#and my parents called and told me to be ready to go out for dinner and then showed up at the door literally three minutes later
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But Daddy I Love Him
“Say they want what’s best for me. Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see. Thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me.”
A day off with Andrew made you think about your domestic life and life before it.
CW: mentions of sex
It's been years after the incident, yet your heart still aches whenever your mind drifts towards it. To say that it was hell was an understatement; you've been isolated, called every name under the sun, and met with condescension from the people who ‘want to save you’. The crowd was torn between dragging you to the mud and lifting you up in their arms. It was a painful, overwhelming, and disturbing experience. But all their noises fall deaf on your ears once you're with him.
Between bated breaths and heated touches, a scandalous tryst– not unheard of; you both found something deeper, something beyond lust and desire. Your nights of passion muted any screams from the world, drowning you in him and him only. In his bed– and yours, you were two lovers lost in paradise.
All the men you've been with pales in comparison to him. Andrew was sweet, caring, passionate, and teasing. A true gentleman. It was painfully cliché, but it's true– no one knows him like you do. And if others did, they'd understand why you loved him like you did.
Dusk crept in, it was peaceful as both of you had your day offs. You sat on his lap, mindlessly playing with his hair as he read his book. He looks good focused, handsome as ever. Smile crept into your face as butterflies went wild in your stomach.
“Darling?” Andrew's soft voice dragged you back to reality. You hummed in response, wearing that same love struck smile. “What do you want for dinner?” His hands gently caressed your back in a gentle manner. Even after being with him for years, you were still electrified by his touches.
“I found this new recipe on the internet. Do you wanna try?” You suggested.
“Of course, darling.” He leaned closer, sealing it with a kiss. It was as sweet and loving as always, you had to fight the urge to pull him closer, wrap your arms around him for a full on make out session. “Do you want me to cook it for you?”
“No, I want us to cook together. I want to spend as much time with you while we have our day off.”
He chuckles, closing the book and placing it on the table. “You’re quite needy today.”
“Is it bad that I want to spend time with my boyfriend?” The title rolls off your tongue smoothly, it feels nice knowing he’s the one holding it.
“I understand, our time together these past few days was scarce. I missed being with you too.” Andrew pulled you closer, trailing small kisses on your jaw and neck. He pulled away with a grin, “We shall prepare then so we can go to bed early.”
You were disappointed as you both pulled away as you both walked towards the kitchen, wanting more of his physical affection; but you understand that that can wait.
The apartment was small and cozy, enough for the two of you. Life with him so far was domestic and comfortable. You remembered your parents’ faces when they knew about your relations with him. And once you announced that you’re ready to move out, they immediately protested; screaming how he might be manipulative, dangerous, and what you and Andrew had was nothing but fleeting desire.
But you were firm, almost petulant, laying all the proofs that you had. It felt like a court case, justifying everything that you could to assure them. At last, they finally conceded after you told them that once there’s a problem you’ll immediately move out. They were still suspicious, you can’t blame them, but over time you could see how they were starting to accept him as a significant part of your life– your significant other.
“What’s on your mind, darling?” Andrew wrapped his arms around your waist. “Mind sharing it with me?”
You gave him a small smile, knowing that you can’t lie to him due to how observant he is. “It’s just things… about us.”
His brow furrowed as his face became filled with concern, “What about us?” He asked gently, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
“Like what happened…”
He nodded, but you could see a glimpse of sadness in his face. “I understand, sometimes our mind wanders in places we never expect to be in. But that’s all we do, we wander not stay”
“I know, Andrew, I just think that it still feels surreal. Living this life with you domestically was something that I never thought we could achieve, back then I thought we’ll be apart after they almost tore us to shreds. I’m happy we’re not.” You gave him a soft smile, giving his lips a small peck..
As you pulled away, you looked at him, blush evident on his cheeks, “I am happy too, darling.” He responded softly. You could see his eyes glance at your lips, blood rushed to your cheek as you closed your eyes and leaned closer.
A sigh escaped your lips as you felt your lips touched. It was magical and passionate as you expected. His arms around you tightened, you ran his fingers through his hair. Andrew leaned closer, deepening the kiss causing you to let out a sound of satisfaction. You were both insatiable, drunk on each other.
You both catch your breath as you pull away from each other. His hands on your cheek, the other on your thigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, darling.” Andrew’s eyes half lidded, filled with desire and love as he looked at you.
For a moment you were just two lovers in the kitchen, doting on each other endlessly. The past was far enough to reach you as you both ran away to your own world– the one you never wanted to escape from.
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Know You Get Sick of the Games 'Cause I Do Too
AN: part 2 🤭 everyone get ready to fight Jack
Requested? No
Warnings: Jack being a dumby, intense kissing, sad Miriam 🥺, and a messy teammate
Word Count: 3.7k words
Miriam twisted her curls into and held them in place with a claw clip. Practice dragged on for what felt like an eternity. She packed up the last of her things and texted her siblings she was on her way. She had a game in a few days in Jersey and the team was staying in New York for the week. She was going to stay with her team in the hotels but they allowed her to stay at her sister's place as long as she wasn't late for any training.
Beto, her bodyguard for when she traveled to away games, held the door of their rented Range Rover. He closed the door and went to the driver's seat.
“Can I put on my music?” Miriam asked.
“My rental, my music.” He said playing one of Metro Boomin’s instrumental versions of his albums.
The drive from Jersey to New York wasn't that long. They arrived to her sister's place and she rushed to change.
She picked out a pair of black trousers with a burgundy Vivienne Westwood cropped cardigan. She paired the look with her Versace platform boots and her vintage Vivienne Westwood pearl necklace with the gold embellished orb. Her phone pinged as she quickly did her makeup. Then it started to ring.
Miriam groaned and grabbed her phone. Without looking at who was calling her, she screamed and put it on speaker, going back to her makeup.
“Jesus,” Jack on the other end yelped.
Miriam scrambled to pick up her phone. “Ohmygod, I'm so sorry, I thought you were one of my siblings. They were spamming my phone because I lied about where I am.” She said.
“Wait, where are you?” He asked with concern.
“At my sister's place but I told them I was on my way to our go-to Thai place.” Miriam explained as she shoved all her necessities in her heart shaped bag.
“Oh, you're not free right now? Today is my day off.” He said, casually.
He was also in New York for work. After his birthday he left for Boston. He was cast in an action thriller movie and they were filming in Boston. Miriam didn't understand the plot he explained to her in one of their three hour long facetime calls, but she found it admirable that he was venturing out into acting.
“No, but I'm free later if you want to get dinner.” She said, locking her sister's penthouse.
“Sounds good. Want me to pick you up?” Jack asked.
“Nah, just text me the place and I'll meet you there.” Miriam said.
“Okay, I'll see you later.”
“Bye.”
Miriam hung up and smiled to herself. It was her first time having real alone time with Jack. He and Miriam have been talking on the phone and texting non-stop since his birthday. Even though she told herself not to catch any feelings, she caught feelings. She couldn't help it. Jack was kind, ambitious, intelligent, compassionate and embarrassingly funny. How could she not develop feelings for him? But a part of her knew better than to act on them. He's never hinted at feeling the same as her and she wasn't going to risk their new friendship for something like her own feelings.
As she walked out of her sister's place, paparazzi surrounded her. Beto shielded her as best he could while they got in the car. Ever since she started playing for and Racing Louisville, Miriam found herself more and more in the media. Now there was always some new article of her questioning her talent or some random picture someone took over while she was making a Target run. When she's in some major city like LA or New York City, there's a trail of paparazzi. Just yesterday JustJared posted about her adjusting her leggings when she was coming out of practice.
It was a huge adjustment for Miriam. Growing up her parents kept her and her siblings out of the media. Since she wasn't modeling or acting once she was a teen like her siblings, she was able to stay out of the limelight and have a ‘normal’ life until college. Though the paparazzi only followed her around for a bit because she was hooking up with Shawn Mendes in 2018 and he would visit the Bay Area a lot while he was working on his album. When things ended between them, the paparazzi retreated after realizing that Miriam had a pretty boring schedule and she was actually taking school seriously unlike several nepo babies that wanted the ‘college experience’ at USC.
While she waited for traffic to clear up, Miriam texted her siblings that she was on her way and they responded that they ate without her. She frowned and texted her dad that they left her to starve. Her dad left her on read but then she got several messages from her siblings calling her a snitch for tattling on them.
“Beto we're not going. Can you believe the twins ate without me?” She asked him.
He rounded the corner and opened the door for her. “Yes I can,” he said, guiding her back to the building. “It took you an hour and a half to get ready.”
“You try making an outfit with a limited closet. I couldn't even steal from Kat because half of them don't fit. Have you seen her patas? They're huge.” She explained as they rode the elevator.
Beto looked at her amused and remained quiet the rest of the ride to Kat's penthouse.
Miriam thought about texting Jack, but she didn't want him to think that he was a second option. So she ordered delivery from a cafe a few blocks down.
When her food came, she ate in her sister's closet, looking for an outfit. Could she just wear what she already had on? Yes but if she had known she was going on a date with Jack she would've packed accordingly. Was it a date? She thought to herself. Panic surged through her body. She placed her sandwich on its plate and looked for her phone. Jack had texted her earlier the address of the restaurant. It was pretty low key but still had a business casual dress code.
Miriam paced around the closet. She always overdressed. But this time she didn't want to over dress and give Jack the wrong idea. Or for him to think it was something more when it wasn't. They were just two friends grabbing dinner and nothing more.
*
Jack looked around to see if the coast was clear as they walked out of the restaurant. He and Miriam went to a hole in the wall Italian restaurant for dinner. Jack motioned Miriam to come out since there were no paps. Miriam linked her elbow with his as they walked the busy street.
She instantly regretted not staying in the black trousers she wore earlier. She held on to Jack tighter, praying that his hotel was close by. They didn't want to end their evening just yet. It was still pretty early so they were going back to the hotel to watch some movies.
“Cold?” He asked her.
“A bit, but I'll survive.” She reassured him.
They past a shop and it immediately caught Miriam’s attention. She steered her and Jack back.
She gasped, “I haven't had Magnolia's in forever. They have the best banana pudding and I hate banana flavor anything. Their chocolate icebox cake is to die for.”
She pulled her arm away from his and practically ran inside the bakery. Jack followed after her. He found her bending over the glass display looking at the rows of desserts. He silently groaned seeing her skirt ride up. And he was most definitely not thinking of pushing her skirt up to her hips and fucking her from behind.
Miriam had made it abundantly clear that she only wants to be friends. Jack wasn't going to risk the good friendship they have to fulfill his needs. No matter what. He was going to be respectful of what she wanted.
“Hold on,” Miriam told the cashier, bringing Jack back to reality.
She took several things out of her bag. Jack figured she was looking for her wallet, so he got his out.
“Here,” he told the cashier, handing them his card.
“Wait, no.” Miriam tried to argue as he shoved everything back in her bag.
“It's fine.” He took her hand and led her to the back corner.
“You paid for dinner and it was pretty expensive.” She pointed out.
“Are you implying that I'm broke?” He asked in an amused tone.
“No, it's that…” she couldn't find the words to explain herself.
“You're easy to mess with.” He laughed.
“Did you just call me easy?” She gasped dramatically. “At least buy me dinner first.”
“I already did.” He smirked, not breaking eye contact.
Before Miriam could reply one of the workers called her name. She walked over and thanked them when they handed her her order. She also dropped a few hundred dollar bills in the tip jar. She nodded at Jack to follow her out to a table outside.
“You're about to have a mouth-gasm.” She said, pulling out a tub of banana pudding.
“Respectfully, I'm from Kentucky. Banana pudding and icebox cakes are delicacies over there. I doubt they compare to what we have back home.” He said.
“Whatever, hater.” Miriam rolled her eyes. She took a spoonful of banana pudding and ate it. She moaned and did a little dance. “You're missing out.”
Jack rolled his eyes in response.
With that they continued walking to the hotel. The doorman opened the door for them and greeted them. Jack guided Miriam through the back hall, away from the small convenience shop and restaurant-bar where they could be seen and filmed.
Miriam continued eating her pudding as they rode the elevator to Jack's floor. She didn't finish it so she put it back in its paper bag. She felt Jack eyeing her when they walked down the hall to his suite.
“What?” She asked.
“You have pudding on your face.” He tapped the corner of his mouth.
“Shit.” She mumbled, wiping the opposite side that Jack pointed to.
“Here, I got it.”
He took a step closer and cradled her face. He swiped her cheek with his thumb and without breaking eye contact he licked it.
“Not bad,” he commented on the pudding. “Nothing beats–”
Miriam cut him off. She pulled his down to her level and claimed his lips. It took Jack a second to process what was happening, but he kissed her back with full force. He grabbed her hips and backed her into the door of his hotel room. He wedged one of his legs in between hers and let her slowly rub herself against his dark cargo pants. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as his hands rested on her ass. They slowly devoured each other, bodies melting into each other.
The door opened abruptly. Miriam nearly fell back, but Jack caught her. He spun her and pulled her to his side. They were face to face with Urban.
“Oh it's y'all, I thought it was room service.” He told them as they entered the room.
“Nope just us.” Miriam smiled innocently. She held up her paper bag. “Is it okay if I put this in the fridge?”
“Go ahead. The kitchenette is down the hall.” Urban answered for Jack.
“Thanks.” She nodded, making her way over.
Urban to Jack with a knowing smirk.
“Don't.” Jack warned him in a hush tone.
“Hey, I'm not the one dry humping my idol's daughter in the middle of a hotel hallway.” Urban whispered back.
“It wasn't like that.” He argued. “Now shut up Miriam's coming.”
“I bet she is.” His best friend mumbled.
“Can I use your restroom?” She asked them.
“My room has an ensuite bathroom. It's down the hall.” Jack told her.
“Cool, thanks.” She nodded.
Urban walked to the small living room. One of the couches there was a CVS bag. He dug through it and pulled out a box of condoms.
“You're going to need these more than I will.” He said, not being able to keep a straight face.
“You're a fucking ass. We won't need any.” Jack said defensively.
“You better not hit it raw.” Urban put his hands on his hips. “You can get her pregnant and ruin her career. The US women's team is having trials for the next few months for their world cup.”
Jack sighed. “We won't need any because we're not having sex.”
Urban placed the box on the table behind the couch where he was watching some action rom-com. “I'll leave them here just in case. Just let me know so I can have my soundproof headphones on deck.”
Jack flipped him off and went to his room. Miriam was leaning against the desk typing furiously, so he went to sit on the edge of the bed. She sensed his presence and put her phone down on the desk.
“Sorry, my friend Shawn is in town and he wanted to know if I could record some back up vocals for him tomorrow.” she said, walking to him.
“So…” He trailed off.
“I was looking at the movie list and they have Ready or Not showing in one of the channels if you want to watch that.” Miriam suggested.
She was not going to bring up the kiss. She was embarrassed that his best friend almost caught them and it would be best if she avoided it unless Jack brought it up. Then she would be more than happy to admit that the kiss caused her soack through her panties.
“Yeah, that's fine. Help yourself to anything in the mini fridge.” Jack nodded to the mini fridge as he kicked off his shoes.
Miriam nodded, but she didn’t take anything. She sat on the other side of the bed and took off her white calf-length MiuMiu boots. She sat a bit closer to Jack but not too close. He passed her the remote and she put in the channel for the movie.
The opening credits were barely beginning, so they hadn't missed much. As the movie progressed Jack and Miriam moved closer and closer to each other. They whispered among themselves their reactions to the movies. Miriam loved a gory movie but Ready or Not had real effects and it wasn't GCI like other movies. So when the families started exploding one by one she hugged Jack's arm and hid her face. She draped her legs over his lap. Jack held onto her knee as he flinched. The final credits rolled and they were still huddled together.
“Man, that was fucking insane.” Jack chuckled.
“I love that movie. It's such a fun movie. Plus Adam Brody is a plus. He really solidified my type in men.” Miriam said.
“Yeah, what's your type?” He asked out of curiosity.
“I like them funny.” She shrugged, maintaining eye contact with him as she sat on her knees.
“What else?” He leaned a bit closer.
“Having brown curly hair is a plus.” She added.
Jack hummed in response. He held her cheek and brought her closer to him, closing the space between them. Unlike the kiss in the hallway. This one was slow and carnal. Miriam climbed Jack's lap and deepened their kiss. He gripped her hips and guided them on his crotch. His hands wandered down to her ass and he pushed her skirt up to her waist, getting a better grasp on her ass.
Miriam pulled back and took off her top, staying in a simple t-shirt bra from Aerie. She kissed Jack a few times then unfastened it from the front. She let it fall off her shoulders. She leaned forward to kiss Jack once more but he put his hand in between them.
“This is a mistake.” He said.
Miriam's stomach dropped. “Oh.”
She scrambled off his lap and began grabbing her things. She haphazardly put on her bra and rushed out of his room, pushing past Urban as she rushed out of the suite.
“Wait, Miriam.” Jack called after her.
“Don't.” She said, wiping tears off her cheeks.
She pressed the elevator button, praying that it opened before Jack got to her. Jack tried to reach for her arm but she pushed his hand away.
“Don't fucking touch me.” She sneered.
He took a step back with his hands up in surrender. The elevator opened and she slid inside. As it closed she lifted her middle finger at him.
•••
@'justjared: Canadian pop star Shawn Mendes and Racing Louisville FC's brand new soccer player, the daughter of actress Isabela Miller and retired soccer player, Miriam Dominguez-Miller were spotted out and bought in New Jersey leaving Ciao Ristorante. The pair have been formerly linked in 2018 and were spotted galavanting all over the globe. They haven't been seen together since early 2019. The 24 year old soccer player has been formerly linked to NBA player Kaleob Young and singer Kehlani. Click in the 🔗 for more.
•••
When Miriam said her friend Shawn wanted her to do backup vocals, she was apparently talking about Shawn Mendes. Jack was not one to lurk, but after seeing the paparazzi pictures of Miriam and Shawn, he got curious and read any article about them that he could find. He mainly found some paparazzi pictures from 2018 and articles of wondering who Miriam was before some gossip pages wrote about how she was the forgotten child of Mateo and Isabela.
“Dude, you gotta let it go. You did it to yourself.” Urban said, taking Jack's phone. “Now pay attention to the game.”
They were at the Red Bull Arena watching Racing Louisville play against NJ/NY Gotham FC. Miriam didn't start but in the second half she was swapped in. She was on the field for five minutes and already had grass stains all over her uniform. Jack averted his eyes away from her ass and tried not to think about how two nights before he was squeezing over his dick.
He felt like shit. He didn't mean to say that it was a mistake but his mouth was faster than his brain. What he really meant was that he didn't want to have sex with Urban in the other room. Not because Urban would blab or anything, but he wanted Miriam all to himself. He wanted to be the only one to hear how she would come undone when he ate her out or how she would sound saying his name after three rounds. Jack cursed feeling his pants tighten around his crotch. He shifted in his seat and tried to pay attention to the game.
Racing Louisville won 1-0. Miriam had scored, surprising no one. What did get the crowd going was that she did the Dominating-Dominguez. A special move named after her dad that very few players could do. Messi tried once for shits and giggles but cramped up.
Jack tried looking for Miriam because she wouldn't answer his calls and left on-read. But fans kept approaching him for pictures. Security came and cleared up the area so Jack could leave. He saw Miriam on her phone with her siblings as he and Urban walked through the private hallway. He was about to approach her when Shawn Mendes swooped in.
“That didn't take long.” Larissa said from behind Jack.
“Hey,” he gave her a side hug, “I didn't see you in the field.”
“I rolled my ankle during conditioning.” She said.
“I'm sorry to hear that.” Jack said.
“Yeah, but that was yesterday's news. The real breaking news is Miriam and Shawn getting back together.” She said leaning against the wall.
“Back together?” He asked curiously.
“Yeah, they dated for almost a year. But Shawn dumped her ass for the whole PR thing with my girl Camila Cabello. Miriam was so devastated. I genuinely thought she was going to quit school and soccer but she went to Princeton for some summer program and came back good as new. Apparently they've been talking so I'm glad they're trying again. They make a cute couple, no?” Larissa asked.
“I guess.” He shrugged.
He watched as Shawn gave Miriam a bear hug then gave her siblings side hugs. Miriam then bid her siblings goodbye and approached Larissa.
