a quiet whine, more like a borderline moan. your panties grow wetter.

you move your hands down his clothed torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps. he’s panting in your ear and it takes everything in you not to fuck him right now.

“can i touch you?” you whisper.

he moans this time, loud “please..ah..please.” he begs, head falling back. you giggle, embarrassing him but only making him harder.

you rub his thighs, inching close to where he needs you. you slowly start to fidget with the waistband of his shorts, sliding a hand in. you lightly trace the outline of his dick through his underwear, and he curses. he almost came from that alone. you rub him a little harder, letting him thrust into your palm.

he huffs and pants so sweetly, you could spend hours teasing him. you opt not too, not trying to be unfair. you move your hand directly onto his dick now, making him let out a loud whimper.

you run your thumb across his tip, collecting the pearl of precum causing a damp spot on his boxer. he hisses.

you start to stroke him, agonizingly slow.

“fuuuuuuckkkkkk.” is all is can manage to say, face flushed and panting.

you hum in response, kissing his neck. he’s huffing and panting like he’s running a marathon. you swipe your thumb over his tip again and hear him whine, a tear coming down his cheek. you kiss it away and he looks you in the eye, all fucked out and full of adoration.

“if you keep going..ah..im gonna cum.” he whimpers out.

“it’s okay, i want you to.” you say against his neck, bruising him with your kisses.

that was his last straw, cumming with a whine and bucking into your fist, making a mess all over his boxers.

you stroke him through it until he starts to wince and twitch, then you let go.

“lets get you cleaned up.” you say standing and reaching a hand out. “you did so good for me.” you whisper, kissing his. cheek.

he has no idea what the fuck just happened. the beautiful girl who he had a crush on for years just made him cum in his pants, and held him the whole way through. he got up though, legs slightly shaking.

you led him to the bathroom to clean him up, then spend the night <3

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #slushynoobz #sub!hamzah

[headkiss]

do you think i have forgotten?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you loved steve harrington years ago, and he loved you. now, coming back to hawkins, you find that things may not be so different.

word count: 14.1k

warnings: fluff, smut, a little angst, exes to lovers, very much idiots in love!

a/n: here it is!!! i hope u guys like it!!! it took a while but hopefully it was worth it <3

༄

A ‘welcome home’ banner hangs lopsided on the wall.

The party is smaller than the ones you’d become accustomed to at school. That didn’t matter. What did was that your favorite people were around for this one.

It was meant to be a surprise, but Nancy gave you a heads up. She knows you hate surprises, you just don’t have the heart to tell Robin, who absolutely loves surprise parties. Planning them, to be exact. So, you acted shocked, put on your biggest smile.

It was worth it for the beaming grin on your friend’s face, the tight hug as a hello.

You didn’t realize how much you missed home until now. Until you came back.

Small talk isn’t so tiring when it’s with people you really care about. Eddie and Jonathan, Nancy and Robin, even the kids are there to give you the warmest welcome you could ever have. Hugs from some of them, teasing from all of them.

It’s perfect, but there’s an obvious absence. One you’ve tried and tried not to think about. But here, in this room, with these people, you can tell that without him, there’s a space waiting to be filled.

That space has been left open in your life for years. A gaping hole. Then, when the night’s half over and you’re convinced you won’t see him, you hear one word that has memories rushing back to you. Like a flood.

“Ace.”

There’s only one person in the entire world who calls you that. Steve Harrington.

The nickname isn’t the only thing that gives him away. His voice is engraved in your head, the tone, the way it hits your ears. It’s been years since you last heard it, and still, it feels so, so familiar.

You met in high school. Gym class, actually, and you’d been deemed Ace ever since. By him.

It started with friendship, reluctant at first and then impossibly close. It grew into the kind of undeniable thing that pushed you together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. In love.

He was really, really good to you. So good that you didn’t care about who his friends were or what his reputation was. You didn’t care when things changed and he went from King Steve to the best babysitter around. Over a year, you were together.

Then, he was gone.

When you told him you’d be going away for school, he was supportive, happy for you, even. Then, the day before you were set to move he sat you down and broke your heart. I can't be with you anymore, he said.

Not I don’t want to, or I won’t. Can’t. Like he had no other choice.

To this day, you’re not sure why he did it. You called over and over for weeks when you first got to school. He never picked up. You were only able to check on him through your mutual friends. Robin, Nancy, Eddie, all of them.

One day, he was the greatest thing in your life, the next, he’d completely disappeared from it. Like a ghost.

You pushed yourself through school, tried to let go of him. It got easier, but the pinch in your chest when you thought about him never quite went away. You tried being with other guys again, but nothing stuck. It felt like you were cheating, like you could never fully commit to someone else. Your mind, body, and soul still belonged to him.

It got easier eventually. You can’t remember when it did, but over time, thinking of Steve became less like a stab to the chest, and more of a pinch.

When you spoke to your friends, they’d mention him briefly. In passing, like they didn’t want to hurt you with something as simple as a name. You knew he was working at Family Video with Robin, you knew his parents were around even less than they used to be, and you knew he went on dates. Often.

Steve spent every year of you being away trying to convince himself that he did the right thing.

He missed you constantly, but he felt like he’d be holding you back if he stayed with you. A distraction from your college experience, a boyfriend who couldn’t even make it to college himself. Not enough for you.

Now, seeing you at the welcome home party Robin put together, he feels like the biggest idiot in the world. Universe, even. Because how could he have let go of someone that lights up the room like a ray of fucking sunshine.

It’s pathetic that all he could say to you after all the years was his nickname for you.

You turn around after hearing it, the sight of Steve a punch in the gut. He’s just as pretty, if not more, and though he mostly looks the same, he’s grown in ways you weren’t there to see. He’s almost a stranger now.

“Steve,” you manage. “You’re here.”

“Hi.”

It took a lot of convincing from the gang for him to come. Not because he didn’t want to (he wanted to see you more than anything), but because he didn’t want to do anything to make you upset.

Your haircut is different than before, and you hold yourself in a new way, too. But, as soon as he finds your eyes he feels like he’s in high school again, laying in his bed facing you or laughing at the back of the movie theater.

He thinks of the last time he saw you, the tears leaving trails down your cheeks, the way you didn’t let yourself sob until he walked out. His stomach is in knots.

“Hi,” you hold yourself back from reaching out and poking him to make sure he’s real. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Well, surprise,” he sings the second word and throws up some awkward jazz hands. A glimpse of the dork you remember.

Surprise indeed.

“I can leave,” he offers in your silence. He even turns to do so before you stop him.

“No! No, it’s just- it’s been a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. It’s too late for that, and as much as you want to know what happened, why he ended things and just… vanished, you aren’t so stuck on that anymore. Four years is a long time.

You aren’t mad about it, it just never fully left your head.

“How was school?” He asks. Safe, easy.

“Well, I graduated. So, that’s something.”

A wink of a smile has the corners of his mouth twitching up. You’re different, but you’re also the same girl he knew. It’s nice to see again, to have hope that he didn’t destroy you.

“I knew you would,” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to feeling so awkward around you. “You can write your own essays, after all.”

That one makes you huff a laugh, makes you think back to late nights spent helping him fix up his writing. Red pen doodles and way too many distractions.

“One of my many talents,” you say.

There’s another pause, a stillness that feels so wrong for the both of you. He put the distance there, and he hates himself for it. “I’ll be seeing you around then?”

“Yeah, Steve. I’m home.”

Yes, he thinks. You are home. Hawkins was missing something without you in it. Or maybe that was just him. Missing something without you.

Just as you’re pulled away into a conversation with Robin and Max, Steve grasps your wrist gently. Your skin burns with the familiarity of his touch. Aches with the memory.

“It’s good to see you, Ace.”

Then, in a blink, he lets you go.

When you turn away, Eddie comes up beside Steve, claps a hand on his back. “Nice, man. Not weird at all.”

“Shut it, Munson.”

Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off of you. He searches for you when he hears you laugh, can feel his pulse jump when you throw your head back the way you always have. He lets his eyes linger when he knows he shouldn’t.

