Summary: No one knows much about Simonâs life aside from what was listed on his files. The family that had died a tragic death, the trauma that came with his actions, and the rank that made him what he was today. No one had realized that behind the balaclava wearing man from Manchester was a man that once had a heart and signed divorced papers he had constantly regretted signing all those years ago..
Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Ex Wife!Reader. John Price. Kate Laswell. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Word Count: 9,787
Chapter Warnings:Â Angst with Happy Ending. Miscommunication. Mention of Minor Character Deaths. Mention of Divorce. Life threatening Injuries. Mention of Simon's tragic past and trauma. Not edited (sorry!)
AN: I can now sleep in peace. If you enjoyed it why not visit my mini celebration and post your own requests I can write just like this.
Masterlist || Request are Open || 500 Followers Celebration
When you had learned about this new job, one thing you had so gotten used to doing was letting Simon know about it. But not this time, something about letting him back into your life wasnât something you should do anymore. You were no longer married to him by your own choice and no one elseâs. So you know it was time to wear your big girl pants now and stopped letting him know about it.
You no longer had any reason to give your ex-husband any updates about your life. A more selfish reason was how you just wanted to start a new life, away from him and away from anything that was related to him.
âMs. Riley?â
You turned smiling at the man that would now be your new boss. You learned his name to be John Price, a Captain.
Being married to a man like Simon Riley once upon a time, you know some thing or two about what goes on inside of a military base. Even when he hasnât talked much about it with you during your relationship or if he even gone as far as mention your existence to the people he had once worked with. You chalked it up to overprotectiveness and fear that they would get to you, and some night thing that he was simply embarrassed about you. Maybe itâs another reason why you had opted out of telling him about this new job of yours.
âCaptain Price, itâs good to finally meet you.â You firmly shook the manâs hand. A good first impression was the best thing for you to do if it meant making sure you work for the man for the foreseeable future.
âLikewise, Laswell as spoke great things about you and Iâm hoping to be able to experience it firsthand.â
You nodded with a smile. Working for Kateâs wife for nearly a few years beforehand, you had appreciated the suggestion for this new role as a secretary for the Captain ever since your divorce. She had understood you needed this change in pace in your life and this was much of a welcome change.
âI do hope itâs all good things.â You quipped right back earning a deep resonating chuckle from the older man.
âWell I think now that introductions as over and done with, let me show you to my office. I do hope youâre up for dealing with a handful of documents for me on your first day.â
âMore than happy to.â You beamed following the man, his larger hand holding onto the small of your back as you began your journey into the heart of the base.
All throughout the walk, he was giving your directions to where most things were. You were warned how some men could be rowdy at time and he was more than happy to help in the off chance that any of his men would give you problems.
All you could do was smile, not wanting him to know that you were more than well equipped to punch or kick anyone that would get too handsy with you. One of the perks of having an ex-husband working for the military.
He continued on with how things go around in the base. Schedules for meal time and the curfew in the event that you would be staying in the base overnight. He had also showed you to where your new room would be located in.
âYou would be a few rooms away from my own as well as the Lieutenant and Sergeants that I trust most. In the event that Iâm unavailable, they will be more than willing to lend you a hand if you need it.â
You nodded before you finally arrived in his office. Opening the door for you, you were greeted with a spacious office. Even in the chaos of the military base, the manâs office was pristine, a few knick knacks and photos that littered his walls, as well as a bookshelf that housed an array of military strategies books. But the most alarming thing about his office was the other table that housed stack upon stacks of folders, papers practically spilling out from each and every single one of them.
âI may or may not have underestimated the help I truly need in this situation.â The Captain said sheepishly as you began opening the folders and gasped that most of them werenât even ordered correctly even with the page numbers printed on them.
âI think I can manage this.â You blinked hoping you didnât bite more than you could chew in this moment.
For the next few hours, your time was spent removing staplers upon staplers from the papers for each and every single one of the folders while you were inquiring to John the calls you would be fielding for him from now on and how he would want you to deal with it.
You had learned so much about the man in the few hours being in the same room as him. He was a man that wanted to ensure the safety of the world, even if it meant bloodying his hands up a little just to make sure of it. It showed with some of the missions reports that you may or may not have accidentally read too much into. Youâve also learned how much he hated talking to upper ranking officials if not needed, he was a man that hated authority yet he was working in the field that he was in right now from the way his comments about letting calls from upper ranks go to voice mail if possible.
âWill there be anything or anyone that I should be worried about for now?â You inquired making sure that you did not stir anyone in the wrong way if possible.
âIâm sure Laswell has told you enough to understand our work. Some men are more scarred than sane and if possible, I want you to make sure that you do not give anyone the wrong impression if possible.â
You know what he was implying and with your own experience you know far too well that getting yourself involved with another man in uniform would lead into.
âIâve done my fair share, Captain. I donât think that would be much of a problem with me.â You reassured him.
âLaswell told me you were divorced.â He began, huh, who would have thought the man would be the gossiping type.
âItâs been a few years,â You shrugged attention solely on rearranging the files at hand. âIt took months before my ex-husband signed the papers, I wanted to think it was because he was deployed but I knew otherwise.â You muttered.
When you had made the decision to finally break things off with Simon, it was like pulling teeth with the man and his near avoidance about the discussion or where you would be sending the divorce papers. You had enough of it, leaving the home you once shared instead with everything you owned and left nothing more of you than the divorce papers alongside the wedding ring and engagement ring he had given you all those years ago.
âHe was military too?â
âSomething like that.â You nodded not wanting to think too much about the man. Even after everything, you still worried about you giving the man too much information in the event that he works for the opposing side if the chance may have it.
âWell his lost is my gain.â He snorts turning his attention back to the freshly arranged folders courtesy of you that were now ready for his signature. âNo offense.â
âNone taken, Captain.â
Eventually the man had excused himself for a meeting and had instructed you that no one would be allowed inside aside from him. He had also reminded you about lunch which you could head on out first or you could join him once his meeting was done. Youâve decided it would be best to join him for lunch for now, just to get a feeling of anyone that you would get into contact with on your first day.
With a quick goodbye, you were left on your own and you all but groaned at the folders still stacked up and yet to be touched. It truly made you wonder how the man could be so good in his job yet be so horrible with his paperwork. You will never understand.
Your eyes fixated for a moment on one of the pictures on the wall. It was your boss with three individuals. A blue eyed man with a horrible cut Mohawk but the biggest beaming smile on his face, his arm wrapped around a much younger man with darker skin but a bright eyes that twinkled with happiness for whatever was going on when the photo was taken. But amongst the camaraderie and enjoyment was a man in a skull balaclava mask that had such an empty but somehow familiar eyes, the man stuck out like a sore thumb even with the Captainâs hand resting on the taller manâs shoulder and beaming smile and a cigar between his lips. It was an odd mix of people but it was like familyâit made you miss Simon for a moment before your attention got right back to the paperworks.
You canât think of him now. Not anymore.
After the events of Las Almas, Simon Riley had truly fought the urge to call you, to tell you how much you mean the world to him and how he was now more than willing to give you the compromise you had always longed from him. But a part of him, the bigger and much darker part of him had refused, slamming his own phone onto the wall in the sheer anger of everything that had occurred in the moment. You had made your choice because of his own action and he would be cruel to take that away from you.
âHeard Cap had a new Secretary, old manâs gonna finally keep his paperworks in check now.â Soap had ruining Simonâs sulking in the cafeteria.
Itâs been a grueling few days. With new recruits he was forced to deal with in the morning and nightmares that you no longer could vanish for him at night. His life was nothing more than misery personified and he has no one else to blame but himself.
âCanât say Iâm surprise. Laswell probably set it up for him.â Simon muttered being more than within earshot when he heard both Laswell and Price arguing about the manâs need for necessary help with files. It was Laswellâs decision above anything else, itâs just a matter of time if the secretary would actually last with how everything goes around here in the base.
âStill, hope weâll have a new bonnie around. Getting sick and tired of seeing Bampots all around.â
Simon didnât even had the energy to question the manâs slangs, his attention solely back on his cup of tea and lunchâhow horrible it was compared to your cup and cooking, but he never truly appreciated it until it was gone. His tea was too bitter even with the sugar and cream he added and the food that didnât have the special kick compared to your own cooking. Even years after the divorce he was still so miserable without you in his life.
âSteamin Jesus.â
Simon could practically hear Soap melt from where he sat in front of him, his eyes directed at whoever was behind Simon. His curiosity got the better of him and his head turned and he was welcomed with the last person he would have ever believed to be walking besides one John Price.
âYer lookinâ a bit peely wally.â Soap pointed out breaking Simon from his trance.
âEnglish, MacTavish.â
âYou look a lilâ pale, Lt. Like youâve seen a fucking ghost.â
Simon could have at this point. As you walked besides Price towards the table he sat in. He noticed how unaware you were even at the sight of him only for him to realize that you had never seen him with his mask on, or in anything that has to do with his line of workâuntil now.
âRight, I think itâs time to introduce this lovely lass.â Price cleared his throat but he should have known by now that both Simon and Soapâs attention were already on them both. âThis is Y/N Riley, my new secretary.â
Simonâs brows rose at that little tidbit. You still had his last name. He understood to a degree why you did soâyour family that you had long cut off from your life after what they had done to you, but after everything that had happened between the two of you he wouldnât have expect you to choose the lesser of two evilsâbeing his last name.
âRiley? She a sister or wife to you, Lt?â Soapâs quick remark earned him a glare from Simon before his attention was back to you, how your brows furrowed before your eyes finally widen in realization.
âPurely coincidence.â Simon muttered.
âThis is Sgt. Johnny âSoapâ MacTavish and Lt. Simon âGhostâ Riley.â Price introduced almost realizing at this point the similarity of the last name you both shared in this moment.
âNice to meet you two.â You smiled, quickly to compose yourself and shaking both menâs hand.
Even with the glove Simon wore, he could still feel the all too familiar electric shock of your touch against his own. He looked at you how easy your eyes dilated at his touch. It scared him still how you had so much of an effect on him even after the years apart from each other.
As you and Price excused yourselves to get lunch, it left Simon wondering if this was the world finally punishing him for everything he has done in his cruel life. Give him the very thing he had wanted the most only to pull it away at every instance.
âBloody fucking hell.â
Itâs been two weeks since youâve began your new job as Captain John Priceâs secretary. Two weeks since you had tried and succeeded in making sure you had avoided the man known in the base as Ghostâor to you, simply known as Simon Riley, your ex-husband. Every single instance that you were both placed in the same room (mostly in Priceâs office), you both acted like you didnât know each other, it was hard knowing just how close the man was after so long of a separation from each other.
But as much of an avoidance youâve made for the Lieutenant, the same could not be said for the two Sergeants that had been dead set in making themselves both your companion while in the base but as well as your guard dogs from the ballsy few that would dare ask you out on a date. You appreciated the effort as much as it was not needed knowing it earned a dangerous glare from your ex in the process.
���Looks like youâre right at home.â
You jerked your head up from the files you were arranging at the voice of an all too familiar woman. A smile rested on your face at the sight of one Kate Laswell, your former bossâ wife.
âKate.â You smiled an exhausted sigh escaping your lips at the sight of the woman. Both her and her wife had been the pair that knew what you had been through since your divorce and she was one of the two people that saw behind the façade you had decided to show the world.
âHow are you holding up?â She inquired.
âDoing better.â You assured her. âJust a slight problem but nothing I canât deal with now.â
âOh no. Is your ex-husband bothering you again? I told you to just say the name and Iâll find some dirt on him in a heartbeat.â
You chuckled, knowing how that would be close to impossible with the manâs stand and rank in the Taskforce.
âSimon Riley.â You said instead and watched the way her eyes widen upon realization.
âWhy did I not put two and two together?â She snorted realizing the small misjudgment on her part. âDoes John know?â
You shook your head. You didnât know how, but in the weeks of working at the base, you had been successful enough not to let the small detail spill. It was for both of your sakes and you feared that if you told the man, you would be fired and not him, not that you would want him to choose between the two of you.
âIt would be a shame if John couldnât keep you working for him because of your past with Ghost. Iâm actually able to see his files being sent to me on time for once and heâs less stress in this past week for once.â
You blushed, knowing that that was a compliment, something that was rarely spoken by one Kate Laswell in the years of working for her wife.
âI genuinely donât want to go either.â You spoke honestly. âEven with the situation.â
âWill you keep the information to yourself for now?â She inquired. âWhat does Ghost think of this?â
âI havenât talk to him since Iâve gotten here.â You spoke honestly. âAnd I think it would be better if donât talk to him about it either.â
âTalk to who about?â
Both of you had jerked your head towards the owner of the voice and it was Price with your husband, Soap, and Gaz in tow. You looked panicked at Kate hoping she could help you out this predicament with the man in the very room with them.
âMy wifeâs been asking how sheâs been holding up since the divorce and if sheâs gotten around to talking to her ex.â Kate brushed off and you wanted to face palm yourself, not the answer you were hoping for her to give.
âWait you were married?â Gaz piped in with surprise.
âWas.â You corrected, eyes glancing towards Simon for a moment before turning your attention right back to the younger man. âBut itâs nothing to worry about, you know how Kateâs wife is.â You tried your best to reassure everyone.
âWell that bloke lost something good thatâs for sure.â Soap quipped right back with a flirty wink. Youâve learned this was the default with the man. âRight Lt?â
Both you and Kate found yourself looking at the man and it somehow clicked to him that you both were now more than aware of the currently predicament that fell before you and without another word left the office, slamming the door behind him.
To this very day, Simon still canât understand why he had signed those papers. Why didnât he just talk with you and made a compromise. Instead he became an asshole that avoided any forms of communications with you until he was left with no other choice but divorce papers waiting for him at home and every single trace of you no longer in the home you two once shared.
In the deepest depths of his bedside drawer was the divorce papers that officially separated him from you, the two ring boxes that housed his wedding ring and the engagement ring he had bought for you. Around his neck, alongside his Dog tag was your wedding ringâthe same wedding ring you had left on top of the coffee table of your home, with the divorce papers right under it.
It was his fears that finally came to life and he truly didnât know why his body automatically signed without even reaching out to you first. To this day, in the years that has passed he still wonder what his life and relationship could be if he fought for your marriage.
Would he still be married to you right now? Would the two of you finally have the family you had always wanted? Maybe by now your first kid would have been three, he had always dreamed of having a daughter. A darling little girl that was a spitting image of you, a daughter he would protect with his life over and over again.
That could have been his life, but he was far too stupid for his own good. He was too much of a bastard that ruins everything good that comes into his life. He pays the price every single night he comes home to his apartmentâempty and lacked the warmth that only you could ever give to someone like him.
He made his bed and he was sleeping in tears because of it.
âThere he is, good youâve got your arse here, LT.â
Another one of the mistakes he seems to be making in his life was joining the rest of the team in the pub and realizing that you have come to join them this time around.
Bloody fucking hell you were as beautiful as the first day he had ever laid eyes on you. There was the twinkle in your eyes he had once thought he had diminished as you continued on with whatever conversation you were having with Gaz with Price listening on. You had on your favorite red crepe dress that slightly showed some cleavage but not enough to be indecent, with your favorite locket that he had brought for you while you were still dating, and the first ever expensive Cartier watch you had brought for yourself (which Simon would have more than willingly bought for you if you allowed it) while saving up your checks.
Fate was nothing but a cruel sick man for giving this sight of you in front of him and never allowing him the taste he always craved. A gift that wasnât his to acceptâanymore.
âYou know how traffic is, Johnny.â He muttered finding himself sitting beside the man and in the process finding himself sitting right in front of you in the process.
âBullshit,â Soap snorted. âStopped by a bonnie we didnât know about?â
Simon glanced towards you, the momentary hurt that passed through your eyes before you continued on with your conversation with Gaz, now hearing you were both talking about your Uni days and how you found yourself involved with working for Laswellâs wife all those years ago.
âDonât have the time nor the energy for another headache in my life.â He spoke realizing that it was the wrong thing to say with you in front of him. He could have said it if you were not here, but not in your presence, it diminishes every single thing he had ever had with you.
It wasnât what he meant but he couldnât truly take it back.
âI can second that.â You spoke finally meeting his eyes this time. An unrecognizable look in your eyes as you stared right at him. âAnd this is coming from someone thatâs already made a mistake of ever getting married to a man in the military.â
This has opened the floodgate for everyone in the table to question you about your apparent divorce. He had no one else to blame for this than himself. He listened in now as you continued on answering questions about your relationship with him and the eventual divorce, but made sure it was vague enough not to have fingers pointed at him.