“Hey.” She smiled at them.
Urban was closest to her so she hugged him first. She hesitated on how to greet Jack, but she decided to just go for the hug. He gave her a once over and walked away, nodding at Urban to follow him.
“Good game.” Urban said, giving Miriam a soft smile.
“Bye, Urban.” She returned the smile.
Urban jogged after Jack. Miriam couldn't hear what they bickered about, but she did hear that loud smack Urban gave Jack in the back of his neck.
“That was weird.” Larissa commented.
“I wouldn't know, you've known them longer.” Miriam shrugged.
“So tell me about Shawn.” She nudged Miriam's shoulder as they walked toward their sprinter van.
“What's there to talk about? I met up with him at the studio and recorded two demos. We went to lunch with his team and got papped.” Miriam shrugged.
“I thought you guys were getting back together.” She said.
Miriam made a face. “Oh god no. Plus what we had back then was nothing mote than friends with benefits, remember? He's a good collaborator. If I wanted to get into music, I'd hit him up.”
“Must be nice to have mommy and daddy pay for my things so I can make as many career choices as I want.” Larissa said sarcastically.
“I mean yeah, but who said I was? I'm just saying if. I have no actual plans. I'm committed to soccer.” Miriam frowned.
“I know I'm just playing.” She laughed, pushing Miriam's shoulder.
Miriam rolled her eyes and sat behind her. She pulled out her journal and her headphones. Teddy, Shawn's producer and songwriter, passed her some beats for her to use when they finished the studio session. She always encouraged Miriam to try out singing, but Miriam always said no.
She had a lot riding on her shoulders. She wanted to continue her dad's legacy. He's not pressuring her to do so, but she was the only one out of her siblings that wanted to play. The twins followed their mom's footsteps going into acting and modeling. She didn't want to throw off any balance by just pursuing music.
Miriam looked down at the new entry in her journal. ‘Platonik’ was scribbled at the top in her loopy writing. She crossed it off and shoved her journal deep in her backpack.
Soccer was her main focus. Nothing and no one was going to get in her way. Not even some Kentucky born rapper that she wished she hadn't caught feelings for.
#jack harlow#jack and miriam#jack and miriam: soccer edition#jack harlow smut#Jack harlow angst#jack harlow fanfic#Jack harlow imagine#jack harlow oneshot
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Prompt 21 - Run
@jegulus-microfic April 21, Word count 898
Previous part First part
James didn’t come back all day. Regulus paced the small living area, doing laps around the sofa. He didn’t even know why he’d freaked out. James’s parents weren’t his own and judging by what James had told him about them and James himself as proof, they were probably perfectly wonderful people. But he and James had only met a few days ago. Gah. He continued pacing.
Around dinnertime, Sirius and Remus returned with bags bulging with records and trinkets from the small touristy town. Remus took one look at Regulus’s limp and ordered him into bed.
“If you continue to overdo it. It will take a lot longer for your ankle to heal.” Regulus had grunted and stomped off to his dark bedroom, his ankle throbbing.
He threw himself on his bed and flicked through the films on his TV. Nothing caught his interest.
A soft knock woke him from a nap brought on by boredom.
“Hey, Reggie, feel like a chat?” Sirius asked gently.
“No,” Regulus said bluntly. But sighed straight after. “Yeah, okay.” He shuffled over on the bed to make room for Sirius and waited for his brother to begin talking.
“So you freaked out,” Sirius said. Regulus groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Yup.” Sirius reached over and patted him on the head. “You’ll be fine. James seems like a giant sweetheart and won’t have even thought about introducing you to his parents as anything but getting food.”
“Really?” Regulus looked up, hopefully.
“Why else would he have invited me and Remus, for that matter? Someone he’s barely interacted with. He’s just doing something nice.” Sirius patted his leg and left him to mull over his words.
It had been over 24 hours since he’d seen James. Sirius’s words had helped for a few hours, but he’d started spiralling as he overthought every little thing.
“Reggie, you ready? We’re going down to get drinks before dinner. Don’t be late.” Sirius called through the door when it was nearly time to go to the restaurant.
Regulus paced the floor at the end of his bed. He was trying to decide whether to go or not. He checked his phone. He was already late.
Quickly, he threw on the green shirt from yesterday that James had liked so much and hurried to the restaurant. He skidded through the door. A sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. He grabbed a napkin from the trolly and wiped his brow. He scanned the room, and his eyes landed on James.
James was laughing heartily with the rest of the table at something his dad had said. Taking a calming breath, Regulus walked the short distance to their table.
“Hi, sorry I’m late.” The beaming smile James gave him upon his arrival erased all the worry he’d felt since yesterday morning.
“Not at all, darling. Sit, sit, what do you want to drink?” Effie’s smile was just as warm as her son’s. She flagged down a waiter, and Regulus ordered a gin and tonic before slipping into the empty seat next to James.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” James said quietly to him.
“Sorry.” He murmured, pushing down his nerves and looking James in the eyes. “I’ve never met anyone’s parents before, and I sort of freaked out.” James’s face softened.
“Hate to break it to you, love. But I’m not that deep. You have to eat. We have to eat. I thought we could do it together, have a couple of drinks, and then go watch The Breakfast Club before bed.” Regulus snorted.
“I really overthought this, didn’t I?”
“Just a tad. But hey, I find it rather cute that you’re that worried about meeting my parents.” Regulus peaked at the Potter’s and let the small smile play across his lips. James’s dad was currently in a dramatic battle with Sirius over who could pull the silliest face, and Effie was chatting with Remus about his practice.
They ate their way through three delicious courses. Regulus found it oddly easy to talk to James’s parents. They were so warm it was hard not to get along with them.
“So, how did you two meet then?” Effie asked Sirius and Remus.
“Well,” Sirius replied with his winning smile. “When your son tried to turn Reggie here into a snowman, Remus was called to come and check his ankle out, and we met just as he was leaving.”
“Wait,” Effie said, confused. “I thought you said your practice was in London?” Remus nodded as he swallowed his last mouthful of chocolate tart.
“Oh, it is. But Molly at the front desk knew I was a doctor and asked if I’d have a look before I went to explore the shops. I wasn’t in any rush, so I had a look, and just as I was leaving, Sirius walked in.”
“Remind me to get Molly a gift before we leave,” Sirius told Remus, taking his hand and kissing the back of his hand.
While his parents were enraptured by Remus’s tale, James shuffled closer to Regulus.
“Shall we run away now?” James asked. Regulus’s eyes widened as he looked at the others and nodded at James. He let out a squeal of joy when James grabbed him up into his arms and ran out of the restaurant with him into the conveniently waiting lift.
Final part
#april 21#jegulus#jegulus microfic#jegulus fanfiction#jegulus fic#jegulus angst#jegulus au#regulus black#james potter#regulus arcturus black#james fleamont potter#sirius black#remus lupin#effie potter#monty potter#molly weasley#james x regulus#regulus x james#regulus and james#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#run
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Love
Derek Hale
It was quiet in the Hale house as Derek was in the kitchen getting dinner ready for when his family got home. He had the main dish in hand when he heard someone walk into the house after the door opened and closed.
"Dad?" Eli called out.
"Yeah?" Derek questioned. Eli walked through the kitchen door as he put the dish in the oven.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Derek turned to him as he spoke.
"How do you do it?"
"Do what?
"How are you and mom so in love still?" Derek smiled at this and gestured for Eli to follow him. They walked to the living room before Derek went to the bookshelf and pulled something off it. He had a brown leather book when he faced Eli.
"Before I give you this, let me tell you it takes a lot to keep a relationship together. No matter the kind you always need to work on it." He paced the book to him as he continued. "That's why me and your mom still go on dates or be silly in the house. Pillow fights are my favourite," A smile was on Derek's face the entire time he talked.
"That is because you always use your strength against me," Someone spoke from the door. "I love it when we dance no matter the time or weather." The person walked towards them. They both smiled at the individual.
"Mum!" "Y/n!" Derek and Eli called and she smiled at them.
"Are you two having fun?" Y/n asked when she noticed the book. "I see you have your father's journal."
"It's not going to have anything gross in it, right?" Eli pulled a face as he questioned them. "I don't want to read about what my parents get up to in their alone time." Both of them started laughing after he finished.
"Don't worry, you're safe to read it," Derek told him after he had stopped. Eli nodded, kissed his mother's cheek before he went on his way. Y/n watched him go then looked towards Derek, who held a hand out. "Care to dance my lady?"
"Always," They danced away until dinner was ready.
Derek was forever grateful that y/n had made her way into his life. He was going to hold on tight and not let go of her or Eli.
The end.
~~~~~~~~~~~
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i'll love you forever
pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader
summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.
genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating
warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon
word count: 21,858
playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))
author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.
to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.
In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this.
In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents.
Or to you.
Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!”
Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come.
Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?
When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.”
And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay.
The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.”
Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head.
Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies.
For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches.
“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.
The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes.
His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you.
There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you.
Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking.
Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments.
Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out.
This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle.
It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony.
But the night was missing its usual comforts.
It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years.
Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat.
The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.
“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper.
Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.”
A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs.
“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.”
Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live.
“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows.
It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears.
“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.”
“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?”
With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her.
“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping.
Sunghoon cries again.
Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him.
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word.
Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.”
There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.
Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.
“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?”
“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.
As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him.
“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.
He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?”
“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?”
“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him.
As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.
Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way.
Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask.
Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.”
His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.”
“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”
You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor.
He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you?
Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set.
When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away.
The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been.
For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same.
Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks.
He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear.
“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.”
“You will?”
“Yes. Goodbye.”
Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all.
A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay.
With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods.
In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home.
“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw.
“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.”
These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.
He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”
You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking.
Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine.
He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles.
“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?”
A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.”
The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads.
You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”
Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”
An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.”
The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting.
“From here?” he asks, incredulous.
“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.”
Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper.
“Open the boot.”
He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what.
You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”
Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move.
You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.”
For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other.
Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours.
With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again.
Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed.
He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace.
Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not.
It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it.
While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since.
Until tonight at least.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying.
“What happened?”
You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck.
For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough.
“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”
A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room.
Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down.
Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room.
For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding.
“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn.
“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.”
You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?”
His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed.
Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly.
The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet.
As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch.
After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.
You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs.
Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”
Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.”
“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”
“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?”
A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?”
“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it.
A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.”
As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway.
“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.
Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.”
If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction.
“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”
At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.
“You two okay back there?” she asks.
“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes.
The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs.
“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea.
His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.
Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping.
His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush.
Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.
After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used.
“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.”
Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry.
His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it.
Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt.
“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.
Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally.
“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.”
Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.
“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?”
Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for.
Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?”
Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“What for?”
“Everything.”
There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.”
Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed.
“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.”
“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?”
“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”
“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?”
Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.”
Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak.
“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?”
You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you.
“I didn’t.”
He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t.
Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.
“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff.
“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.
“Nowhere.”
“You told him you were staying on campus?”
“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out.
“So you just left?”
“Does it make a difference to you?”
Sunghoon nods.
For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”
Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront.
“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?”
You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”
He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.”
“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him.
“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.”
You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”
“I still should’ve been there.”
“You’re here now, right?”
Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.”
Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing.
“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.
Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.”
You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat.
Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents.
For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do.
You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.”
“What?”
You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”
In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now.
About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing.
He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother.
“What’s this for?” she asks.
“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince.
An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family.
The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you.
His chest tightens when you start crying.
“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.”
Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.
In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.
Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan.
Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer.
You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak.
“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush.
You don’t respond.
Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.”
“But you’re so pretty,” you coo.
There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks.
“Go back to sleep,” he says.
“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves.
Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.”
You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot.
“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head.
He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave?
The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.
It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.
“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again. “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.”
Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point.
You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning.
The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing.
“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.”
All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it.
“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.”
It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.
“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.”
It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart.
Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead.
It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.
Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely.
You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.
He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair.
Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?”
The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them.
“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.
“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.
Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.”
“Yeah, me too.”
You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”
Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down.
True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.
YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it?
hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer
hoonie: I missed you so much..
hoonie: 🤍
The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you.
“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt.
“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too.
She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.”
“The longest of my life.”
Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her.
During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her.
“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work.
Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.”
“Don’t touch him.”
“Oh?”
“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.”
“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.”
“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”
Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.
You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind.
When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.
you: sounds good, see u later 🤍
After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.
You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand.
hoonie: Do you want to head to class together?
you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you?
hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D
Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.
“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him.
Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.”
“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides.
He hums, nodding his head.
You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day.
“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.”
“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?”
Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.”
He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.
“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?”
A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.”
“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.”
“Deal.”
Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.
At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.
Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard.
During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.
“How are your notes so good?”
“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.”
A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles.
Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..
There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin.
You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.
After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs.
To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.
Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.
Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence.
“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.”
“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?”
Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose.
“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.”
You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.”
Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices.
It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.
“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.”
Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”
“Yes. It’s three a.m.”
“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”
“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.”
You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed.
Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?”
You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”
“You seem fine to me.”
A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way.
From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?”
“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”
At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed.
“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door.
Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing.
“Tell me.”
Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.”
Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm.
Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think.
It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?
Yeonjun did.
Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring.
Oh, you think. Lovesickness.
When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges.
You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk.
You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours.
There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world.
You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate.
“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat.
“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.”
Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon.
“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.”
A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.
“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.”
Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest.
“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”
That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it.
This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.”
You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say.
At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.
You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.
It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon.
you: i have news wonie.. i like sunghoon
wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news?
wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call?
She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call.
“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear.
“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day.
Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?”
“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.”
A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.”
“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.”
Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up.
Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm.
She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.
hoonie: Wanna study together after class?
you: of course!!!!!!
hoonie: 🤍
The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.
you: class just finished, heading to lib rn
hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table?
you: i’ll try..
It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view.
Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table.
“Are you hot?” you blurt out.
Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.
“I’m asking,” you mumble.
“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.”
Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.”
He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.
“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.
Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”
You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference.
You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up.
After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”
“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.”
He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.”
“You’re distracting.”
A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?”
Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel.
Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head.
“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?”
Oh.
Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.”
His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.
“Are you going to get that?”
Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.
“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.”
“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too.
After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought.
Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table.
What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on.
The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set.
“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.”
“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?”
Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.”
“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy.
A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in.
Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are?
You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon.
Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink.
On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor.
Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.”
The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation.
“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.”
Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it.
“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better.
The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet.
Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.
Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on.
“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.
“I want to.”
His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away.
“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.”
You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.”
Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.”
You nod.
“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.”
Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles.
“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it.
Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you.
You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling.
Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.
Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one.
You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence.
It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”
Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.
Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you.
Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter.
Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.
“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart.
Sunghoon nods. “For closure.”
A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting.
One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.
Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite.
The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.
Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger.
Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you.
With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you.
Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.
Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.”
You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight.
It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under.
You love him. He’s gone.
Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on.
Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing.
Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands.
“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you.
“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him.
You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.”
The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.
“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.
“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”
An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.
“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs.
“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.
You nod. “So much.”
Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?”
Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.”
“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it.
“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely.
You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.”
“Please can I be your boyfriend?”
In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.
He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest.
The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️
This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!
When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants.
Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t.
hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?
you: mm..
you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!
hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?
you: i love it………….
hoonie: My girl 🤍
Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.
you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
hoonie: Thx 😁
hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈
you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.
Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back.
The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?”
You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.”
“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”
“A good something?”
“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.”
Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage.
He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.”
In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?”
You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly.
“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done.
He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too.
“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.”
“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies.
Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.
“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over.
“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.”
Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent.
“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond.
You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.
Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.
Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I just want to be good for you.”
“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods.
He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot.
“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.”
You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.
“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.”
Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down.
Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.
Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can.
Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.
“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.
He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”
Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock.
A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.
Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest.
“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest.
Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”
He hums in affirmation, nodding his head.
“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise.
“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.”
It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.
“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours.
You nod. “You can.”
Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you.
What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit.
“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings.
You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt.
“And this? If you want..”
You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you.
Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats.
Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.
Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.
It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly.
Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.”
“Don’t want to hurt you.”
Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them.
“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.
Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage.
A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?”
“Hoon,” you whisper.
“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?”
You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.”
Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble.
He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls.
Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.
You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.
“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.”
Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.
Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under.
You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth.
After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition.
The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back.
“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”
mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma
Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes.
Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back.
you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap
mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!
you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..
you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot
you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life
© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !
permanent taglist: @asahicore
#sunghoon smut#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen scenarios#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon smut#park sunghoon x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshots#sunghoon oneshots#sunghoon imagines#enhypen hard hours#fic.sunghoon
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fever dream | sebastian vettel
part 2 part 3
warnings: toxic soon to be ex husband who cheats on reader (if i miss anything, let me know!!)
update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading!! you can read it here!
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liked by lewishamilton, yoursistersaccount and 24 others
yourusername a short trip back home 🤍
lewishamilton enjoy it!
yourusername thanks lew! miss you and roscoe 🤍
lewishamilton roscoe and i miss you more
yoursistersaccount it’s great to have you home
yourusername 🤍 love you
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“luke, alison! your aunt y/n is here!” your sister yelled as she opened the door to her home. in a matter of seconds, loud footsteps were heard running down the stairs. “no running!”
but still the kids didn’t listen, they were excited to see their aunt. “hey, my babies! oh my god, you two have grown so much. stop growing!” you hugged your niece and nephew.
“i’m almost as tall as mom!” alison, the younger sister, said.
“liar, that’s just what dad says to make you feel better. i’m going to grow more than you and then i’ll be taller than you.” luke teased.
“you both can be tall, but never as tall as me.” you joked as you placed a kiss on their cheeks.
“are you going to stay with us forever?” alison asked innocently. “dad said that you don’t want to stay with your husband anymore and you’re going to stay with us.”
“alison!”
the truth was hard for little kids to understand. yes, you were going to stay with your sister for a few days and yes, you didn’t want to stay with your husband anymore, but it was a bit more complicated than that. your husband had cheated, lied, manipulated you and you had enough. he was the reason you couldn’t come back to the sport you loved and worked your whole life for.
“well i am going to be staying here, but not forever. i just needed a break from him, it’s normal.” you tried to explain to the girl.
“but my mom and dad don’t take breaks?”
“alison, just go to your room, you too luke, please. dinner is going to be ready in an hour.” your sister said, feeling embarrassed that alison would ask those questions.
“what did i do?” the older boy whines as he and his sister walked up to their rooms.
“i’m sorry. i spoke to jack the night you called. we were cleaning up the table after dinner, i assume she heard.” your sister explained.
“it’s okay, they’ll understand when they’re older. not everyone is cut out to be loved . . .”
or a mother.
only a few people had known about your issues with infertility, your sister and lewis being two of them. after you retired from f1, you were sure that in a couple months, you were going to be busy with doctor’s appointments, buying baby clothes and building a crib, but none of that happened. after a year of trying, you were convinced you weren’t meant to be a mom.
you thought about returning to the track, after all many drivers returned after saying they were retiring, why couldn’t you? but that plan was spoiled by the man you thought loved you.
“you can’t go back, you don’t belong there. it’s a man’s sport. you’re probably going to crash in the first lap anyways.”
you didn’t know why you stayed with him, but you did. maybe it was the promises he kept telling you about or the hopefulness that one day you would become parents and maybe he would change. but again, none of that happened.
“um, i have to call someone. i’ll be right back. excuse me.” you told your sister as you walked to the patio door and exited the house. without hesitating, you clicked on a familiar contact. you held your phone against your ear and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. it felt like forever, but eventually they picked up the call.
“hello?”
#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#sebastian vettel instagram au#sebastian vettel fluff#sebastian vettel x reader#sebastian vettel imagine#sv5#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel one shot#f1 smau#sebastian vettel smau
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pierced. pt. 8 | spencer reid.
When you told Spencer you loved him, he didn't know how to react. JJ helped him see what he was missing... but what if he never got to tell you himself?
you can find the other parts on my masterlist.
cw: fem!reader, angst, guns, criminal minds shiii, mentions of murder, being shot, etc.
a/n: re-upload cus i was unhappy with the previous one >:(
You and Spencer had been together for seven months.
Seven months of impromptu late night visits to your apartment when he got back from trips, watching his favourite documentaries while he talked the whole way through them, your surprise visits to the bureau with a box of pastries, seven months of proving to Spencer that he was worth every ounce of happiness he felt.