You catch him once. You can feel his stare on you like a breeze, tickling the back of your neck. When you turn towards him your eyes lock, just for a moment.

-

Hawkins is mostly the same. The stores on Main Street still have worn awnings, letters faded and colors dimmed. The arcade sign still flickers, Enzo’s is still the best restaurant. The movies where Steve used to take you on dates, his house with his BMW in the driveway.

It’s hard to be back and not let Steve bleed into everything.

At school, it was easy not to think about him. You’d bury yourself in studying and projects. Here, he’s everywhere you look. The town is painted with memories of you and him. He’s written all over the place.

You thought you were over what happened, that you could come home and not let it phase you. You had no idea it’d be like this.

Despite it all, you’re glad to be home. You like waking up to the peacefulness of light wind and leaves rustling. It’s a lot nicer than a dorm building full of students and the constant noise of the city.

You’re tremendously happy to be so close to your friends again, too. There’s no more worrying about whether or not you’ll see them anytime soon, no more sporadic phone calls that just make you miss them more.

But still, there’s that empty space. Steve-shaped.

The next time you see him you’d decided to visit Robin at work. It took you about a week of being home to get yourself to go into Family Video, knowing Steve works there. You have to get used to him again.

Sure enough, when you walked in, there he stood. Green vest and all.

When the bell above the door jingles to signal your entrance, Steve turns to look at you. He sets down the box of stock he’d been holding, and your eyes follow the way his arms flex before you can tell them not to.

“Ace, hi.”

“Hey,” you send a short wave his way, rocking on your feet. “I’m just meeting Robin for lunch.”

He probably knows that, but you say it anyway, trying to fill the void of silence that hums between you.

“Yeah. She’s in the back already,” he says. “I can show you.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He almost places a hand at the small of your back to guide you, just like he used to. It’d be so natural, so simple. Instead, he clenches his fist by his side and shuffles in front of you, nodding his head for you to

follow.

“So, um,” he stops in front of the door to the back, turning to face you. “We still do movie nights. All of

us, like we used to. You should come.”

“Are you sure?”

Movie nights are always at Steve’s, and you don’t want to be there if it’ll cause any problems, as much as you’ve missed the sense of tradition. Routine.

“There’s an open spot on the couch for you anyway. Always has been.”

When you were away, you worried your friends would replace you. Forget about you, even. That clearly wasn’t the case.

“I’d love to go. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“As long as you still don’t mind Eddie talking through the important parts.”

You shake your head, a small, close-mouthed smile on your face.

“Wouldn’t be a movie night without it.”

The bell above the door rings again, and Steve turns to see the customer. “I should get back.”

You nod. You watch him go, watch him greet the woman who walked in with his classic smile.

You just have to get used to him again, that’s all.

-

Walking the steps up to the Harrington’s front door is something you’ve done time and time again. So, it shouldn’t feel so odd, really.

It used to be an almost daily occurrence. Now, it takes you some mental preparation before you can bring yourself to knock on the door. This time, it isn’t Steve who answers, it’s Robin. You’re grateful for it, because stepping into his house again is already a bunch to take in.

“You came!” She says, grinning.

“Of course I did. I missed movie nights a bunch.”

You really, really did.

While you had a couple of friends in Indianapolis, the connections were shallow. Especially compared to what you have here. There, they were friendships formed from convenience. Roommates or project partners. It was a lot lonelier than you let on.

“We missed you, too.” Robin walks you into the living room, where cheers of your name ensue.

“Look who it is,” Eddie speaks from where he sits on the ground in front of the TV, setting things up.

There’s a shift from the loud, giddy greetings when Steve walks into the room, bowl of popcorn in hand. It’s like everyone’s waiting for one of you to burst.

“Hey. You made it,” Steve says. No bursting, just some sort of tension that hasn’t gone away since you saw him at your party.

“Yeah. Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Surprised one of them didn’t beat me to it,” he nods at your friends that are scattered across the couches. Your friends whose eyes are ping-ponging between you both.

It’s almost like you can feel everyone take a breath of relief when you plant yourself by the armrest of the sofa. When you shoot Steve a small, barely-there smile. A peace offering.

Halfway through the movie—broken up by constant Eddie commentary, and various ways of someone telling him to stuff it—Steve notices the way you’re curled up, cardigan pulled tight over your body.

He reaches across Robin to hand you a blanket wordlessly. She nudges his shoulder when you aren’t looking, gives him a look that tells him she knows something, even if he doesn’t.

He’s always been attentive, but you’re surprised when the soft fabric is passed over. You wonder if he realizes it’s the blanket you’d always reach for when you were over. If he realizes he handed you the one you’d cuddled him under countless times.

He doesn’t, you’re sure. Why on earth would he remember those things? Or even care?

After that night, the group slowly becomes whole again. The others stop planning separate things with you or Steve. It’s like they waited for you to get acclimated to being around each other again, tested the waters.

It’s as sweet as it is sad. You never wanted to mess anything up, make anything harder.

Though you see Steve a lot more often, your interactions with him remain short and distant. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to feeling so far away from him.

While you were away, over time, the memories became less vivid, as did the pictures that still sit in your bedroom at home. Sun damaged and faded. Your feelings, though, they never really dimmed, only pushed to the back of your mind and shoved into a box labeled Steve.

That box has been bursting at the seams.

Still, you try to keep it shut, to push it all aside and be friends with him again. Or, friendly, at the very least.

Steve keeps a framed picture of you in a drawer in his bedside table. Maybe that’s weird. It used to sit atop of the table, but he moved it when it got too hard to look at your face without thinking of how it looked when you cried.

Having you around again is hard, but it’s more so a relief. He’s missed you so, so much, and even though things aren’t the same and they might never be again, he’ll take you in his life any way he can have you. And this is a start.

The hardest part, he thinks, is burying all the things he never got to say. I’m sorry, I just wanted what was best for you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s no use now, he knows that, so he swallows the words down. They make his stomach ache.

He needs to distract himself from it all, because it’s too much. Seeing your face almost every day again, not being able to reach out and hold it like he used to.

It’s way too much.

-

You got a job at Enzo’s to keep yourself busy.

While you’d love to stay buried in your bed all day, or walk around aimlessly until you end up at Lover’s Lake, sitting by the water and listening to it move, your parents decided it’d be better for you to do something valuable with your time.

Besides, waitressing isn’t so bad. You mostly work nights, allowing you the sleep-ins you love so much, there’s not so much pressure when you already know most of the people you serve, and the tips are always nice.

It’s mostly a breeze—besides a spill incident—until Steve shows up there on a date. Seated in your section.

Your coworker had warned you, “new table for you. Looks like a date.” And there he was. His hair done like always (does he still use Farrah Fawcett spray?) and his dress shirt a little wrinkled.

When it’s time to head over, you shut your eyes and take a grounding breath, slap on your customer service smile. You introduce yourself like you always do, the ‘I’ll be your waitress for this evening’ spiel.

Steve looks up from the menu as soon as he hears your voice. He’s stunned, eyes wide and mouth ever-so-slightly agape while he looks at you. He tries to recover quickly. If he’d known you were working tonight he never would have brought his date here, never would have subjected you to that on purpose. He feels like shit.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” You say. Waitress persona engaged, praying your face doesn’t look forced.

She orders first. Her voice is sweet, and she’s pretty. Why'd she have to be so pretty?

“Just water for me. Thanks, Ace,” Steve says, letting the nickname slip. It’s like he can’t hold it in around you.

“‘Course.” You turn quickly to get their drinks.

“Ace?” Steve’s date, Becky, asks.

“We’re friends. From school. Just a nickname.”

He simplifies it. There’s no point in telling the whole story. It’s over—he’s had to remind himself of that constantly—and it’s his fault. Not the type of thing he needs to share on a first date, that’s for sure.

“Oh, okay. So, what are you getting?” Somehow, she accepts the answer easily.

You shouldn’t feel so shaken by this. Really, you shouldn’t. You were with Steve ages ago, and it’s been over. You don’t have any sort of claim over him anymore. None.

So why is your stomach twisting every time you catch him smiling at something she says?