âSo, you loved the man more than life itself and all that, why divorce?â Soap had asked the million dollar question.
âItâs gets tiresome to love someone that doesnât want to help himself.â You spoke honestly. âYear of trying to understand him, only to push shoved away over and over again, it hurts and it gets tiresome. I just had to go before the love turns to hate.â
In the years since the divorce, there was never closure between the two of you. The forms of communications that you both had were mostly about him being deployed again or of you and your plans of moving around or changing careers. Never did either of you had the much needed closure that you both deservedâuntil now, not directed at him.
âIf any of you ever attempt getting involved with a guy or girl make sure youâre serious about the relationship a hundred percent, not fifty, not seventy-five, not even fucking ninety. Because that small fraction youâre not giving them might be the very reason why everything falls apart.â
Simon finds himself blinking at the words that now escaped your lips. The downright resentment that still lingered in your tongue even after everything that had occurred between the two of you. He shouldnât have signed those fucking divorce papers.
Marriage Counseling, they should have had marriage counselling like you had begged from him all those years ago.
He stood, excusing himself to order the next round of drinks. He doesnât have it in him anymore to listen to your words cutting him to the very core.
One of the biggest mistake about accepting Priceâs offer of going out with the rest of the team for a quick drink was forgetting your non-existing alcohol tolerance. As the drink was now swimming through your blood stream, your lips become looser and there were few moments were you had almost spilled the fact that your ex-husband just happens to be sitting in front of you in the table you shared with the rest of 141.
âYou sure youâll be alright to head home on your own?â Your boss has inquired the moment it was announced the pub was closing up for the early morning.
You nodded with a smile, but the warmth that you were certain painted your skin and the dazed eyes, you were all too sure that it would be a big mistake for you to do. Go knows how dangerous it would be for a drunk like you to head home all on your own.
âIâll take her home.â Simon announced and before you could protest, John had nodded agreeing that it would be the best thing to do and you couldnât protest or show even a smidge of irritation as you were given a death glare by your ex-husband.
âThank you for letting me join you guys.â You spoke towards your boss, the giggly duo of Soap and Gaz. âIâll text once I get home.â You promised them following Simon out of the pub.
You took a deep breath as the cool morning air sobered you up for a moment as you waited for the man with his car. Frowning when you realized the man didnât have his car with him but rather his death machine known as his motorcycle.
âHere.â He muttered practically shoving an all too familiar helmet towards you.
Like quick work, you had put on the helmet, ensuring to adjust the strap before the man does. You were still unprepared to be in close proximity with the man but here you were.
Watching him pull down the foot peg, he turned to you waiting for you to ride himâride his motorcycle. With a deep breath you rode behind him, the skirt riding up your legs and he was quick to pull it down for your own decency before revving the engine on.
âHold on tight.â He ordered and your body was on autopilot as you wrapped your arms around his waist as he sped off.
You know it was the alcohol but you find yourself smelling him, the all too familiar smell of his musk and cologneâthe same cologne you had given him when he told you were promoted to Lieutenant. Your head rested on his back, cheek squished against the expansion of his back, feeling the way his back tense at your touch as it had the same effect for you feeling his warmth all over again.
âWhere?â He questioned you as the bike halted at the stoplight.
You slurred your words, but you did your best to tell him directions to where your apartment was. Your sober self would have slapped you at the back of the head for letting Simon know about your whereabouts, knowing it wasnât something he needed to know anymore.
For a moment as the winds blew against your cheeks, you were brought back to the memories of your time together. How you feared his driving and his bike more than anything else in the world but every single time he made sure you were at your safest with him, always did even in this moment.
You remembered the dates you would both have at night when he was at his most sleepless. By the park, your arms wrapped around him as his head rested on your shoulders. How you had carried so much of his nightmare even when you truly knew nothing but what he would let you know which wasnât much and would only be in the instance that you would have accidentally heard during his nightmares.
You remembered how tired you were as much as you loved him, how much he had meant the world to you in that very moment but slowly but surely it wasnât the same anymore. You felt the resentment before the anger for everything he wasnât willing to give you. You gave him everything thing but he could barely give you anything in return.
âWeâre here.â Simon announced, pulling away from him you turned and he was right. You were back in your apartment and you didnât realize how fast time has flown since as you were deep in your thoughts.
Hopping down the bike with the man helping you, you turned to him and your mouth moved before you could stop yourself.
âWant to head insideâfor coffee at least as a thank you?â
âI think coffee and a conversation would be the best thing for the both of us to do at this point in time, Love.â
You felt your pulse quicken as everything single thing you had talked about in the pub was coming back to bite you in the ass. Simon has his ulterior motive after all for wanting to escort you back home.
All you did was nod, heading to the door with the man following closely behind. You felt your hands shaking but you had succeeded in keying the door open. Opening the door for him, you walked further inside, opening the lights and toeing off the flats you had on.
You placed your wallet and keys on the coffee table and found yourself sitting on the couch waiting for the man to follow you.
You heard Simon close the door, the sound of the lock being turned and the sound of his leather jacket had you worried for what was to come.
âI fucking take you seriously with the bloody helmet still on your head.â He pointed out as he stood right in front of you, unclasping the helmet from your head and for the first time in a long time, you saw him up close and the way the darkness of his eye bags was the most prominent about himâit had gotten so much worse than when you were still married. Was it because of you?
âSorry.â You mumbled as you watched him place the helmet on top of the coffee table alongside most of your things.
âWhereâs the kitchen?â
You pointed towards you left and the man had made himself at him. The sound of cupboard being opened and the all too familiar muttering of horrible instant coffee you always wanted was heard. You wanted to let out a giggle but the sudden fear of the reality of your decision brought back something you never thought you would ever relive.
You sigh elbows digging onto your thighs, as your slumped your face into your hands. Why did you offer to have him here? Why did you accept the offer of him taking you back home? Why did you accept Kateâs offer of working for John? Why did you decide to divorce Simon?
In your own mini-panic attack, the smell of vanilla latte had you pulling away from your hands and you saw the cup of coffee already in the table and Simon was already sitting in front of you, without the surgical mask and without the figurative mask he was wearing at the base.
âWhy are you doing this to me?â He questioned.
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âOf all the places you could work why the base?â
âItâs not like I knew you were working for Price.â You snort. âIt was Kate that suggested I work thereâa new environment for me after everything that happened.â
Kate had called it her own version of exposure therapy. You truly appreciated her help even after knowing your ex-husband was working there in the same vicinity as you.
âYou could have left?â
You snort. Aside from everything that came with the military, the money was too good to leaveâbut that was not something you would want to discuss with Simon knowing his intent to still provide for you even with the ink on the divorce papers were still drying.
âWhy would I? You and I have nothing between us.â You spoke, knife sharp as his own words of calling you a headache to him.
âWhat you said to the team is that the real reason why you filed for divorce?â
All you could do was nod.
âYou could have talk to me that you werenât happy anymore we could have made it work.â
âNo you wonât, Si.â You shook your head, arms crossed against your chest, you feared the words that would be thrown between the two of you now especially at your state. âI would have made it work.â
âWhat do you want me to do then? What could I have done then? You say one thing but mean something else?â
âBecause every single time I wanted you to open up to me, you closed yourself up even more!â You spat right at him now. âDo you know how hard it was for me to bare myself to you about the shit in my life and in my family only to be reciprocated with how your family was fucked up but not an explanation for it?â
âThatâs none of your business.â His voice grows dark, it was a sensitive topic.
âThen why were we even married if it wasnât my business?â Your voice growing louder now, exasperated by this conversation. âWhat was the use of our vows if you would keep the smallest things a secret from me?â
âItâs not fucking small!â He screamed right back at you and you instinctively flinched at his voice then. Why was he being so cruel to you now?
âWhen I married you, I accepted you for who you are, I accepted that you canât truly tell me what your missions were about or about whatever details about your deployment were. But even just something, anything that would make me believe that I was something more than a whore you could fuck and a maid that would take care of the house and cook you fucking food would have been appreciated.â
âYou were my wife, wasnât that enough?â
âNo it was not, Simon.â You spat. âYou never made me feel like I was truly your wife when you shut yourself down after coming home to me. You werenât the same man that I had accidentally spilled coffee on when we first met.â
âIf you knew me for the things Iâve been through you wouldnât look at me the same way.â
âAnd how would you know that?â You questioned him. âHow could you think for me when you donât even know what I would think of you after everything weâve been through?â
âYou want to know the truth?â
âYes. Maybe that way I can finally move on from anything that has to do with you.â
You know that was the wrong thing to say as the man cracked his neck and began to talk. About his life, about the abuse he had to endure at the hands of his father. He began to talk about the new beginning of his life when his father died and everyone tried their best to recover. He told you of his mother that he loved more than anything else at that point, of his brother, of his sister-in-law, and of his young nephew Joseph.
He told you about how he was finally at peace with the trauma of his life back then before things gotten to hell and back. He told you of the man named Roba, he told you of the abuse he had to once again go through at the hands of Robaâs men, physically, mentally, and sexually. He told you why he hated confined spaced after being buried alive in a coffin with a man named Vernon, a rotten corpse that he had to use the jaw of to escape death.
He told you of the death of his family, of Marcus Washington killing his family. Killing his mother, his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew that didnât deserve being involved in anything the mission was about. He told you how he had to burn the bodies of what was left of his family and his identity in the process. You learned then why he was called Ghost and what it had meant for him and his past that continued to haunt him.
You were left stunned, unable to form words about everything that has happened to your husband. But it was the fact that now everything about him made sense. All the little things about his personality of why he was the man that sat in front of you today. It all made sense and it scared you that he was right. How you truly didnât know what to say or what to feel now that youâve learned of his past that he tried so hard to hide from you.
âHappy?â
âDonât be cruel, Simon.â You whispered now, the tears were slowly forming from your eyes now, you wanted to cry for him, to mourn the family that he had lost and for adding yourself into the pain he was now enduring.
âCruel?â He laughed, no humor in his words, malice was more evident. âWhatâs cruel is you still using my last name and airing out our dirty laundry to the men I work with instead of talking to me first.â
âIt doesnât matter anymore.â You shook your head, stung by his words. He was right but you werenât going to admit it right now. A small ounce of pride still clawing its way out of you. âAnd you know why I still used your last name.â
It was your family. You wanted to erase was little traces of your family remained. Even in the divorce, you always had it in mind to remain a Riley. It was better than having to be the ghost of your former self all over again.
He stood now, knowing it was all he needed to know. He walked away but somehow a lingering thought had you opening your lips all over again.
âWhy didnât you fight for me, Si? Why did you sign the papers back then if you truly didnât want to break up?â
âBecause no matter how much I loved and needed you in my life, I will always choose your happiness before my own.â He answered, opening the door and leaving.
The sound of his bike echoing as you were left to mourn the closure of your relationship with the man that had meant the world to you. With all the regret finally coming full force you were left knowing that you had broken the man more than he already was and there was no turning back from it anymore.
Itâs been well over a year now since you have been hired as Captain John Priceâs secretary. Things were slowly but surely getting better for you and your career. Since the day you had talked with Simon, you wouldnât say things between the two of you were getting better but you were civil with each other. Youâve interacted with him a few times, especially when it came to paper works but nothing more was said between the two of you.
Even with Priceâs rule of not getting yourself involved with anyone in the team, it was becoming a mission for both Gaz and Soap to set you up with people on the base. Doctors or medics were somehow their number one target for you, but every single time, you find yourself relenting to just one date but never pushing for something more.
After knowing the truth about your ex, you didnât have the heart to be so cruel to him more than you already were working in the base as him. Your free time away from base were spent with hobbies you had while still being married to Simon, baking and journaling, it was relief to be able to do it now with a new light was shed to the events of your marriage failing. Youâve also come to accept the offer of Kateâs wifeâs therapist. It was a big help to be able to talk to someone else about everything youâve been through.
Youâve learned to accept that you had your own mistake in the failure of your marriage just as much as Simon did. But your therapist has also come to mention that you needed to begin your own journey of healing from the what ifs of it, and live in the aftermath as painful as it was for you now.
âThat dangerous?â You found yourself fearing for the worse at the conversation you were having with your boss as he explained to you the vague details of the upcoming mission him and the rest of the Task Force had for today.
With the chaos of prepping and planning, your boss was constantly on his feet and you were following him every step away for most of it to field calls and handle most of the paperworks to be sent out to sign and shipped to the higher ups. But to know a glimpse of what was happening and how your ex-husband would be involved in all of this worried you more than you would like to admit.
âIt is what it is, if it meant a safer and better world, we would do it over and over again.â He explained.
âJust be careful, I still want to keep my job and I canât if youâre dead, Boss.â You teased.
âLaswell can still be able to deal with you if Iâm gone.â He retorted right back earning a quick laugh from you.
One thing that you had gotten so used to was his humor and how you had showcased your own as time went by working for the man. You appreciated him for being one of the two best bosses you had ever had in your career.
âShouldnât you be preparing for the mission?â You quipped right back.
âI should.â He chuckled standing right up in his full height. âCan you go check on the boys for me while I do?â
You could have refused, but a small part of you wanted to check up on Simon. Standing up, you had made your round, first stopping by Soapâs room to check up on him and notify him about the mission. Soap being the man that he was already suggesting you another man in the base beforehand.
âHow about Micah? Pretty bloke that just joined the Medic team.â He began shoving the rest of his things into his duffle bag.
âJohnny, for the last time, Iâm not into those pretty type you think Iâm into.â You tried to indulge him in the conversation for now knowing it would ease him from the mission.
âWhat is your type so me and Gaz could actually find someone for you?â He pouted.
âTall, blonde, dark and broody and with a heavy Manchester-accent.â You indulged him with description of the only man you actually loved.
âWhy the fuck are you describing Ghost?â He snorts. âYou got a thing for him? I thought you swore off anyone from the military?â
âNever said it was Ghost, Johnny.â You quipped right back. You hugged him and have him wrap his arms around you right back. âBe careful for me will you, I canât live my life here in the base knowing you or Gaz arenât here trying to set me up with anyone and everyone in the base including the married ones.â
âHey we didnât know Wilson was married.â He protested as he pulled away to look at you in offense.
âAt this point Iâve already had dinner with half of the base, letâs keep it to a minimum when you get back. I might show you my ex so you can have an idea of what my type is.â
âDeal.â He grinned kissing you on top of the head before leaving to head to the meeting room.
You next stop was Gaz which wasnât much of a journey with how close his room was to Soapâs. Knocking inside, you were immediately welcomed into the arms of Gaz. Unlike Soap that had been fixated with setting you up with someone in the base, Gaz was more focused on the next get together you could go to after the mission.
âI think me and Soap could convince Price to have a weekend in his vacation house in Cornwall.â
You nodded knowing it wouldnât take much to convince Price if it meant helping the rest of the team with de-stressing and ensuring everyone has recovered mentally from the mission. But it also meant that you would be in charge of cooking knowing you and Price were the only ones that knew how to cook and you wanted your boss to actually have time to recover himself in the process.
âAs long as you help me with grocery and prepping then you got a deal.â You winked pulling away from him with a smile already excited to bake them your famous apple pie they constantly beg you to make for them since the first time making it for them.
âDeal.â He grinned kissing you on the cheeks and just like Soap, finding himself heading out with his bag already at hand.
It now meant you had one last person you needed to stop by before the mission prep. You took your time somehow rehearsing what you could probably say to the man for his upcoming mission. You had your worry and you knew this was a dangerous mission.
Knocking on his door, you heard the gruff response from the other side of the door.
âSimon?â You called and immediately heard the door being unlocked.
You were faced with him wearing his skull balaclava mask. This was the side of him that you never gotten used to see but it was a part of him that you could never truly erase from him.
âWhatâs wrong?â He asked you allowing you to walk inside.
âPrice told me to notify you about heading out for the mission.â You explained. âAnd I justâI just wanted to ask you to be careful on the mission.â
âAlways.â He nodded.
A moment of silence has passed between the two of you before you were reminded of your therapistâs words. There was nothing wrong if you extended an olive branch to the man after everything was out in the open.
âAfter the mission, I would love to have you join us in Priceâs cabin in Cornwall for a quick vacation too.â You added. âI know youâre busy with whatever you need to do to distress after a mission, but I would think it would be good to you if you joined. I can opts this one out if youâre more comfortable with that.â
âIâd go.â He nodded. âBut I want you to join along and I want you to make me that lovely cheesecake you always make for me after I come home from deployment.â
You smiled knowing that it was always the same, a way to a manâs heart is always through his stomach.