Spencer didn’t believe in miracles or signs, but just your pure existence was enough for him to ponder such things. You understood him, you were patient with him and his demanding work, you were kind to him and let him ramble about whatever was on his mind, even if it took him far too long to get to the point. You never got angry with him when he shut down or had a hard time verbally communicating his problems, you were just there and that was enough.
You knew you loved Spencer, it was hard not to. You knew how Spencer felt about the ‘chemical and hormonal reactions of affection’, if anything it made you love him more, how technical and literal he was about virtually everything. You loved him nonetheless and you knew you wanted to tell him, even if you would never hear it back or you would be met with an analysis of why you felt ‘love’ for him. How it was all technically just your vast attraction and affection towards him and the bond you’d created. You’d roll your eyes and tell him you loved him anyway.
“You got your keys?” You called from the bathroom as you combed your hair.
Spencer had slept over once again. He basically lived with you, many of his clothes and books were packed into your cupboards and shelves, some pairs of his shoes sitting in the bottom of the closet next to yours. He even spent time going over case files while you were still at work, making sure to feed Tofu and have dinner ready for you. You had fallen into a domestic routine and you knew how much Spencer liked routine.
“Yeah, what time will you be home?” Spencer called back from the living room, gathering case files and books into his satchel.
“Maybe five? I have an early finish,” you replied, leaning close to the mirror to comb mascara through your lashes. You heard Spencer’s footsteps nearing as he approached you in your ensuite, pulling the door open to kiss you goodbye.
“Okay, I just have paperwork to do today, maybe we can go out for dinner tonight?” He suggested, leaning his head against the doorframe.
“Sounds perfect, Spence,” you smiled.
“Okay,” he grinned, “I’ll see you tonight. Call me before you leave?”
“Yup, I will,” you turned to look at him. Spencer leaned down to kiss your cheek.
“Okay, angel,” he smiled, turning to leave your bedroom. “Bye!”
“I love you!” you called out, grinning at yourself in the mirror when you heard his footsteps come to an abrupt stop. You knew he hesitated for a moment before the footsteps continued and your apartment door latched closed.
Spencer wasn’t one for proclamations of love, cringing at the scenes in rom coms before over analysing every detail. You would always remind him that it was just a movie, and that it’s nice to tell people you love them. Spencer always dismissed the idea, but you weren’t going to sway on telling him you loved him, you felt like he needed to know that someone loved him and that in a room full of people, he’s the only one you would look for.
You weren’t offended when he didn’t say it back or come running back into the bathroom to confirm what you said. If anything, you expected it. You just wanted him to know how you felt.
Spencer drove in silence, both hands gripping the wheel as he replayed your confession in his head. Sure, his parents had told him they loved him when he was a young kid, but Spencer knew it was because of maternal and paternal instincts. But you. You loved him because you knew him, because you understood him, learned his flaws and loved him anyway.
He walked into the bullpen in his own little bubble, barely registering that other people had greeted him as he made a beeline for his JJ’s office. Spencer shoved the door open, startling JJ who was on the phone to Will.
“Spencer? What- Hold on,” JJ said.
“Y/N told me she loved me,” Spencer almost yelled, his hands gripping the strap of his satchel.
JJ stared at him for a moment before bringing the phone back to her ear, “Hey, Will. I’ll call you back, okay?” She hung up the phone, turning her attention to Spencer, “...what’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t know! I just- I didn’t expect it, and I’m not sure how I feel or if she’s mad because I didn’t even say it back and I don’t even know if I should say it back-” he rambled, pulling a chair out to sit at JJ’s desk.
“Do you love her?” JJ asked, eyes narrowing at Spencer who seemed entirely too worked up.
“What?” Spencer asked.
“Do you love her?” JJ repeated. Spencer opened his mouth and JJ held up her hand, knowing he was going to ask an overly analytical question, “When I ask if you love her, I mean do you miss her when she’s not around? Or do you get excited when you see her? Do you look forward to seeing her at the end of the day?”
Spencer stared at her a moment, thinking about it, “I do… But feeling affection toward someone you care about is entirely normal-”
“What you feel is love, Spence,” JJ replied. “It’s probably something new to you but you don’t have to fight it.”
“I’m not fighting it,” Spencer retorted, “I’m thinking about it factually-”
“You’re fighting it,” JJ said blankly. “You’re probably afraid to lose her, afraid that it’ll all go wrong somehow just because you say you love her… In my opinion, it’s important to remind the people you hold close that you do love them, before it’s too late to tell them at all.”
Spencer didn’t say anything as he thought about it, his lips forming a tight line.
“Loving her looks like it comes naturally to you,” JJ said honestly.
Spencer spent the rest of the morning thinking about it, thinking about you and how irrational he felt when it came to you. He wanted to make you happy, wanted you to be proud of him. He wouldn’t care if he had no one else as long as he had you.
The case they were working on was local to the area. Spencer didn’t anticipate working on a case at all, no one did, but after Hotch called them in, they realised they had little time to act. Three women had been abducted over a week, all turning up dead within 24 hours. The most recent victim they were looking for had maybe 12 hours before she would be found the same way.
They worked the case all day, Spencer and Rossi stayed behind to set up a geographical profile while Emily, Hotch and Morgan visited the morgue to establish victimology. It helped Spencer take his mind off the guilt of not returning your confession. He knew he was definitely thinking about it more than you were, it’s the type of person you were. You were honest and you were never ashamed of your feelings, he always wished he could be like that.
By the four hour mark, Spencer and Rossi were sure they had established the UnSub’s comfort zone and with help from Garcia, they had found where he was keeping the last victim.
It all moved so fast from there.
The house was secluded, a large shed in the back and surrounded by mostly forest. Hotch sent JJ, Morgan and Spencer to cover the shed while he stayed back with Rossi and Emily to cover the house. Spencer held his gun close as he rounded the shed, searching for a way in. He suddenly thought of you and he didn’t know why.
Spencer heard the victim before he saw her. He called for JJ the moment he saw her hunched in the corner, duct tape over her mouth and her wrists and ankles bound. Spencer put his gun away, gently peeling the duct tape from her mouth.
“You’re okay,” Spencer said, peeling the tape from her ankles.
The girl began crying, “thank you,” she hiccuped, tears streaming down her bruised face, “thank you.”
“We found her,” JJ said into her mic, putting her gun away as she helped the girl to her feet. “Where’s the UnSub?”
“I don’t know,” Spencer muttered, wracking his brain.
They walked outside, Spencer helping hold the girl up as she stumbled on her weak legs. Morgan jogged over to them, “Where the hell is he?”
“Help Hotch and Rossi,” JJ suggested.
Spencer frowned as he looked around, “he could very well be watching us-”
Spencer felt the pang against his abdomen before he heard the gunshot. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, a splitting pain surging through his body from his right side. He heard the victim scream, JJ diving to the ground with her.
His chest felt heavy, like a weight had been dropped on him. He blindly reached his left hand down, feeling the warmth oozing from his abdomen, not the best place to be shot. He lifted his hand, crimson blood covering his skin. His ears were ringing, he couldn’t hear, could barely see. All he could think about was you. You, you, you.
“Spencer!” JJ yelled, crawling to his side, “oh my god.”
“We need an ambulance!” Morgan exclaimed. Two of the local officers escorted the UnSub out of the house in handcuffs.
Spencer looked up at JJ, her hair hanging down in front of his face, blocking the bright sun, “Can-Can you do me a favour?” His voice was weak, every word hurting his chest as he spoke.
“Just- shit! Hang on a minute!” JJ pressed her hands against the wound, Morgan falling to her side to press his over shirt against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Can you tell- Can you please tell Y/N I love her,” Spencer muttered out, breathing heavily.
“You can tell her yourself, kid,” Morgan replied, his hands covered in Spencer’s blood. After that, Spencer felt himself growing more and more tired, his eyes falling closed as JJ and Morgan yelled for him to stay awake. He couldn’t do it, he was so tired, he just needed to shut his eyes. Just for a minute.
You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders when you told Spencer how you felt. It was always important to you that the people you cared for knew how much you appreciate them, Spencer was no exception. But you knew Spencer probably wouldn’t say it back, at least not right away, and you were okay with that. You were sure he would come around eventually. Eventually was good enough for you.
You sat at your desk for most of the day, only getting up to refill your mug or get on the ass of one of your coworkers who hadn’t submitted their project yet. You hadn’t heard from Spencer all day, which upset you a little given that Spencer was always calling or texting you about something. You understood it probably had something to do with your love confession.
By the time five o’clock had rolled around, you still hadn’t heard from Spencer. So you decided to call him. Your phone rang for a short while before you heard his voicemail, you assumed he was probably still busy with work.
“Hey, Spence. I’m on my way home now… Call me when you can,” you said before hanging up. You leaned against the elevator wall, wondering if maybe you frightened him a little too much.
As if on cue, Penelope’s name blinked across your screen, you answered the call, “Hey Pen-”
She sounded frantic, “Y/N, thank god! Y/N, Spencer’s in the hospital-”
“What?!” You stood bolt upright, your hand death gripping your phone.
“He was shot! We-We were working a case and he was just-”
“Where is he?” You ran as soon as the elevator dinged open, fumbling for your keys in your purse as you ran to the car garage.
“We’re at the hospital, he’s in surgery and I-”
“Send me the address, I’m coming now.”
You weren’t sure how you didn’t get pulled over with how fast you were driving. You couldn’t think straight, all you had on your mind was Spencer. You pulled into the closest car park outside the ER, not even bothering to check if you were supposed to pay or not.
You bolted inside, your heart in your throat the moment you saw everyone sitting in the waiting room. Hotch was pacing back and forth and Penelope looked like she had been crying. You didn’t even realise it but you had been crying too, hot tears streaming down your face. Penelope saw you first, darting up from her seat to meet you halfway.
“You’re here,” she muttered into your hair, holding you tight.
“W-What happened?” Was all you managed to get out.
“We were tracking an UnSub and we found one of the victims on his property and he just- he shot him. I don’t even-” Penelope let out a deep breath.
“Fuck,” you breathed, feeling as more tears began streaming down your face, ruining your makeup.
“Y/N…” JJ came to hug you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You held JJ for a moment as you cried, sniffling into your hand.
“Where is he?” You asked as JJ pulled away.
“He’s in surgery,” JJ replied, guiding you over to sit down with the rest of the team. You felt numb as you sat down next to Emily, your hands held tight in your lap. JJ was talking to you but you couldn’t hear her, you couldn’t hear anything. Emily rubbed your back, letting you cry softly as she comforted you.
It was hours before you heard anything. You had cried so much that it made you exhausted, falling asleep against Emily. Rossi draped his coat over you, letting you rest until the surgeon came out to the waiting room. Emily gently shook your shoulder and you shot up once you noticed the surgeon.
“He’s okay.”
You felt like the weight of the world lifted off you.
“Can I see him?” You asked.
“He’s on a lot of pain medication-”
“Please,” you sounded pained.
“Of course,” the surgeon said, “he might be out of it for a few days, but for now he’s stable.”
One of the nurses guided you to his room as the surgeon briefed the rest of the team on Spencer’s condition. You would ask JJ to give you the details later, all you wanted right now was to see Spencer, hold his hand, just be with him.
Your heart squeezed when you saw him, cords hanging around him everywhere, an IV in his arm and his eyes closed. He would have looked like he was peacefully asleep if it weren’t for the beeping, the needle in his arm, the sterile smell of the hospital ward and the thin tube under his nose.
You pulled a chair next to him, sitting down by his bedside and reaching for his hand. His hand was still warm despite the coldness around him. You let out a sigh of relief, bringing his hand to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckle.
No one could get you to move after that. Penelope and Morgan tried to get you to come get food with them, Hotch and Rossi both offered to drive you home so you could get some sleep. You refused. You couldn’t leave him, not now. Not when he needed you.
a/n: i'm a degenerate when it comes to mgg
taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black @dreamsarebig @anuncalledbridge @fioletowelowe @ladylincoln @spencereidsgf420 @bollzinurmouth @scarlettssub @ipseitydelrey @donttrustlove @mcntsee @ruziazyn @valinherfantasyworld @khxna @maybe-not-this @shardsofmarxx @danadinosaur3 @justsarahbella @ah-blossom @lorelaireid @btskzfav @reidsdoll @pinkpantheris @violetvsworld @readergf @pangirl-fangirl @emideadpoets @blackbeautyiloveyouso @feyresqueen
#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#cm spencer#dr reid#x reader#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x reader angst#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#penelope garcia#derek morgan#david rossi#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#aaron hotchner
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~That you weren't mine~
MINORS DNI !!
One bed trope- enemies to lovers- forced proximity?
Anyways- lesbian smut-fingering- reader is in charge for my domming w/w out there
Also- don't come at me, I haven't written smut in a PHAT minute so ya'll 🫣
You and Kit had practically been enemies since you were five. You loathed each other for some reason that now, as you grew older couldn’t remember. You would have gotten over it if kit weren’t the cockiest princess known to mankind.
She was a great swordsman which only added onto her giant list of reason why she believed she was the best-person-ever-who-literally-had-soooo-much-talent. You hated every time your parents forced you to go visit her kingdom for “diplomatic appearances” to prove that both kingdoms were friends.
And every time you were with Kit, she somehow managed to send you back home in a fury, fists clenched with the annoyance and frustration of her remarks.
So it wasn’t really all that different when you went to visit for the who knows now many time. You both however, managed to get through dinner without a single squabble that both sets of parents had begun to believe that your childish antics were finally coming to an end.
Their wishes had lasted for only so long, that as when you both exited the dining hall, the spell of your silence had broken. Kit managed to start it this time, asking with a snarky tone how your search for a suitor was going, somehow managing to add in that you were a intolerbable troll and oh- who would ever want to marry you?
You bit back saying that her head was so far up her ass that her ego was so much larger an all of the men’s egos combined from both yours nd her kingdoms. Jade howeverr, finally had enough od the arguing between you both- a migraine that always seemed to return every time you two got together. So- Jade came up with an idea- one that she believed to be great.
That night, when you were getting ready for bed, Kit opened your door, slightly confused to find you already in there.
“What do you want?” You sighed, rolling your eyes.
“I-um,” Kit began “um- Jade told me one of the maids accidentally set my bed on fire and that this room would be available for me to sleep in,”
She couldn’t concetrate on her words, her eyes falling towards your slightly unbuttoned shirt that you were clearly in the middle of putting on.
“Well this is my room. I'm staying here for the night. You can go find another room,” you spat.
Kit made a face before turning to open the door to leave, only to find that it was locked. “Well shit”
“Well shit what?” You asked, joining her side as you tried the door only to find that it was locked. You frowned “the door must have gotten stuck. I call the bed, you can sleep on the floor for all I care.”
Kit gasped at your words “no way am I sleeping on the floor. You can!”
You turned around before poking a finger at her chest “Kit, I am your guest here. I sleep in the damn bed,”
You went to lay down on the bed, proving your point. Kit watched you for a moment, as you snuggled yourself in the middle of the bed, a smirk on your face. Kit only rolled her eyes and laid down next to you, her small spot on the edge of the bed. You frowned in disgust.
“What are you doing?” You snapped.
“I’m laying down,” Kit replied before digging her elbow into your ribs for you to move over “move over, I wont be able to sleep with such little room.”
“This is my bed, im not moving,” you crossed your arms
“Technically- I own this bed, I own everything in this castle. Move over or I’ll have to sleep on top of you.”
“I’m not moving, Kit.” you frowned “You were the one who decided to bother me in my room and now you are stuck in here. Whose fault is that?”
Kit didn’t respond. Instead, she rolled over to where she was onto of you. Her legs were straddling the sides of your body while her face hovered over yours. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw her eyes drift down to your lips before bouncing back up to your eyes. She gave you a lazy smile.
“I guess this is going to have to do since you wont move over.”
“Get off of me!” you tried to shove her off, but her hands were planted on either side of your head, keeping her upright. you felt your heart race at how close kit was to you, how she was practically onto of you. Your skin warmed at the feeling and you tried to move your legs.
“You may hate me,” Kit leaned down, whispering in your ear as her warm breath brushed against your neck “but I believe your body thinks differently.”
You parted your lips trying to form a sentence but your body was too overwhelmed. The warmth of her breath on your neck seemed to have made your brain short circuit. The only thing that came out of your mouth was a shuddering breath.
You felt Kit smirk against your ear before she leaned down and kissed your neck. there was nothing that you could do with her body onto of yours- not that you wanted to do anything. Your body was filled with a warmth from where her lips had touched your skin. Kit continued to make her way down your neck, stopping to leave a little mark above your collar bone.
A involuntary groan left your lips, body falling limp in the bed as you eyes fluttered for a moment. In that moment, you couldn’t remember why you had hated her so much, you could only think about how good her lips felt on you.
“Kit,” you panted, hesitantly reaching up to grasp at her hair.
“Are you sure you still hate me?’ Kit mumbled against your skin.
“I…I dont think I ever did,” you responded as you pushed her off of you and rolled onto of her.
Being on top of kit was a sight that you even thought you’d see. But you spent a few seconds marveling at how her flushed face looked against the pillow, her short locks splayed around her head. You shifted yourself on her, trying to fix your legs when your hips brushed against hers. Kit let out a sigh, eyelids almost drooping shut from the feeling.
You cupped the sides of her face and kissed her gently, only for kit to grasp at your hips and kiss you back more passioanlty. It seemed as if she had been wanting to kiss you for such a long time- all of her thoughts and feelings had been conveyed into the kiss, groaning as you ran your teeth along her bottom lip.
You quickly moved to kiss her neck as kit bit down on her lip, noises threatening to spill past her lips. A loud sigh left her as you found the sensitive spot on her neck. You stayed in that spot, running your teeth over the area before licking it to soothe the pain. While you did that, you slowly traced your fingers up kit’s arm. She shuddered from your touch.
“Do you like that?” You whispered against her skin.
Kit could only nod, biting down on her lip before a whimper escaped. You smiled at the mess that you had managed to reduce her to. You moved your hand up to her face before you looked up at her.
“I need to hear you say it, Kit.”
She nodded, trying to summon the willpower to speak. Her body was too overwhelmed from your touch and she felt like she was dreaming again. Ever since you had arrived to her kingdom after years of being apart, kits eyes had never left you.
You can come back stronger and more dignified than you were the last time she had seen you but then you both had only been kids. Now, not had you only grown to be more breath taking- but there was something about your maturing personality that drew her in and kept her hooked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
I kissed at her lips as my fingers hovered over her waistband “is this okay?”
“Ye-yeah, yes, please”
You shuddered at how desperate she became, the begging in her voice forced a soft moan out of you. you moved yourself off of her. With her permission, you ran your fingers down her pants and between her thighs, teasingly touching her. Kit bit her lip as her head fell back against the pillows. Her breathing was becoming short and messy with the desperation to feel you.
Her hips chased your touch, a moan rolling past her lips. You giggled from the sound she made before pressing a finger too her lips.
“Shh,” you breathed against her mouth “can’t have anyone hearing us.”
You slid a hand over her mouth, using that as a shield from the sounds you so deseralty wanted o hear. But something turned you on with the risk of being heard, with the forcefulness of having her moan into your hand sent something stirring inside of you.
You dragged your pointer finger along her cunt. Kit arched her back, eyes practically rolling to the back of her head when you slowly inserted them into her wet pussy, half finished moans being spat into your hand. you moved your thumb along the top of her clit, seeking to create a wave of pleasure rolling through her. While you covered her mouth with one hand and the other in her pants, you leaned over to kiss at her neck, finding the same sensitive spot as before, running your teeth over it.
She withered underneath you, bucking her hips to create the friction that you were teasingly building up with a slow pace. Kit whined your name into your hand, practically begging for you to speed up.
Once you did, she let out a shuddering moan. Her hands were in your hair, pulling softly at the roots in an attempt to ground herself from the stinging pleasure building up inside of her.
“You’re doing so good,” you praised, eyes rolling over her body and the messy state she was in as you pulled away from her. Your fingers sped up, kit’s hips rolling to meet the same pace and you could tell by the rapid breathing and frequent noises that she was getting close.
Kit said something against your hand and you moved it away from her mouth.
“I-i think I’m-“ she gasped, cut off by a groan.
You could feel her clench around your fingers as you leaned in to kiss her lips once more before whispering “come for me, baby”
You forgot to put your hand back over her mouth, letting kit moan loudly as she came, her body sagging with relief as you kissed her forehead.