All you know is that it won’t do you any good to think about that too much. You busy yourself with getting their drinks instead. You approach the table carefully, not wanting to spill anything.

“For you,” you set her drink down. She thanks you. She’s nice, too. “And, water for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You guys ready to order, or do you need a couple more minutes?”

It’s like you’re on autopilot, repeating the same phrases you do to every single table, hoping that it comes out sounding natural.

“I think we’re good,” Steve says, gesturing for his date to go first.

He almost feels like he should apologize to you. Then again, maybe he’s reading into things too far. As much as he feels like he can tell when you’re uncomfortable, when your smile is forced, he has no idea if your habits are the same as they used to be.

You’re cautious not to let your hands touch when you collect the menu from Steve.

The rest of their dinner is much the same, and you’re grateful any time you can distract yourself with a different table. Your actions are stiff, your words practically robotic.

Still, before he leaves, Steve leaves you a tip and a scrawled note on a crumpled receipt: ‘Thank you. Sorry for the ambush. -Steve.’

You still have notes from him, in that same, charmingly messy handwriting, buried in a shoebox in your closet. Notes you didn’t have time to get rid of in your rush to move. Notes you should probably get rid of.

Not only did he leave you a note, he was outside waiting for you when your shift was over.

He wasn’t going to wait. He was going to leave it at the note and hope that you weren’t bothered as much as he thought you might be. Maybe it was stupid to think you’d be affected by him being with someone else in front of you after all this time, but he couldn’t ignore the instinct he got when he saw the look on your face. The guilt he felt.

He catches you as you walk out the door, startling you a bit, “Ace, wait up.”

“God, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry,” he says, falling into step beside you as you walk to your car. He’d parked two spots over. “Actually, I just wanted to say that. Sorry, I mean.”

“You already said that,” he tilts his head, a question. “On your note.”

“I didn’t want you to think I did that on purpose. I didn’t know you worked at Enzo’s until tonight, actually.”

“I haven’t been for long,” you amend. “I’m not upset with you, Steve.”

The words hold a lot more meaning than you expected. You really aren’t upset with him, not over tonight, and not over what happened years ago. You’re more upset with yourself for letting it get to you even now.

“Good. That’s- I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words are heavy, too. You’re too tired to hold the weight.

“What about your date?” You stop next to your car. He stops, too.

“I drove her home already. Came back after.”

Really, he was halfway home after dropping off Becky, but he couldn’t shake his worry that he’d caused even more strain on your relationship. He turned around without a second thought.

“She seems nice,” you say.

“Yeah,” he looks around the parking lot, stares at the streetlight for a second. “So, we’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” you confirm.

You can’t help but hope that saying it out loud will make things feel better with him. That maybe, you could be some sort of friends again.

He nods, “okay. Sorry again,” he searches for his keys in his pocket, “have a good night, Ace.”

He walks the short distance to his car while you fumble to unlock yours. Climbing in and shutting the door, you let your head fall against the steering wheel, forehead pressed to it.

What a night.

-

Steve’s seen Becky a few times since the date at Enzo’s.

She is nice, and he does like her, but he hasn’t been able to let her kiss him anywhere other than the cheek. So far, she hasn’t said anything, but he knows that he won’t be able to dodge her without question for much longer.

When you were gone, though it took time, he was able to be with other people. It never lasted long, and he rarely went through with things without thinking of you at least once. He can’t even give someone a peck on the mouth.

It’s like as soon as he thinks he can lean in and do it, his mind is all Ace Ace Ace, and he finds he can’t.

He’s trying his best to ignore it, to hope that in getting used to you being back, he’ll get used to not being with you, too. So far, it hasn’t been working very well. He dreams more often than not, and even in sleep, he can’t seem to escape your face.

Instead of digging into whatever mess he’s sure that’ll cause, he’s been seeing Becky.

It’s unfair, he knows it is. To her and to you, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He isn’t thinking straight because you’ve rushed back into his life so quickly he can’t catch up. He’s trying to bury the feelings he has for you by focusing on someone else.

Though, maybe focusing isn’t the right word, because his mind still wanders to you. A bunch.

He’s confused and he’s scared and he misses you. He doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s pushing to the surface once again now that you’re home, and he doesn’t want to because he’s afraid of what it’s sure to become. What might’ve never even left.

He misses you but he can’t do anything about that. So, Becky it is.

-

The breeze tickles your cheeks as you make your way through the trailer park in search of any of your friends.

Somehow, Eddie and his band managed to make their own gig out by the picnic tables, and, of course, he’d invited the group to come watch. When you first became friends with Eddie, he was reluctant to let you all in on his music. Now, though, he lets everyone know there’s a spot for them saved at every performance.

You follow the noise, finding where a small crowd of people has formed by the tables that have been pushed together to serve as a stage. Probably an unsafe one, at that, but it’s Eddie. He cheers when he spots you from where he stands on the middle table.

“She’s here!”

“Can't miss the first show I’m back for, can I?”

“The rockstar would not have that,” Robin says, giving you a quick side hug.

“Thank you for calling me a rockstar,” Eddie replies.

You say your hellos to the others, Nancy, sitting on the bench attached to the table Eddie’s stood on, Jonathan, fiddling with his camera.

“Is Steve not coming?” You ask. Hopefully in a casual way.

“No, he is,” Nancy says.

“Likes to be fashionably late,” is what Robin has to say.

You nod, turning your attention to Eddie, “so, how many of these songs are new?”

“To these fools, none,” he points lazily around the group. “To you, all of them.” He smiles, and it makes you smile, too. You’ve missed being able to support him in person.

“Can’t wait to hear them, then.”

“Dingus!” Robin yells happily.

You know she’s talking about Steve. You turn around to find him. Probably too quickly.

“Hey guys,” he waves. It’s then you notice that he’s not alone. His date that he took to Enzo’s is with him. She waves, too, her arm curled around Steve’s. “This is Becky.”

She’s met with polite greetings. Your mouth, for some reason, stays shut.

Robin comes to stand beside you. She looks at your expression, the shock that you shake your head to clear, the tiniest bit of hurt that lingers in your eyes. You look at her, and she raises her eyebrows at you, are you okay? It’s silent, but you know it’s what she’s asking.

Isn’t that a question. You don’t know why your stomach sinks when you see her with him. Again. Well, maybe you do know, you just don’t want to accept it. The feelings you’d had for Steve were meant to be long, long gone.

Only, since being home, you’ve realized they aren’t.

Even though things with Steve have been far from the same as before, even as when you were friends, he’s still Steve. He’s the kind boy you knew, only older. He still cares about the kids the way an older sibling would, he still puts his friends before anything, and he’s still the greatest person you know.

You simply shrug at Robin.

Then, Becky’s in front of you, “we already met, right?”

“Yeah, um, hi.”

“Hi. It’s nice to at least have a familiar face here.”

God, you want to dislike her so bad, but you really can’t. She’s kind, and she’s clearly making an effort to make a good impression. It’s annoying.

Steve knows he probably shouldn’t have brought her with him, but she’s been asking to meet his friends so frequently and he figured that Eddie’s gig would be as good a time as ever. At least here, there’s a crowd to hide in.

He really does like Becky, just not in the way he’s supposed to. He thinks he might’ve spent all of those feelings on you, and there’s no way he’s getting them back.

Eddie jumps down from the table and pulls Steve aside, “what are you doing?”

“Dunno what you mean.” He does, actually. Only, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Come on, man. You can't tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you,” Eddie’s not talking about Becky. He’s talking about you.

“She doesn’t look at me. Not like that.”

“Sometimes you really are an idiot, you know? She looks at you like you put the fucking moon in the sky, all melty and shit.”

“She used to look at me like that. I fucked it up. That’s gone, okay?”

“Is it gone for you?” Eddie says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says. When he looks at you, however, it feels like it matters. A lot.

“Just saying. Think you might’ve brought the wrong lady.”

Steve already feels bad about what he’s trying to do with Becky. Seeing her to distract himself from you. He hates that even his friends are seeing through it. Is it really that obvious?

Eddie turns away to finish setting up with the band. Steve sees Becky talking to you of all people and he almost smacks himself right there. He’s so, so stupid. He walks over, into the mess he’s created.