âAnything else you want?â You asked wanting to give in to his all too simple request.
âAnd I want us to at least be friends, youâre part of the team now and they care for you and it wouldnât do anyone good for us to act like we canât stand each other.â
You nodded, heart aching a little at what he wanted. Friends. That was all he wanted and you would gladly compromise this time for him if that was what makes him truly happy.
âFriends.â You smiled, taking a hesitant step towards him for a hug but stopped mid movement as he pulled you right into his arms. The all too familiar warmth that consumed him.
âI wished things would have been different between the two of us.â He whispered kissing the top of your head. âIâd give you the world when I couldnât give you myself fully.â
You closed your eyes wrapping your arms around his broad back.
âI wished I was strong enough for the two of us.â You whispered the tears slowly forming your eyes. âI wished I stayed a little longer for the two of us.â
âI never stopped loving you, Love. We might not be married anymore but you will be the only woman I will ever love truly with all my life and with all my soul.â
âYou too, Si.â You whispered looking up at him allowing the tears to flow freely from your eyes now. âAfter everything that had happened between us, I will always love you.â
It was the middle of the night when you heard the familiar ringtone of your old phone. The same phone that only Simon knew the number to. You blinked away the sleep as you pulled the phone right out of the bedside table.
An unfamiliar number took you by surprise and for a moment you wanted to not answer it thinking it might be a telemarketerâbut something had pushed you to press the answer button and hear whoever was on the other line.
âHello?â You whispered clearing your throat.
âMrs. Riley?â The familiar voice of John had you tensing. You found yourself sitting up from the bed as he began to introduce himself and why he had called.
âWhat happened to Simon?â You questioned checking your bedside clock to see what time it was.
It was just past midnight, three weeks since they had left for their mission and this was the first time you had gotten any contact to any one of them.
âAs of right now, we are not sure if he would make it through the night. If you want we could have you someone fetch you to see him.â
You felt your world still at the news. Just when things were finally moving into the right direction between you and Simon.
âIâll be there as soon as possible.â You assured hanging up and changing into some sweatshirt and sweatpants.
The travel to the now familiar base was a daze to you as you drove. You werenât much of a religious person, but your lips did not stop moving as you prayed. You prayed that your husband would be alright, you bargained that you would make things right with him if it meant he would stay.
âDonât leave me, Simon.â You whispered over and over again until you arrived to the base.
You had ignored most of the surprise that the soldier on duty had shown at your sudden appearanceâthe fact that you were in just your ratty clothes was also something you chose to ignore as you made a beeline to where the infirmary was.
Huddled in front of the door was your boss, John, Soap, and Gaz. Each and every single one of them injured in their own wayâmostly superficial from the bandages that plastered all over their beaten faces.
âJohn.â You called having three heads turning to you in question. âHow is he?â You questioned as the tears begin to fall from your eyes at the reality of the situation coming to crush you. âHow is my husband?â
The realization washed over all of them, of the secret you and Simon had hidden from everyone. The weight was too much as you were wrapped in the arms of the family you had found yourself becoming a part of.
âWill he be alright?â You pleaded, holding onto Johnâs vest. âPlease tell me he will be alright.â You begged falling to your knees in front of him.
âThe doctors are doing their best, Love.â John reassured kneeling in front of you, wrapping you into his arms as you continued to sob. âBut Simon took most of the impact from the explosion.â
The reality scared you so much. You tried you best to remember the last interaction you had with Simon, the hug, the promise of a new beginning, and everything else in between. It all came crashing down to this very point.
There was a very big chance that you will finally lose Simon and it scared you so much more than anything in this world. You couldnât lose him, not like this, not when there was so much left between the two of you to make up for.
âHe canât leave me, John.â You whimpered. âHe promised me he wouldnât leave me like this.â You screamed at the top of your lungs.
You were made aware of the vows you had made to each other when you got married at the court house. Of how he had promised to the best of his abilities that he wouldnât die in the line of duty before he could have the chance to retire. He promised you a family, he promised you the world, and he promised you your happiness. He was your family, he was your world, and he was your happiness that you realize only when it was too late.
For the next few weeks, the world around you had become blur. You were now much of a permanent fixture of the Taskforceâs base. Morning and the afternoon was spent still working for Price, especially with the piling number of paperworks the mission had caused and your nights were spent in the infirmary, watching over Simon that has yet to awake from his slumber.
When the doctors had given you the green light that you can see himâit took you hours before you did. Even after John, Soap, and Gaz had finished with their own visit, it took so much of what little strength you had to finally see him in his state.
Broken bones, laceration, head trauma, blood loss and amongst the other injuries that the doctors has informed you should have killed him but he was still alive even in his current state. He still had fight in him, he was still fighting to keep alive.
âIâve come to realize that post-mission Price was a whole different breed of a grump, more than he usually is.â You began talking to your still unconscious ex.
The doctor had told you about him being able to hear your voice and you took the opportunity to talk his ear off with him unable to give his usual sarcastic comments or grunts as response. There were days you told him about your day at work, days where you told him about what you had been doing since you left your home and tried and failed to move on from him, and there were days where you apologized to him, regretting the divorce and everything else that been the reason for the demise of your marriage.
âI think since the divorce Iâve realized a lot of shit about us.â You sighed leaning against the uncomfortable plastic chair. âIf you wake up, Iâll try to do my best to convince you to take me back.â You mused arms crossed against your chest. âI know you donât have as much of a happy memory after what happened to your family, but when you wake up, I want to make sure we make as much happy memories as we could together, I want you to tell me about what your Ma was like, what kind of brother Tommy was like, and how adorable Joseph was, I want all of that and more with you.â
You wiped away the tears that have yet to fall, you didnât want to cry. You thought that you didnât have any more tears to shed. The gravity of almost losing Simon was the wakeup call you needed and now it was nothing more than a waiting game until he wakes up.
âI fucking canât be your friend, Si.â You admit. âI canât be happy with just being your friend. I want you to be my husband again, Si. After almost losing you I know I canât live knowing we havenât fixed our relationship. Iâll do anything and everything to make it up to you, all the pain and hurt Iâve caused you.â
âAnything?â
You almost jumped from where you sat at the sight of the man whose eyes were now focused on you.
âSimon?â
âAm I just high or did you say what you did?â
âWhat?â
âThat you would make up for everything?â He muttered groggily.
âI did.â You nodded blinking in disbelief that he was here, awake. Alive.
âThen marry me. Let me make it right this time, Love. I promise Iâll make it work, Iâll do my best to make you happy the way that you deserve.â
âYes.â You answered almost immediately, finding yourself giggling about how ridiculous his second proposal was with his current stateâbut you didnât want it any other way.
He requested for you to take his dog tag around his neck off and only then did you notice that your wedding ring enclosed around his necklace. Even with the years that passed, he still had it with him. The very same ring you two had brought together before you had headed to the courthouse for your marriage.
âCan I add another stipulation?â He held onto your free hand.
âAnything.â You smiled rubbing your hand against the callousness of his hand. âAnything to make it work, Si.â
âNo more blind dates from the Sergeants.â
âThey could never hold a candle to you, Simon.â You giggled leaning in for a kiss, the weight that rested on your shoulders slowly easing away.
You were home, you were back in the arms of Simon after all was said and done.
Go ahead and get settled because this will be...long, in true Liz fashion.
So, by now I'm sure most of you have heard what's happened. If not, you can search this blog for some answers or others for more.
I joined this fandom offiicially at the end of September after being a long time lurker. I had just lost my job and times were uncertain for me. I felt inspired to write, and as someone whose formative years were shaped by the fandom experience, I wanted to feel that sense of belonging again - to feel like a part of a community. I've talked about it on here before, but I started my fandom days in the original Hunger Games fandom when the first movie had just come out, and then I shifted gears towards the SuperWhoLock fandom. If you know anything about SuperWhoLock, then you know you had to have pretty tough fucking skin to be a part of any of it.
Of course, this was back in the day when fandom was an actual community and not authors having to beg for scraps of engagement and people thinking its a numbers game. I was a fairly large blog within the SuperWhoLock community (Waywardly-Carrying-On was the username), but I left fandom for a few years because life got hectic and I felt like I had outgrown the fandom itself as I was no longer watching any of the shows. As the years went on, I started to yearn for the fandom experience again, which is how I found myself dipping toes into several different ones.
I was so excited to publish my first fanfic. I had convinced myself that I wasn't a good writer (much to the chagrin of my irl friends), and I had put a pause on writing my original story. I wanted to write this idea about a cowboy and a girl using characters that I had grown to love like I did way back in my older days. So, I started posting, and I was so excited for the story, that I kept posting almost daily. MamaMay was one of the first people to embrace not only my story, but me as a person into the fandom. She made me feel welcomed and wanted.
Pretty much right off the bat I was already getting anons telling me that I was being too much and that I needed to calm down with all the posting. I was confused because...this is Tumblr. It's literally a blogging website? Why wouldn't I post? I decided to ignore the mean words (not before giving my opinion, of course) and kept on doing my thing. Well, the anons got continually worse and worse. I had a suspiscion as to who the anons could be, but I never had concrete proof. So, I experimented with blocking suspects until finally it worked. I'm not naming names because that's not my style, so don't even bother asking.
The fact of the matter is, some of you have entered fandom spaces for the first time, and you don't know how to act. You don't care to learn fandom etiquette as you've made abundantly clear by calling fandom olds every name under the sun while utilizing the anonymous feature. Newsflash, you're part of the problem. You're the reason why authors don't want to publish anymore. You are the reason that something that's supposed to be fun is starting to feel like a goddamn chore.
How many times can authors on here say that we aren't machines? We have lives outside of this website: family, friends, jobs, school, etc. Some of you really are just hellbent on making everyone around you miserable, and it's sad. You can't just leave well enough alone and let people enjoy something, no you feel like everyone has to enjoy it the same way as you.
Some of you go after authors on here because of some weird sense of jealousy too. I don't know why my shit blew up, babe, I really don't. But I started out with no followers and no support just like everyone else. I'll tell you what helped me though: following fandom etiquette and reaching out to other creators to build an actual community. None of this "I've reblogged three of your things and now I'm messaging you so that you return the favor." No, I reached out to make actual friendships which is what fandom is SUPPOSED to be. If someone was clearly not interested, it was fine!! I backed off and kept doing my own thing.
Some of you think being mean on the internet makes you big and bad. Guess what! It doesn't! It's loser mentality and I feel genuinely sorry for you. I'm sorry that people in your own life made you feel so small as to feel like you had to lash out at strangers on the internet who are just trying to have fun.
Anyway, this is my really long way of saying that I am taking a break for a little bit. I have no idea how long it will be - could be the weekend, could be a couple of weeks, could be forever. I need time to decide if this is something I want to keep persuing. If I come back, I don't know if I will remain a TGM blog or if I'll shift gears and hop into another fandom with a rebrand. Guess we'll just have to see.
To the people on here who have been a constant source of joy, laughter, and support: thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your presence has meant everything to me, and I hope that my break sees me wanting to come back and giggle about the silly plane movie with you all again.
⤠summary: she's an infamous bank robber, and he's the only detective that's been able to get close to her. he was never apart of her plans. but he's got his clutches in her and she can't let go.a geto suguru au
⢠warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, sexual content, death. use of weapons. forbidden romance
⧠aw: character death (not mc), blood, violence, ooc toji,
⥠currently: completed
⤠taglist: closed
⢠wc: 2.3k
⧠carlile speaks: omg we have arrived at the end of Sugu and Ruby's story. Im not sure how some of you will react to this part but I'm excited to find out! thank you all so much for the love over the course of this story. this was my first post in the jjk fandom and I feel like I was welcomed with open arms. I love and appreciate every single one of you in this community I've built. thank you all again for deeming me worthy of your time! see you in the next story! ALSO a big thank you to @celestie0 for helping me with this final chapter. I would not have done it without you!
âĄ: previous part | you are here
Toji Fushiguro was your best friend. Or at least you thought he was. Toji was a contact you made when you were eighteen years old, fresh out of highschool and right after your parents had kicked you out. Claiming they donât want to enable your lifestyle. Doing drugs with your friends, until the drugs no longer interested you. Then came the shoplifting. Thatâs where you shined. You could steal anything. Chanel. Prada. Louis V. Any of it. What can you say, you wanted the best of the best.Â
Youâd been staying with some of your âfriendsâ youâd made along the way. Friends who more so wanted you to live the life they were living; sitting at home getting high all day, but you wanted the action. You wanted to be in the trenches. Wanted the thrill of the job, not the fabricated thrill from the drugs. You wanted the real high.
Toji was someone you ran into at the right time, he needed someone to train to help with small bank heists and you needed somewhere new to stay.
Toji was there for you. He housed you, kept you fed. Kept you happy, in so many more ways than one. He gave you an immense amount of knowledge. How to keep your cool. How to handle a weapon. How to make yourself into a weapon.Â
âYou are your biggest asset, use it.â rings in your ears during every job.Â
All of the hand to hand combat youâd learned was taught to you by him. He was the first person youâd ever unintentionally kicked their ass.
âAgain,â he pants, wiping the blood from his nose on the back of his hand, a sick smile on his face. He flexes his hands before balling them back into fists, taking his standing position; arms up in front of his face.
âToji,â you warn. âI think we got thâ,â you start to object, but Toji isn't having any of that.
âAgain.â
And so you do. You continuously knock this grown man to the floor. His eyes grow with adoration after every punch; every kick. He was so proud. Nobody was ever able to land a blow, much less knock him off his feet. But you were so quick and nimble, he was hardly able to keep track of you.Â
Youâd originally only ever used masks and weapons to rob your banks, but when you met Toji your entire perception of the way you could do everything changed. He was the one who taught you to hide most of your face. Only leave behind minor details they can use. Always follow them into the room, never be the first. And always leave last.Â
Toji was beyond proud of you. Thatâs why when youâd met Sukuna and immediately fell for his charm, his attitude changed. He was less than thrilled. It wasnât a shock to him that heâd fallen for you, but it wasn't something heâd planned on either. He thought youâd had the chemistry, but his timing was all off. Youâd met Sukuna. He didnât anticipate someone else scooping you up the way he wanted to. Toji wanted everything with you, he was training you to be able to reign with him, not somebody else. Toji needed a way to be close to you, so he became Sukunaâs right hand. His business partner. Working his ass off to get the position heâs in now. Practically kissing Sukunaâs ass in order to be near you. Taking job after stupid job to prove himself worthy.
If only Toji had been honest with you from the start.
Sukuna was greedy. He had everything but needed more. Craved it even. Then he met you and needed to have you too.
But you showed him up. Toji had trained you beyond what anyone had ever seen before. You made Sukuna feel small; and that just wasnât going to fly. Sukuna wanted you to keep his bed warm more than anything since he found out you were more skilled than him. Sukuna tried his best to kill your spirit; slowly of course. Taking you off of jobs, telling you that your skillset wasn't as good as others and you were not needed anymore. He tried distracting you with money and shopping sprees that worked for a while, but you eventually run out of things to buy when you have the access to buy anything you want. He even made sure to make you question your own physical appearance by slyly flirting with other members of his team in front of you; then gaslighting you into thinking you were seeing things.Â
Toji held you when you cried to him. Heâd smooth his hands up and down your back as you sobbed into his chest. How heâd wish you would see how terribly you were being treated. But if sukuna found out he was speaking ill of him, he'd be dealt with. So he held out for as long as he could, but you were the first one to break. You wanted to leave and live a life of your own. Toji was so happy for you, but wanted that life with you. Heâd never told you any of these things, in fear of rejection from you and in fear of retaliation from his now boss.
Toji wishes youâd never introduced him to Sukuna. Toji wishes youâd be his. Tojiâs world fell apart when he found out you were making beds with a cop. The actual enemy. He thought youâd be smarter than that.Â
When Sukuna informed Toji of his plan to execute you for treason, he was terrified. But he couldn't say anything. He couldn't risk losing everything heâd built, especially now knowing youâd never felt the same way about him. He assumes so anyways, claiming it was the safe assumption.
Toji knew something had gone amiss the day Sukuna went to finish the job and he hadnât returned. Toji was prepared to take over no questions asked. He began making changes in command, having conversations with his chain when there was word of disturbances in the hall.