“You did so good,” you whispered giants her neck.
Her breathing slowly came back to a normal pace, her hair wild and clung to the sides of her face damp with sweat. Kit reached up to kiss you, lips warm and swollen.
“I never hated you” kit whispered “I hated how I couldn’t have you.”
“Well now you do,” you whispered back, stroking back a strand of her hair.
#hazel callahan#kit tanthalos#hazel callahan x you#kit tanthalos x reader#willow series#willow 2022#lesbian#wlw#wlw smut#hazel callahan x reader#ruby cruz#dom!reader
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Okay okay. Luke x a daughter of Dionysus. I’m just obsessed with the idea of Luke, the king of godly daddy issues, and a girl who is close to her godly parent and physically cannot understand where he’s coming from because she loves her dad! He’s always been there because he’s in charge of camp. Just the dichotomy of these complete opposites being in love.
ℐ 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
A/n- I love this! Sorry it took me a few days to finish this ):
warnings- some angst, nothing else really.
“Do I look okay?” He asked, adjusting his suit that one of his siblings lended him. He looked in the mirror, and you smiled at him, looking up and coming up behind him, wrapping an arm around him. He was beyond nervous.
“You look perfect. Don’t worry about it too much. He’ll be too drunk by the end of the night anyways.” You mumbled, he laughed quietly, turning around and looking at you up and down in your dress.
“You look gorgeous.” He said to you, giving you a kiss, his hands cupping your cheeks.
Your dad had set up a nice dinner at a nice restaurant outside of the camp. He had just learnt of you both dating, and he was mad at first, but it stopped after a while.
He had booked this dinner mostly for himself, of course. But you and Luke were invited, and Dionysus secretly hoped to get to know more about the boy.
“Hurry up, lovebirds.” Your dad rapped on your cabin door, tone laced with annoyance. You giggled and rolled your eyes.
“You ready?” You asked him, holding your bag. He nodded, linking his arm with yours. He straightened his back as you opened the door.
“Hi, daddy.” You said.
“Finally. What took you guys so long?” He was dressed in a tropical styled shirt, some shorts, his hair was disheveled. His usual. You both suddenly felt over dressed.
“I was getting ready. You know-“
“Yes, yes I know.” He waved it off, and he looked at Luke.
“Luke.” He nodded to him.
“Sir.”
“Don’t call me that. Gods that makes me feel old.” He rolled his eyes, and Luke just nodded. You were led to a car, a car that you didn’t even know your dad had.
You both sat in the back, it was awkwardly silent.
“How long have you guys been dating, again?” He asked suddenly. You sighed.
“Almost a year.” You said, slightly upset he didn’t remember.
He just nodded, and it was silent the rest of the drive. Once the car had stopped, Luke was out of the car and opening up your door for you. Your dad mentally noted it.
Luke grabbed your hand, holding it as you smiled at him. He gave you a small smile back.
The server led you to the tables, a table ready. Luke sat next to you, and so did your dad. You were stuck in the middle of them.
Your dad, obviously ordered the best wine his money could buy for himself. You got your favorite drink, and Luke, he just ordered a Dr. pepper.
Your dad took a sip as soon as it came, processing how it tasted.
“Garbage.” He mumbled to himself, settling into the chair he sat in.
You and Luke glanced at each other. “What?” Dionysus asked, noticing your glances.
“Nothing, dad.” You took a sip of your own drink, he just ignored it for now.
“So, uh, what do you like about my daughter?” He asked, his cup in hand, leaning back in his chair. He was testing Luke.
Okay, hitting him with the hard questions first.
“Everything.” He said simply, and it was the truth.
He narrowed his eyes, you swallowed, “daddy, don’t.” You sighed.
“What? I’m just looking out for you.”
You loved your dad, of course you did. But he was very, very overprotective. He’s kicked guys out of camp because they tried to hit on you when you didn’t like it, he’s threatened others.
This was going to be a longggg dinner.
❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎
He took off his shoes, entering the cabin again. Quickly, he shoved off his suit and tie, leaving him shirtless.
“I’m gonna change, okay?” You told him quietly, he nodded and sat at the foot of your bed. When you entered the bathroom, he sighed heavily, burying his face into his hands.
He felt terrible, he was jealous the whole night. He was jealous of you. You and your dads perfect relationship, he wanted that.
But you were an only child, and he was a Hermes kid. The child of the God with the most kids.
You were so close with him, it hurt Luke to see. But he still enjoyed the night, how could he not? He loved seeing you in the dress, and he loved seeing you happy. That was all he wanted in the end. If you were happy, he was happier.
You silently came out the bathroom, he didn’t notice you coming out until you sat next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. He looked up, clearing his throat.
“Sorry.” He said, his voice raspy.
“You don’t have to be sorry. I know.” You laid down, and he looked at you, you motioned for him to lay down next to you.
You wrapped your arms around him, giving him a kiss. You stared into each others eyes.
“Its not your fault my dad sucks. I shouldn’t be upset over it.” He said quietly.
“But it’s okay to be. I love you, Luke. You never have to hide your feelings from me. You’re perfect, and if your dad can’t see that, then I think he’s a blind man.” You had a hand in his curls. A small smile was on his face as you spoke.
“I love you.” He said, tears threatening to fall at your speech. He gave you a kiss, his soft lips against yours.
“I know.”
#luke castellan x you#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#charlie bushnell x reader#pjo#pjo disney+#pjo tv show#pjo fandom#pjo series#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson series
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santa baby (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)
summary: a private christmas lavishly celebrated in the bedroom of hollywood’s new favorite ‘it’ couple.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
✶ the king of the ring (1993)
✶ christmas carols
✶ main masterlist
tags: fluff; some christmas smut; steve is so rich.
lovely adorable dividers by @chechelia
"santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. been an awful good girl, santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight."
—santa baby, eartha kitt
malibu, california, december 1993
"And then Nike wants a photoshoot for their new shoe collection. They're requesting you as their face...but, I don't know, the deal is—"
"Angel, grab my lighter, please?"
You stood from your leather swivel chair, pushing it away from the conference table to head toward Steve's gym bag near the door. You pulled his lighter from the front pocket and handed it over to him, just as he slipped a Marlboro between his lips.
"Thanks, honey," he mumbled, reaching out to rub your thigh as you sat back down.
"As I was saying: Nike is offering a quarter mil for the deal, but I think we can squeeze more out of 'em. If they want to make a contract deal with you, we're gonna need more—"
"Who says I want a contract deal with Nike?" Steve interrupted gruffly.
You adjusted the necklace on your chest—a gorgeous golden locket from your first Christmas with Steve. You polished it regularly and kept it in its velvet case when not in use. But it was rare that it wasn't in use.
The meeting had been going on for two hours at this point. You were tired, bored, and already positive Christmas was going to be spent at a photoshoot for Nike in L.A. Your parents called last weekend and asked if they should set a place for you at the dinner table for Christmas—but just like Thanksgiving, you told her it was "unlikely."
And just like Thanksgiving, it broke your heart to hear her sigh.
"You'd be an idiot not to take it, Harrington, c'mon,” Mikey huffed.
Steve slid a glass ashtray closer to his side of the table and tapped his cigarette over the litter. "What d' you think, baby?"
You were still in a daze, fiddling with your necklace and checking the state of your manicured nails. Steve tapped your thigh to break you out of it.
Looking up, you glanced at Mikey quickly—noting his eye roll—before shrugging at Steve. "Oh, um...I don't know."
Huffing, Mikey held out his hand to silence you, and you tried not to burn at the dismissal. "Yeah, Steve, look—"
"You might wanna lower that hand if you wanna keep it, Mike," Steve cooly grumbled, taking another drag of the cigarette.
"Look, Steve, I think it's a good business decision. This is literally my job, man, but you gotta let me do it."
Steve hummed, inhaling through his teeth. When he exhaled, a stream of grey smoke furled from his nose.
"I'll think 'bout it."
He made quick work of stamping out his cigarette, pushing away from the table in his chair as it sizzled out. He pulled your chair out next, holding an empty palm upended for your waiting hand. You slid your fingers in the open space and flashed a small smile, grateful for his comfort in your obvious lack of it.
"Wait, guys—Steve, we're not done!" Mikey called after the pair of you as Steve made a path for the door.
Winding his arm around your shoulders, Steve pulled you in close by the crook of his elbow to plant a kiss on your head. "Ready to go home, angel?"
"Mhm."
Throwing a sly grin over his shoulder, Steve shrugged. "Looks like we’re done, Santorini."
Wrapped in a pair of pink silk pajamas, you lathered smooth vanilla cream over your feet, massaging the soreness from five-inch heels as Steve huffed and puffed over the bedroom carpet with every pushup. He counted under his breath between grunts, face screwed up with exertion. The muscles of his back flexed and tightened with every decline.
"I know—forty-five—you're—forty-six—watchin' me."
Cheeks swelling with warmth, you smiled down at your hands as you smoothed the rest of the lotion in. "Whatever."
Four pushups later, Steve hopped up from the floor and adjusted the front of his boxers, bulging with a distracting amount of fullness. The blue light of the television screen cast a sheen over the end of the bed spread, and Steve crawled over it to flop next to you. You let yourself smile again, reaching out to brush a clump of soft, shampooed hair out of his eyes.
"What's a' matter?" he mumbled into the mattress, cheek squished.
You shook your head, placing the lotion on the nightstand. "Nothing—"
"Don't lie."
A sigh shuttered through you. Fingers approached his hair again, delicately swooping and sweeping through—more a comfort for you than him, though he melted into the mattress.
“It’s silly…I just wish we could spend Christmas together.”
“We are,” Steve replied.
“You know what I mean. Without Mikey and Big, and random endorsement guys, or a million fans screaming and taking pictures. Just us. Like it used to be.” Your voice was smaller than you wanted.
You didn’t realize how sad the prospect of a Christmas spent with strangers and money-hungry people made you. You turned your eyes toward the television as a commercial for Campbell’s soup came on.
Steve stirred on the bed, bringing his cheek to rest on your bare thigh. He kissed it, greedy for the bare, clean flesh scented of bubble bath and shaving cream. His teeth scraped the tender space of your inner thigh and you squeaked.
“I know,” he muttered, pressing another gentle kiss.
A moment of silence passed between you. The television buzzed with muffled chatter and the bright, blaring colors of holiday advertisements. Steve rubbed a rough hand over your soft skin, and you leaned back into the silky pillows against the headboard as you massaged his hair.
“I know what will cheer you up.” Steve tapped your thigh twice before sliding off the bed.
Tucking your legs in, you watched him disappear through the french doors of the closet you shared. He rummaged for a few moments—the roll of drawers opening and closing—before reappearing with a gilded shopping bag stuffed with tissue paper. It was far too neat for Steve’s heavy hands, but the thought of him asking a clerk for gift wrap made you smile.
“For me?” You pressed your hand to your chest and grinned coyly.
Steve placed it on the bed before you. “Well, open it and see.”
“It’s not Christmas ye—“
Steve placed his hands on his hips and fixed you with an arched brow. You plucked the tissue paper from the bag with a giggle. The paper revealed a black shoe box in the bottom of the bag, and once retrieved and placed in your lap, you removed the lid and came to a pair of mint green Mary Jane pumps.
“Oh, Steve,” you cooed, picking one up. It was sleek and gorgeous. “They’re beautiful.”
Steve kept his bottom lip firmly between his teeth to hide his smile. But seeing the warmth that gathered on your face, the brightness in your eyes—Steve wanted nothing more than to keep you this happy for as long as he could.
“Y’ like ‘em?”
“Love them, Stevie. Thank you.” Cradling the shoe close to your chest, you looked up to smile at Steve—but caught the back of him rushing into the closet again.
“Steve? Where are you going?”
“Hang on!”
Paper rustling followed Steve’s wobble as he reappeared with an armful of bags and boxes, some wrapped with velvet bows and others bare. You pressed up to your knees and watched him place them near the small, slim Christmas tree in the corner of your bedroom by the window. He huffed once all were dropped on the floor.
You crawled the length of the bed and peeked over the edge toward the tree. “Those are…all for me?”
Steve always spoiled you, especially on holidays and anniversaries, but this was a new extreme. Maybe it was the few months spent apart earlier this year that made him want to adore you more. A newfound appreciation for you and your love, and a new desire to express it the best he knew how.
“Yeah,” Steve scoffed, pushing his hair away from his forehead. “C’mon, open ‘em.”
“But what about Christmas?”
Steve scratched at the nape of his neck, sighing. The sourness of his expression made you drop back on your heels. He stepped over your presents to come near the end of the bed, hands bracing your cheeks.
“Would you hate me if we celebrated early? Because…you’re right, baby, we won’t be able to spend it alone. Mikey wants me to do all these shoots and stupid shit, and I have trainin’ and shit—“
“Okay,” you interrupted, throwing a sweet smile up his way. “As long as I get you all to myself right now.”
Steve pulled you up, the heel of his palms tucked under your jaw. His mouth devoured yours, tongue and teeth and warm lips. "M' all yours, angel."
When your lips were buzzing and numb from his mouth, Steve hoisted you off the bed and spun you around. Giggles subsided, you took in the array of colors near the tree.
"Well, if it's Christmas then you need your presents, too," you told him, and you scampered off toward the guest room down the hall before he could object.
You returned with your own bags and boxes for Steve—and though you felt terrible that there were half as many, you knew Steve would be just as happy with a sparkly red bow on your ass as his only gift.
And in the true spirit of Christmas, you slipped to the kitchen and concocted an array of lavish snacks and treats meant for the holiday specifically. Wine, champagne, cheeses, expensive French chocolates, cured meats, and you even splurged on a little caviar. Well. Steve did.
You made your own little Christmas in the comfort of your bedroom, clad in a pair of tiny silk pajamas that Steve kept tugging at. You fed him chocolates and licked the remnants from the corner of his mouth, and he wound his fingers in the back of your hair and pulled tight when he just couldn't help it anymore.
"Mm...Steve...let go," you giggled, smushed against his mouth by his iron hold.
Steve chased after your lips with a playful nip. "Nah, I want you...right here." He peppered more firm kisses between words.
Kisses that tasted like rich dark chocolate and bright, bubbly champagne.
"But I want you...oh!...to open some presents, too."
Steve groaned from his place in your neck, nuzzling and licking. "Just a little longer."
You wound your fingers in his hair and laughed, allowing yourself to be pulled into his lap. He tugged you down against him and latched onto your throat. Groans and whines muffled the transatlantic accents of the old Hollywood movie on the tv behind you. Steve’s bulge was stiffening against the satin bow of your pajamas.
“Steve,” you whined. “C’mon, open your g-gifts.”
Steve lifted off your neck with a wet pop, leaving a ring of saliva and swollen tooth marks in his leave.
He rubbed his thumb over the sore patch of flesh and raised his head to catch your eyes. “Fine.”
He kept you planted firmly in his lap as he tore the wrappings and ribbon off various boxes and bags, kissing your cheek and neck and mouth as his own version of gratitude with every one. You wrapped the Ralph Lauren tie around his neck and let it hang loosely, spritzed the cologne on his chest and kissed the seasoned skin, and even stuck a silver bow on the top of his head.
"Thank you, angel," Steve murmured with another gentle kiss. "But you know what my favorite gift is?"
You quirked a brow and slipped your arms over his shoulders. "What's that?"
Steve took the shiny bow from his head and placed it in his palm. You watched as he brought it behind you, a grin toying on your lips while you waited for it to touch your own head. Instead, a resounding smack echoed through the room, and a sting gathered in your ass. Steve smacked the bow on with a heavy hand, and you jolted upright in his lap with a gasp. Grabbing a handful of flesh, Steve gave it a jiggle and grinned sideways.
“You.”
Surging forward, you planted a sticky kiss on his mouth. Steve, unable to contain himself, pushed to his knees and hoisted you with him. Soon, you were splayed flat on the mess of wrapping paper and ribbon, a pair of rough hands working the buttons on your silk. Your fingers dragged through his hair as he tugged your little shorts down, writhing and whimpering as his hot breath fanned new patches of skin.
He drew a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, causing your fingers to twist tightly in his hair as your core clenched. His tongue circled your navel, causing you to giggle and twist away, tickled by his hot breath and wet appendage. Steve chuckled at your reaction, wide hands bracing your waist.
He dipped down to place himself between your legs, but you tightened your hands in his hair and tugged him up. Steve furrowed his brows, crawling up toward your face.
“What’s wrong—“
“Nothing, nothing,” you panted, clawing at his firm, muscular chest. “Just want you. Want you now, please, Steve.”
Amusement lightened his features once more, brow quirking up. “Aw,” he chuckled. “You just can’t wait, huh, baby? You need me that bad?”
“Uh-huh! Please, please—“
Steve kissed your babbling mouth, pulling his boxers down. “Shh. It is Christmas, angel. It’d be naughty of me to make you wait.”
You giggled breathily as he hooked your legs over his hips. “R-right. Like that’s ever stopped y—oh!”
Steve pressed until his pelvis pressed against yours, elbows crinkling a bag beside your head as he hovered. His palm cupped over the crown of your head, leveling your gazes.
“It can stop me now, too, honey,” he muttered. “S’ you better be good, hmm?”
“‘M good,” you mumbled, head bobbing up and down. Your thighs were already quaking. “‘M always good.”
Steve gently kissed your mouth again. Another at the corner where your mouth creased, so gentle and sweet.
“Yeah you are,” he whispered.
But enough talking. Steve wanted to devour you, and he snatched at your hands to slide them over your head as his hips began to move. Fingers intertwined and clutching tight, you held on with all your might as he fed pleasure in and out. You did nothing to silence your whines and cries, and he grunted into your neck in time. He was slow and languid, deeper and deeper every time he came back.
“Kiss me, kiss me, please,” you huffed with need.
Steve slid his mouth across your cheek and latched onto your own. You sighed against his lips with relief. Moans echoed into each other’s mouths, refusing to release the other as his thrusts grew frantic.
When he spilled into you, he gasped sharply against your cheek. You shuddered and writhed as warmth flooded you, and stroked his hair lazily when he fell down.
“Christ,” he groaned, cheek squished against your chest. “Fuckin’ Christmas angel.”
You giggled breathily and kissed his temple. “I think that was all you, handsome.”
Steve snickered, nipping at your breast and causing you to squeal. “I’ll take that. C’mon, flip over. Wanna play with you a ‘lil more.”
“Steve,” you laughed, and he lifted up to frown.
“Come on, angel, it’s Christmas,” he huffed.
“Only if I get to wear some of my new stuff.”
Steve immediately sat back, wiping sweat from his head. “Fuck yeah, baby. C’mon, go, go.”
He smacked at your ass as you crawled toward your new lingerie piled near the tree, and you fell into a mess of giggles as you collected them.
You scampered into the bathroom, and Steve chuckled to himself when he heard all your giggling. He snatched the bottle of champagne from the floor and poured another glass, easing back on his elbow to watch the door for your appearance. He grabbed the Polaroid from the bench at the end of the bed and pulled it open, aiming for the door.
When you appeared, the flash shuttered through the room like a white snap. Steve tossed the Polaroid toward the mess of gifts beside him and grinned as you twirled.
“Look beautiful, baby. C’mere, lemme get a better look.”
You crawled your way over in a ruffled mint green teddy and matching panties, and Steve snapped another photo of your arched back.
An early Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.
#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington#boxer!steve#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader
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chapter 4: the bluff. / coriolanus snow / nsfw
Rating: Explicit
WC: 6746
Warnings: MDNI, rough sex, he's still insane and possessive, PIV, unprotected sex (this guy is never wearing a condom ever), angry sex, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read
AO3 version | Series master
You slammed the dressing room door shut. “What the hell was that , Coriolanus?” pacing the length of the room, anger seeping out of you. “Did you forget what we were supposed to do? We were supposed to play it off, say we were too young. That was not playing it off! That was proposing!”
In your rage, you stumbled in your heels. He watched you curse under your breath, undoing the strap on them and throwing them across the room. Coriolanus didn’t move, cemented in his spot just past the door.
“Listen to me Y/N,” his tone was stern, like a parent scolding a child. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Of course you did!” you interrupted your voice tinged with sarcasm. “You always do whatever you want, don’t you? Here, the gala, the dinner. Always regardless of the consequences!”