“Hey, Ace,” he nods at you quickly, then turns to Becky. “Why don’t we go find a spot to sit?”

“We aren’t watching here?”

Steve looks between you and her quickly. Really, he’s just trying to save you from having to talk to her. He can still tell when you’re itching to get out of a conversation.

“Think the speakers might be too loud for you, babe.”

You miss whatever reply she gives him, stuck on his use of the word babe. The last time you heard it come from his mouth, he was saying it to you. It stings even though it shouldn’t.

It’s over. It’s been over. So why is it so hard to forget about it?

-

You never really got used to seeing Steve with Becky.

He didn’t bring her around often—maybe for your sake—but when he did, you’d find yourself keeping your distance. At least one person between you and them, like a buffer.

It felt like the progress you’d made with Steve, with not feeling so far away around him, was disappearing every time you saw her standing with him. You hated it, how you let things affect you.

A couple of weeks went on that way. Then, you got a phone call.

You’d been sitting on your bed, back against the headboard, doing absolutely nothing. The shrill ringing came from your bedside table, and you leaned over to pick it up mindlessly.

“Hello?”

“Ace.”

It’s Steve. He hasn’t called you since you’ve been back. His utterance of your nickname sounds like a breath of relief.

“Steve? What’s going on?”

“Can I come see you?”

“What?” You’re convinced you misheard him, or that something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, promise,” he pauses. “Well, I broke up with Becky. But I’m good, okay?”

He broke up with Becky? He broke up with Becky and decided to call you. You’re not quite sure what to do with that.

“You- did something happen?”

“No, no. Just- I’ll explain everything. Let me see you.”

It's hard to say no to him, and you can’t help but be worried. You say yes, a quiet word whispered into the phone.

“Thank you,” he says. “See you soon, Ace.”

“Bye.”

You barely get the word out before the sound of his phone being hung up echoes in your ear. It’s only then, in the silence of your room, that you notice your heart pounding, a heavy thump in your chest.

Steve knows it’s selfish to want to see you now, after he’s just broken up with someone. It’s the first actual breakup he’s had since being with you, and yet, he’s not even upset. He just wants to see you.

Sure, he liked Becky, but she could never really erase his thoughts of you. He felt awful about staying with her for the reasons he did. So, he broke it off.

Now, he's knocking on your window.

The tapping wouldn’t be so noticeable if you hadn’t been waiting for it. He never did like using the front door.

You open the window for him, move backwards a couple of steps to give him enough room to stumble inside, hair a little messy, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, devastatingly pretty.

It brings you back to high school. Steve, sneaking through your window at night just to fall asleep with you, his arms a safety net, his steady breathing a lullaby. Steve, peering at you through the glass with that grin of his. Steve.

“You know you can use the door, right?” You say.

“Not my style,” he takes a second to look at you. “Hi, Ace.”

You shift on your feet.

“Hi.”

“I know this is…” He trails off. There’s not really a single word for it. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You mean it. Even after everything, he’s Steve over it all. Your Steve, who was the greatest friend you ever had and, somehow, an even better boyfriend. He’s never been horrible to you; not even close.

Sure, he broke your heart and fell away from your life right after that, but you know him. You know there’s something he hasn’t told you about that, and if letting him in through your window again is a step closer to hearing it, you’re willing to take it.

“Even after what I did?”

“I don’t think you could ever really lose me, Steve.”

That hits him in the gut, a painful twist. Because he thought he did. Yes, he broke up with you (he regretted it very quickly), but he’d fought the urge to pick up the phone and call you at school more times than he can count.

“You’re a good person, Ace.”

He’s tiptoeing around whatever he wants to say to you. You talk softly, “why’d you want to see me?”

“I just needed to make sure you knew something.”

“What is it?”

“Just- I never kissed Becky. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.”

It’s the first time either of you have said it so plainly. There’s a wince on his face when he does. Small, but you catch it all the same.

“Robin said you were dating people, though.”

“Yeah, but I never kissed them. Ever. I couldn't.”

He slept with people—which was still hard—but to him, nothing feels as intimate as a kiss. He could never bring himself to cross that line with someone else. Not after how you would kiss him. The way everything else would melt away.

“I need you to know that. And I broke up with Becky because I couldn’t be with her without thinking of-” he stops, shakes his head, like he can’t get the words out. His eyes are holding onto yours when he says, “-someone else.”

“You climbed through my window just to tell me that?”

“I guess I did.”

He hadn’t thought about what comes next, what to do or say. Hell, he could barely even say what he meant in the first place. He wanted to say he’d been thinking of you, but the word got stuck in his throat. He hopes you can still read him enough to know what he meant.

“So, you were with Becky… why, exactly?”

“I thought- I don’t know. I thought I’d be able to push, um, someone else out of my mind if I was with her. I wasn’t, obviously.”

You’re practically speechless. Never would you have imagined that Steve was still thinking of you in any way, let alone so much so that he couldn’t fully give himself to anyone else.

Then again, you were never able to do that, either.

“I don’t know what to say,” you shrug, shoulder to your cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything, really,” he says, though there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You hate to be the one putting it there. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Steve. We aren’t together, I know that.”

He hasn’t been able to forget about that for a day. It’s like his life without you in it was a permanent winter. The snow never melting, the cold sinking into his bones. He hadn’t even realized it until you came back.

The wind picked up, frostbite ate away at him. Then, just like that, the sun was shining again. He hopes the snow will thaw soon.

He feels like an idiot right now. An idiot who can't spit out the right words and who can't leave you alone even when he knows he should.

“I should go.”

“Steve-”

“No, I’ll go. I’m sorry for dropping all of that on you.”

He’s turning his back to you, opening the window, worrying you all over again.

“You can stay.” Please, stay.

“I’m really sorry, Ace.”

Sorry for letting you go, sorry for disappearing, sorry for being a coward, sorry for fucking things up even now.

By the time you gather your wits enough to walk to the window, he’s crossing your lawn quickly. You watch him go until his figure fades into the night, the wind a low whisper in the air.

-

You do a lot of thinking that night, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. After what might be twenty minutes or two hours, you find you aren’t upset with Steve in the slightest. If anything, you’re worried.

And maybe, selfishly, a little hopeful, too.

It’s not even the breakup itself. It’s the way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered and his frustration seemed to soften just a little when he looked at you. It’s the way he had to make sure you knew he hasn’t kissed anyone since you, that he called and came over just to tell you that.

Maybe you should be angry, but all you feel when you think about Steve is something you’d convinced yourself was long gone. A feeling with wings, fluttering.

You decide that you need to talk to him again.

That decision has you walking through the door of Family Video early the next day, when you’re sure it won’t be busy. You had to double check with Robin that Steve was the one opening (you could practically see her knowing smirk through the phone), and sure enough, he stands behind the counter.

The bell above the door jingles, cutting through the silence of the store. Steve glances up to find you, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure you’re really there.

“Am I dreaming?” He says.

Steve was convinced you’d never want to see his face again after the shit he pulled last night. After dumping information on you that you hadn’t asked for, then leaving as soon as he got scared.

“If you are, so am I.”

“Robin’s not here.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to after…” he trails off, like he’s embarrassed to have to bring it up.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I feel like I should be asking you.”

“Steve.”

His name still sounds the best in your voice, he thinks.

“I’m okay, promise. Last night, I guess I just- I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. While I was gone.” Every single day since I left, I missed you.

You’ve both felt it for a long time, but now’s the first time someone’s been brave enough to say it. The words settle in the air for a moment, hanging between you.

“I’m sorry, Ace. For everything.”

You want to fall into his arms as easily as you used to, to squeeze him and tell him it’s okay, it can be okay, if you try hard enough. The counter standing between you stops you from it, maybe for the better.

“Do you think- do you think maybe we can be friends again?”

I don’t know if I can just be your friend, he thinks. Not after knowing what it’s like to kiss you and wake up beside you, to touch you and love you. If it’s the only way to keep you around, though, he’ll give it all he has.

“I’d like that.”

Your smile is almost shy, but it’s there.