Once the police bore into the casino penthouse, aiming straight for Toji, he knew exactly who he was dealing with when he looked into Suguruâs eyes as he stared him down behind the barrel of his gun.Â
âToji Fushiguro, you are under arrest for the murder of Ryomen Sukuna. You have the right to remain silentâŚâ Satoru speaks from his spot in the middle of the room, gun raised at the man seated before him.
âSo, youâre the one, huh?â Toji speaks over Satoru, nodding his head at Suguru.
âWhat?â Suguru lowers his gun momentarily.
âYouâre the one she fell for,â Toji laughs from his chair. He swirls the whiskey around in his glass before he stands, raising his hands into the air. âI didn't do this, but Iâll go down so she doesn't have to.â
Satoru walks behind him to place the cuffs around his wrists.
âYou loved her too.â Suguru states. âDidnât you?â
Toji just smiles as Satoru walks him out in his cuffs. He did. He loved you more than anything else on this planet. But heâd rather you live the life you wanted than stand in your way. Itâs why he helped you leave Sukuna before. He knew you didnât see him in that same light and he was okay with that. He was just happy to see you happy.
Suguru felt bad at that moment, but he knew heâd keep that information to himself.Â
The copious amounts of forged documents, planted evidence, fake witness statements.. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Toji wasn't the one who killed Sukuna. Everything made it seem like Toji was tired of being second in command and wanted it all.Â
Toji would take whatever punishment was coming his way; he knew this was your doing. He knew youâd be broken once you found out he hadnât attempted to stop Sukuna. Toji was supposed to be your safe haven, and he let you down. He knew that. So he was prepared to take whatever you thought was a suitable punishment for him. Heâd kneel on the ground you walked on if it meant making you smile. Especially since the guilt ate him up inside for never standing up for you earlier. He swears heâd do anything to make you happy, but he cowers away when you actually need him. Toji knew he was a coward. He knew he could have done something earlier but he didnât.Â
Toji was convicted and placed on death row for the murder of Sukuna. The revenge plan you had set in motion had come to a head, you just had to do this one last job and then the life you planned with Suguru would be in the palm of your hand.
Tojiâs son was your last target; you tracked him for weeks while you located the item in question: Tojiâs unsealed will.
The will contains everything you would need. The numbers to multiple offshore accounts with millions of dollars. The deeds to houses spread throughout the world. Everything his kids would need beyond his lifeline.
Seventy seconds. In and out.
Suguru is outside waiting for you. Something youâre not used to. But the sense of security feels nice for once. Every job before this one youâd done alone. Having the man youâre willing to risk everything for waiting for you while you perform the most important job of your life has every nerve alight with anticipation, and also relief; Knowing heâd be there if something went wrong. Your heart could burst out of your chest in appreciation for him.
Satoru is down the street, handling the signal blocker for the alarm at the bank. Intercepting the signal is the easy part, but keeping it down for seventy seconds is the hard part. But Satoru isn't worried.Â
The bank manager approaches you with keys in hand, âSafety deposit room, right?â the man timidly asks. His question throws you off momentarily. Your smug smile falls as he speaks.
âHowâd you know that?â you ask, reaching for your gun.
âStop, Ruby. Weâre playing by my rules from now on.â Satoruâs voice startles you from behind.Â
âSatoru, youâre making a huge mistake right now,â you warn, your hands remaining where he can see them.
âThe only ones making mistakes are you and Geto.âÂ
âHeâll be in here once he realizes Iâm taking too long. You know that as much as I do.â
âOh, I'm counting on it,â he sneers, âNow, turn around and face me.âÂ
You hear the sound of his gun click, making you chuckle.
âI donât need his help anyways,â you duck down and sweep your feet under his legs, catching him off guard and making him tumble backwards onto the floor. A big cracking sound fills the air as his head makes contact with the hard floor. âI can handle myself, you should have known that, Satoru.âÂ
The few onlookers in the bank unsure of what to do, the silent alarm still wonât trigger.
Satoru looks up at you from his spot on the floor, a ringing in his ears from how hard his head collided with the marble. âYou wonât get away with this,â he pants out in pain, clutching the back of his skull. His gun. He needed his gun. Where? Where did it end up? His head just hurts and thatâs all he can focus on. His GUN, whERE IS IT? Satoru, where is yâ
âI already did,â and with that you leave him laying there, your gaze serving as a warning as you pull the bank manager in the direction of the safety deposit room. He opens exactly what you want; no questions asked.
Unfortunately, you decided no loose ends this time. The bank manager met his fate inside the safety deposit room. He begged, but only for a minute. This wasnât like you. Look what love did to you. Love and betrayal. Everyone you had ever loved betrayed you. But not Suguru.Â
Never Suguru.
Sounds of fighting pull your train of thought from the lifeless man in front of you. Making a swift exit with the paperwork tucked into your jacket, you head for the source of the sound.Â
âWhat are you doing, Satoru? This isnât what we agreed on,â Suguru groans from their wrestling spot on the floor. Arms are being pinned, yanked free and then pinned again. The men fight to get the upper hand.
âI told you that I took an oath to stand up to people like you and her. This isn't a game, Geto. Don't you see that?âÂ
Suguru stops for a moment, looking at his friend while he processes the words leaving his mouth.
âSugu,â you call from your position, gun raised and pointed directly at the white haired man before you.
âNow, Ru!â he calls to you, turning Satoruâs upper body so his back faces you. Thereâs silence. So much silence that follows the shot. Suguru looks at his friend beneath him with tears in his eyes. The hurt and betrayal laced behind every feature. The life leaves Satoruâs eyes as the men lock their gazes. âI told you, you wonât take her from me.âÂ
He stands from his spot, walking over to you.
âAre you okay?â he asks, looking you over.
âFine. You?â you rush out. He nods quickly. âWe need to go, now,â you grab hold of one of his hands, pulling him towards the exit.Â
âYou know weâre about to be on the run for the rest of our lives together?â
âAre you complaining?â he asks from the driver's side, sunglasses pushed atop his head as he weaves his way through the mountainous roads.
Summary: The "Eddie Munson is a speedway racer" high school AU no one asked for, but you're getting it anyways. Enemies to friends to lovers | No-Upsidedown AU | Fast cars, fast times | Reader moved from "the city" to Hawkins
Tags [will be updated as things progress]: swearing, underage drinking, dangerous driving, Jason sucks as usual, mentions of weed, light angst, misunderstandings, reader is afab, not sure if I'll have smut yet or not
A/N: Chapter 1 is already on Ao3 but here's the Tumblr version! New chapters will always be posted on Ao3 first, with a week or so delay to here.
CH1: 3,780w
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âHot summer streets and the pavements are burning, I sit around /
Trying to smile, but the air is so heavy and dryâ
If anyone had asked, you wouldnât have said car racing was something youâd be interested in. Watching hunks of metal speeding around in circles always seemed pretty pointless to you. When combined with the auditory chaos of engines and screaming crowds, and nauseating smell of gasoline and burning rubber, it had never been high on your bucket list.
Then again, neither had moving to Hawkins, Indiana. And yet, here you were: stuck in small-town nowhere for (just, you hoped) the summer. But a summer practically felt like forever to you.
And so you were at the speedway car races with your cousin, Robin. Because apparently, she said, it would âbe funâ and âsocialâ and âlots of people went.âÂ
You supposed you should be lucky Robin was pretty chill about hanging out with you. After all, having your city-slicker cousin practically dumped on your doorstep without so much as a âby your leaveâ by your parents â who had gone off to ârediscover themselvesâ and hopefully salvage five years of impending divorce â probably wasnât high on HER bucket list, either. She and her parents had been more than welcoming, sticking you and your five overstuffed suitcases in the spare room on the second floor, just next door to Robin, without hesitation and urging you to make yourself at home.
If you saw Robin and her parents exchange some pointed and pitying glances, well, youâd just try and ignore them. Because they were right. Your parents clearly didnât care enough about you to take you with them on their wild second-honeymoon or whatever, so theyâd abandoned you without looking back, saying theyâd pick you up in a couple months before school started up again. They thought. Maybe homeschooling had been implied as a possibility if they happened to return a bit later than assumed fromâŚPanama? Costa Rica? Whatever warm, probably tropical, place theyâd gone to. Without their only daughter.Â
Honestly, sometimes you just felt the truth of it in your bones when, at the height of their marital Cold War, theyâd each called the other some variant of âfrigid bitch.â Only the coldest of the cold would up and abandon their offspring like that, without any evident desire to really take responsibility for them ever again. If you just wandered off at the end of the summer, got a job waiting tables in the nearest big city, didnât bother to send a forwarding address, you didnât think theyâd be too fussed. Depressing.
The frozen atmosphere at home had gone on so long, youâd practically adopted aloofness yourself as a survival mode. What you didnât feel, couldnât hurt. Didnât help you with making any friends once youâd entered high school, but it kept anyone from really bothering you for three years. The summer before your senior year was supposed to be this golden eternity of afternoons at the pool, perfecting your tan, or giggling at the local mall while licking ice creams and debating who-liked-who-liked-who.Â
Not wasting away in Hawkins, a town small enough you bet you could count all of the stoplights on one hand.Â
You missed the city so much it ached . Missed the dizzying heights of the buildings towering above you, missed the way the very air seemed to thrum with an energy, a beat that got into your pulse and made you feel alive. Missed the hole-in-the-wall restaurants on every street and the used bookstores piled high with more volumes than you could read in a lifetime. Hawkins wasâŚquaint, but inside you worried if you stayed here long enough it would drain the life out of you until you couldnât make it anywhere else.Â
Not that youâd say any of that to Robin, who was babbling cheerfully away at your side as you strolled up to the local speedway just out of town. She was wearing a loose striped menâs shirt with the cuffs rolled up and jeans, despite the lingering heat of the evening. Robin, youâd come to learn, was pretty much always babbling about something or another, a natural condition that tended to get even worse whenever she was flustered or nervous. Given your tendency to listen, rather than speak, you actually balanced each other out rather well. With her, surprisingly, you felt you could beâŚyourselfâŚthat little bit more. Felt a bit of that icy shell melt away.Â
You tuned back in to hear her say, âWeâre going to meet up with Steve, heâs gotten there early to stake us out a spot. You wouldnât think it but it can get really crowded and picking the right spot out of the sun and the dust and on the right side of the track is, like, crucial to the enjoyment factor. Steveâs a boy, by the way. Heâs not my boyfriend â well, heâs a boy whoâs a friend, but weâre not like that, actually heâs more like an annoying brother. But heâs not annoying, I promise!â
You smiled to yourself as Robin rambled on. Truly, you found it more endearing than not.Â
âIâm sure heâs nice,â you said, cutting in so Robin could actually take a full breath. She smiled back at you.
âYeah, heâs great. But donât tell him I said that, I swear his hair grows an inch every time someone says something nice about him.â
You smiled and promised that, of course, you wouldnât breathe a word.Â
The two of you step up to the bored-looking teenager taking tickets, and you passed over your paper stub, slightly sweaty from being clutched in your hand. Stepping through the entrance gate, youâre immediately assaulted with the smell of deep-fried foods mixed with beer, the raucous laughter of crowds of families and teens here for an evening out. A fine dust permeated the air, making your eyes water. The track, a packed dirt oval that was both bigger and smaller than you imagined, spread out before you, bordered by some haphazardly stacked rectangle bales of hay you assumed were there for the âsafetyâ of the crowd, though they looked anything but. You imagined any car crashing into those at serious speed would take them out easilyâŚas well as the onlookers setting up their camp chairs frighteningly close to the barrier.Â
Across the track, a small elevated building rigged with wires and a mounted loudspeaker was clearly where the announcers were situated. Tinny commentary was blaring from the PA system, but it was almost impossible to hear above the general din.Â
There were mullets and wife-beaters on display everywhere. As you looked around, you noted that everyone â and you mean everyone â seemed to be dressed in nothing more formal than jeans and a shirt. You hadnât batted an eye when Robin left the house like that, because thatâs what your cousin always wore. And sheâd told you to dress casual butâŚ
âRobin,â you asked, âam I overdressed?â
Sheâd been herding you along the track toward one end, but at your question she glanced over at you and winced, which you supposed was answer enough.Â
âRobinnnnn,â you whined.Â
âWhat?â she protested. âI said âcasual,â thatâs what you came out in, so I figured it was fine!â
Up until you saw the sea of daisy dukes before you, youâd thought what you were wearing was casual. It certainly was back in the city. The simple, white-and-red polkadot dress you were wearing, cinched at the waist with a plain wide belt youâd dug out the bottom of your suitcase, cute frilly sleeves sitting just below your tanned shoulders, wouldnât have been anything your classmates back home blinked at. You hadnât even done your makeup, besides a swipe of lip gloss! But you were rapidly getting the sense youâd have to redefine your expectations here in Hawkins. And with the swirls of rust-colored dust almost constantly permeating the air, you could already tell white was a particularly bad choice.
Oh well, youâd just have to make the best of it. And get the dress in the wash sooner rather than later.Â
âItâs alright, Robin,â you reassured your cousin, whoâd been worrying at her lip while you thought. âItâs just a dress. Plus, itâs not like Iâll be in any of the cars,â you joked.
âSteveâll probably have a blanket or something you can use anyways,â she said. âHeâs a dad like that. Oh look, there he is. Steve! Steeeeve! Ugh, he isnât listening. OI, DINGUS!â
Robin waved frantically at a boy a bit ahead of you, whoâd staked out a pretty prime spot on the hillside around the middle of the straightaway, complete with camping chairs, picnic blanket and cooler of what you desperately hoped was something cold. Now this is what youâd imagined when Robin said âraces.â And it was comfortingly far away from the hay barrier.
The boy â Steve â raked his hands through his already artfully disheveled mop of hair and rolled his eyes at Robin.Â
âCould you shout any louder?â he grumbled. âJesus, I think the whole crowd heard you.â
âOh donât be such a wuss. Hey, this is my cousin. Sheâs cool. Cousin, meet Steve. Heâs a dweeb.â
âA dweeb with charm, also known as the best kind,â Steve said with a smile, reaching out to shake your hand. âI heard youâre in town for the summer. Welcome to Hawkins â guessing itâs a pretty big change from where youâre from.â
âUm, yeah, wasnât sure what to expect, but itâs better than I thought. Lots of nice people,â you offered him a small smile in return, a bit taken aback by the easy way he folded you into the dynamic.Â
âIâll bet,â he agreed. âFirst time at a speedway?â
âFirst time at any kind of races,â you admitted. âI have no idea whatâs going on.â
âNot much too it really,â Robin said around a mouthful of beer. Clearly, sheâd helped herself to Steveâs stash, but by the way he just shook his head, you got the sense this was basically normal. He silently offered you a bottle, but you shook your head â maybe in a bit. Steve did seem nice, but you werenât quite ready to be under the influence under someone new just yet. Robin kept talking: âCars go zoom zoom, and the one that goes zoom zoom the fastest wins. We mostly just come here to support Eddie.â
You cocked your head. âWhoâs Eddie?â
âFriend from school. Heâs been working extra shifts all summer, which is why you havenât met him yet. He works down at the local body shop, races on the side. Weâll point his car out when heâs up.â
You nodded, sure heâd be nice too, if Robinâs taste in friends so far was anything to go by.Â
The three of you sat, chatting amiably for a few minutes, and you felt yourself relaxing into Robin and Steveâs easy, familiar banter. They traded well-worn jabs back and forth, but thereâs no heat behind them. You settled yourself on the blanket between them, tucking your skirt beneath your legs and mostly enjoying the vibe, only chiming in when you had something to say, like when Steve started to say âFerris Buellerâs Day Offâ was supposedly underrated (he was wrong, and both you and Robin soundly told him so).Â
As the sun finally started to go down â days were still long and hot, and all three of you were peevishly slapping at overly familiar mosquitos â the track lights finally flickered into life and it seemed like things were about to start. Robin let out a squeal, wiggling her knees in excitement.Â
You were all ready for â you didnât know, monster trucks or something? â when, to your surprise, the first line of cars that raced onto the track looked more like glorified go karts than anything else. Seeing your confusion, Steve leaned over and murmured, âThey do the kiddie stuff first,â and you then saw that the drivers did seem awfully young. Fortunately they were wearing helmets.