Your words were sharp, digging in the fact that whatever was going on between you two there was meant to be a unified front, a single storyline. You were meant to be partners in the power play, both of you using each other to further your positions. All the work that went into constructing the next five years of the act was undone in an instant.
“I thought we were on the same page, Coriolanus. There was a plan for what we were going to do, but you just fucked it up!” He was always hypercritical of himself, internal monologue pointing out his every mistake, but you doing the same set him off.
“Can you shut up for five seconds! Or are you so self-obsessed that you can't let anyone else get a word in.”
“How dare you try and talk to me about being self-obsessed you narcissistic, unthoughtful-”
“There you go! Proving my point. You can’t even get off your high horse for a minute so I can explain why I did that.”
“You want to explain? Fine then, explain.” you spat.
Coriolanus’ jaw clenched. You were so hot and cold with him. He could never gauge what you really wanted in all of this, and you would never just tell him either.
“I saw an opportunity.”
“For what?”
“To play the part, to make the story so much better. Picture it, Coriolanus Snow, a man who has always been so organised and timely there are articles on how to put your life together like him, rushing into something. He’s so in love with his mentor’s daughter that he proposes to her on stage in front of all of Panem, and he doesn’t even have a ring on him because at that moment he realises that he can’t live without her.”
Your eyebrows were drawn, scanning over his face like you were looking for a fault in what he said, as you dissected it. There was nothing wrong with it though. The show was exactly how he described it. It painted him as a kind and caring man, beyond his known abilities at game making.
“You should have told me ahead of time.”
“I didn’t have a chance. I thought of it while getting ready.” he was lying, and you could tell. Seeing through lies was your speciality. He hadn’t thought about it while getting ready.
You called him on his bluff. “Bullshit. You didn’t have any plan, that was all impulse.” you were digging your finger into his chest to make your point. “You could have ruined everything we’ve been working on, made the past year pointless. What if I hadn’t followed along? What if I lost my composure for your little outburst? It’s not just your future on the line here Coriolanus. I’m leaving.”
Your shoulder bumped into his as you moved to walk out of the room, but his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you back and lifting you off the ground.
“Y/N,” he started.
“Let me go!”
“You don’t get to walk away from me. You need to listen to me.”
“I’m done listening to you, put me down!”
“Well, I’m not done talking!” Coriolanus pushed your back against the wall, pinning you in place.
Why couldn’t you just listen to him like you normally did? Why were you so upset with him? What he did was off-script but it still looked good, and it still achieved your shared goals. You didn’t get to walk away from him when he was right.
You slapped him, still able to move your arms. “I told you to let me go.” He tasted blood in his mouth. When he smiled at you, you felt your blood run cold.
“Are you done?” His teeth had traces of blood on them.
You weren’t about to be intimidated by him. You didn’t cower or beg anyone, and that included Coriolanus Snow. “Let. Me. Go.” your demands fell on deaf ears.
His smile only widened, eyes glistening with a sinister light. You thought he’d be furious with you, and hated that you were out of control, but it seemed more like he enjoyed it. That he liked it when you fought back.
“I told you Y/N, I’m not done talking.”
You moved to slap him again but were met with your wrists being grabbed and pinned above your head, utterly defenceless for whatever happened next. The expectation for him to strike you back weighing in the air. But he didn’t. Instead, his lips met yours, forcing your mouth open and letting his tongue in. You tried to fight back but he bit down on your lip and stopped you. His tongue only became more insistent. Copper on both your tongues.
You didn’t hate it. You were still mad at him, obviously, but the sexual tension that always between the two of you beckoned, its tendrils wrapping around you. Who said some angry sex wasn’t the solution to your being mad at him?
Your teeth clacked against each other as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his midsection. Coriolanus’ free hand moved to support you. Standing like this he was able to grind his hips against yours, the friction delicious. The kiss was messy, both of you trying to prove something to the other with it.
When you pulled apart for air you spoke. “Let me go.” His breath was laboured, just as yours was, the rough makeout session leaving the both of you breathless.
“Not a chance, sweet girl.”
His grip on your wrists loosened, letting you slip free to pull at his hair, connecting your mouths once again. Your moans mixed with his own, body rolling to press your clothed pussy over his erection. Even though he had picked you up a multitude of times, it was always surprising how strong he actually was. His slim build did not give away how strong he actually was.
Everything between you was primal, driven by lust and anger.
Coriolanus brought you over to the couch, dropping you on your back. He liked you best like this, on your back and needy. Your high horse forgotten, and the only thing you rode him. The both of you took care to remove your clothes carefully, neither wanting to deal with a lecture from Tigris as well as knowing you had a dinner to attend in them after this. But that was where the caution ended.
The moment you were naked he had his fingers stretching you open with his thumb toying at your clit. His mouth was all over your skin, biting your breasts, adding to the marks already covering you. He was so rough with you and made you feel so small. But god did he know exactly what to do to you.
Your moans were sharp as he brought you to an orgasm. Everything you did drove him up a wall. Every time he thought he could move past it, ignoring the feeling, your pussy sucked him back in. It was your fault he made a mistake, that he lost his composure, that he went off script. He wanted access to your warmth whenever he wanted.
No matter how much he consumed you, he was still hungry, the type of hunger he hadn’t felt since the war. The one with claws that tore at his insides, teeth grinding into his bones. A bottomless pit that could never be filled. It clouded his mind with thoughts of you, your breasts and hips, the pout of your lips. He could almost always feel the sensation of you against him, biting into your soft flesh. It made him emotionally volatile, willing to risk everything for just a crumb. But every time he got a bite it filled him with dread.
Your perfume, boozy and peachy, a reminder that the only thing that would ever fill this hole was you. That when he was on the brink of death, starving and empty, it was you who would nourish him. Your being the very source of all his problems and all his solutions at the same time. A double-edged sword driving into his heart with every step he took towards you.
“See? Look how good you have it when you just behave.” you weren’t out of it yet, still able to spite back in vitriol.
“Fuck you.”
“Already have.” Coriolanus flipped you on your front, positioning you on your knees with your chest pressed against the couch.
Like this, he got to spread you open, look at what your body could offer him. Why did you have to be you? Why did you have to rival his mind and have such a perfect body? It ruined everything.
His fingers pressed back into you. He could watch you drip down them for hours, whiny and whimpering from his actions. Begging him to fuck you. No matter how you tried to act like you weren’t. You were just like him. Hungry and waiting.
Coriolanus lined up his cock with your entrance. Instead of easing into you, he thrust in fully, jolting your body forward. He wanted it to hurt, to make you feel sorry for blowing up at him. To show you that no matter how you acted out he could fuck you back into place.
He fucked you hard and fast, pulling your head back by your hair. It forced you up and to put your hands on the back of the couch. Your back arched, your shoulders almost against his chest. His other hand pinched at your nipples and tugged at them. It hurt, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure.
Moving his hand out of your hair, his fingers hooked into the side of your mouth. “Your mouth can be used for better things than being disrespectful.” your drool pooled around them, dribbling out the side of your mouth as you spoke.
“I’m gonna cum.” your speech altered from his fingers.
“I don’t care.” he did care, but he couldn’t let you know that, not right now. The biggest ego death to him would be if he was unable to make you cum. It fed his ego every time you clenched down around him, pussy fluttering from your orgasm. He didn’t slow down or let up, fully intent on taking his frustration out on you.
The air between you was hot and heavy, thick with the smell of sex. With his hands free, your waist became his new hold stone. Coriolanus didn’t even have to pull your hips to meet his, you were doing that for him, bucking backwards in time. Each trust had you panting little praises for him.
He wanted to see your face. You felt him pull out of you and then sit down on the couch next to you. “Ride me.”
You shifted, placing your knees on either side of him as you sunk down on his length. When you got to the base, you took a moment to recollect yourself, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Coriolanus’ lips found the crown of your head before he even recognised what he was doing. It was odd. This intimate act in the midst of all of this. He wanted to show you that he cared, that he wasn’t mad at you anymore. Why wasn’t he mad at you anymore? He was the type to let his anger fester, angry with infection. He waited until the moment was right and then he spread his sickness, cutting down whoever upset him. You were more useful than being cut down; however, he felt strongly towards you. The one thing he wouldn’t do is name those feelings.
The drag of your hips cut off his line of thought. He watched as you rode him, your thighs shaky but not letting it stop you. When you pulled your head out to kiss him he met you, enjoying the feeling of your lips against his. Hair and makeup would have a hay day with the two of you but the way you went all the way up, his tip the only thing inside you, to then your ass flush with his thighs made their annoyance worth it. Wanting to feel you cum around him again, his thumb began circling your clit, working you up to another orgasm.
“I’m close.”
“I know.”
Your hips slowed as you came, exhausted from riding him. But Coriolanus wasn’t done. His hand wrapped around your waist, moving you to an elevated position with his dick still inside you, and he began thrusting up into you. “Hold yourself just like that sweet girl.” You did as he told you, your head lulling to the front pressing your forehead against his. With a few final thrusts, he came inside you. You were winded, your eyes closed as he guided your bodies apart and grabbed a disposal west wipe to clean the both of you up. Finally, with that done, he could lay down and settle you on top of him, both of you naked and sweaty.
Neither of you spoke for a while, just listening to each other breathe, your head on his chest.
“I’m sorry.” apologises always felt like he was trying to speak a foreign language, his tongue struggling to make the sounds. “I shouldn’t have acted impulsively.”
“I'm sorry too. I shouldn’t have blown up on you.” his fingers traced your hairline as you lay on top of him, still reeling from the sex. “I just don’t like when things don’t go to plan, and they’ve not been going to plan between us.”
He couldn’t argue against that. Everything was so fuzzy between you. He didn’t know what you were feeling, but his feelings were you weren’t something he could ignore. When he said that he couldn’t picture his life without you it was true. He thought that speaking it out to the world would alleviate the pressure, and make it something he could keep inside himself, but he didn’t. He needed you to know that it meant it.
“Would it be so bad, marrying me?”
You picked your head up. “No,” you sighed. “It wouldn’t be.” He watched you find your original position, ear over his heart.
“We could be allies.” his heart pounded as you traced patterns on his skin. “You’re the first person I’ve met I’d consider that with. I could make you the First Lady of Panem.”
Being the First Lady was an appealing idea. You’d be able to do so much more in that position. It was a core belief of yours that the games were only the first step in binding the loyalty of the country, to furthering the control over the populace. Aid programs needed to be doled out in the Districts. People who were content were less likely to look behind the curtain and see what was really happening.
“What happens when you fall in love with someone? Would we divorce and I’d lose everything, both the games and my position?” there was uncertainty in your voice.
There could never be someone after you. You were it for him. Sure he could find a docile wife and marry her, leave her be and just have kids with her. But she could never truly know him. But you could, and you were learning the true him. And you wouldn’t make him separate his work and home life, you’d dive into it with him, lethal and cunning.
“That won’t happen,” he was blunt with his statement. “You’re the only one I could do this with.”
It felt like the weight was finally lifting off him some. The pressure that had been building and threatening to blow, to whistle like a kettle. As much as he had intended for your relationship to be a temporary political alliance, he wanted it to be permanent. He didn’t trust people, but he was growing to trust you, knowing that your goals were ultimately the same.
“But what if it does?” He had never seen you so worried about his feelings, genuine concern. “Or what if I fall in love with someone else?”
“Y/N,” his thumb brushed your lips, making you face him again. “I promise you that is never going to happen. Okay?”
“Okay.”
With a final look of determination, kissed you, his lips bruising against your own. He was hoping that it conveyed that he meant it with all his heart. He was never going to fall in love with someone else, the home you made in his heart was always going to be yours. The decor exactly how you left it if you ever walked away, waiting for you to come back. You’d never get the chance to walk away but that was the sentiment, that he could forgive you for leaving him if he took you back and you stayed with him. A dove with a broken wing was still a dove. It might not be able to soar in the slides, free from the gravity of the world, but it was still a dove. Even if he broke you and locked you up, you’d still be you.
He could never love another, not when he loved you. Coriolanus loved you. The realisation shook him, a tempestuous collision of the man he was and the man he wanted to be. The crack formed by Lucy Gray was broken open once again by you. He had convinced himself that love was a weakness, that it was something to be exploited. Over the past year of getting to know you, getting to be with you, you had challenged his core beliefs, forcing him to confront the fact that he loved you.
It was hard admitting it to himself. Just hours earlier he had told Tigris off for even suggesting the idea of it, vehemently denying it. He didn’t want to love you then, terrified at the idea of you finding out and leaving. But you had said it wouldn’t be so bad to be married to him, that you’d be willing to be allies for the rest of your life. The truth was there though, written into every interaction he had with you. The glaring reality that he could no longer ignore, lingered in his eyes like a burned-in image.
It was terrifying, the exact opposite of the control he wanted to have over those around him, to have you control his heart. The practised emotional detachment he had led his life with failed in his darkest hour. The fear that you’d be just like Lucy Gray and run. It didn’t matter that you both worked on the games, that he had seen you develop new ways to punish the Capitol’s enemies, that you had just as much darkness within you as he did. That you were as ruthless as he was. The betrayal he had once experienced at the hands of a District dog had him petrified of it happening again.
Could he erase your existence like he did hers if something happened? The thought was both horrifying and tempting. He didn’t want it to come to that, to erase you, to discard you like a broken toy. You were better than Lucy Gray, you wouldn’t betray him. He wouldn’t let you. But he couldn’t come to you with this, not yet. Coriolanus Snow needed you to break down and beg him to tell him that he loved you. When he could see you, lost in your feelings for him, then he could tell you. Not before, not after. But at the moment when you are in desperate need of him, he could tell you. Only then could he believe that you loved him too.
______________________________________
Things have been busy since then and luckily you have been able to avoid conversation with your mother too. Coriolanus and you had no time to talk about your game plan and what would've happened next as the games started. Every day you were at the Citadel, ensuring things ran smoothly. He was there too, doing his own work, but the amount you had to do kept you from each other. It wasn’t until after the games ended that the two of you got a moment alone. Of course, you had been to several events together but you couldn't talk about things there. So when the last person left the production room, you were finally alone with him.
“Did you mean what you said that night on the balcony, that it was hard pretending that you loved me?”
The two of you were in his private lab. You were sitting on the edge of his desk instead of a chair, something he noticed you liked to do. After the cameras had been turned off you had taken your hair down from the pinned updo made of a braid, letting the braid hang loose. The heels you were wearing off your feet and lost in the room. Coriolianus’ head was in your lap as your fingers brushed through his hair. The slight stubble he’d grown over the last two days catching on your tights.
His voice was muffled by your thigh. “No.”
“No you didn't mean it or no it isn’t hard pretending that you love me?” Your fingers were putting him to sleep. It had been so long since he had been touched like this. He only had one strong memory of his mother. They had been sitting before the fire, her belly full with his younger sister, her finger running through his, much like your own, singing a song he couldn’t remember now, the melody lost with time.
“No,” he finally replied, groggy. “It’s not hard pretending that I love you”
There was a flicker of hope within you when he first confessed to you that night on the balcony. You had convinced yourself that he was being vulnerable with you then, letting you in. Was this him adding kindling to that fire or dousing it?
“Is it easy then?” Each word was laced with intrigue and tinged with trepidation. The question wormed itself into the conversation, hanging in the air like the hum of the machinery. He tensed under you like he had been unprepared for this conversation, a betrayal of how he normally was.
Coriolanus’ response was slow, deliberate and weighted, with every individual syllable chosen carefully. “No, it’s not easy either.” The threading of your fingers felt so good against his scalp, it was criminal. “It’s neither easy nor hard, it’s necessary.” He shrugged with that statement, drowsy from the long day and your actions.
It was strange seeing him like this, his head in your lap as he was half asleep. The Coriolanus you knew was a man of fronts, never betraying his persona of unwavering composure and unyielding strength. He was smart and capable, bringing the Snow family back from the brink of destruction. But now there was no front present. He was relaxed and open, the tension in his shoulders finally released as he rested on your thighs. You could see every pore of skin, every hair out of place. There was a faint scar above his lip, so blended with his skin that you had never seen it before. It had access to the same medical and cosmetic treatments as you did meaning that he had left this one there on purpose. A reminder of something that had happened to him.
You chewed on his words as you watched him. It was neither easy nor hard pretending that he loved you, it was necessary. It was a non-answer, a refusal to tell you his feelings on the matter, that itself a revealing statement. He was used to his words working on others, his honied lips spinning the sweetest lies. But you had watched him, seen him change over the years. Coriolanus was a man burdened with his own demons that sat at the table with him. There was an understanding in that. You had your own demons that sat in the corner of your room every night, watching you sleep and whispering dangerous things. Neither of you were innocent good-hearted people, both of you violent and deadly.
But his cracks were showing, and that night under the stars with too much to drink, he had let you see just how much they were cracking. You were willing to pick up the pieces and help him put them back together. Your own feelings were the same as his, you were just better at hiding it.
“My father wants us to have an engagement party.”
“When?”
“In two weeks at my family estate,” knowing your father, it was going to be a spectacle. He doted on you. “But he wants to have a private dinner before that, just your family and mine.” His only family was Grandma’am and Tigris. If you wanted to, you could count the Plinths as family, even though he hated the thought of having any relationship with them.
“That’s fine. I’m sure Grandma’am will be excited, she’s been pestering me about marrying you while she’s still alive to see it.”
“She wants you to marry me?”
He murmured some form of agreement, still out of it. “She says you make me smile like I haven’t since I was a boy. It’s annoying actually, she keeps demanding that I bring you around for lunch.” This was news. Your interactions with Grandma’am had always been under the pretence of public events, you never thought much of them, but apparently she had. More than that, she thought more of your effect on her grandson.
“You should be kinder to her, you don’t know how long she’s got left.”
Coriolanus’ head lifted from your lap, rubbing his eyes as he propped his head up on a hand. “I know,” it wasn’t nice to have to think about the fact his Grandma’am was up there in age, that she maybe had another 15 years left. If that. “I’ll tell her we’ll do lunch then.”
Your smile was irresistible. “Good. The least you can do for her is let her think that you’ve found someone you genuinely love, and who loves you just as much. She’ll never know that it's just an act either. It’ll let her rest easy knowing you’re taken care of.”
His heart sank, and his stomach dropped out and onto the ground.
“Yeah, it’s a good act too.”
______________________________________
Coriolanus paced in the foyer, stopping every so often his fingers fidgeting with the knot of his tie, loosening and tightening it. His outfit was simple and smart today. His father's button-up with a red tie, a grey pinstripe waistcoat and matching trousers. The black leather of his oxfords had been polished earlier in the morning. He felt antsy, just wanting to get this luncheon over with. He shouldn’t have told you that Grandma’am wanted this, he must have been out of his mind when he did.
“Coriolanus my boy,” Grandma’am had snuck up behind him, making him jump as she put her hands on his shoulders. “You look as handsome as always, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
His smile was weak in the mirror, not reaching his eyes. “Thank you Grandma’am.” She fiddled with the shoulder of his shirt, lining it up properly as it had been moved from his walking around.
“You must really love her if it’s got you like this.”
“I do.” The words were heavy. This was the first time he had acknowledged his feelings for you to another person. The vulnerability threatened to consume him.
“I’m glad,” her eyes became teary as she spoke. “Your mother loved your father so much. I remember their wedding day. She was so nervous, running around like a rabbit. You remind me of her sometimes.” she threw her hands up like the statement was outlandish. “But of course, you’re more like your father than anything else. Strong Coriolanus Snow.”
They rarely talked about his parents, or Tigris’ parents, like this. It was easier for them all to let the dead stay dead. A bittersweet ache spread through him.
“I’m glad.” He reached out and took Grandma's hand, offering her some comfort. Talking about her dead children always set her off. They stood in silence for a beat, hand in hand, each processing their own feelings before he shattered the quiet.
“It’s easier to let the dead stay dead.”
Grandma’am nodded, her handkerchief to her eye to clean up the tears she had spilt. “Sometimes,” she acknowledges, “the past is too painful to revisit. But it’s important to remember Coriolanus. To remember the love, the laughter, the life that was lived. To honour those who came before you.”
But he didn’t want to remember the past. The past made everything worse.