“We used to be better at this. Talking, I mean,” you say, trying to be light.

“We’ll get better again.”

It’s quiet again, save for the murmur of whatever movie Steve chose for the morning playing on the TV.

“I hope you know I haven’t been, like, holding a grudge, or anything. I forgave you a long time ago.”

You had to, even when it still hurt, even when you still wonder why things changed so quickly. He’s a human as much as you are, and letting things fester for years wouldn't do either of you any good.

Still, like any wound, it still bleeds from time to time.

“Doesn’t change that I’m sorry, Ace.”

You shy away from the sincerity in his stare, from the brown in his eyes that could so easily draw you back into him completely.

He bends to catch your eye, though, making sure you know he means it.

-

Letting yourself get close to Steve again is easy, it’s the friendship that’s hard.

He’s a good friend, you see it in his interactions with everyone around you. He’s a good friend and still, you can’t stop thinking about the kind of boyfriend he is. Caring and loving, full of touches to give, a hand on you whenever it could be. You miss the warmth of that hand.

You keep that to yourself , though, because things are better. So much better.

You and Steve don’t avoid each other anymore, the smiles aren’t so forced or small, the words not so careful. The only subject you stay away from is the breakup, and even then, you don’t think about it so much now that he’s around again. You think about everything before that. The good and the in love, sticky and sweet.

Tonight, he’s convinced you to come along and chauffeur the kids to the arcade. In turn, you’ve convinced him to go inside with you.

The various neon lights bathe your skin, blues and oranges, pinks and greens. You can't help but think they glow a little nicer on Steve’s face.

“What’s the first game gonna be?” You turn to look at him over your shoulder as you walk between the rows of games.

“Your choice, Ace. This was your idea.”

“Fine by me,” you shrug a shoulder, grinning.

Falling into conversation with Steve proves to still feel natural. You’ve gotten the chance to spend time with him more since you talked that morning at Family Video, and it’s paid off. Light teasing and check-ins are what they used to be before.

The part that still makes your heart beat faster, almost like it’s trying to find his, is what hangs in the silence. There's knowledge there; the silence used to be comfortable, and now, it’s full of questions and tension. What’s too much? What crosses the line of friendship you’ve had to draw?

If you’re being honest, being Steve’s friend almost makes you miss him more. You had to do it this way, though, if only to protect yourself from losing him ever again.

You’ve been pushing away any thoughts of Steve as a boyfriend as far away as you can.

“Okay,” you stop in front of Pac-Man.

“A classic,” he nods, putting change into the slot. “Ladies first.”

“Scared, Harrington?”

“Of you?” He shakes his head. “Never.”

Of what he feels for you, maybe.

You play well, and Steve watches your hands move as you do. He watches your eyes as they flit about the screen, your tongue poking between your lips in concentration. Watches, still, when you throw your head back and groan when you lose.

“My turn,” he says, bumping you over with his hips.

Despite his confidence, Steve loses really, really fast.

“It’s broken,” he declares.

“It’s not,” you say. “Try again.”

“You just like to see me lose.”

You wiggle your way in front of him so that his arms cage you in, one on either side of you, leaning on the game. “I’ll show you.”

He hopes he isn’t breathing as hard as he thinks he is. He can feel the ghost of your back against his chest, so, so close. He slips another coin into the slot and lets you guide his hands to the controls.

His hands are just as warm as you remember. Solid and softer than they look. You refrain from interlocking your fingers with his and focus on guiding him through the game. It’d be so easy to hold his hand, though. Muscle memory.

This time around, even when the screen tells him ‘game over,’ Steve feels like he’s won something at the slightest bit of contact you’d initiated.

Dustin finds the two of you, still playing Pac-Man, and taps his wrist. Duty calls.

After dropping the kids off, the car much quieter, you let yourself look at Steve as he drives. His side profile, the slope of his nose and line of his jaw, the way he squints at road signs.

“You should be wearing your glasses,” you say. You’re not even sure if he still has them.

“You know I hate those things.”

It’s true, you do know that. He barely even wore them around you when you’d been dating. They made him shy, even though you told him he looks pretty either way, any way.

You find that you still know a lot of things.

You still know him. You know that he owns a pair of reading glasses. You know that he scratches the back of his neck when he’s nervous. You know that he knuckles at his eyes when he doesn’t get enough sleep. You know that he sunburns easiest on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders. You know him. All the small things, some he may not even know himself.

You might’ve missed some stuff, but really, you still know him. You still love him, too.

That realization hits you, a gust of wind strong enough to knock you off-balance if you weren’t sitting. You’ve been trying and trying to keep it all away. Yet, here you are, looking at the strand of hair that falls over Steve's forehead, realizing you love him all over again in the passenger seat of his BMW.

Maybe you never really stopped.

“Ace, did you hear me?”

“Hm?” You blink and suddenly he’s looking at you, too. And the car’s not moving. When did that happen?

“You zoned out on me, I think,” he runs a hand through his hair, pushing that strand you'd been focused on back into place. “We’re here.”

Your house, he means.

“Sorry. Thank you for driving,” you say, reaching for the handle and popping the door open. You bonk your head in your haste to get out.

“Shit! You okay?” He says, his hand reaching for you even though you’re too far to touch.

“Yup! Never better.”

Terrified by the four letter word that hasn’t left your head since it came back in, you can’t help but try to get away from Steve, from the boy who’s drawn the feeling from you in the first place without even trying. You hurry to the door with a rushed ‘bye!’

Steve stares at your front door even after you’ve closed it, eyebrows scrunched and mouth in a confused pout. He wonders what you were thinking about as he tried to grab your attention the whole way home.

-

Steve’s made a habit of visiting you at work.

If you’re working during the day, he’ll drive over on his lunch breaks and be sure to be seated in your section. If you’re working evenings, he’ll make some excuse about not wanting to cook dinner and still, he requests your section.

He‘s been coming so often that the hostesses don’t even wait for him to ask, they just nod and seat him at one of your tables.

You’ve had a lot of time to let your rediscovered love for Steve simmer, but it’s always there, making you smile like an idiot when you see him, making you stop yourself from reaching for his hand whenever it’s close enough.

It was naive of you to think you could limit yourself to friendly feelings for him. You know that now.

Walking out of the back, you find him sitting at what has become his usual table. A small round one, usually for two. The chair across from him empty. You like that better than when Becky was the one sitting in it.

“I’m starting to think you have no kitchen at all,” you say, standing behind the empty seat, leaning a hand on top of it.

“You caught me.”

“Seriously, you know you don’t have to come here to see me.”

“I want to come here to see you.”

Really, at this point, Steve thinks he’d be happy to visit you anywhere. Because of that, he’s definitely spending way too much money at Enzo’s.

“Okay then,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, then grab your notepad to write down his order. “What’ll it be this time?”

As much as Steve wishes you could sit down with him, he knows you have a job to do, so he gives you his order and takes any minute of conversation you can give him.

He watches you tend to the other tables you have, your smile and the way you talk, your mannerisms and the pattern of your steps. Often, he wonders if he’d still be sitting here, watching you with something in his eyes that can only be described as longing, if he never broke up with you that day. He likes to think he would be, only he’d be allowed to kiss you goodbye the way he so often wants to.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking to believe he could get to do that again, one day.

Since he felt your hands over his those weeks ago at the arcade, he’s decided he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back. He’ll wait as long as he needs to, and do his best to prove that he won’t hurt you again.

Steve’s never stopped loving you, not for a second, and seeing your face again only reminded him of that. Being your friend again only amplified it.

Even worse, all of your friends are well aware of this. They never let him hear the end of it.

“Here you go,” you say, putting his food in front of him.

He shoots you a quick smile, “thank you.”

“‘Course. And don’t bother paying this time, it’s on me.”

“Don’t do that, I’m paying.”

“I already did it, okay? Just shut up and let me.”

When you walk away, he shakes his head and smiles at your retreating figure. Classic Ace, he thinks, so insistent on doing nice things. Yeah, he’ll wait years if he has to.

You chat with him when you can, telling him about a customer who’d yelled at you earlier in your shift over something so small, you can’t even remember why they were angry in the first place. He laughed through your story and offered to find the person and beat them up for you.