The announcer counted down the start, and at the waving of the first green flag they tore around the track, kicking up immense clouds of gasoline-scented dust that settled over everything â your hair, your clothes, you could even see it coating the fine hairs on your arm. Gross.Â
And these little kids were vicious. Not crashing directly into each other, but drifting aggressively around the turns and cutting each other off within what looked like inches to spare between bumpers. Everyone was cheering on individual numbers, and you, Steve and Robin got into it by picking your favorite car and rooting for them at the top of your lungs. After a few heats you felt your throat dry up, and gratefully accepted one of the cooling bottles of beer Steve offered.Â
Beer with friends on a Friday night. Weirdly, this felt more like how you thought summer was supposed to go than you figured youâd get in Hawkins. Or anywhere.Â
As the night wore on, the races of the small and mid-sized cars started to blur into each other, and you started idly wondering when youâd be able to go home. Well. To Robinâs home.Â
âAnd nowwwww, the event youâve all been waiting forrrrr!â shrilled the announcer.
From the back paddock where all the cars were parked, there came a grunty rumble. A vibration that made its way into your bones, your veins, the thump-thump of your heart. This was the rhythm youâd been missing, filling you up from the inside out.Â
And then, the first line of proper-sized cars ripped their way onto the track, to a massive cheer from the crowd. But you werenât even sure you could call them âcars.â Dinged, dented, and beaten back into shape, these were machines reduced to the essence of speed. Any extra baggage had clearly been ripped out â seats, radio, even the entire bottom half of the trunk was gone. What was left was the engines, the driverâs seat, and anything essential to make them go.Â
They ran a few menacing laps around the track, jostling for position on the grid.Â
âLook, thereâs Eddie!â Robin pointed.
âWhich one is he?â you asked.
âThe black one, with the red bat on the hood.â
âEddieâs always had a flair for the dramatic,â Steve clarified.Â
Your eyes traced the black car as Eddie maneuvered it into the inside of the track, on the front row â âThatâs a good position,â Steve clarified again. Unlike most of the other cars, which had paint jobs in varying states of peeling off, Eddie clearly kept his car freshly painted despite the risk of damage â it gleamed, pitch blank, with just the blood red of the bat leaping out of the design. From what you could see of Eddie, as he was mostly shielded by a helmet, he was also in all black.Â
âIâm sensing a theme,â you muttered dryly.Â
Like horses jostling for position, the cars â there must have been a dozen or so â revved their engines just behind the starting line. There was an agonizing moment of tension, where everyone stared at the red stoplight holding them in place.Â
Then it winked green, the flag was waved, and the race began.Â
You watched as Eddieâs car and the one on his right, painted a chipped red-white-and-blue roared to the front like bats of out hell. They gunned it down the straightaway before whipping into a drift around the curve that was so aggressive, their cars yawing onto two wheels so hard, your hands flew to your mouth to swallow a gasp despite yourself, sure theyâd tip over or spin out. Magically Eddieâs car righted itself as he came out of the turn and he gunned it down the next straight, neck and neck with the other vehicle.Â
The laps went by in what felt to you like seconds, a frenetic dance conducted at speed. With the razor-thin margins the two cars took the turns, you knew that if Eddie lost concentration for a nanosecond, heâd be out of the race. You blinked dust out of your eyes furiously, loath to miss a single second. Next to you, Robin and Steve were yelling â you were pretty sure Robin was just repeating profanities at this point â but you could hardly make yourself breathe normally, let alone cheer.Â
There were only a few laps to go and the other car had stolen the lead from Eddie. Though Eddie was keeping the black monstrosity right on his tail, pushing himself right into the rear bumper to try and throw the other driver off.Â
They made another sharp drift around a corner and, as they came off the curve, Eddie made his move, pushing the throttle to take his car around the outside of the red-and-white leader. He took the turn, hard, trying to get his nose in front of the other carâs, and this time you did let out a whimper of concern. Your heart thumped in time with the roar of the crowd, and when Eddie made it, slipping in front of his rival to cross the finish line first, you couldnât help but sigh in relief.Â
Steve and Robin were now jumping up and down and hugging each other, and you smiled at their infectious joy.Â
The other cars coasted to a stop in the middle of the track while Eddie took his victory lap, waving the checkered flag from out the driverâs window. He must have spotted the two maniacs next to you, because the car rolled to a stop on the track in front of you, and Eddie stepped out from the car.Â
You knew he drove like a devil, but you werenât expecting him to look like a fallen angel.Â
A strange shiver ran through you as you watched him pull off his black helmet. Long, dark curls spilled out, framing his sharp, sculpted face. Even with his bangs sweat-soaked and disheveled, he was capital H-O-T. Dark hair, dark eyes, with a plush mouth you knew was made for sin. He was everything your parents would have warned you away from, and everything you â or your body, at least â immediately wanted.Â
âBe normal,â you thought to yourself. âThis is Robinâs friend .â
Robin and Steve trotted down to the side of the track, and you trailed behind them, a little unsure. It was the last race of the evening, and with the entertainment over, the crowds were starting to melt away. It didnât escape your notice that while all the other drivers were getting handshakes and back-slaps galore from their fellow racers and even some officials, no one had come over to congratulate the actual winner, Eddie, except for the three of you.
âEdieeeeee, you won!â Robin shrieked at her usual top-volume. âBut also, ugh, you smell like fumes, ew no, donât hug me.â She wiggled away from his playful attempt at a hug, wrinkling your nose.Â
âComes with the territory, Robin, youâre just gonna have to get used to it. You certainly donât mind when Iâm fixing your car for free, again . Hey, Steve, nice of the King to make an appearance.â The two boys traded fist bumps, Steve rolling his eyes at his high school nickname. You broke into a wide smile at their antics.Â
Eddieâs eyes met yours, where you lingered behind, and he arched one eyebrow, his previously warm and open expression becoming more guarded, scanning you from the top of your windswept hair to the bottom of your now quite dusty flats. Your smile faded, and you resisted the urge to brush yourself off in the face of his gaze.
âWhoâs this?â he asked. âWasnât aware we had a third cheerleader on the squad. Does little miss Dots like what she has to see so far?â
You find yourself bristling at his presumptuous tone. âI donât quite take your meaning,â you respond stiffly.Â
Eddie laughed, an open, easy sound you could have loved â except for the sharp edge to his voice. He straddled the hay bale, spreading his hands open. You tried not to look at how his black racing uniform stretched tight over his thighs. Really, you tried.Â
âCome on, guys, this is a joke, right? Ha, ha, Eddieâs first race of the season, letâs get a cute little cupcake of a girl to come along, flirt a little, string lil âol Eddie along? Give the girl a ride to remember?â
He fixed his molten brown eyes on you. âDid someone put you up to it, Dots? Patrick? Jason? Itâs the sort of shit thing Jason would do.â
By this point, both Steve and Robin were exchanging a confused glance that clearly conveyed their shared sense of, âuh, what?â But you knew exactly what.Â
Eddie had taken one look at you â at your too-much dress, too-much smile, maybe something else you didnât even know in your demeanor â and concluded that the only possible explanation for your presence was that you were aâŚpaid escort? Hooker? Someone bribed to come watch his race and flutter your eyelashes at him, spread her legs?
You felt the usual protection of your ice queen reputation from back home freezing off any earlier warmth from your expression.Â
âSomeone clearly has a high opinion of himself. Iâm not going to cream just because youâve got half skills with half a car. Get over yourself. Robin,â you turn to your cousin, âIâm going back to the house.â
âItâs miles to the house,â Robin protested, nervous gaze flicking between you â fuming â and Eddie â nonchalantly picking at his cuticles, not sparing you another glance.Â
âIâll walk.â It was only a mile or so to Robinâs, and you didnât want to spend a single second more in his company, friends with your cousin or not. Eddieâd done a spectacular job of reminding you why you usually didnât do things that were âfunâ or âsocialâ or that âlots of peopleâ went to. You didnât need another asshole man in your life, your father was doing a bang-up job of that by himself.Â
âIâd give you a ride, Dots, but as you can see,â Eddie gestured to the literally empty passenger seat in the stock car next to him, âI canât.â
âFuck you,â you hissed, whirling around and stomping off before reaching a hand up to swipe angrily at the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.Â
You heard Robin run after you. âSheâs my cousin you MORON,â she called back to Eddie. When she caught up to you, you gave her a watery smile in thanks, and she reached over to squeeze your shoulders.Â
New item for your summer bucket list: Never, ever see Eddie again.
Hey it's time for me to rant about mildly annoying things about society and being aro/ace! (Long post warning)
Okay so when I was eating dinner with my parents today and we were talking about our grandparents for a bit. Specifically, my grandma getting sick, and how my uncle traveling around all the time but living with them did not help that. Anyway then I was thinking about him, because he's unmarried with no kids and so is my other uncle. So then I brought up the fact that I have no first cousins, making my one joke about the topic that I'm the onliest only child ever. And we laughed about it for a bit, but then my mom said something else.
âSee that's why âand I feel a bit like Jane Austen saying thisâ that's why you have to get marriedâ
And my aroace brain already did not like that, but obviously I wasn't going to tell her that because I'm not out?? And then my dad then butted in with a joke about the reason being that the family line would end if I didn't, which annoyed me, but interestingly, my mother brushed that aside.
Instead, she said âbecause when you get old you won't have any siblings or cousins to help you.â
I... Had not been expecting that. So I sat there, not liking where the conversation had gone but not doing anything about it. I just put it aside to rant about later (this is that) and moved on with my evening
But I've come back to it now.
I'm not mad at my mom for telling me that I have to get married. I'm annoyed at my situation and our society for existing in a way where she's right.
I don't have siblings or cousins I'm close with who could help me. The only people I have are my friends, and who knows if I'll still be friends with them? Also, I have maybe one actually aro friend, all the others are highly likely to get into romantic relationships and maybe have children. They'll have their own people to be taking care of. I'm just going to be lower priority, that's how our society works. Hell, with the internet the way that it is, there's no guarantee that I would even live in the same area as most of my friends.
And this isn't even just an old age thing. What happens if I need a serious surgery? What person, with their own job and family and life, has the time to spend taking care of their friend for an extended period of time? I mean, I might, but I don't have the whole romance thing getting in the way.
I realize that I'm being pessimistic and that I should probably have more faith in both my friends and the way the world works. I'm just frustrated that because we place so much more emphasis on romance than we do friendships, once people start pairing up the friendships get left behind a little bit. I'm frustrated that you could make an argument that I might have to get married, not because I truly want to, but for the sake of my own health and comfort in the future. I'm frustrated that someone can say something as uncomfortable to me as âyou have to get married,â and still have a decent point.
Again, I'm being a pessimist and I'm not mad at my mom. Or my dad.
Iâm to punch your writing bad vibes so get your butt ready.
To be slightly personal, your writing has been one of my inspirations for a while now. If I had to describe your style, it doesnât dip into overly flowery purple prose that makes it difficult to tell what is going on, but it's meaty enough to put me into a characterâs shoes and really give me a sense for the emotions they feel and why they feel that way. Little details like usage of punctuation, bolds, italics, caps, etc. truly sell your muses as their own person, complete with distinct voices. These little things may go unnoticed, but to me, Itâs the little things like these that really show how much care and effort you put into your writing.
And generally, it really gives me motivation to sit down and write, whether itâs for a reply or something personal.
Your writing is very satisfying to read, and I know Iâve said it multiple times before, but it has truly opened my eyes to characters I would have normally been apprehensive or understood little about if not for you. Thereâs something about how you write P5 related content that makes me wish you were in charge of the game. You really hit all the things I enjoy about the game and seamlessly incorporate it to your writing, as well as improve its shortcomings.
(To be slightly personal again, your enthusiasm for this game, through IC content or OOC posts, is one of the reasons why Iâve been able to slowly come up with ideas on how to slap my P4 muses into P5, but more importantly, enjoy the game for what it is. Without you, I have no doubts that it would have taken me much longer to appreciate it.)
Of course, your writing achieving this effect would not be possible without your understanding of the game, its themes and its characters. Not just P5, mind you. P4, too. Despite me knowing the events of the game almost by heart, you always bring up something fresh about it that makes me view it in a new light and keep the P4 era going in my heart, and by P4 era, I mostly mean Naoto.
I know youâll make me fall in love with P3 all over again soon, so Iâm looking forward to that :^)
There is a lot more for me to say, you being a cherished friend is one of them, and also that you are a horrible little gremlin for encouraging my illness known as Naoto Disease, just to name a few things, but thatâs for a later date, since I donât want to make this ask stretch on for miles.
PS remember that I wonât stop loving you dani-lion xoxo
((You are a damn good, genuine friend, Liz. I needed to hear this.))
If anyone wants to know why every tech company in the world right now is clamoring for AI like drowned rats scrabbling to board a ship, I decided to make a post to explain what's happening.
(Disclaimer to start: I'm a software engineer who's been employed full time since 2018. I am not a historian nor an overconfident Youtube essayist, so this post is my working knowledge of what I see around me and the logical bridges between pieces.)
Okay anyway. The explanation starts further back than what's going on now. I'm gonna start with the year 2000. The Dot Com Bubble just spectacularly burst. The model of "we get the users first, we learn how to profit off them later" went out in a no-money-having bang (remember this, it will be relevant later). A lot of money was lost. A lot of people ended up out of a job. A lot of startup companies went under. Investors left with a sour taste in their mouth and, in general, investment in the internet stayed pretty cooled for that decade. This was, in my opinion, very good for the internet as it was an era not suffocating under the grip of mega-corporation oligarchs and was, instead, filled with Club Penguin and I Can Haz Cheezburger websites.
Then around the 2010-2012 years, a few things happened. Interest rates got low, and then lower. Facebook got huge. The iPhone took off. And suddenly there was a huge new potential market of internet users and phone-havers, and the cheap money was available to start backing new tech startup companies trying to hop on this opportunity. Companies like Uber, Netflix, and Amazon either started in this time, or hit their ramp-up in these years by shifting focus to the internet and apps.
Now, every start-up tech company dreaming of being the next big thing has one thing in common: they need to start off by getting themselves massively in debt. Because before you can turn a profit you need to first spend money on employees and spend money on equipment and spend money on data centers and spend money on advertising and spend money on scale and and and
But also, everyone wants to be on the ship for The Next Big Thing that takes off to the moon.
So there is a mutual interest between new tech companies, and venture capitalists who are willing to invest $$$ into said new tech companies. Because if the venture capitalists can identify a prize pig and get in early, that money could come back to them 100-fold or 1,000-fold. In fact it hardly matters if they invest in 10 or 20 total bust projects along the way to find that unicorn.
But also, becoming profitable takes time. And that might mean being in debt for a long long time before that rocket ship takes off to make everyone onboard a gazzilionaire.
But luckily, for tech startup bros and venture capitalists, being in debt in the 2010's was cheap, and it only got cheaper between 2010 and 2020. If people could secure loans for ~3% or 4% annual interest, well then a $100,000 loan only really costs $3,000 of interest a year to keep afloat. And if inflation is higher than that or at least similar, you're still beating the system.
So from 2010 through early 2022, times were good for tech companies. Startups could take off with massive growth, showing massive potential for something, and venture capitalists would throw infinite money at them in the hopes of pegging just one winner who will take off. And supporting the struggling investments or the long-haulers remained pretty cheap to keep funding.
You hear constantly about "Such and such app has 10-bazillion users gained over the last 10 years and has never once been profitable", yet the thing keeps chugging along because the investors backing it aren't stressed about the immediate future, and are still banking on that "eventually" when it learns how to really monetize its users and turn that profit.
The pandemic in 2020 took a magnifying-glass-in-the-sun effect to this, as EVERYTHING was forcibly turned online which pumped a ton of money and workers into tech investment. Simultaneously, money got really REALLY cheap, bottoming out with historic lows for interest rates.
Then the tide changed with the massive inflation that struck late 2021. Because this all-gas no-brakes state of things was also contributing to off-the-rails inflation (along with your standard-fare greedflation and price gouging, given the extremely convenient excuses of pandemic hardships and supply chain issues). The federal reserve whipped out interest rate hikes to try to curb this huge inflation, which is like a fire extinguisher dousing and suffocating your really-cool, actively-on-fire party where everyone else is burning but you're in the pool. And then they did this more, and then more. And the financial climate followed suit. And suddenly money was not cheap anymore, and new loans became expensive, because loans that used to compound at 2% a year are now compounding at 7 or 8% which, in the language of compounding, is a HUGE difference. A $100,000 loan at a 2% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, accrues to $121,899. A $100,000 loan at an 8% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, more than doubles to $215,892.