The ring of the elevator cut the conversation short. You were here, and he was nervous. This was no different than a public event, you both knew the parts to play, but it was so different at the same time. You were in his family home, eating with him and his Grandma’am, and doing it purely because you thought she deserved to think someone loved him. Doing it because you cared for her. It was here that his history echoed, ghosts of the past hanging on every wall. Remnants of the boy he once was tucked away in boxes, now dusty with age.
As the elevator doors opened, revealing you standing there, those boxes came out of storage and were placed on the table for you to sort through.
“Oh! Miss Gaul! Please come in.” Grandma’am rushed towards you, excited to have you over.
“Grandma’am,” you chided, pulling her into a hug. She had shrunk in her old age and your heels didn’t help the equation, making you bend down to do so. “I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Y/N. Plus soon enough I’ll Mrs. Snow.”
“I know, I know, I just forget sometimes. Perhaps I should just call you Mrs. Snow!”
“Now I think that’s a wonderful idea!” You took a second to greet Coriolanus with a kiss and then went back to chatting with Grandma’am taking her hands in your own.
You were so delicate with her, it pained him to watch you be so kind to her. You nodded along diligently to whatever she said and were actively engaging in the conversation. He could tell that you weren’t pretending to care and that you actually wanted to speak with his grandmother. She was so animated with you like years had been removed from her. He had spent so long trying to protect her from all that had happened, and all that he had done. His actions had severed parts of their relationship, and with Tigris not living in the apartment anymore, she must have grown lonely. But you brought her back, the vibrant woman who could connect with the world.
Coriolanus sidled up to you, arm wrapping around your waist. “I hate to interrupt your conversation ladies, but I do believe Y/N came here for lunch.” It felt so right to have you like this.
“Yes, yes, Coriolanus,” Grandma’am started, “I’ll go make sure the cook has prepared everything. Why don't you show Y/N into the dining room.”
“Of course, Grandma’am.”
Alone, he nipped at your ear, his breath making your heart skip a beat. His hands were warm, one placed on your stomach the the other on your arm. You could smell the mint on his breath when he uttered a whisper in your ear, his voice low and husky. “You look stunning today.”
You were wearing all black today, something that went against the average Capitol woman. It was a high neck mini dress, stopping a few inches above your knee. The sleeves were long, longer than your hands and instead of normal holes, the fabric was spliced up to your elbow. Your heels were lower than they normally were from press events, no doubt more comfortable. The splash of colour came from your earrings. They were red, with a velvety coating on them, and shaped like rose petals separated and hung on a chain. You had remembered Grandma’am’s love of roses.
“It’s not for you, you know.” you took every opportunity to tease him. “But thank you.”
You had no idea what you did to him. “If it were for me it’d be on the floor by now.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing this is for Grandma’am and not you.” You patted his cheek. “Now are you going to show me to the dining room Coriolanus?” When you said his name you mirrored the way his Grandma’am said it.
A crooked grin rose on his face with a small laugh. “With pleasure, my dear,” he replied biting your ear again before leading you through the grand hallways of the apartment. His hand never left your back until you were sat down. You were on Coriolanus’ right, with his chair being at the head of the table.
The table was smaller than the average dining room table in the Capitol, unsurprising given the number of Snow family members there were left. It looked to seat about 10 people maximum. It was a dark-stained wood, a style that was popular in the prewar days. The walls were a pale blue, covered in a patterned wallpaper. The signature tile flooring of the apartment was carried into the dining room, laid in a geometric style with the table in the centre. It was all a testament to the family’s long history and enduring presence in the Capitol, a microcosm of the Capitol itself.
“Have you told her about the dinner?”
“No I haven’t had a chance yet-”
“What dinner?” Grandma’am sauntered into the room, waiting for Coriolanus to pull out her seat so she could sit. “The cook prepared quite a lunch today,” she listed out the menu after she sat down, Coriolanus returning to his own seat, arms resting on the table.
“That all sounds wonderful Grandma’am. Corio’s told me how wonderful your chef is.”
“Yes, I do agree. It took me ages to find one that I liked, so many of them are lacklustre these days.”
“Well I hope my family’s chef won't disappoint you then.” you grabbed his hand on the table. “My father wanted me to invite you to a family dinner on Friday evening. It’s just a small get-together to introduce everyone to each other properly. After all, we’ll be one family soon.
“Oh, that is a wonderful idea! I’ve always had such admiration for your father’s interior design work.” Grandma’am's voice faded out for Coriolanus as she spoke. Rambling about how your father had ‘brought back the elegance of the Capitol’ through his job. Coriolanus was focused on one thing.
You were wearing the ring. He had gone in between rings for what felt like a millennium till settling on a custom made. It was reminiscent of the one he remembered his mother wearing, covered in diamonds and made of gold. Your was made of platinum, far more durable than gold and less like the be damaged by your time in the labs and only plated in gold. The centre stone was large, 1.5 carats, an emerald cut diamond. The style of the ring was similar to an ornate mirror. There were 22 stones in total, each one glittering from the chandelier's light. He hadn't stopped with just the one ring either, he needed to decorate you in the finest jewels he could buy with the Plinth family fortune. That's why your index finger had a stack of thinner, geometric, stack complimenting the engagement ring.
It thrilled him. Wedding rings were no more than a shackle connecting you to him. A show of his authority over you. Marrying you wasn’t about companionship, it was to own you. To change your last name to his own and let everyone know that he would never leave you alone. Maybe he’d let you hyphenate your last name, and you’d like that, it went against the norm.
His thumb rubbed against his own engagement ring. His was simpler, he didn’t enjoy the over-the-top couture and showmanship of the Capitol, a think gold plated platinum band with a matching kite cut diamond flush set into it. The kite shape echoed by etchings around the placement. You had picked the ring out for him after seeing your own, saying that you wanted it to match with yours. It was ironic that you chose a kite shape. They flew high in the sky, a symbol of freedom and soaring ambition.
The luncheon was nice, you had to admit. You didn’t have a living grandmother and it was nice to talk with Grandma’am as you ate. She kept telling stories of Coriolanus’ youth, much to his chagrin. The stories, and how he treated her, were different than what you had expected. He was cold towards Tigris, but he had so much warmth towards Grandma’am. What had happened between the two that caused a rift? Grandma’am spoke as if the two had been thick as thieves growing up.
When the plates were cleared, you joined Grandma’am in the kitchen as she made coffee for the two of you, Coriolanus somewhere in the apartment answering a message on his communicuff. You had offered to do it but she insisted on doing it herself, telling you that the machine was too complicated for a guest to use. But you know exactly how to use it, but that was a secret.
When she sat across from you, both your mugs steaming, her eyes were sombre. “Can you be honest with a foolish old woman?”
“I don’t see any old women here, but I can be honest.” her chuckle was wethered and dry, telling of someone who had lived through too much.
“I know my Coriolanus is a difficult man,” she always insisted on using his full name. “He’s much like his father in that regard, and I would know having raised them both. But you’re good for him. When I see him with you it's like all the horrible things he had to live through are forgotten, and that he’s that smiling boy running around the apartment with his mother chasing after him again.” Grandma’am’s voice broke as the spoke, teetering on the edge of crying.
You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She loved him so much.
“I love him Grandma’am, I really do.” candour in every word you spoke. “With him, I feel like I can do anything, be anything. Sometimes I think it’s all too good to be true and that one day I’ll wake up and this was all a dream that I had. Every day I pinch myself to make sure it's still real.”
“Will you always?”
“There’s no future in which I don’t love him. He’s my now and always. And even if one day we weren’t together anymore, I’d still love him and I’d still support him. Just like he’d do the same for me.”
As you spoke Grandma’am’s tears flowed freely, but they weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of gratitude. She saw in you that she didn’t have to worry anymore, that someone other than her would love him unconditionally. Be a sanctuary to his troubled heart.
“Thank you.” as the older woman bawled you got up to hug her, rubbing her back as she sobbed.
Coriolanus had heard the whole thing but he couldn’t tell if you had said it for her or it was a confession of your true feelings. You were always perfect at playing your part.
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A family Thanksgiving
This was supposed to be up yesterday, but it took on a mind of its own and instead of the few hundred words it was supposed to be, its nearly 3k. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates!
rated: t | wc: 2847 | cw: period typical homophobia, Steve's asshole parents
The offers from everyone to have him over for Thanksgiving had been great, any other year he would have loved such a choice, but for the first time in a long time, he was spending the day with family.
"But you hate your family." Dustin pointed out when Steve had told everyone about his holiday plans.
"No, I hate my parents. It's my grandma that asked me to go, and I want to see her and my cousins that I haven't seen in like five years. I'm driving myself to Chicago, so I won't be stuck in a car with my parents for hours on end." Steve explained.
"But you're working a late the day before, and I'm not going to cover you so you can drive up early" Robin replied.
"I'm planning on leaving by six on Thanksgiving morning. It's less than four hours to drive, so I'll be there before ten, well nine because of the timezone change. I took the late shift the day before so I had an excuse to drive myself, and my parents wouldn't have any reason to come by Hawkins before. And I drive home either the Friday or the Saturday, ready for our Sunday shift."
Come Thanksgiving day, Steve was somewhat regretting his decision. It had been nearly midnight before he'd gotten home, after a number of people came in just before closing insistent on needing a selection of movies ready for the next day. Then hadn't been happy when the movies they wanted weren't in stock, so they left the place a total mess, causing Steve to stay late to tidy up ready for the opener the next day. Then having to get up around five, so he could get ready and be on track to leave as planned. In an attempt to wake up, he was mostly surviving on a large cup of incredibly strong coffee. He was just counting down the minutes until he could get there.
When he walked in the door, he was immediately wrapped up in a hug from his grandma. "Stevie, it's so good to see you."
"It's great to see you too, Grandma." He returned the hug, melting into it a little. Exactly what he needed after the year it had been.
"Let me take a look at you." She stepped back slightly, giving him a once over. Her hand came up to trace the scar still on his neck from where he had been strangled by the bats and vines. "What happened here?"
"I. It's nothing. It looks a lot worse than it is." Steve replied, trying to get out of the awkwardness of the conversation.
"Oh, if you're sure. If you want to help with dinner, you can join us in the kitchen. But if you just want to rest, anyone who's watching football is in the living room, and the Macy's parade is on in the den."
"It's been a long drive, and I had a late finish last night, so I think I'm going to take a bit of a break. I might come out and help a bit later." He offered.
"Oh, honey. If you don't feel up to it, you don't need to help at all. Take it easy, and we'll call you once everything is ready." She kissed Steve on the cheek, before going back to the kitchen.
Steve made his way through the house, glancing into the living room as he passed. He could see his dad in one of the recliners, and decided against joining them. Wanting to delay the inevitable "you're a disappointment" lecture. He knew his mom would likely be in the kitchen, not actually helping, just drinking wine and gossiping. He moved on to the den, where most of his cousins were. He hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. So much had changed since the last time he had seen any of them.
"Wait, Stevie?" One of them, Lizzie, said as she looked up to see him.
"Uh, hey?" Steve replied, a little unsure, before he was being swamped in a group hug.
"Jesus Christ, when did this happen? Last time I saw you, you were like a little kid. Now you're a whole grown adult." Another, Mark, said.
After a long catch up, bringing Steve up to date on everyone else's lives, and him giving an abridged highlights of his last few years, they then got into more serious topics.
"Was everything okay after the earthquakes? I tried calling a few times, but I don't know if I had the wrong number because it never went through." Alice, the oldest of his cousins, asked.
"The phones were down across the whole town for a while after, then it was patchy for weeks after that. It was hard to get five or ten minutes without it dropping out. It took me like two weeks before I was able to get hold of mom and dad to let them know that the house was still standing, and that I was still alive." Steve explained.
"Wait, they weren't in Hawkins for the earthquakes?" Harry cut in.
"No, they've not been in Hawkins since February? Like over a month before it happened."
"Oh. They were telling us last night about how awful and hard it had been during the earthquakes, and how they were scared for their lives." Alice replied.
"That's such bullshit. They weren't in the country when it happened, they were in London. They didn't even know that it was Hawkins that was affected until I called them, because all they'd seen on the news was a freak earthquake hitting the Midwest. It hadn't even specified the state. And then they didn't care how I was, if I was hurt or anything, all they were interested in was if there was damage to the house, and how the earthquake could affect the resale value."
"Okay, I call dibs about bringing that up over dinner. I just want to see what shade of purple Uncle Dick can turn." Becca, the closest cousin to Steve in age, piped up. "But were you hurt?"
"Uh, minor injuries. Nothing serious." Steve lied, not wanting to worry anyone. "I was able to start volunteering within a couple of days. You know, helping out at the relief center, helping search for missing people. And when everything calmed down I was helping rebuild and stuff. Just trying to do my bit. But I'm fine now."
"That's good. But thinking of Uncle Dick turning purple, who gets to bring up Fuck Reagan?" Mark asked.
"Stevie's been through the most, I think he should get the chance." Alice replied.
"Uh, I think that would go down about as well as if I told him that my best friend is a dyke and I've spent most of my free time in the last six months sucking off the local drug dealer, who was accused of being a cult leader and murdering three people." Steve said quickly, unsure if he wanted anyone else to pick up what he'd said.
"Was that for drugs, or for fun, or what? Like a hook up?" Harry asked.
"He's my boyfriend. I mean, it helps that I get free weed out of him, but I'd do it anyway." Steve admitted.
"That is something you missed out of your round up. But I love that all of us are some variation of queer."
Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. After saying Grace, they went round the table to say what they were thankful for that year. Steve had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing as his parents waxed on and on about how they were thankful for their lives and being able to escape the earthquake unscathed. He couldn't keep from laughing when Becca spoke up against them.
"Really? Because Alice asked Steve how he found it after the earthquakes, and he said that he couldn't reach you for two weeks after it happened because the phones were down and you were in London. And you didn't even know that it had hit Hawkins until he called you."
"Steven, why are you telling lies about us?" His mother demanded.
"I wasn't? You weren't in Hawkins when the earthquake hit. You've not been there since February. When I was finally able to call you, you only cared about how the house was, not if I was hurt. And you were pissed that I hadn't called you sooner, despite the fact the phone lines were down for the whole town. I could have died or been injured in hospital, and you wouldn't have known."
"How dare-" His father started, only to be cut off by Steve's grandmother.
"Settle down. There's no need for arguing. I am inclined to believe Steve, because I do remember you telling me that you were going to be spending a few months in Europe at the start of this year."
Both of Steve's parents were visibly unhappy, but they didn't push it any further, allowing the rest of the family to talk about what they were thankful for.
Many small conversations broke out over the table, Steve loving the feeling of being surrounded by family for the first time in a long time. He got pulled into talking to different people, but he did his best to avoid his parents' eye. Not wanting to get trapped by them telling him all the ways he had bothered them since he'd last seen them. But he knew they were up to something, when his father got up before dessert was served.
"Before we have anything else, we do have a big announcement about the future of our family." He said, using the voice he always used when talking to the most important clients.
"You've sucked enough political dick to get what ever tax exemption you were after?" Lizzie asked, before anyone could take it too seriously.
Steve's dad just spluttered in anger as a call of "Elizabeth." Came from at least four different people around the table.
"Ignoring that horrible interruption. What I was going to tell everyone is about Steven's imminent engagement. He is going to be proposing to Melissa Downey, the daughter of my business partner, at Christmas, they've been seeing each other for nearly eighteen months now, and it is going to mean big things for our family."
Steve couldn't respond, processing what had just been said, as everyone started speaking, some offering congratulations, others in confusion.
"That's news to me." Steve said loudly, to get over everyone's voices, once he could form the words. "I'm not planning on proposing to anyone."
"Well, Arthur and I have been discussing it, and it is the only thing that makes sense now, the two of you have been together for long enough, the logical next step is engagement."
"I'm not dating Melissa. We went on one date over a year ago, just after I graduated. It was awful, all she was interested in was if I made enough money to bankroll her spending addiction. I made up a fake emergency to get out of it, and I would rather stick forks in my eyes than suffer through that again." Steve got to his feet, bracing his hands on the table. Knowing he'd been right not to be optimistic that the holiday could pass without incident.
"You will if you know what's good for you. If you don't, it could destroy our business. You wouldn't want to be the reason we go broke, would you? You could end up homeless. Where would you live?"
"First, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in if I had nowhere else to go. It's something we talked about after the earthquake, because some people I know did have damage caused to their homes and I let them stay with me until they could move back in. Second, I don't really care about whether or not you go broke. You don't provide any money to me. You haven't since I started working at Scoops. I pay for all my food, gas, clothes. If you go broke, my financial position won't change at all. And third, I can't propose to her. I'm in a relationship, and we're both very happy."
"Is it that Buckley girl? Or did you somehow manage to convince that Wheeler girl that you're actually worth something? Because I can tell you now, you are going to break up with whatever little slut-"
"His name is Eddie." Steve shouted before he could think it through, and a silence fell across the room. "That's right. Your son is one of those awful queers that you keep campaigning against, to keep them illegal and get them locked up. And you know what? He's easily the best sex I've ever had. Especially when we get high first."
"Why you-" His father roared, his face turning a dark red in anger. "How dare you do this to us? After everything we have done for you. You'd better hope that those friends of yours would be willing to take you in, because you are not living under my roof any longer. You will have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings, anything left will be burned."
"Except, it isn't your roof, is it Richard? If I remember correctly, I was the one who paid the mortgage. My name is the one on the deed to the property in Hawkins. I just allowed you to live there, rent-free might I add, because it made sense for you to live somewhere close to Indianapolis when your business was taking off. I had been planning to sell up. So I think maybe you should be the one to collect your belongings from that house, because I'm not sure if I want you living under my roof any longer. It sounds life you're almost never there, anyway." Steve's grandma replied.
"But, mother-" His father started.
"But nothing, Richard. I don't know where you learnt your hateful attitude, because I know I did not raise you to be the sort of man that would kick your own son out over something as minor as who he loves. I really thought you were a better man than that."
"It's disgusting." Steve's mother added. "So unnatural, and that disease."
"What is disgusting is your bigotry. I think I want you both out from under my roof, now. So, if you would both kindly leave. And I expect you to move your belongings from the house in Hawkins, as that is now Steve's house, not yours. And you better not touch anything that isn't yours, or cause any damage, because I will take legal advice." Steve's grandmother stood up, anger radiating from her tiny five foot frame. "And, unless you change and apologize for your outdated beliefs, you can forget any inheritance. I will not have any of my money going to support hatred."
"Mother,"
"Leave, Richard. Now. I'm not afraid to get the police involved here."
Steve's parents looked at him with their faces filled with utter disgust, before they turned and left. His grandmother escorting them off the property.
"Are you okay, Stevie?" His grandmother asked after the end of the meal.
"I. I think so. I think I need to make a couple of phone calls." He replied.
"Use any of the phones, dear. Maybe if you know someone who can keep an eye on the house."
"Yeah. I babysit for the chief of police sometimes, so I might call him. He'll make sure nothing happens."
"Good. And, if you're talking to that boy of yours, tell him that he's got to come up here for Christmas. I want to meet him, and make sure he's good enough for you."
"Grandma." Steve protested.
"I'm just saying." She replied before walking away.
Steve shut himself in one of the bedrooms, for a little privacy from the still crowded house while he made the calls. The call to Hopper was quick, just outlining what was going on, and Hopper agreed to keep a check on the house until Steve was back in Hawkins. Then it was the call to Eddie.
"Baby, I wasn't expecting you to call. How's your Thanksgiving?"
"Interesting. My parents decided to announce that I was going to propose to dad's business partner's daughter. They wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested in her so I accidentally came out."
"Shit, I hope that didn't go too bad?"
"Uh, it could have gone worse? Somehow me coming out got my parents removed from the will and kicked out of the house. Because my grandma wasn't happy with them being assholes about it."
"Oh, badass grandma. I kinda want to meet her now."
"I was hoping you would say something like that. Because she has told me that you have to come here for Christmas. She wants to make sure that you're good enough." Steve couldn't help smiling as he talked, somehow the day had gone so much better than he'd ever hoped.
#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve harrington has bad parents#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#stranger things#atimeofyourwrites
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Eddie's hanging out with Steve at Family Video when Robin stomps in like a whirlwind.
"Oh, god, I did something so dumb. You have to help meee."
They straighten from where they lean over the counter towards each other, and Eddie takes a big step back, sure that all his big gay feelings for Steve are on display.
"What did you do this time?" Steve smiles with exasperated fondness.