You reminded him that he usually loses fights.

A stern talking to, then, he’d said.

You giggled. Laughs like that came easy with Steve.

You were busy when he left, but when you went over to clean his table you’d found enough money left behind to pay for his food and give you a tip. You rolled your eyes at that. That’s Steve, always being the one to take care of everyone else. He can’t even let you pay for one damm meal.

He’d also left a note scrawled on a Family Video sticky note.

Thanks for letting me bug you again. Hope you’re not sick of me! -Steve x (and keep your money, please).

You folded it into a neat square and put it in your back pocket. This was a habit of his, too; leaving notes behind after he’d leave. So far, you’ve kept them all, in that same shoebox in your closet from high school.

You’re absolutely hopeless.

-

Steve didn’t have an excuse to call you, he just really wanted to see you. Or, hear your voice, at least.

“Hello?” You picked up after a couple rings.

“Ace. You busy today?”

“Mmm apart from laying down all day, no.”

“You wanna come lay down all day here?”

If he couldn’t hear you then, you would drop your face into your pillow and squeal. Instead, you press your free hand to your cheek and try to suppress your stupid grin.

“I guess I can shuffle some things around.”

“You’re awful,” he says. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep.”

A click and it’s quiet again.

It’s not even half an hour later that you’re knocking on the Harrington’s door. Steve opens up quickly (he’d been standing near the door waiting for you) and moves aside to let you in.

Steve scans your outfit as you walk ahead of him. You’re clad in slouchy sweats. He thinks you look beautiful. He thinks it all of the time, but there’s something about you being comfortable enough with him not to dress up that warms him from the inside out.

It reminds him of how you used to walk around his house, whenever his parents weren’t there, in your underwear and his softest t-shirt.

Baby steps, he thinks.

“Are you hungry?” He asks as you plop down onto his couch.

“I'm okay. A little tired.”

“I did ruin your plans of laying around, didn't I?”

“Ruin’s not the right word,” you say. You’d much rather be in his company than buried in your bed, anyway.

He sits next to you after turning on the TV, letting whatever’s playing stay on. There’s a respectable distance between you, your thighs close, but not touching.

“Are you happy you came back here?” Steve turns his head toward you. Here, as in Hawkins. Here, as in with him.

Your head pivots toward him, cheek on your shoulder. Your eyes find his. “Yes. Really happy.”

“Me too.”

There are a million things you could say, but then, in that moment, it feels like you don’t have to. Something silent is being shared. You look back at the TV and sink into the cushions.

As time goes on, your eyes grow heavier, blinking slowly trying to stay awake. Steve notices when your head falls forward a little and you force it back up.

“You’re tired.”

“Worked the closing shift last night.”

“You can lay down. I meant it when I said you

could do that here.”

“I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s kinda the point.”

You frown at him. “But then you’ll be all alone.”

“Just lay down, Ace.”

You roll your eyes but do it anyway. You’d actually been ready to nap when Steve called, but figured sleep could wait.

He tries not to overthink it when he gently places a hand on the side of your head, urging you to use his lap as your pillow. You go easily and blame it on your sleepy mind.

Instinctively, once you’re settled with your cheek on his thigh, Steve pets your hair from your face. He pulls his hand back, afraid of overstepping, but you miss his touch.

“No, don’t. Feels nice.”

“Okay,” he almost whispers.

Steve’s hand goes back to your hair, pushing it from your face, letting his fingers get tangled in it before pulling them back and doing it again. You fall asleep quickly, surrounded by Steve’s scent.

You nap for about forty minutes. Steve’s hand doesn’t stop at all, afraid that you’d wake up. He hasn’t paid much attention to the TV. Instead, he’s been tracing the details of your face over and over with his eyes.

Your eyelashes kissing the skin of your under eyes, the slope of your nose, the way your lips are slightly parted and pouting. He’s known it for years now, but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

All soft and, by his standard, absolutely perfect.

Self-indulgently, he lets his hand wander from your hair, the back of his index finger tracing a delicate line from your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheek. You stir and he feels guilty.

“Did I wake you?”

You blink your eyes open and squint, turning so you lay on your back rather than your side, looking up at him. “Nuh-uh,” you say, even though he did.

If you were woken up like that every day, well, you’d become a morning person.

“Liar.”

“Am not.” He shakes his head, you yawn. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not long. You feel better?”

“Much,” you nod, even though there’s a kink in your neck from the way you had it perched on his lap. You don’t care, it was the best sleep you’d had for a while.

You sit up and stretch until something cracks.

“Thanks for being my pillow.”

“Steve Harrington, human pillow, at your service.”

You push his shoulder lightly, “dork.”

You both laugh lightly. The sound fades when you realize how close your faces are. You reach up and brush the skin under his eye with your thumb.

“Eyelash,” you explain.

“Make a wish.”

When you were young, you wished on every birthday cake candle, every shooting star, that you’d find your person. Then, in your time with Steve, you wished to keep it. Now, as you blow the lash off your finger, you wish to have it back.

“Done.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“If it ever comes true, I’ll tell you.”

He nods, the tips of your noses brush. You can't stop your eyes from flicking to his mouth with him this close, you can feel his breaths, warm puffs of air against your skin.

Steve’s hand creeps up to cradle the back of your neck so gently you could cry. He uses it to guide you forward until your forehead is pushed against his.

“Steve.”

The whisper of his name is what snaps the rubber band. Steve tips your head up and kisses you.

It’s everything you remembered, and everything you’d forgotten, too. His lips are still soft, they still fit with yours the way puzzle pieces click together. Over time, you forgot how his feelings poured out of him when he’d kiss you. Now, he’s shy with it, slow-moving.

He pulls away, just for a second, to look at you, to check that you’re okay. You chase his mouth and he’s a goner, diving back in and inhaling deep at the feeling.

You can feel yourself melting into him, getting lost in the press of his lips against yours.

It hits you that Steve hasn’t kissed anyone since he was with you. That it’s been years since he’s last done this. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.

This is a big thing. Kissing Steve again is a big and scary thing. His free hand laying itself on your thigh jolts you out of it. You pull away, breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, pulling his hands away. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s just- I shouldn’t have done that.”

You’re supposed to be pushing your feelings aside. You’re supposed to be friends, that’s it. You’re not supposed to let it get to this point again, because you know how it feels when it ends. That can’t happen again.

“No, Ace. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be sorry, okay?” You stand up, almost dizzy. “I’m just gonna go, I think.”

“Hey, come on. Stay. It won’t happen again.”

“I just need to, um, clear my head.”

You hurry to the door, trying to slip your shoes on as fast as possible. Steve catches your wrist loosely as you reach for the door.

“You can talk to me. You don’t have to leave.”

“I need to think, Steve,” you open the door. This time, he lets you. Before you close it you turn to him, “I’m not mad, I promise.”

All he can do is nod slowly and stare at the door long after you’ve closed it.

-

You meant it: you’re not mad. Well, not at Steve. You’re mad at yourself, really, for letting yourself fall for him again, for making yourself remember exactly how it feels to kiss him.

You’re not mad at Steve and yet, you haven’t been alone with him since that day. It’s for your own good, you hope. You don’t want to let yourself be with him again because you know what it feels like to lose him. It hurts and it sucks and you’d rather love him quietly than feel that ever again.

It’s game night at the Wheeler’s now, and so far, you’ve lost pretty much every game. You find it doesn’t bother you all that much when you’re around such good people.

As Nancy shuffles Uno cards, you stand, “skip me this round. I gotta pee.”

“Thank you for announcing that,” Dustin says.

“You’re welcome, Dusty,” you ruffle his hair on your way to the bathroom.

Once you’re washing your hands, you inspect yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s frizzier than you’d like and your mascara’s smudged under your eyes. You use your pinky, wet with tap water, to wipe it away.

You unlock and open the door and find Steve leaning against the wall in the hallway. Not expecting anyone to be there, you jump.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, laughing lightly.

“Why’re you standing there?”

“Waiting for the bathroom.”