Now it is scary and risky to throw money at "could eventually be profitable" tech companies. Now investors are watching companies burn through their current funding and, when the companies come back asking for more, investors are tightening their coin purses instead. The bill is coming due. The free money is drying up and companies are under compounding pressure to produce a profit for their waiting investors who are now done waiting.
You get enshittification. You get quality going down and price going up. You get "now that you're a captive audience here, we're forcing ads or we're forcing subscriptions on you." Don't get me wrong, the plan was ALWAYS to monetize the users. It's just that it's come earlier than expected, with way more feet-to-the-fire than these companies were expecting. ESPECIALLY with Wall Street as the other factor in funding (public) companies, where Wall Street exhibits roughly the same temperament as a baby screaming crying upset that it's soiled its own diaper (maybe that's too mean a comparison to babies), and now companies are being put through the wringer for anything LESS than infinite growth that Wall Street demands of them.
Internal to the tech industry, you get MASSIVE wide-spread layoffs. You get an industry that used to be easy to land multiple job offers shriveling up and leaving recent graduates in a desperately awful situation where no company is hiring and the market is flooded with laid-off workers trying to get back on their feet.
Because those coin-purse-clutching investors DO love virtue-signaling efforts from companies that say "See! We're not being frivolous with your money! We only spend on the essentials." And this is true even for MASSIVE, PROFITABLE companies, because those companies' value is based on the Rich Person Feeling Graph (their stock) rather than the literal profit money. A company making a genuine gazillion dollars a year still tears through layoffs and freezes hiring and removes the free batteries from the printer room (totally not speaking from experience, surely) because the investors LOVE when you cut costs and take away employee perks. The "beer on tap, ping pong table in the common area" era of tech is drying up. And we're still unionless.
Never mind that last part.
And then in early 2023, AI (more specifically, Chat-GPT which is OpenAI's Large Language Model creation) tears its way into the tech scene with a meteor's amount of momentum. Here's Microsoft's prize pig, which it invested heavily in and is galivanting around the pig-show with, to the desperate jealousy and rapture of every other tech company and investor wishing it had that pig. And for the first time since the interest rate hikes, investors have dollar signs in their eyes, both venture capital and Wall Street alike. They're willing to restart the hose of money (even with the new risk) because this feels big enough for them to take the risk.
Now all these companies, who were in varying stages of sweating as their bill came due, or wringing their hands as their stock prices tanked, see a single glorious gold-plated rocket up out of here, the likes of which haven't been seen since the free money days. It's their ticket to buy time, and buy investors, and say "see THIS is what will wring money forth, finally, we promise, just let us show you."
To be clear, AI is NOT profitable yet. It's a money-sink. Perhaps a money-black-hole. But everyone in the space is so wowed by it that there is a wide-spread and powerful conviction that it will become profitable and earn its keep. (Let's be real, half of that profit "potential" is the promise of automating away jobs of pesky employees who peskily cost money.) It's a tech-space industrial revolution that will automate away skilled jobs, and getting in on the ground floor is the absolute best thing you can do to get your pie slice's worth.
It's the thing that will win investors back. It's the thing that will get the investment money coming in again (or, get it second-hand if the company can be the PROVIDER of something needed for AI, which other companies with venture-back will pay handsomely for). It's the thing companies are terrified of missing out on, lest it leave them utterly irrelevant in a future where not having AI-integration is like not having a mobile phone app for your company or not having a website.
You're fresh out of college and looking for a job. Everyone is hiring. Nobody who's "hiring" is actually hiring. You finally get a call back from somewhere you barely remember applying to (though the voice on the other end sounds synthesized). You pull up the job listing again real quick. The company name and the fact that the listing is for "Minion" are kind of concerning, but you know what, you've interviewed with enough evil corporations by now, you can handle one wearing its true colors on its sleeve. At this point it's a matter of making rent or moving back in with your parents, and as much as you love your family, you can't imagine spending another summer dealing with your brothers' antics. You agree to the interview.
The man who greets you is an enthusiastic older German(?) man who's either way too into cosplay or just that committed to the bit, judging by the lab coat. He made cookies. The tray of cookies is proffered to you by a ten-foot-tall robotic caricature of a 50s businessman. You take a deep breath to calm yourself. You bite into one of the cookies. It's delicious.
You ask the boss about his business model. "Oh you know, a little of this, a little of that, I bounce from project to project a lot." He mentions that his end goal is becoming the undisputed ruler of the surrounding counties. "Really? Not the whole world?" you ask. "I like to set realistic goals," he replies.
As he gives you the tour of his "evil lair," ingrained instincts are screaming at you to report this guy to some kind of authority figure. You remember the salary. You decide that you can always bust him after getting your first paycheck.
The boss asks when you can start. Caught off guard, you say "tomorrow?". Your boss(?) says he'll see you then.
On the way out, you bump into your stepbrother's girlfriend. Your boss introduces her as his daughter. You both silently agree to sidestep the subject for now and act like this is your first time meeting.
You show up to your first day of work. Your boss is putting the finishing touches on a giant machine that was definitely not there yesterday. You are nonplussed. You ask him what it's for and he launches into a convoluted explanation involving his parents always forcing him to put his shirts on backwards so the tag was in front. You think he should probably talk to a therapist.
Your brothers' exotic pet breaks down the wall. You stare at him. He stares at you. Incredulously, you say his name. "Oh, good, you two already know each other!" your boss says. You mention that you used to live with him. "What? Perry the Platypus, you never mentioned having a roommate."
This is what I like to imagine Candace Flynn's life is like, post P&F.
There's a viral video circulating from the Fort Worth Zoo, of two keepers who ended up in a habitat at the same time as a silverback gorilla. Spoiler for good news: neither the humans nor the gorilla got hurt. It's a bad situation that ended extremely well, and that's why I want to talk about it.
The audio for this video is mostly someone praying loudly, so if you need to turn the audio off to watch it, you won't miss anything relevant. If you don't want to watch it, here's the summary: it starts with a keeper running around the corner into the main exhibit, pursued by a large male gorilla. She is quickly able to get into a doorway at the back of the exhibit, but does not completely close the door because the gorilla is standing across from her, watching. He eventually moves off to the right hand side of the exhibit, where we can see a keeper is trapped in the corner at the front. She was trying to move towards the exit as he moved to the right, and she stops, standing very still behind a tree, while he stays along the far right wall. They stay like that for a minute, and then the gorilla runs to the front right corner, and the keeper is able to run to the door in the back of the exhibit and get to safety.
Let's start with basic information. Even though it's just going viral now, this video is from October of 2023. It was taken not by a guest, but by the zoo security officer responding to the situation. Hmmm, seems like he maybe should have been doing something else during that situation, instead of than taking a phone video. It's going viral now because the guy (who is no longer employed at the zoo) decided to post it on TikTok for his five minutes of fame. This guy immediately started giving all sorts of media interviews, answering questions like "why no tranquilizers" inappropriately, making memes out of his own video, generally distasteful shit.
Zoo spokesperson Avery Elander gave a public statement that "thankfully, there was no physical contact between keepers and gorilla, and all staff and animals are safe." A comment from the zoo has also indicated that the incident was due to keeper error. (As opposed to, for instance, something in the fencing breaking.) According to the guy who posted the video, a lock was left unsecured and the gorilla was able to open the door to the habitat. I don't know if I buy it, and again, this just... is probably why he doesn't have a job anymore. By sharing that detail - real or not - he places a ton of public scrutiny and blame on that keeper team. (If that's what happened, I can promise you it will have been dealt with internally.) He also was nice enough to say he wouldn't name the women in the video... but verified they're still staffers at the zoo... which means they're eminently identifiable! Excuse me while I ragequit for a second.
So there's two reasons I wanted to talk about this. The first is to make sure it is well known that this guy is purposefully and intentionally exploiting the worst day of someone's life for media attention. Their lives were in danger, and he's using it for fame. His name is in the media articles - I'm not going to share it because he doesn't deserve that attention. The second reason, though, is because this video is a masterclass on how to survive if you end up sharing space with a gorilla. Every zoo person I've spoken to or seen comment on the video is so, so impressed with how the keepers handled themselves.
The gorilla in this video is 34-year-old Elmo. All apes in AZA zoos are managed in protected contact, so keepers are supposed to be separated from them by a barrier at all times. The zookeepers were in the habitat putting out a mid-day meal when he got out. Watching the video, you can see he's not actively being aggressive towards them - he's not making threat displays or trying to approach them. Mostly, Elmo seems like he doesn't know what is going on and he's kinda freaked out about it. (This is confirmed in the zoo's press statement, too). The staff stayed calm, and importantly, watched and waited to see how he'd move and act.
The zoo did say one thing, though, that's a bit misleading. In one article, their press person I quote as saying âIn general, gorillas are considered the âgentle giantsâ of the great ape species.â Just because this may be true in comparison to other great ape species doesn't meant gorilla aren't still incredibly dangerous. This type of messaging always worries me, because I think it leads people to misunderstand the risks of being close to megafauna. Gorilla are extremely strong animals, and their social norms/behaviors are very different from that of humans. That's why it's such a big deal any time people end up in gorilla habitats, and why sometimes in those circumstances lethal measures have to be taken to protect human life.
These keepers are incredibly lucky to be unharmed. These women stayed safe specifically because they're trained professionals who knew how to act around gorilla, they knew this particular animal well, and they'd learned the escapes from the exhibit just in case this ever happened. We should applaud them for their cool heads and quick thinking.
As for the guy who posted the video? As a colleague put it, may he always step on a Lego.
đŹđŽđŚđŚđđŤđ˛ as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.
or,
you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.
đđđ đŹ musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
đ§đ¨đđ HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!
đ°đ 11.3k
"There you are."
Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.
He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.
"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.
You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.
An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."
"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."
"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.
"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.
Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.
"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.
However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."
Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"
"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.
Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.
On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.
You accepted it years ago.
You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.
Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.
Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.
You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.
As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.
"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.
"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.
Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."
This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."
"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."
"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.
"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.
It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.
But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.
"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.
Ah.
You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.
"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.
You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"
"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."
Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.
"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."
You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.
"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.
He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."
Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."
The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.
That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.
Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.
You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.
A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"
Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.
"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.
You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."
Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.
You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.
Happy Birthday
â S.
You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
⸝ ⢠⸝
Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.
You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.
Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.
It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color. You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.
You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.
"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.
Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"
A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.
Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.
Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.
You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.
Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.
Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.
It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.
The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."
You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.
"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.
His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."
In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"
"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."
You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"
"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."
"Maybe I canâ"
"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.
"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.
Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.
Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"
A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.
You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"
His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."
He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.
You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.
With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.
"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."
A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.
Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"
Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, weâshe was the one who started it!"
"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.
"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"
"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.
"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.
The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."
Zeff took a deep, tired breath.
"Oh, they're ringing alright."
You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
⸝ ⢠⸝
You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.
Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.
Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.
The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.
Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.
Or so you thought.
You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?
So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.
The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.
Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.
Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.
Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.
You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.
You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.
And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.
You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.
"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.
You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."
Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"
"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"
With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.
Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.
"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.
"Now I do."
Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.
You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"
"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."
Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.
You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"
Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.
"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.
Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.
"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."
He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."
You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"
Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"
You nodded. "I don't like it."
He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"
"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.
A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."
Oh.
Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."
He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.
But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."
Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."
"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.
"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.
"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.
Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"
Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurtâlike he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.
But the answer was simple.
"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.
And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.
He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing somethingâ"
"Why not me?"
Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.
More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"
Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.
"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."
You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look atâit's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."
"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.
You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.
However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.
Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to moveâhe couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.
He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.
Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.
Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.
Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
⸝ ⢠⸝
The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.
Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.
When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.
He doesn't.
⸝ ⢠⸝
"Are you really going to leave?"
Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.
"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.
Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."
You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.
The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."
You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."
"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.
Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.
And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.
You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his directionâor maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.
Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?
You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.
"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.
"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"
A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?
"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."
Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.
Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."
Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.
He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.
As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.
In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.
He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.
Sanji almost dropped the plate.
It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.
He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.
You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.
"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.
That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.
You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"
"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.
"Sanji!"
He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.
Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"
It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.
Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.
"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.
He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."
That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.
Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.
You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.
He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.
Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.
A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.
You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
⸝ ⢠⸝
A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.
Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.
"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."
"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.
Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."
The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.
You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.
Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.
The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.
But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.
"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.
You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.
"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.
Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."
You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"
He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."
The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.
It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.
As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.
"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.
The realization began to sink in.
Oh.
You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."
Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.
"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.
"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."
When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."
"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.
"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."
"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.
He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon angeâmy heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."
"No..."
"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.
"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.
However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with meâwith us."
You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."
"Even with me by your side?"
A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."
Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."
The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"
"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.
"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.
Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.
Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"
"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.
"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.
You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"
Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.
He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.
You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmokeâand tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.
⸝ ⢠⸝
The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.
But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.
"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.
You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"
She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."
"I will."
"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.
You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"
He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.
"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"
Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"
When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."
"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.
Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.
It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.
⸝ ⢠⸝
The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.
A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"
You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."
The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."
"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.
Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.
Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.
You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.
You missed Sanji and everything that he was.
You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.
Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.
"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.
"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."
You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.
Sanji.
As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly. You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.
How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,
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 doesnât 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 đ 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, heâd been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. Theyâd 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, âOh, I didnât know you were coming home this weekend.â when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this.Â
In the last three months, he hasnât so much as sent a text to his parents.Â
Or to you.Â
Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, âHi, sweetie, I love you đ,â turns into, âMissing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?â which turns into, âGetting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!âÂ
Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come.Â
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 isnât answering calls either. Whatâs 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, âIâm going home.âÂ
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 wasnât the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you werenât there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay.Â
The look of worry on his mumâs face stirs a pit in his stomach. âWhy are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,â she says, frowning. âIs it school? Or something with YN? Itâs not like her not to text back.â 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. âBreakups are never easy, honey. Iâm so sorry, I know how much you love her.âÂ
Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head.Â
Whether she knows it or not, sheâs 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.Â
For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. Heâd 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.Â
âWe didnât break up,â he says in a small voiceâfor some reason. âIâm just having a hard time.â Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.
The tightening grip of his mumâs arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs heâd been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mumâs cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes.Â
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 itâs weird to be home without you.Â
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 heâd 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.Â
Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising heâs 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.Â
Though he didnât know it at the time, youâd left Yeonjunâs place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one youâd only visit to toast to each otherâs heartbreaks. It had become a ritual â ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks â to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments.Â
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 âboy whose crush likes someone elseâ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. Heâd had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time youâd dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than himâtaller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didnât stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out.Â
This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeongâlying 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 didnât really have feelings for her â he didnât even know her â but she was a girl that you didnât know, so you wouldnât be able to meddle.Â
It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldnât 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.Â
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 âHoonieâs first heartbreakâ. 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.Â
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 heâd been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat.Â
The voices coming from Yejiâs room disrupt the memory. Heâs thankful.
âYour brotherâs going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.â His motherâs voice is her version of hushedâa loud whisper.Â
Yejiâs response is harder to make out, but he doesnât miss the way their mum says, âI mean it, missy.âÂ
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.Â
âMum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.âÂ
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 sheâs wearing used to live.Â
âI hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I donât know how Iâm supposed to carry on your legacy.â Sheâs looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows.Â
Itâs impossible to know if itâs because of Yejiâs complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her âperfect, golden boyâ 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.Â
âOh, uh.. Iâm sorry?â Yeji offers. âI was kidding if that helps.âÂ
âIâm alright, itâs okay.â The tears donât stop stinging his eyes. âWhy do you want me to change everything about myself?âÂ
With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesnât 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 Sunghoonâs academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoonâs shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her.Â
âBut other than that, Iâm good.â She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. âHowâs YN?â she asks. Itâs clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks sheâs helping.Â
Sunghoon cries again.Â
Back on campus, heâs trying to scrape together whatâs left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word âfriendâ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jayâs goading him.Â
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. âThereâs nothing you can do that I canât,â he says, meaning every word.Â
Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his âabout to say something ridiculousâ look. âPretty sure I could call YN right now, and sheâd answer.âÂ
Thereâs a pit in Sunghoonâs stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like heâs been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesnât hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesnât waste his energy trying to argue because Jayâs right.
Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoonâs course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class heâs taking â The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway â is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but itâs 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.
âThis class is, like, beyond easy, dude.â Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. âEveryone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?âÂ
âI only took it because YN thought itâd be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of havenât been going since we stopped talking.â Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.Â
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.Â
âSunghoon, a word?â you ask.
He thinks youâre asking, but itâs 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. âMe?âÂ
âDoes anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?âÂ
âOkay,â he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him.Â
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 faceâwhich, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.