"It's so bad." Robin faceplants with a dramatic wail.
"What happened?" Eddie asks
"I--I'm so sorry!" She looks at both of them, and a tingle of panic works it's way up Eddie's spine.
"My parents started going on and on about me and Steve and why we won't just admit we're dating, and I started to freak out because they won't accept that we're just friends, and I'm not ready to tell them that I'm a lesbian, even though I think it would be okay, so, I told them you were dating someone, Steve."
"Well, that's not so bad, Rob. So, what, they think I have a girlfriend? Who cares."
Her shoulders slump and she frowns. "I wish that's what they thought. They kept asking who, and I panicked!"
"Robin." Steve looks alarmed now, his pretty mouth pulled into a grimace. "What did you tell them?"
"Okay, please don't hate me," she begs. She's looking at Steve, but then she's looking over at Eddie. And oh, god, oh fuck, this can't be happening.
"You've got to be kidding me, Buckley," he says. He keeps his voice light but the touch of panic has become a punch.
"Wait. How do you know--how does he--? Who am I dating?"
"Me, Harrington. She told them you were dating me."
"Oh," Steve shrugs. "Sure."
Eddie chokes on air, plays it off. "For you maybe, Stevie. We in the Munson household have standards."
Steve doesn't meet a beat. "I'll have you know, Edward, that I am a catch."
"Yeah, for the lovely ladies of Hawkins," Eddie winks, even though every word, every gesture aches.
"Oh, c'mon! I'm a great boyfriend. Defend me here, Robin"
Normally, Eddie finds these antics to be charming, but confronting his crush on Steve so forcefully has ruined his mood.
"Need a cigarette," he says to escape.
He's only alone for a few minutes before Steve is sidling up next to him.
"What's she need us to do?"
"Dinner."
He grimaces, exhaling a plume of smoke. "I'm so bad at meeting the parents."
"Shut-up." Steve pokes him in the chest. "Everyone loves you. It's kind of obnoxious, actually. Plus, I think this'll help her feel more comfortable about coming out."
He snorts if only so he doesn't have to think about Steve talking about him and love in the same sentence.
"Fine. For Buck, I'll do it." But he doesn't know how he'll get through pretending to date his biggest crush with out spontaneously combusting.
"Love the enthusiasm," Steve laughs. "You know I'd treat you right, Munson."
The blush that rolls over his face is crimson. "Alright, big boy, calm down. We're not actually dating."
The bark of laughter Steve lets out is a burst of pure adrenaline to Eddie's heart. This is going to be a disaster.
---
The night of the dinner arrives and Eddie almost blows the whole game when they walk in the Buckley front door and Steve's arm wraps around his waist. The night is all casually intimate touches and Steve leaning into his personal space; calling him "baby" in a soft, warm voice; eyes drifting to Eddie's lips as they flirt and banter.
It's almost like they're a couple; almost like Steve could love him.All of his senses are overwhelmed with Steve Harrington and it fucking hurts. But Eddie lets himself indulge, finally running his fingers through Steve's gorgeous hair, tracing the moles on his face and neck, outlining the sharpness of his perfect jaw, calling him "sweetheart" with heartbreaking fondness.
It's intoxicating.
They're helping Mrs. Buckley with the dishes when it happens. When Steve leans over and casually presses his lips to Eddie's, tasting like vanilla ice cream and spiced apples and something indefinably warm. Eddie is helpless not to crumple, leans into Steve, wraps fists into the perfectly fitted polo, drawing them closer.
The night ends and Eddie thinks he's finally free, except the Buckleys love them. Keep inviting them back.
He goes for Robin, he tells himself, but he knows that it's for the hope of it. Knows that he's a ship breaking himself against the rock that is Steve Harrington, and god help him, he can't stop.
---
Of course, of course, the wires get crossed. The kids have a pool party, leave Steve and Eddie to ice cream clean-up duty. Of course, he can't stop himself from smearing some melted mint chip down Steve's face, and Steve retaliates with chocolate sauce.
They giggle and flight and make mess until Steve's eyes are bright, cheeks red, and Eddie can't look away. He clocks Steve's eyes drifting to his mouth, is helpless as the distance between them closes, as Steve captures his lips.
It's not the brief, chaste things from the Buckley's; it's hot, all tongues and teeth and desire, and it's not fucking real.
Eddie lurches back, making Steve stumble. "Stop," he snarls.
"Eddie--" Steve's eyes are wide.
He's panting, can't catch his breath. "You can't just fucking kiss me like that when it doesn't mean anything to you."
"Please," Steve begs. "Let me explain."
"Save it. We're done with this. Robin is good now. And I'm out."
He turns away, heads towards the front door, but Steve pulls him back.
"Let me explain. Please. Please, Eddie. I didn't mean--"
And it's too much. Steve's plaintive voice, his big eyes wet with tears.
"Of course you didn't mean it," he spits. "It's nothing to you, pretending to date me. Touching me. Kissing me. Acting like you love me. It doesn't matter to the Heartthrob of Hawkins. But have you or Buckley ever taken the time to think that it's everything to me?" Hot tears spill down his cheeks and he can't even be embarrassed because all of this has been so humiliating.
Steve gapes at him, face slack and stunned. "Eddie, I--I'm so--"
"Don't. See you around, Harrington," he says. Then he runs.
---
He doesn't leave the trailer for a week. Refuses to pick up the phone.
It's Saturday, early evening. Wayne just left for his shift when there's a knock on the door.
Eddie is content to ignore it, to wrap himself in a quilt on the couch, but the knocking doesn't stop.
"Eddie, I know you're in there. Your van is here. The lights are on. I can hear you," Steve calls.
Longing clenches at his heart, but he's not in the mood for the gentle let down.
"Go away, Harrington." He starts towards his bedroom, thinking maybe he can lock Steve out.
"Please, Eddie."
"I don't need anything from you, Harrington."
It's silent for long enough that Eddie thinks it works. And then, " I have so many things I should tell you, Eds. If you still hate me at the end, I'll go. I'll never bother you again. But please, please listen."
Resigned to having a conversation he never wanted, Eddie opens the door. "Okay, Harrington."
Steve steps inside, twisting his hands for a few seconds before blurting out, "I've had a crush on you for months."
The confession briefly steals Eddie's breath from his lungs before he scoffs, "and you never said anything? C'mon, Harrington, when have you ever hesitated to ask someone out?"
Steve blinks a few times, before he answers. "I've been terrified to say anything because I didn't want to lose my best friend."
"And what, Robin asks us to pretend to date and you think that's the perfect time to make your move?" Eddie grips at his hair, pulling it in front of his face.
"Yeah, a little bit!" Steve raises his voice. "I tried but I was terrified you only wanted me as a friend."
"You know I'm gay, Harrington!"
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Of course I wanted you!" Eddie's yelling now, has closed the distance between them so they're almost nose-to-nose.
"I didn't know! How could I? You could've said something!"
"I thought you were straight! Fucking look at you! You've slept with 75% of the available girls at Hawkins High!"
"Who cares about them, Eddie? I want you!"
"Funny way of showing it, Harrington."
"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? Cause I am."
"Is that why you kissed me at your house? Making your move?"
"It wasn't supposed to be. I got--" Steve's throat bobs as he swallows. "Caught up in the moment. I know I shouldn't have kissed you like that. I know."
"Then why did you?" Eddie's voice breaks. "Why then? Why not any of the other nights we spent together?"
"Because that's when I realized that I'm fucking in love with you!" Steve shouts.
They're both breathing hard by the end, Steve's eyes too bright, face too flushed. They stare at each other, unmoving, Steve's confession ringing in his ears.
"You done?" Eddie's voice waivers, his heart pounding, stuttering, flipping in his chest.
Steve nods, but Eddie doesn't give him a chance to move. He brings their mouths crashing together, Steve not even hesitating to slip his tongue between Eddie's lips. They kiss hard enough that they draw blood, but that just makes it more frenzied. Eddie grips Steve's hip, presses him against the trailer door, grinding against him with abandon.
Eddie breaks the kiss to finally pay some attention to the delightful moles on Steve's neck, working his way up to his jaw. "I'm going to have so much fun taking you apart, sweetheart," he whispers, mouth pressed to Steve's ear, delighting in the way he shivers at the words.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#one shot#fake dating#mutual pining#angst#friends to lovers#unrequited love that's totally requited#robin buckley#platonic stobin#eddie munson's big gay feelings for steve harrington#they're in love your honor#they're just bad at the talking part
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break in pt.2 // m.l
burglar!mark x rich!reader
pt.1 , pt.3
he's never coming back...
you already told yourself that multiple times, but you were still standing on front of your dining room's window, looking around for any signs about mark's arrival.
"honey, what are you looking for?" your mom sweetly called out your name, making you halt your actions.
"oh, nothing, just nothing" you shook your head, but it's not convincing enough for your mom to believe you.
'clearly, there's something going on' your mom thought. but she just doesn't want to bother you more.
her and his husband's jewelries went missing a few nights ago, but it didn't bother them that much since those were actually old and boring to wear now.
they also planned on going on a trip to a another jewelry shop someday to buy more.
"well, just sit down for a while and eat 'cause dinner's ready"
you walked over to a chair with a slumped back, sat down with a defeated sigh, and ate.
he's never coming back...
he already got what he wanted...
you told yourself again, just to make you let go of him already.
meanwhile, mark is back on the streets.
stealing phones and wallets as usual, with his best buddy haechan.
"yo dude, you should get that guy" haechan held onto his left shoulder, came close to his ear and pointed at a middle-aged man in a luxurious white suit, busy typing on his phone as he stands in the middle of a sidewalk.
"why can't you?" mark looked at him and asked.
"'cause i'll be handling that poor old lady right there" haechan pointed at the lonely granny on the other side of the street, waiting for the green light turn into red so she could walk, using their walkers.
"and if i helped them cross the street, she would give me lots of money!" haechan smiled at the thought.
"and if she doesn't?"
"i'll steal their purse" haechan said, as mark shakes his head.
"whatever, i'm on that guy.." mark said before walking towards that middle-aged man.
he ignored haechan's "good luck" behind him as he thinks of a way to rob that guy without being caught.
mark then, stands too close to him, but seems to be unnoticed. he looks around the area, pretending to admire it to avoid suspicions from other bystanders.
his hands slowly reach up to the man's left pocket, the fat wallet with credit cards and cash are coming into his view.
holy shit...
mark cautiously dipped his hand into the man's pocket, his fingers finally coming in contact with the leather texture.
'i got it! i got i--' mark slowly lifts up the wallet until
"MARK!"
"huh?" he muttered as he turned his head around quickly to spot a familiar girl running up to him fastly.
"hey wait! no!" he said, but you already hugged him.
it was you.
---------------------------------------------------
you thought that maybe going around the city with your parents can take your mind off him.
and oh boy, it didn't.
you stilk think about the kiss with him, every now and then.
it's driving you insane.
"do you like to buy something, sweetie?" your mom asked, sat beside your father on the driver's seat, looking at you through the rear-view mirror inside the car as she applies her lipstick on.
"yeah i guess so, i'm planning to get new shoes, my classmates already saw my old ones multiple times" you told them, thinking about the time your other rich classmates made fun of you for wearing the same shoes in school thrice.
"okay! me and your father will just be hanging out at the jewelry shop right there" your mom said, pointing at a jewelry shop you didn't even bother to look at.
they dropped you off to the side, as the car you were just in drives away to another direction.
you strolled around the city, finding some nice shops to shop in, and thinking of mark as well...
hmm, i wonder what he's doing right now
you thought to yourself, until you spotted that oh so familiar black beanie.
you couldn't believe it!
"MARK!" you screamed before running up to him. the people passing by suddenly stopped to look at you until continuing to walk again.
the middle-aged man was nudged a little, so he decided to move away from what's happening.
mark frowned at him leaving, and then looked down at you, still hugging him.
"oh my god, i thought i'll never see you again" you said to him, basking in his warmth.
his hands mindlessly went to hold onto your waist and push you gently, hoping you'll get the signal from him to let you go.
"don't you know i've waited for you for so long to come back?!" you looked up at him with some cute puppy eyes. you hope.
"I..." mark clearly doesn't know what to say as he looked to the side and spotted haechan watching them, sporting a beige purse on his arm with a smirk on his face.
"help me" mark mouthed at haechan, but he just laughed at him.
mark looked down on you.
"uhh, okay, it's nice to see you again too, but i have to go" mark said to you, finally making you let go of him.
"huh? where are you going--" you asked as mark quickly leaves the area. you couldn't find him anymore.
he left you confused and dumbfounded.
AGAIN.
---------------------------------------------------
"so you're telling me, you kissed this girl so you won't get snitched out, and now she's in love with you and stalking you around the city?" haechan says to him, his ass sitting on the poor and abused sofa with his feet propped up against a wooden table as he pulls out the contents of the old lady's purse one-by-one.
they're currently at their secret hideout, haechan's basement.
"yeah, I clearly didn't know what to do next, it was so stupid of me. fuck!" mark says back, pacing back and forth on front of haechan, his hands on his hair.
"well, that's good because you will now be able to get closer to her and her family. they will let you in their mansion, and if you got in, you can steal everything you want and just leave immediately like you were never there" haechan reasons, suddenly pulling out an inhaler from the purse, then throwing it aside.
"what? no way, i would never do that!" mark replies to him, stopping to look at haechan's face in a disgusted way.
"geez, it's just an idea" haechan said, putting his hands up to tell mark to calm down and let it go.
"well, whatever, she's your problem anyway and not mine..." haechan chuckled as he pulled out a bundled cash from the purse counting it immediately, ignoring mark.
mark sighed and plopped down beside haechan, watching him count the money.
"yo, you have to give me a share of tha-" mark says as he feels up his now empty pocket.
wait, huh?
mark quickly checked his pockets to make sure he's not crazy, but he's really not and his wallet totally gone!
it only has $16 in it, plus his old school ID and his family picture that he cherishes.
where could he even dropped or misplaced that.
better yet, who even stole it?
"yo dude, did you take my wallet?" mark nudged haechan's shoulder to ask him.
"i would never steal your empty and ugly-ass looking wallet" haechan stated to him, still looking at the huge money he's holding in his hands, counting it over and over again.
"i'm serious dude!"
"i really didn't!"
if it's not haechan, then...
oh no.
---------------------------------------------------
after mark left you alone again in the city, you were not really disappointed with it.
you were on your bed, kicking your feet up in the air as you look at mark's old school ID and family photo.
oh he looks so damn cute.
you really didn't think mark wouldn't feel you taking his wallet while hugging him.
you laughed at the thought, guess he wasn't the only one with robber skills after all.
'i hope he tries to get his wallet back from me'
#nct#nct imagines#nct smut#nct fluff#nct angst#nct x reader#nct mark#mark lee#mark lee imagines#mark lee scenarios#nct scenarios#mark lee smut#mark lee fluff#mark lee angst#nct 127 mark#nct 127 imagines#nct 127 smut#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 angst#nct 127 scenarios#mark lee x reader#nct dream mark#nct dream smut#nct dream fluff#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#nct dream angst#nct dream#nct 127#nct u
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If You Let Me, Part One
A/N: My first Joe fic! This series is based off the song "If You Let Me" by Sinead Harnett, one of my favorite songs. Really excited to post this and I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: angst, kissing, mentions of alcohol and drunkenness
You pulled your coat tighter across your body as you crossed the street toward the church. It had just started to snow, uncharacteristically early for Cincinnati in November, a light dusting of flurries coating the stones as you ran up the steps.
You wish you could say being late to your brother’s wedding rehearsal was out of character for you, but you’d be lying. You had a habit of showing up fashionably (or what your mother would call embarrassingly) late to family events, partially because you couldn’t stand to be around your parents for too long without a drink in your hand, and partially because it meant a decreased chance that you’d run into Joe. He was your brother’s best friend, troublemakers attached at the hip since they could walk, so your mom invited him to every dinner, birthday party, and holiday. Thank goodness his football schedule made it difficult to say yes to any of the invitations, or you probably wouldn’t have seen your family at all this year. It wasn't a surprise that Joe was going to be your brother's best man, but it did mean you'd been dreading this weekend for the past year.
You could admit you were dragging your feet getting ready this morning, but your tardiness today, truly wasn’t your fault. On the 15-minute ride from your apartment to the church downtown, you managed to hit every red light and get stuck behind a freight train. Even on the walk from the parking lot, all of the contents of your purse spilled onto the pavement, and you lost your shoe crossing the street.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was divine intervention.
As you walked into the church, you realized it was karma.
There he stood, leaning against the door that led to the main hall, his phone in his hand. His blonde hair was shorter than the last time you’d seen him, the tan he got from being on the football field six days a week a nice contrast to his bright blue eyes. He looked nervous, uneasy, his left leg jiggling as he looked around the room before glancing back down to his phone as if he was anticipating someone's arrival, and when he made eye contact with you, he looked downright sick to his stomach.
“Hi”, the word came out as a squeak. Joe straightened up, pulling at the sleeve of his tan suit jacket. The bride, your future sister-in-law, Tiffany, insisted that the entire wedding party be in coordinating colors, tan for the groomsmen, teal for the bridesmaids. You were wearing a simple black shift dress that had been hiding in the back of your closet because you turned down your invitation to be part of the wedding party, much to your mother’s chagrin.
“You’re going to be the only member of our family not part of the wedding”, she chastised you over the phone when Tiffany told her you would be enjoying the wedding from the second row of guest seating. “How do you think this is going to make me look in front of my friends?” You realized that it did look odd that you weren’t participating in your only brother’s wedding in some capacity, but you knew the only way you were going to make it through this wedding was by clinging to the bar and staying as far away as you could from Joe Burrow.
“Um, hey.” He cleared his throat as he slipped his phone into his back pocket. You could cut the tension with a dull butter knife, that’s how little regard he had for you now.
The last time the two of you had even been in the same room together was your family’s annual Christmas Eve party, three years ago. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of eight good, long years, the man you thought you were going to marry and have a family with, after he admitted to cheating on you with some random girl he met at a bar, and you were more than drunk off of a few martinis to try to ease the pain. You stumbled, literally, across Joe on the balcony, who had stepped outside to get some fresh air and get away from the terrible Christmas karaoke.
“You are not drunk enough tonight, Mr. Burrow.” You shakily held out the bottle of champagne you had stollen from the kitchen. Joe took the mostly empty bottle from you with a grin, placing it on the ground. “I think you’re drunk enough for the both of us", he grabbed you just as you tripped over your own feet, holding you up with one of his hands, Ok, I gotcha.”
“If you can’t get stupid drunk while your mom inappropriately sings “Santa Baby” to a room of your family and friends, when can you drink?” You gestured back into the house, watching your mother scandalously shaking her hips as the instrumental blared over the speakers. You got your sense of humor and your low alcohol tolerance from her. You gripped the railing of the balcony to steady yourself, accidentally landing atop Joe’s hand. His skin felt hot and smooth, and for the second you made eye contact with him, his gaze falling from your eyes to your lips, you were pretty sure you were willing to do something stupid tonight to forget about your broken heart.
Your relationship with Joe had always been, well, nonexistent. Growing up, he and your brother were a year ahead of you in school, and they mostly wanted nothing to do with you; teenagers could be cruel, so the only time you saw Joe was in passing in the hallway between classes or when he came to your house to hang out. He was always nice to you, but in a “I have to be nice to you or my mom will kill me” kind of way. You were pretty sure he didn’t see you as anything more as an obnoxious little sister.
“So, how’s school going?” Joe quickly pulled his hand away, crossing his arms over his chest. You took a deep breath, feeling yourself quickly sober up. “School is well, school.” You punctuated your sentence with a hiccup. The last thing you wanted to talk about was how terribly you were doing in college, and how your goal of getting into law school next year was quickly becoming a pipe dream. “School, you?”, Joe’s brow furrowed at your question as you slurred your words, “I mean, how’s school going for you?” He nodded, flashing you his perfect, pearly whites. “School’s good, football’s going well. Scouts are telling me I’m probably going first round.” He looked down at the ground, studying his sneakers like they were the most fascinating thing he’d seen all night.