You don’t point out that there are more than one bathrooms in the Wheeler’s house. Instead, you move out of the doorway and let him go in. Only, he doesn’t move.

“Okay, I lied,” he confesses. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh. Well, here I am.”

“Yeah,” he looks you over, like he can’t help it. “Will you come home with me? So we can talk about…”

As much as you wish you could just forget about that kiss, you can’t. It hasn’t left your mind for more than five minutes at a time. Often, you find yourself pressing your fingers to your mouth, searching for the ghost of his. Besides, how can you say no to Steve saying the words ‘will you come home with me’?

“Okay,” you say quietly, then, more sure, “okay, sure.”

You walked there, and though you’d usually much prefer the comfort of the BMW, you can’t help but worry about what he wants to say the rest of the night.

Once you’ve said your goodbyes and walk towards Steve’s car, you can almost feel Robin’s knowing smile as she watches you climb into the passenger seat.

The drive feels like a dream in the sense that you blinked and it ended. You suppose time can fly when you’re lost in thought, in what-ifs.

You only realize you’ve made it to Steve’s house when you hear the click of the gearshift and the quiet of the engine shutting off that follows. You follow him inside, watching the way he fiddles with his keys, his hand flicking on the lights inside.

He leads you to his bedroom. He knows he could’ve stopped in the kitchen or the living room, but he’s most comfortable in the only room that feels completely his in the house. He needs to be comfortable for this.

You sit on the edge of his bed, and he leans on the dresser across from you.

There’s an anticipation almost humming in the air. Who will speak first, what will they say.

“So-”

“Listen-”

You speak at the same time.

“You first,” Steve offers.

“I’m sorry for running out like that. I was just overwhelmed, I guess. Had to think.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. I feel like I should be apologizing to you.”

For so much more than just that kiss. Then again, he’s not really sorry for kissing you, he’s only sorry for possibly hurting you with it.

“We were doing so good.” He furrows his brows at you in question. “At just being friends.”

“I don’t think I could ever look at you as just a friend, Ace. Not after knowing what it’s like to have you.”

You want to tell him you feel the same, you want to tell him so bad. The words are stuck in your throat. You’re so afraid, so nervous, for what could happen if you try this again.

“Do you regret kissing me?” You ask instead.

“I know I should, but I can’t regret anything with you.”

“I don’t regret it, either.”

The room seems to shrink, the air thicken. Steve’s hands clench on the edge of the dresser, holding himself back, almost.

You don’t think you want him to hold back. You want to slap yourself for it, but you’ve missed the way his kiss melted you every day since you felt it. Maybe, if you can’t tell him, you can show him how you feel.

“Kiss me again,” you say.

“What?”

He must have heard you wrong. Only, when you repeat yourself, he knows he didn’t.

“You’re sure?” He checks.

All you can do is nod, almost eagerly. He pushes off from the dresser and stands in front of you. Your knees brush against the fabric of his jeans as he moves closer. His hands gently cup your face, tilt it up so you’re looking at him.

His eyes flick between yours, and when you nudge your cheek into his hand, like an encouragement, he bends down to place his lips over yours.

It starts gently, like the last one. Steve’s lips glide over yours slowly, making sure you don’t want to pull away. It feels like high school and sneaking through windows, like popcorn kisses at the movies and the feeling of Skull Rock behind your back. It feels like the past and yet, there’s an emotion there that wasn’t before.

Longing, knowing what it feels like to lose this.

It’s gentle until your hands snake their way under Steve’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the sunshine pouring out of him. That’s when his hold on your face becomes a bit more firm, one of his thumbs pushing on your chin to get you to open it for him.

That’s when the dam seems to break.

Steve kisses you deeper and deeper, pushing himself closer and closer until you’re being laid down on the bed. He pulls away from you, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, to give you space to push yourself up to his pillows.

He tugs his shirt off before climbing over you, his hands digging into the mattress on either side of your head, his brown eyes darkened.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yes,” you nod, “I missed you.”

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him back to you, his mouth finding yours easily. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this with Steve, but the rhythm of it all comes easily. It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve spent so long learning what they like.

He kisses you enough to feel dazed, your head a jumble of SteveSteveSteve and your hips canting towards his unconsciously. He’d been holding his weight off of you before that, but feeling you brush against him had him pushing his hips against yours, pinning you to the bed.

You broke the kiss only to catch your breath, and Steve took the time to push wet kisses down your jawline, to your neck, breathing heavy in between them.

Selfishly, possessively, he tugs the neckline of your shirt down and sucks a hickey into your collarbone, licking over it when he’s done. Your hands have buried themselves in his hair at some point, and you feel his groan against your skin when you tug.

He moves down still, pushing your shirt up to bunch underneath your bra and peck his way across your stomach.

“Steve,” you almost whine.

He peeks up at you, “yeah, baby?”

Baby. He hasn’t called you that in years. The sound of the pet name in his voice is enough to have the dampness in your panties grow.

“You’re teasing me.”

“You used to like that,” he pouts.

“It’s been too long. Please.”

He’s trying to act composed on the outside when really, the word ‘please’ leaving your mouth is enough to have him push his crotch into the mattress.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. His hand pauses on the waistband of your pants, “can I?”

“Yes.”

He unbuttons them and tugs down the zipper, sits up on his knees to pull them down and off your legs, your socks and underwear follow.

Steve can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe you’re there, on his bed, looking so pretty for him. He resists the urge to pinch himself.

You grow shy under his stare, his eyes focused where you’re embarrassingly wet all because of him. You try to shut your legs, but he stops you with a hand on your knee, “you’re beautiful, Ace. You don’t need to hide. It’s just me.”

You’re not sure how to tell him the reason you care so much is because it’s him of all people. Steve who you’ve known for so long, Steve who you used to have, like this. Steve, who you love.

He lays down between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs, thumbs running back and forth soothingly across your skin. He kisses up your thighs and pauses when his breath hits your cunt. He glances up at you for permission.

You nod, a hand finding one of his on your leg and weaving your fingers together.

You try to keep your head up to be able to see him, but as soon as he runs his tongue up your slit it falls back into the pillow, a gasp escaping you. You squeeze his hand in yours.

Steve works you quickly, so much so that it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten a single thing about you.

His tongue runs over you again and again, your slick surely all over his mouth. When it hits the bead of your clit, your free hand is in his hair again. He grunts into you at the pull, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of it all.

When your hand squeezes his even tighter, Steve moves his free hand to your entrance, his mouth hit around your clit. He works a finger in, then a second. He curves them and searches until he finds the spot that makes you whimper out a noise he wants to hear again.

“Steve,” his name a breathy moan.

“Go on, baby. I can feel it. You wanna come?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“I've got you.”

He works his fingers quicker, puts his mouth back on you and flicks his tongue and just like that you’re being pushed over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands holding him even tighter.

He watches as you come down, his cheek against your thigh, “so pretty.”

You manage a lazy smile, taking your hand out of his hair, “sorry. Did that hurt?”

“I liked it. You know that.”

He moves back up until his face is above yours, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him.

Your hands trail down his back, his muscles shifting as he holds himself up. They land on the waistband of his jeans, tracing it around to his stomach, letting your fingers go further, feeling the skin just above his underwear.

You pull back from his mouth to glance down to where your fingers run back and forth over his skin, pausing to undo the button of his jeans.

“Who’s teasing now?” He says, voice low in your ear.

A shrug is your reply, followed by his zipper being pulled down slowly. His head bends to watch your hands work his pants and boxers down enough to free him, his cock hard and pink at the tip, pretty as ever.

You wrap a hand around him, “better?”

“Much.”

You work him slowly, like you’re trying to remember the feeling of him, your hand pausing at the tip to let your thumb run over it.

Steve tried to remember the way your hand felt against him when he was desperate and alone. Now, having you again, he knows his imagination could never do you justice. You’re soft in a way he never could be.

When you squeeze him a bit tighter, moving a bit quicker, he drops his head onto your shoulder, groaning.

“Ace.”

“Uh-huh?”

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come,” he picks his head up, sets his eyes on yours, “I don’t wanna come like this.”

“Feels nice in my hand, though.”