Sunghoon isnât sure what to expect, so he says, âHey.â Heâs being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. âWhatâs gooooood?â His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and itâs beautiful and happy, and youâre laughing because of himâor at him, but heâs glad either way.Â
Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. âWere you ever going to tell me weâre spending next week at Mum and Dadâs?â you ask.Â
Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. âI knew there was something Iâve been meaning to do.âÂ
His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. âCan you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?â Youâre frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. âItâs not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying thingsâmaking plans involving me and then acting like Iâm the bad guy when I turn you down.âÂ
âI donât think youâre the bad guy at all,â Sunghoon admits. âIf anyone is in the wrong, itâs me, I guess.â
You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. âYou guess? Are you serious?â You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. âI canât have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum Iâm sick, and itâs contagious.â 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.Â
He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you?Â
Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like heâs not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseungâs help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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 canât remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. Theyâre cutting all the same.Â
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 ceilingâa diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks.Â
Heâs 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.Â
âI just got off the phone with Dad..â You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. âIâll go home with you.âÂ
âYou will?âÂ
âYes. Goodbye.âÂ
Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You donât 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. Youâre aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoonâs 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 letâs not be friends at all.Â
A familiar weight lands on his shoulderâyour hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if heâs okay.Â
With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods.Â
In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home.Â
âHowâs Yeonjun,â he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw.Â
âNo,â you say simply, shaking your head. âYou donât get to ask me about him.âÂ
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 donât 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 heâs not entirely sure how to say itâso he just does. âMy, uh.. my parents think weâre dating.â
You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking.Â
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. âWhy do they think that?â Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine.Â
He stares blankly at you, processing. âBecause I told them weâre dating,â he mumbles.Â
âWhy did you.. do that?â You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. âWhat are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?âÂ
A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? âWe can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,â Sunghoon offers. âJust one night, YN, please.âÂ
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.Â
Youâre staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. âOr we could say that youâre a liar and end things there,â you say. âOr better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.â
Sunghoonâs gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows youâre right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and itâd be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. âAlright,â he concedes. âIâll take you back.â
An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. âNo need, Iâll walk.âÂ
The station youâre at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow heâs not even sure it has a pavement. Youâre halfway through the three-hour drive, so thereâs no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and itâs deep enough into October for the wind to sting.Â
âFrom here?â he asks, incredulous.Â
âYes, open the boot so I can get my bag.âÂ
Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper.Â
âOpen the boot.â
He repeats your name as if itâll make a difference, heâs pleading with you, beggingâthough he doesnât know for what.Â
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. âPlease.â
Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that youâre not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you wonât back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driverâs seatâyour move.Â
You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks youâll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. âLetâs just get this over with.âÂ
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 boyfriendâeven if only for a night. You scoff when he âremindsâ you that youâve been together for four months now and the only reason you havenât been able to come home recently is that your schedules donât match up very well anymoreâwhich couldnât be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldnât be more suited for seeing each other.Â
Finally, at Sunghoonâs 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. Heâs 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.Â
With his parents, youâd sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dadâs 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.Â
Now, at 3 a.m. he canât sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. Itâs 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.Â
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 youâre not wearing your necklace.Â
Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didnât want him, you wouldnât want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldnât see if you had it on or not.Â
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, whoâd 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.Â
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 âboys come and go but Sunghoon is foreverâ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights laterâit was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought heâd 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. Sunghoonâs been riding that high ever since.Â
Until tonight at least.Â
âAre you okay?â he whispers.Â
âIâll do it, Hoon.â Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. âFor as long as you need me to, Iâll pretend.â
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You havenât called him âHoonâ in ages, and he canât tell if youâve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that youâve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, heâs not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why youâre crying.Â
âWhat happened?â
You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. âIt doesnât matter,â you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck.Â
For as long as heâs known you, youâve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet itâs only after these months apart that heâs able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much heâs missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he canât 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 itâs enough.Â
âYou can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.â
A heavy silence follows, sharp as a daggerâscraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoonâs breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close youâve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room.Â
Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that youâre 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 donât even stir when he lies down.Â
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.Â
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. Itâs at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and youâre bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. Thereâs a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding.Â
âBaby!â you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. âGood morning.â 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.Â
âItâs great to see you too, YN,â his mum says with a smile. âMy night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.âÂ
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. âSorry, mum, how are you?âÂ
His mother doesnât seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. âgood morningâ to go unnoticed.Â
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 âthank youâ, and his knees turn to jelly.Â
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 canât stop you from dragging your feet.Â
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 youâre 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 youâd do is step over his body like a fallen branch.Â
After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. Itâs 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. Itâs 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.Â
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. âWhat are you doing?â
Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. âHolding my girlfriendâs hand.âÂ
âNo oneâs looking, boyfriend.â
âYou think my parents arenât going to wonder why weâre lagging behind?âÂ
A scoffâyour fingers remain defiantly stiff. âDo you think your parents are going to care whether or not weâre holding hands?âÂ
âMy mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.â Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it.Â
A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. âSorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.âÂ
As your words hang in the air, Sunghoonâs 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 doesnât stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomachâhe knows you donât feel the same way, he knows youâre faking, but the word âpretendingâ hits him like a truck anyway.Â
âWe held hands all the time when we were friends,â he points out.
Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. âYeah, and now weâre not.âÂ
If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoonâs feelings the most, youâd be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction.Â
âExactly!â he says, feeling the sting of his own words. âBecause now weâre dating.â
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. Itâs forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.
âYou two okay back there?â she asks.Â
âPerfect! I feel like a kid again!â you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesnât meet your eyes.Â
The two of you donât talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs.Â
âSheâs not feeling too well,â he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea.Â
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 doesnât pretend not to like it.
Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. Itâs 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 youâre chopping.Â
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 neckâthe scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesnât do anything to stop the flush.Â
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 couldnât 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 heâs 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 youâd used.Â
âLeave ours,â you say. âIf you want.âÂ
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 donât speak either. Itâs reminiscent of the pastâthe hours youâd spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post youâd come across or to ask if you were hungry.Â
His eyes track your movementsâreaching 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 heâs 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.Â
Sunghoon doesnât know why youâve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt.Â
âYou know you donât have to be nice to me when weâre alone, right?â 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. âWhat?â you ask finally.Â
âI only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You donât have to sit or talk with me when theyâre not around.âÂ
Sunghoonâs 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; youâre hurt.
âWhy canât I just be nice to you because itâs the right thing to do?âÂ
Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. âBecause I donât want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.â Is what he settles for.Â
Your face softens. âI donât feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I donât think you could ever make me uncomfortable.â You pause to take a gulp of wine. âWhy canât I just want to be nice to you?âÂ
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. âIâm sorry,â he says.Â
âWhat for?âÂ
âEverything.âÂ
Thereâs 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. âItâs not your fault,â you say. âI donât know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.âÂ
Wow, he thinks. Youâre on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if youâre meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings arenât reciprocated as if he didnât live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed.Â
âBut I didnât have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.âÂ
âDid you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?âÂ
âMaybe?â Sunghoon chews on his lipâhe has no idea what he thought would happen. âI 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 donât know, just learn to love me.â
âHoon,â you whisper, frowning. âHow could you even think about settling for something like that?âÂ
Sunghoon shrugs. âItâs not settling if itâs you.âÂ
Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wallâa glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. Youâre picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak.Â
âI know itâs not my place to ask,â Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. âBut what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?âÂ
You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks youâre not going to answer himâhe doesnât blame you.Â
âI didnât.âÂ
He waits for you to elaborate. You donât.Â
Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. âHe didnât ask why we stopped hanging out?â he blurts out.
âI told him we fell out but I didnât say why.â You shrug, but your posture is stiff.Â
âWhere did you tell him you were going to be this week?â He knows itâs not his business at all, that heâs pushing your boundaries, but he canât help his curiosity.
âNowhere.âÂ
âYou told him you were staying on campus?âÂ
âI didnât tell him anything.â 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.Â
âSo you just left?âÂ
âDoes it make a difference to you?âÂ
Sunghoon nods.
For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. âYeonjun and I arenât together anymore.â Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoonâs jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. âI didnât want to say anything because I didnât want you to think it was because of you.âÂ
Sunghoonâs thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each otherâdisbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadnât dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront.Â
âWas it?â he asks. âBecause of me?âÂ
You scoffâan incredulous sound that doesnât match the sad look on your face. âI donât know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?â
Heâs 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.Â
âIâm sorry,â he says after too long. âThat I wasnât there. That I havenât been there.âÂ
âYou didnât know,â you say, gaze softening as you look up at him.Â
âBut I made you feel like you couldnât talk to me about it.âÂ
You shake your head. âI made me feel like I couldnât talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, Iâm the one who ended it.â
âI still shouldâve been there.âÂ
âYouâre here now, right?âÂ
Sunghoon nods, earnestly. âAlways.âÂ
Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word âalwaysâ 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 itâs 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 youâve been doing.Â
âIs it bad that Iâve missed doing this?â Youâre grinning now.
Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. âTo YNâs fifteenth heartbreak.âÂ
You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. âTo YNâs fifteenth heartbreak,â you repeat.Â
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 memoriesâdoing 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.Â
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 Yejiâs clock. Sunghoonâs eyes meet yours, and he canât help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do.Â
You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. âThis is my sixteenth, actually.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. âMy fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.â
In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But thereâs no use pretending it doesnât hurt. Pretending it doesnât 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 hurtâa lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, youâll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, youâll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when heâs alone in his room, like now.Â
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.Â
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 gaspâhis mother.Â
âWhatâs this for?â she asks.Â
âI just..â You trail off. âI know itâs not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.â You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. âItâs 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 donât think I couldâve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And Iâm trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. Iâm sorry it took me so long.âÂ
He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurtingâan ache in his fingertips that makes him wince.Â
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 Sunghoonâs family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family.Â
The memory of your parentsâ 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 Sunghoonâs parents could continue looking after you.Â
His chest tightens when you start crying.Â
âYou donât 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. Youâre doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,â his dad says, a little choked up. âWeâve always been proud of you.âÂ
Sunghoonâs 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 canât 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 heâs 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 Yejiâs room.
In her absence, the roomâs 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 sheâd 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 Yejiâs 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.Â
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. âMum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,â you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.Â
Sunghoon canât find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but donât 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.Â
Youâre sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that youâre never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, heâs glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak.Â
âBrush your teeth and go back to sleep then,â he mumbles around his toothbrush.Â
You donât respond.Â
Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. âAnd quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and itâs freaking me out.âÂ
âBut youâre so pretty,â you coo.Â
Thereâs 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. Youâre 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 canât see the flush on his cheeks.Â
âGo back to sleep,â he says.Â
âWill you come and lie down with me if I do?â Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves.Â
Lying down doesnât sound like a terrible idea, especially not if itâs with you, so he nods. âIf you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, Iâll lie down with you.âÂ
You chuckle softly at Sunghoonâs agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didnât mean to, itâs 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 heâs glued to the spot.Â
âMove, baby,â you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. âWe can cuddle in my bed,â 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 âbabyâ on a loop in his head.Â
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 canât go on like this, canât stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him âbabyâ and it meant something for you as it did for him. Itâs not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he canât help it. Youâre 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?Â
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. Youâve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows youâve only asked him because youâre tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when heâs 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.
Itâs 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. Youâre staring up at him, smiling and you donât look away when he catches you. âWhat is it?â he asks, voice thick with sleep.Â
âNothing,â you mumble. âI just missed you.â Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again. âCome on, dadâs cooking tonight, heâll need help.âÂ
Helping Sunghoonâs 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, heâs sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. Heâll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as heâs reaching the halfway point.Â
You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says itâs best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning.Â
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 Sunghoonâs lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace youâre 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.Â
âYouâll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,â you scold, using a hand to push his knee. âWeâre almost done, I swear.âÂ
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.Â
âWow,â his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. âBeing in love looks good on him, heâd never have listened if I said that.âÂ
Itâs 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 couldnât 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 â You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. â as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.
âGod.â 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. âIâm so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.âÂ
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yejiâs words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yejiâs head, you look at him with a fond smile. âHeâs not so bad.âÂ
It doesnât sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart.Â
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.Â
Itâs 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 monthâs 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 heâd been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and youâre 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 cafĂŠ that opened up near your place and how youâll 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.Â
Youâre 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 donât 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. âThank you,â he mumbles into your hair.Â
Sunghoon doesnât follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You donât notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. âArenât you going to walk me up?âÂ
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.Â
âDo you want to come in?â you ask from your open doorway.
âIâuhâI have training in the morning and Iâm already pretty tired, so..â He trails off.
Unfazed, you nod. âRight, of course. I had fun this week.âÂ
âYeah, me too.âÂ
You smile at him, sweet and sincere. âText me when you get home, yeah?âÂ
Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesnât leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down.Â
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 donât reply. Itâs 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.
YNđŤ: iâm glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i donât want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. iâve been missing you so much and didnât 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 iâd like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik itâs a long shot ahahaha but just say youâll think about it?Â
hoonie: Youâre not overstepping at all, Iâve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and Iâd like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along đ If youâre 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..Â
hoonie: đ¤
The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesnât escape Chaewonâs 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.Â
âGood trip?â she asks, coming over and hugging you. âNever leave me for that long again,â she mumbles into your shirt.Â
âIt was a week, Wonie,â you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too.Â
She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. âIt was nine days.âÂ
âThe longest of my life.âÂ
Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. âThat bad, huh?â she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her.Â
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.Â
âNo, not at all,â you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. âI had fun.â As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesnât work.Â
Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. âHow much fun?âÂ
âYouâre disgusting.âÂ
âI didnât even say anything!â she defends, holding her hands up. âI 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 itâs hot.âÂ
âShut up.âÂ
âYouâre telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still donât want him? Youâre a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,â she says, tilting her head. âI think I would kill for that chance.âÂ
âDonât touch him.â
âOh?âÂ
âJesus, Chaewon, itâs not like that. Hoonâs too sensitive for your roster.âÂ
âI never said it was like anything, youâre the one whoâs dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.âÂ
âSunghoon isnât hot; heâs..â You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, youâve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparentsâ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. âJust leave him alone.â
Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. âOkay,â 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. Itâs not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldnât bother you, nor would it be any of your business. Theyâre grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, thereâs a nagging feeling you canât shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind.Â
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 đ¤
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 â drunkenly â 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.Â
hoonie: Do you want to head to class together?Â
you: sure! iâm omw out, where should i get you?Â
hoonie: .. Iâm outside your building :DÂ
Breathing a laugh through your nose, you donât fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, heâs 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.
âHey!â you call out, jogging over to him.Â
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.Â
âI wasnât sure if youâd have eaten anything yet, you donât normally in the morning,â he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. âMatcha. Ham and cheese toastie.âÂ
âDid you make these?â you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides.Â
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 youâre 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.Â
âIâm meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but Iâm all yours after that.âÂ
âTalk about your grades? Whatâs wrong with your grades?âÂ
Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adamâs apple. âMy grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think heâll bench me if I fail again.âÂ
He sounds like heâs 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, Sunghoonâs grades were your parentsâ favourite point of comparison.
âReally?â you ask. He nods. âWhatâs up? Is something the matter?âÂ
A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. âYeah, my best friend didnât talk to me for three months.âÂ
âOh..â Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. âIâm sorry.â
âIâm not blaming you, itâs not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.â He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. âBut if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.âÂ
âDeal.âÂ
Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isnât unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. âYouâre too good to me,â 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. Thereâs something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard.Â
During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; itâs a document adorned with Sunghoonâs own musings about Hemingwayâs style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.
âHow are your notes so good?âÂ
âI picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,â Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. âI liked it.âÂ
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 thisâthis is different. You canât 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.Â
âDonât look at me like that,â he mumbles.Â
Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words heâs typing: I wouldâve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..
Thereâs 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 thingâa 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 â the most prominent â against your skin.Â
You remain this way â silent, watching â even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesnât 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. Itâs uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way youâre sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjinâyou wonât do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoonâs face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs.Â
To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for youâheâd 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 youâre surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They donât say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact heâd given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. Youâre not sure why their silence disappoints you.
Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence.Â
âWhat flavour for ice cream?â Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. âAnd donât say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.âÂ
âThat happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?âÂ
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.Â
âMint-cho isnât that bad,â she starts. âItâs a little jarring, sure, but itâs kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.âÂ
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 sheâs not trying to insult you, but donât know what she means when she says, âIt must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.âÂ
Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statementâs journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets â the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood â at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices.Â
Itâs only hours after Yunijnâs 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.