“That’s amazing! Congrats!” You would later blame it on your inebriation, but not thinking, you threw your arms sloppily around Joe’s shoulders, his hands catching you low at the waist. “Uh, I-“, your mouth was dangerously close to his, and you were sure he could smell the vodka on your breath, but when you tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let you go, keeping you tightly pulled into his chest. You let yourself fall into his hold as the two of you brushed noses, Joe gently kissing at your bottom lip to test the waters. You’d be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind, you had always had a crush on Joe, but it was also a line you thought you’d never cross. Any other night there would have been no question, but tonight, you were hurting, and Joe was your only source of comfort.
You grab his face with both hands, pulling him down to better meet you, your lips pressed together so hard, not a breath could escape. Joe’s large frame towered over yours as you both fought for dominance in the kiss, Joe’s tongue jutting in between your lips. You felt a warmth pool in your stomach as Joe’s hands roamed your body carelessly, eventually moving to cup your ass, gently lifting you and forcing you to stand on your toes to keep up. You were glad the heat from inside the house had fogged up the windows, preventing anyone from seeing the two of you.
“Joe, stop.” You mumbled against his mouth, trying to push him away at the chest, making him eventually break away even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. You saw the puffs of white in the air leaving his mouth as his chest heaved with each breath, his cheeks a rosy pink, lips swollen and red.
“What?” It was more like a plea than a question, his warm hand cupping your cheek as he looked at you. “What’s wrong?” You pressed your forehead against his, his arms still wrapped around you; he didn’t dare to let you go. You played with the necklace around your neck, twisting the diamond stone between your fingers. You were still wearing the necklace that your boyfriend had given you, even though the two of you were broken up. As much as you wish you were, you still weren’t over your relationship, and it wasn’t fair to either of you to lead Joe on.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my brother’s best friend.” You closed your eyes, each breath you took in reminding you of just how good Joe smelled. Your head was spinning, and not because of the drinks you’d had all evening.
“I’ve always cared about you. I know we’ve never been here before”, you knew he meant the kiss, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to happen.” Joe was pouring his heart out to you, and you were still hung up on the guy who cheated. You wanted him, more than anything, but it felt like you were trading one heartbreak for another, whether it came now, or further down the road. There was no way this ended well.
Seeing your wheels turning, Joe leaned in again to lock lips, and you let him kiss you, but he could feel you hesitate. You stepped back, and the look on his face was enough to make your stomach turn. “I’m sorry, Joe. I really am.” You pulled the screen door open with what little strength you had left and left him out on the balcony.
You knew it was inevitable, fate would force you to come face to face with Joe eventually, but you were really wishing it wasn’t going to be today of all days. You knew he’d be here, of course, but you were hoping you’d could sneak in after rehearsals had already started and be out before anyone saw you. You were sure he could hear your heart beating with how quiet it was in the vestibule.
“Joe, I really want to apo-“, you gripped the strap of your handbag, the leather twisting against the skin in your palm. He couldn’t make eye contact with you, or didn’t want to, as he pushed away from the door he was leaning against. “Let’s just get through today”, he edged out, letting out a sharp breath as he began to walk away from you.
“There you are!” Your mother came rushing toward the two of you, the click of her heels echoing through the hall. “Joe, you look so handsome. I was just telling your mother how proud we are of you.” She gently patted his forearm, and Joe gave her a small smile.
“And you, it’s a good thing you’re here, actually.” She immediately began to straighten out your dress and licked her thumb to wipe away mascara that settled in the creases of your under eye. “Thanks, mom, and here I thought I was going to be an inconvenience.” She rolled her eyes, as she always did at one of your quips. “Stop being dramatic, hun. One of the bridesmaids is sick with food poisoning, so we need you to step in for her. Today and during the wedding. Her dress should fit you, might be a little tight.” She sized you up, undoubtedly noticing the couple of pounds you’d put on while studying non-stop for the LSAT. “You’ll walk with Joe actually.”
You could hear the groan rumbling in Joe’s chest from where you stood. “Mom, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, you muttered under your breath, but she immediately waived you off. “God forbid you actually do something to support this family. Is it really too much to ask for you to get your head out of the books for a minute and be a part of the biggest day of your brother’s life?” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt an oncoming headache. “Of course, mom. I’d be happy to be a bridesmaid.”
“Perfect! Tiffany will be thrilled.” She clapped her hands together, leaving the two of you in her dust as she hustled back to the wedding party.
“Joe, I really think that we should talk.” You were waving your white flag at him, hoping he would let his guard down long enough so you could properly apologize.
“We have nothing to talk about”, he bit back at you, and you staggered, not expecting his harsh tone. “I think it’d be better for the both of us if we keep the talking to a minimum.” He ran his hands through his hair, and for the first time you saw how truly hurt he was by what happened that night, three years ago. He left you standing in the entrance before you could get out another word.
The universe really had a cruel sense of humor.
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Leah Williamson x Royal!Reader
Disclaimer: I’m sorry it’s taken so long I hated the first draft so deleted it and went again. It’s not my best but I’ve been so busy with college that I wanted to give you something cause you guys have been waiting ages
The media coverage on the run up to the wedding had been enormous, so much so both you and Leah found it difficult to leave Kensington Palace as swarms of people either the media or fans had gathered just past the gates. You where nervous if Leah saw this all becoming to much and decided to call the wedding off, she was a private person one who had been allowed to live a private life along with her professional career up until you had both been spotted on your fifth date, after that it seems as though the floodgates had opened and although you had tried to close them for her you couldn’t.
Both your family as well as Leah’s had all been arriving in to London getting ready to go out to one final dinner before you became a married couple. You had attended a dinner a few nights ago held in you apartment in Kensington palace with all your friends, this meant all of Leah’s Arsenal teammates as well as England teammates international friends from different teams as well as her hometown friends and others she had picked up along the way, while your circle was much smaller always being conscious of picking the right friends ones who loved you for you and not your title. That didn’t mean you had any less of a good time then Leah you had clicked with her friends so effortlessly the first you had met that she almost always swore she would have married you on the spot each time.
The dinner with your family’s wasn’t much different only it was held in Buckingham palace. Leah’s family included both her parents, brother Aunts and Uncles as well cousins, at this dinner you seemed to have had the bigger circle with you Father and his wife, both your brothers and their wives and then your Aunts and Uncles as well as all your cousins and their partners. You had been ever so gracious though and although Leah’s family had met yours many times over the royal protocol had always been a difficult thing to grasp for anyone who wasn’t born into and so you had stayed by Leah and her family’s side giving them signals of when to do things as well as what to call everyone, that was until the alcohol was brought out and all the protocols went out the window, you smiled leaning back into Leah watching your family’s get on so well, relaxed after showing themselves instead of the stuffy upperclass family they could be in the public eye.
The days suddenly began to feel more real as the last of the preparations for the wedding had finished, Windsor Castle was set to welcome another wedding and the buzz around the Uk had begun to grow, Leah would show you the videos family and friends sent her of you both on coffee cups, masks of your faces and flags to which you would both laugh and tell each other that you would get it for Christmas.
Two days out from the wedding you rang you brother in a panic, it was the middle of the night and Leah slept peacefully as you paced the floor of the living room crying down the phone as fear set in “what if this is all to much for her Will what if she realises how heavy this family is what if she doesn’t love me enough to see past that.” William had tried and failed to calm you down he had been telling you over and over that Leah did in fact love you as well as wouldn’t just leave you but nothing seemed to work until your sister in law took the phone from him. “Y/n love it’s Kate. I need you to breath for me ok and then tell me what’s going on.” You let out a breath sighing before telling her what you had just told Will “oh Y/n, I know it’s hard and I know you worry that she doesn’t love you or that all of this is to much for her but she loves you just as much as you love her, you have shown her from the beginning if she said the word you would drop everything and stand back, you have shown her that if she wants to live this life with you you would be there with her every step of the way. Leah wants to marry you because she loves you, because she knows that no matter how big of a role she is stepping into that you are with her every minute ok.” You let out a quite ok before jumping feeling arms wrap around you “Thank you both of you I’m so sorry I woke you up I’ll see you soon.” Kate smiled “no problem that’s what we are here for goodnight Y/n.” Leah restated her cheek on your shoulder “what’s wrong baby.” You relaxed into her hold “My head was so loud, I’m sorry I didn’t want to wake you.” Leah shook her head turning you around “don’t apologise talk to me I’m here for you no matter what time the clock reads.” “I feel really stupid because I know you love me I do but I worry that this is all to much.” Leah looked at you eyes soft “what is all to much my love.” You felt the tears well up in your eyes “this life, the constant struggle of being a family and an institution, the wait of the crown.” Leah sighed whipping your cheeks free of tears “ with you nothing is to much ever, I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t know what I was walking into and I definitely wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t think we could get through this together.” You nodded pulling back “it’s me and you my girl we have talked about this and if I have to remind you till your old and grey I will ok.” You couldn’t help but pull her into tight resting your head in the crook of her neck “me and you.” You stayed like that a while longer before Leah squeezed you “let’s get to bed.” You nodded before pulling her hand “I want to ask you something first.” Leah nodded pulling you to the couch “anything.” You let out a breath before talking “your achievements both in your professional career and in your career off the pitch in making sure women have a voice and expanding the game, they are your own achievements.” Leah nodded slightly confused “I….Papa wants to give us a dukedom. It’s a title every child of the monarch gets should they wish for it.” Leah squeezed your hand telling you to continue “I don’t want it.” “Y/n you can’t stand back you….what this is crazy you are the voice of so much change and good in this world.” You shook your head “I’m not standing back, I am simply not letting your achievements that you have worked so hard on be over shadowed by a title, you can’t choose if they give us a dukedom you can’t voice your opinions the way you do now and I’m scared they might ask you to stop playing and I don’t want that for you not for a long time, you have so much left to do but if my father gives us a title like that it won’t work in our favour.” Leah finally understood, you where looking out for her once again in a world she didn’t know much about. “Are you sure.” You nodded “I am.” Leah pulled you in for a kiss “ok then talk to him and tell him, I don’t know how much support I will be but I have your back on this ok.” You nodded pulling her up into another kiss before heading to bed.
The day before the wedding you found yourself sat on the kitchen counter writing emails as Leah stood in between your legs tracing soft patters on your back “are you nearly done, I want to spend the next few hours we have left cuddled on the couch.” You hummed pressing a kiss to her head “one more and then you get me until September my love.” Leah sighed resting her head on your chest “fine but the cars coming to pick me up in five hours.” You rolled your eyes at her whining before pressing send and kissing her “all done my love let’s go.”
You stood out in the courtyard talking to Amanda as you waited on Leah to come down with the last of her things to spend the night in the hotel “what time do you leave.” You sighed looking at your watch “an hour tops, I wanted to give you guys enough time to clear before I left didn’t need you guys getting followed.” Amanda nodded “nervous.” You smiled at the older woman “about marrying Le no, about all the people watching yes .” Amanda took your hand “they all fade away the minute you meet her at the alter I promise you will be so wrapped up in each other you won’t realise how many people or cameras there are.” You sighed nodding. Amanda looked at you worriedly “Y/n are you sure your ok.” You let her eyes your own filling with tears “You have been the mum I never got to have, and I never say it enough how thankful I am but I hope you don’t mind that I have looked at you like a mother figure since Leah and I started dating.” Amanda pulled you into a hug “oh love I don’t mind I love you like you where my own and I have since Leah brought you home all those years ago.” You squeezed her tight “I love you too.” The moment was ruined when Leah came running out the door “ok so I think I have everything if not don’t care…hey I want to get in on the group hug.” Both you and Amanda laughed pulling away as you whipped your cheeks “no time I’m afraid my love you are late.” Leah looked at you eyebrows pushed together in worry at your red eyes “you ok.” You nodded quickly “I’m not sad don’t worry just emotional but that’s ok now go so I can marry your gorgeous ass sooner.” Leah laughed pulling you into a heavy kiss “I love you.” You nodded “I love you.”
You stood in corridor staring at a painting of your grandparents “that is probably my favourite painting of them together.” You hummed “they talked about this day ever since you came home going on and on about a blonde girl from Milton Keynes, your Granny had approved of this wedding the minute she met Leah and saw how happy she made you, made me promise I would never tell you not to marry her, my response was by god do you think I’m crazy people that in love kept apart well it’s only ever been written by Shakespeare and it doesn’t end well.” You couldn’t help but laugh “death is a bit extreme papa I would have simply ran away.” Charles laughed “our lives are mostly laid out for us in this world we live in whether we know it or not..my great grandfather was an example when his brother abdicated he was thrusted into a role he was never fully prepared for and one your grandmother is so certain killed him.. the knock on effect was that his line of succession became us..my mother was told from then on that all decisions she thought she was allowed to make would be no more and that she couldn’t just marry any man she had once hoped for.. although she always states it worked out in the end and she ended up living a long happy life with your grandfather by her side.” Charles paused trying to gain your reaction “I am simply king by accident of birth most would say.. our family belief is that god himself has placed me here because I am the only one at this current moment of time strong enough to convey his message to his people.” You scoffed at this, you loved your family but that belief was completely backwards and it was something you had been taught to keep your mouth shut over since you where a child “that meant I myself had to marry right and ultimately I left and the woman I loved couldn’t wait for me. Your mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” You turned facing your father now “she was absolutely breathtaking and it was a plus she came from an aristocratic family as well as her soft nature that won us all over and I knew she would be the one that would help me carry this weight, but we where so different and I realised that although she was breathtaking and kind and a wonderful mother and no matter how much I tried to convince myself I only ever loved her.” Your father turned looking at you as you stated back at him with soft eyes “but I was never in love with her, and for that I am always sorry, she lived no one should ever have to and I am partial to blame as well as those photographs but I am not sorry for the nights we shared together blissfully loved up in one another’s presence Y/n I need you to know that our greatest achievements where our three children and although one of us is here physically to witness this she is just as proud to watch you fall in love, to marry someone who is equally as in love as you someone who makes you laugh uncontrollably that we all stop just to listen, she is at peace knowing you are all happy, we both are at peace.” You took your fathers hand staring at him eyebrows creased together “ I never got to know her and it is something that has always effected my ability to feel how much she loved me, but this entire experience the run up to the wedding to how it will happen tomorrow has shown me that I have always been loved by her just as much as Will and Harry, I don’t hold it against you papa it’s not your fault you couldn’t love her it’s not hers either your heart simply beat for Camilla and I am happy you got that happy ending and now in some way I feel like Mum gets hers too come tomorrow at 1pm she does anyway.” Charles placed a kiss to your hand patting it gently “I wish you both a life time of happiness and that no matter how dark some days may seem to be just know that you have a friend crawling through that tunnel with you trying to get to the same light and it’s always easier if you work together.” You nodded “goodnight papa.” Charles smiled “goodnight peach.”
Leah stud fixing her cuff links on her left a gold cannon and on her right a crown both representing her beloved football team and the other the royal she was most definitely in love with. Jacob knocked on her door “eh mum said you needed something blue for the wedding so here.” Leah looked at her brother shocked “get that way no way in hell am I using anything with that stupid bird on it no no way not funny.” Jacob laughed “I’m sorry I had to, here Y/n said this should do.” Leah looked down at blue ticket “Jacob what is this.” Jacob smiled at his older sister “it’s the parking ticket to London Colony the day you both first met, she said for today you could borrow it since she guessed you wouldn’t have anything else.” Leah looked up at her brother shocked “how…what I can’t believe she has this.” Jacob smiled nodding “quite the romantic wife you got there.” Leah couldn’t taker her eyes off the ticket whispering out a quite yeah.
You stood fixing the tiara that sat on her head before looking at her brothers “what.” Harry shook his head “nothing it’s just you look so much like Mum it’s crazy.” You smiled at him “you think.” William nodded “we do.” There was a knock on the door as James still his head through “Miss Williamson has left for the chapel, it’s now or never your royal highness.” You turned to your brothers “ready.” You nodded picking up your dress “yep.”
Leah stood at the later of St George’s chapel Jacob standing just behind her as she looked at her family in the pews before straightening up as here comes as a classical version of Can’t help falling in love played through the chapel. The song had been chosen as a way to tie in The Queen and Prince Philip after you both found them dancing to it during a late night wonder around Balmoral Castle. Leah felt her lip trembling as she watched your nieces and nephews walk down ahead of you waving to them smiling as she waved them off before freezing as she caught your eye, your father walking beside you proud as ever as your brothers held the back of your dress gently. Leah quickly lifted her hand up to clear the stray tear as she smiled your father before looking back at you “hi.” You smiled at her softly before she quickly burst into tears again. You pulled her softly into letting her rest her head in your neck “I would cry too but I can’t remember if they put the waterproof mascara on and I really don’t fancy having to get through this looking like a panda.” Leah laughed sniffling as she pulled her head back up apologising softly. The Archbishop looked at you both making sure you where ready before he began “We are gathered here today to witness the greatest love story to grace us in nearly a century, who gives this bride away.” Charles stepped forward “I do.” Charles reached over taking Leah’s hand before placing it in yours “Congratulations to you both.” You smiled “thank you papa.” Charles stood back patting your brothers as they took up their grooms men posts behind you.
Amanda had been right the minute you locked eyes with Leah the world had vanished and the friends and family who had gathered to watch had simply disappeared “I missed you.” Leah whispered as you both sat watching the Archbishop hands never letting go of one another “Le it wasn’t even 24 hours.” Leah smiled “yes but every second away from you is torture.” You smiled squeezing her hand “Did you get my surprise.” Leah turned eyes full of love “you surprise me everyday and make me fall more in love with you every second your incredible.” You smiled “and I’m about to be your wife.” You both stood in front of the Archbishop as he finished his speech “repeat after me I Leah Cathrine , take The Y/n Margaret Elizabeth Victoria to be my lawfully wedded wife in for richer for poor, in sickness and in health. Till death do us part.” Leah sighed placing the ring on your hand repeating the words as her eyes never left yours. “I Y/n Margaret Elizabeth Victoria take the Leah Cathrine to be my lawfully wedded Wife in for rich or poor in sickness and in health till death do us part.” Your hand shakes slightly as you slide the ring on to Leah’s hand looking up as she squeezed it “your ok.” You nodded repeating the words “well I now pronounce you Wife and Wife you may now kiss the bride. Leah didn’t hesitate scooping you into her arms before kiss you hungrily. Leah let you go as the chapel erupted into cheers but you couldn’t take your eyes off each other.
You curtsied to your father before making your way back down the isle to the front steps of the chapel to crowds applauding, you waved smiling at them before Leah pulled you into another kiss “hey.” Leah laughed “just giving the crowd what they wanted.” You made your way down the steps getting into the carriage as you both left the grounds making your way through Windsor waving at people before turning up the long walk. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are.” Leah smiled at you “I don’t believe so.” You laughed “oh I’m so sorry worst wife ever “you look absolutely gorgeous my love.” You smiled resting your head slightly on her shoulder “you are the best wife one could ask for my darling.”
Heading through the gates the public part of the day was over as you headed into the main hall to spend the rest of the day with your guests. You had both mingled Leah making sure your where in arms reach at any given moment as your guests congratulated you both on your day as well as wished you look to the future. Finally it was time for your first dance and you couldn’t help but become nervous as you held Leah’s hand making your way to the dance floor. Leah turned flipping off her friends as they began to whistle in delight, Georgia shouting out “Keep it PG Le yeah.” You laughed as Leah pulled you close just before Can’t take my eyes off of you by Frankie Valli.
The night raged on a lot more and became something of a scene once the children had been sent to bed you hadn’t seen the lionesses drink like this since they won the Euros, yourself and Leah on the other hand had decided not to drink anymore scared of forgetting the day. At 5am the hall had finally cleared out leaving just you and your wife swaying to Stand by Me by Ben E King. “This has been the best day of my life you know.” You hummed your head in her shoulder “I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” You lifted your head “I can’t believe it either but there was never going to be anyone else.” Leah pulled you into a kiss humming softly “I love you.” You kissed Leah passionately “I know but I loved you first.” Leah couldn’t help but smile “Well I get to love you last.” Leah kissed you again and you would never admit it but you loved this back and forth“Hmm promise.” Leah nodded energetically “I promise to love you till the stars come calling, it’s me and you my girl even after we become simple sparks in the sky.” You pulled apart “I don’t want the night to end in fear that it wasn’t real.” Leah shook her head “if we go to bed now then we get to wake up wives.” You laughed pulling her in for one more kiss “ok Mrs Williamson take me to the Bedroom.” Leah laughed “Gladly Mrs Williamson.”
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