“I can make it feel a whole lot better, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you, Ace.”

“I want you, too.”

He pecks your lips quickly before standing to take his pants off fully. You take your shirt and bra off at the same time. It makes you nervous to be naked in front of him again, and the way he looks at you doesn’t help. It’s a searing gaze, almost burning your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost like he was saying it to himself.

He climbs over you once more when you make hands at him. His skin is warm, mirroring the way you feel all over. Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, trails his hand down your neck, to your chest. He cups you in his palm, squeezing lightly then letting a thumb run over your nipple.

You bite back a whimper.

His mouth gives the tit that isn’t in his hand attention, pecking and sucking and licking.

“Steve,” you push your hips up.

“Sorry, baby. Missed these girls, too.”

You roll your eyes.

He kisses your cheek and takes the hand off your chest to hold himself, running his head up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. When he pauses at your entrance, he looks at you.

“You’re still okay? Still want this?”

You nod, hands running in circles on the back of his shoulders, “yes. I’m ready.”

He’s big, and the stretch of him pushing into you is sharper now that you’re not used to it. He soothes you with sweet words and soft kisses to your neck.

Halfway, he checks in, “good?”

You wrap your legs around his thighs and pull him in the rest of the way, whining when his pelvis is against yours.

“Fuck,” he says into the skin of your neck, just below your ear. “You’re heaven, Ace.”

“Move, Steve,” your hands tighten on his shoulders. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling back slowly only to push in again. You can feel everything, you think. Maybe because it’s been so long or because sex with someone you love is better than any other sex. Maybe it’s just Steve.

He’s all over you. His hair tickling your chin, his mouth open against your neck, breaths hot against your skin. He’s in your mind and in your heart and in you, deeper than anyone else. You feel so full. Of him, of emotion, of memories of nights you used to have just like this one.

Full of him in every way.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says. “There’s nobody like you. No one, Ace.”

“I-” love you, you almost say. “Steve.”

The pitch of your voice tells him to go faster, and he lifts his head to see your face. Mouth agape, soft moans and breaths spilling out, eyebrows scrunched, eyes falling shut when he finds your spot.

“Open your eyes,” he says, softly. “Come on, baby.”

You do, blinking them open and looking up at him. His hair is a mess around his head, sweaty strands falling over his forehead, his cheeks are flushed pink and you’re sure they’d be warm to the touch.

He drops his forehead against yours, your sounds and breaths mingling between your mouths, your noses nudging against each other with every push of his hips.

Your arms go around his neck, one hand tangling itself in the hair at the nape of his neck. You’re getting closer and closer and by the way his movements grow just a bit faster, a bit sloppier, he is, too.

“Ace. Baby, you’re there, yeah? I can feel you squeezing me,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

“So close, Steve.”

He’s holding himself up on one elbow, trailing his free hand down to rub circles over your clit. “Come on.”

You finish with a cry of his name, your eyes squeezing shut. It’s overwhelming, the feelings that blind you. The pleasure and the affection, the heat and the love you really don’t think you could imagine. So much so that tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

He’s not far behind, “shit. Where do you want me?”

In your haze, you can barely manage a reply, “tummy.”

He pulls out and jerks himself until you can feel him coming on your skin. He moans and it’s a beautiful sound. You run your hands over his skin through it all, grounding him and yourself.

Your foreheads are still together, slick with sweat.

“Fuck,” he pecks you once, twice, three times. “You okay?”

“Really good.”

“Will you stay?”

You hadn’t even thought of leaving. You wouldn’t dream of it. Not now, at least, in your post-orgasm daze where fears and worries don’t reach you.

“Mhm,” you hum your agreement.

Steve’s grin splits his cheeks, wide and toothy and infectious enough to make you smile, too.

“I’ll be right back,” he rolls away from you, standing beside the bed. Before walking away, he bends to peck you again. He heads to the bathroom after that.

You note the freckles that dot his back and shoulders as he goes. A constellation you never forgot; burned in your memory. One you used to play connect the dots with in the mornings.

He comes back with a wet cloth, wiping his come from your stomach and then cleaning you up as gently as possible, giving a soft apology when you whimper in sensitivity.

He tosses the cloth aside when he’s done and searches his drawers for a clean pair of boxers. He tugs them on then finds a baggy sleep shirt for you. You watch him the whole time, the way he moves and the way the streetlights seeping in through the window light his skin.

Coming back to you, he tells you to sit up and puts the shirt over your head. He didn’t even have to ask, he knows what you like to sleep in. When you look at the shirt he picked, you find it’s one that used to be your favorite.

You bring the fabric to your nose and hide your grin in it.

Steve pulls the blankets over you, then himself when he lays down beside you. He doesn’t even hesitate before tugging you closer with an arm around your waist.

“I really missed you, Ace.”

“Missed you, Steve,” you reply sleepily.

He kisses your forehead.

You fall asleep easily, Steve’s fingers running back and forth over your skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

-

Steve wakes up before you do.

You’ve both moved in your sleep. Now, you lay on your stomach, face turned towards him and cheek squished into the pillow. He lays on his side, propped up by his elbow, looking at you.

He looks at you, asleep and pretty, and wonders how he could ever give you up.

His free hand tucks your hair behind your ear, away from your face, brushes his knuckles across your cheeks as lightly as possible. He moves to your arm and traces the words ‘I love you’ into your skin.

He draws the words over and over, only pulling his hand away when you rouse.

You breathe in deep before opening your eyes, moving your head on the pillow to look over at Steve properly. His eyes are already set on you, puffy with sleep and full of something you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

“Hi,” his voice is different in the morning, lower.

“Hi.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you stretch your legs and turn onto your side. “You?”

“Better than I have in a while, actually.”

You can tell that there’s something he wants to say, that he’s thinking of the words. It makes you nervous, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. Maybe he regrets it. Almost worse, maybe he doesn’t.

“Can I say something?”

“Steve-”

“No, let me say it. If you hate it, we can forget about it, okay?”

His eyes are soft, pleading. You can tell that whatever it is, it really matters to him and there’s no way you can ignore that.

“Okay.”

“I still love you.”

His words hang in the air, your chests both rise and fall a bit quicker, hearts beating faster in tandem.

You’ve been dreaming of him saying it to you, and yet, hearing it out loud, you can’t help but be terrified. You love him, you know you do, and it scares you. It’ll hurt worse the second time around if you lose him.

“I still love you,” he continues in your silence. “I miss you so much, Ace. I want to do it again. I want to be with you and do it right.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You didn’t. You won’t. I’ve thought of you every day since you left,” his hand finds yours atop the sheets, fingers linking. “I didn’t want to break up with you, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Why did you?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. Squeezes your hand, too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. You were going off to school and I’d be here and I didn’t want to hold you back. I wanted you to go and to do it fully.”

Your heart pinches in your chest. Steve really believed he’d been doing you a favor by letting you go.

“It hurt for a long time, Steve. I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you again, Ace,” he swipes away the tear that falls from your cheek. “Just answer one thing for me?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

It’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Of course I love you, Steve. I would’ve stayed if you asked me to.”

“That’s why I did it,” his thumb runs over your cheek gently. “I couldn't let you give it all up for me. But you’re back now, and I love you and you love me. Let me try again.”

You want to say yes. So badly, you want to be with him. So why can't you just say it? It’s like glue’s been dropped down your throat, sticking all the right words in it so that nothing useful comes out. You try anyway.

“I’m just scared.”

You shut your eyes.

“Will you look at me?” You do, and right then it’s hard to feel scared anymore. He’s looking at you like he’s never been more sure of anything. “You’re my forever. I know you are. Let me show you.”

You focus on his hand in yours, his touch on your face. You focus on the fact that this is Steve. Steve who you love, who you know you want to be with past all the fear and worry.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay? Like, you’ll be my girl again?”

“Yes, yeah.”

His grin spreads wide enough to have his eyes crinkling at the corners. He rushes forward to kiss you, three quick pecks broken by your smiles.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask him, suddenly brave, like his kiss fixed everything.

“Anything.”

“I wished for you. On that eyelash. The day we kissed.”

He kisses you again for that.

༄

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