âI think Iâm getting sick,â you say as soon as she opens her door. âItâs been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.âÂ
Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. âDo you..â She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. âDo you have any idea what time it is right now?âÂ
âYes. Itâs three a.m.âÂ
âExactly. See a doctor if youâre sick, Iâm going back to sleep.â
âThis is an emergenââ Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. âItâs three in the morning,â she reminds you. âYou canât yell like that in my hallway, come in.âÂ
You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. âSorry,â you whisper when the door is closed.Â
Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. âYou donât look or sound sick,â she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. âWhat are your symptoms? And why did you come here?âÂ
You donât have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. âMy cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.â
âYou seem fine to me.âÂ
A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. âThatâs the thing. Iâll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like Iâve run a marathon.â You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of youâitâll be easier to confront that way.Â
From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. âOh?âÂ
âI know.â You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. âItâs only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.â
At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like youâre 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.Â
âWhat are you smirking for?â you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door.Â
Her response only comes after youâve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. âItâs nothing,â she says, laughing.Â
âTell me.âÂ
Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think itâs meant to be comforting but itâs the opposite. âYouâll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isnât deadly.âÂ
Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm.Â
Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but canât 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 âlovesicknessâ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like âunrequited loveâ forming a pit in your stomach. Thereâs nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequitedâyou think.Â
It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way heâd tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents werenât there to see, or how he slipped up and called you âbabyâ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You canât fake something like that.. Can you?
Yeonjun did.
Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jakeâs story comes up first; heâs 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.Â
Oh, you think. Lovesickness.Â
When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jakeâs story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportionâso vast thereâs a safety railing lining its edges.Â
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 youâre watching it on a screenâit was your third night at his parentsâ house, after your walk.Â
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.Â
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 Sunghoonâs 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.Â
You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gazeâhe 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.Â
âHi,â you said, clearing your throat.Â
âHi,â he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. âItâs still hot so be careful.âÂ
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 youâd come to associate with comfort and homeâwith Sunghoon.Â
âItâs not fair for me to treat you like shit just because Iâm annoyed, I shouldnât have spoken to you like that earlier. Iâm sorry.âÂ
A crease ran over Sunghoonâs thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. âYou donât have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didnât even try to think about how you would feel. Iâm sorry.â His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.
âAnyway, I only came to bring you that,â he said, pointing at the cup. âAnd to check up on you, Iâll get out of your hair for tonight.â 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 hairâwhatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. âYou left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. Iâm 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 didnât feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.âÂ
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 yearâthey 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 didnât feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one youâd 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 IâD BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest.Â
âGoodnight, YN,â Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. âI really am sorry.â
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.Â
This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. âYou have class in an hour, what are you doing?â Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. âOh, the feelings.âÂ
You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say.Â
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 isnât around to tease you about the smile you canât wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoonâyouâll 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 donât stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who donât 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 vainâyou would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.
Itâs not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon.Â
you: i have news wonie.. i like sunghoon
wonie: âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ.. fork in the kitchen yn whatâs the news?Â
wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call?Â
She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasnât arrived, and thereâs no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call.Â
âAre you going to tell him?!â Chaewonâs voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear.Â
âI donât know.â You shrug even though she canât see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. âI donât have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. Itâs been a while, and I was pretty mean that day.Â
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. âDid you have to tell him to get a grip?âÂ
âYou know..â You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. âIn hindsight, probably not.âÂ
A beat passes, sheâs thinking. âDonât worry,â she says. âIâll help you.âÂ
âI.. have never been so worried in my life.â You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. âBut I know youâll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.âÂ
Chaewon squeals down the phone. âI love youuuuu!â And itâs the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up.Â
Slumping in your seat, you donât have any time to stress about Chaewonâs plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm.Â
She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that youâll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of termâIan McEwanâs 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?Â
you: of course!!!!!!Â
hoonie: đ¤
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 rnÂ
hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table?Â
you: iâll 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 heâs 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.Â
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 doesnât help that heâs wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didnât 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 canât tell if itâs his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him thatâs making his biceps look so huge but itâs hard to look away, even when he reaches the table.Â
âAre you hot?â you blurt out.Â
Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way heâs looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. âDepends whoâs asking.â He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.
âIâm asking,â you mumble.Â
âThen, yeah, Iâd hope so.âÂ
Is he flirting? It sounds like heâs flirting. Flirt back! âNice arms.âÂ
He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. âAre you flirting with me?â He canât fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.
âA little. They are nice though,â you admit.
Sunghoon grins. âThanks, Iâve had them for a while now.â
You canât 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. Itâs only when you look away from him that you remember what youâre here for. Itâs a study date, not a study dateâthereâs a difference.Â
You hand Sunghoon the material youâd printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts youâd studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you canât 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 heâs thinking. You arenât making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you canât help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you canât 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.Â
After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. âCould you stop watching me?â
âIf you noticed me watching, that means youâre watching me.âÂ
He shrugs, chewing on his lip. âWell, yeah. Iâm always watching you,â he says like itâs a given. âBut you donât normally watch back, itâs distracting.âÂ
âYouâre distracting.â
A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. âAm I?âÂ
Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you donât look as wound up as you feel.Â
Sunghoonâs eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you donât recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head.Â
âYou know,â he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. âIf my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldnât want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?âÂ
Oh.Â
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. âSunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.âÂ
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 doesnât spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.
âAre you going to get that?âÂ
Sunghoon shakes his head. âItâs nothing.âÂ
You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that heâll elaborate without being asked to. It doesnât take long for him to deliver.
âItâs just Chaewon,â he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. âWeâve been texting a lot these days.âÂ
âCool.â You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesnât, only humming in response, nodding too.Â
After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you canât see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears reddenâFuck. This is worse than you thought.Â
Chaewonâs commitment to girl code runs deepâsheâs been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl sheâd never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing sheâs saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word âbuddyâ from across the table.Â
What you hadnât counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoonâs 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 youâd already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, heâd move on, he has moved on.Â
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 Jakeâs been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set.Â
âWith or without the meals, I wouldâve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..â Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. âHe even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.âÂ
âYouâre terrible,â you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. âDo you want to come in?âÂ
Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. âI have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, Iâd have to leave inââ He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. ââeight minutes.âÂ
âIâm cool with that if you are,â you mumble, suddenly shy.Â
A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in.Â
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 canât help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you canât change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are?Â
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 Cadburyâs hot chocolate that youâre sure is on the brink of expiration, coffeeâsachets of the instant stuff youâve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewonâs mum brought home from a tripârooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon.Â
Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoonâs head and setting it beside your cup. Heâs on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything heâs seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink.Â
On the dish rack, Chaewonâs mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. âIâm going to check if Wonie wants any,â you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor.Â
Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. âSheâs not home, one of her acrylics popped off so sheâs at the shop waiting for a cancellation.âÂ
The information itself isnât 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.Â
âIf you knew youâd have to go back to campus so soon, whyâd you walk me home?â you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. âI couldâve walked on my own.âÂ
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 heâll say. You think you need him to say it.Â
âBecause you donât have to do anything on your own when you have me,â he says instead, and itâs infinitely better.Â
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.Â
Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when itâs 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 donât let go when he does, and a sweet laugh â a giggle, you think â 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.Â
âYou donât have to walk me downstairs, honestly,â he says, looking down at you in the doorway.
âI want to.âÂ
His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force youâre sure itâs visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away.Â
âIâll text you when I get to the door, promise.âÂ
You lock your pinky with his. âSend a selfie, just so I know itâs you and not someone else using your phone.âÂ
Sunghoonâs head falls back in a laugh. âShould I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.âÂ
You nod.
âThat wasnât anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..â He trails off, searching your eyes. Itâs obvious that heâs telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. âI wasnât sure if that was something I could talk about with you.âÂ
Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture insteadâyour best friend is going through something and doesnât feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles.Â
âYou can talk to me about anything,â you say, meaning it.Â
Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. âNext time,â he says after a beat, waving at you.Â
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. Sunghoonâs calling.Â
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, itâs the first one.Â
Youâve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flowsâan hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence.Â
Itâs during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, âLet me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. âI donât want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I wonât bring it up or ask again.â
Arching a curious brow, you nod. âYou can ask me anything,â you say, meaning it.
Sunghoonâs face is impressively blankâminus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, thereâs absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you.Â
Eventually, he asks, âCan I kiss you?â He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they donât register. They donât matter.Â
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 canât get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.Â
âFor closure,â you repeat, though your voice doesnât sound like itâs coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart.Â
Sunghoon nods. âFor closure.âÂ
A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldnât 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.Â
One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoonâs 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 heâs 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. Sunghoonâs kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. Itâs hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, heâs trying and heâs perfect; your favourite.Â
The kiss is.. itâs everything. Itâs the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. Itâs a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. Itâs Sunghoonâs 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 itâs 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.Â
Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. Youâre all Iâve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. Youâre 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 heâs saying, weâll be okay, I still love you.Â
With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathingâheâs beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoonâs hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you.Â
Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. âWas it everything you ever dreamed of?â you whisper, part teasing, all curious.
Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. âI have to go.âÂ
You want to stop him, you think youâre 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 donât. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoonâs back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until heâs out of sight.Â
Itâs your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you canât tell if itâs his leaving or the mention of him moving on thatâs tripping you up so much. Thatâs causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under.Â
You love him. Heâs gone.Â
Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloyingâclay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on.Â
Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesnât reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing.Â
Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands.Â
âDonât move on.â The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you.Â
âHuh?â He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him.Â
You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. âI donât want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please donât move on.âÂ
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.
âDo you..â He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.
âI do,â you whisper, nodding. âIâm sorry for taking so long.â
An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. âYou like me?â he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.
âI love you,â you admit, settling on his thighs.Â
âYou do?â His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.
You nod. âSo much.âÂ
Sunghoonâs chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that canât 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.Â
âSo.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?âÂ
Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. âI will. Iâm a little bummed though.âÂ
âWhy?â You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it.Â
âI wanted to be the one to ask you.â Sunghoonâs honesty warms the room, endearing you completely.Â
You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. âAsk me anyway.âÂ
âPlease can I be your boyfriend?âÂ
In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. Heâd 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. Heâd buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.
He wasnât ready to have sex and didnât 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 didnât want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest.Â
The only thing was that your lecturer hadnât 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 âšď¸Â
This morning, youâre brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!
When the picture comes through, itâs of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. Heâs smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that heâs 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.Â
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 doesnât.Â
hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?
you: mm..Â
you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!
hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?
you: i love itâŚâŚâŚâŚ.
hoonie: My girl đ¤
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 đ
hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha đ
you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.
Your resolve isnât 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.Â
The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. âHey, gorgeous. You proud of me?âÂ
You beam at him, holding out the flowers. âIâm very proud, Hoon, well done.âÂ
âI donât want to ruin the moment,â he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. âBut hearing you say youâre proud of me is awakening something I didnât know existed.â
âA good something?âÂ
âMm,â he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. âA very good something.âÂ
Sunghoonâs 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.Â
He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. âI donât think we own a vase.âÂ
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.
âOh, yeah,â he says. âItâs Jayâs. Itâll work right?âÂ
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.Â
âCan I take a photo?â he asks when youâre done.Â
Heâs 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.Â
âTheyâre yours, baby, do whatever you want.âÂ
âA photo of you with the flowers,â he clarifies.Â
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. Heâs watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.
âI want pictures of you too,â you say, handing the flowers over.Â
âIâm yours, baby, do whatever you want.âÂ
Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. Heâs glowing and heâs beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent.Â
âThank you, YN,â he says. âIâve never gotten flowers before, I love them.â His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond.Â
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. Heâs nervous, you thinkâthough 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. âOf course, Iâm nervous.âÂ
âYou donât have to be.â
âI just want to be good for you.âÂ
âDonât worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.â Your palms drag up his torso â firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart â to rest on his shoulders. âSit,â you say when he nods.Â
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.Â
âWait,â Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. âLet me calm down, baby. At this rate, Iâll come just seeing your hand on it.âÂ
You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.
âIâm serious, YN,â he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. âI need a minute.âÂ
Sunghoonâs 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. Heâs 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 canât 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 heâs ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down.Â
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 canât look away. âPretty,â 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 Adamâs 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. Itâs 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.Â
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.
âAm I doing okay?â 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. âIâm.. Youâre doing such a good job, baby, so good.â
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.Â
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 whatâs 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. Heâs 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 youâre lying next to him with your head on his chest.Â
âYouâre amazing, baby, so good for me,â 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.Â
Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. âReally?â
He hums in affirmation, nodding his head.Â
âYou were so quiet, I couldnât really tell,â you add, hungry for more praise.Â
âThe walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,â Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, âIâm sorry. You were perfect, I swear.âÂ
Itâs 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.
âCan I..â Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours.Â
You nod. âYou can.âÂ
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.Â
What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. Itâs almost jarring, itâs 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.Â
âCan you take these off, baby?â he asks, hand away to touch your leggings.Â
You donât 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.Â
âAnd this? If you want..âÂ
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 braâwhite and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon canât seem to get enough, though he waits until youâre lying down again to touch you.Â
Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. âYouâre beautiful,â 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. âSo beautiful,â he repeats.Â
Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, âThank you,â 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 legsâyou lift one of them, resting it over his body, and heâs smiling sweetly when you look up at him.
Sunghoonâs 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 skinâthis time he pushes two fingers into you.
It doesnât get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly.Â
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, âRelax, baby.âÂ
âDonât want to hurt you.â
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.Â
âYou wonât, I promise,â 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 youâll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage.Â
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. Itâs difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, âAm I hurting you?âÂ
âHoon,â you whisper.Â
âCan you look at me, baby?â 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. âAm I hurting you?â he asks again. âAre you okay?âÂ
You nod. âIâm okay, just..â You sigh. âFull. Need a minute.âÂ
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. âWant you to move, baby,â you mumble.Â
He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. Heâs 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.Â
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. âGood, Hoon, feels so good,â you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.
âJust want to make you feel good.â His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. Heâs working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need itâthe spot that makes the room blur around you. âThatâs all I want.âÂ
Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chestâitâs the closest youâve ever felt to someone else, the closest youâve 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 canât 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.Â
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.Â
After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean upâgentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoonâs 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.Â
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 oneâthe 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.Â
âI love you,â he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. âIâm glad I exist.â
mama park: Hi lovely đ missing you lots, wondering when youâll be home for XmasâŚâŚâŚ..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 doesnât move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on â neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night â and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curvedâlong lashes kissing the skin under his eyes.Â
Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoonâs room. You canât 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.Â
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: iâm so sorry we lied to you..
you: but iâm 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
Š zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !
an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3
Series
â Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...
â I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.
â The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at armâs length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.
â By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...
â I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?
â If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.
â Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfatherâs passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But JoelâŚJoel keeps his distance.
â That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.
One-Shots
â No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joelâs closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.
â White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.
â Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesnât even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joelâs decided he doesnât like it.
â Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.
â Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.
â Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.
â Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.
â Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.
â Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?
â Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.
â Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.
â Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.
â Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.
No because that hurt me! Lando Norris x Girlfriend! Reader Part 1
Plot: Lando goes one step too far ...
Warnings: Mentions of Assault (From a random on the street)
Credit to purplephantomwolf for the GIF
"Hey baby!" you grin pulling your boyfriend of three years into a hug.
You'd met Lando randomly, you weren't a model and you didn't have a rich dad. You weren't at all famous, you had a private Instagram account that only really had some of the drivers that Lando introduced you to like Oscar and Logan, and then Max, Charles, Carlos and Daniel.
You actually house-flipped, and properly house-flipped. Not one of those super rich people who come buy a decent plot of land with a small little shack on it and turn it into their dream manor. You however have built you way up, you and the team you work with. You were a graphic designer/ architect so you would design the houses and draw a floor plan, helping the carpenters when showing them your vision.
It was a great job, that was incredibly flexible when it came to travelling with Lando. At first it was stressful, being his WAG and everything. People didn't think you spent enough time at the track and weren't good enough for Lando, but you did try to constantly attend every race you possibly could, which made Lando more than happy.
He honestly liked, kind of keeping you bubble wrapped in a way. His other relationships had ended because of the harsh media and the fans and he didn't want that to happen with you. But this sometimes would get suffocating.
"Hey" he grins at you, he roughly pulls you into a hug that you return with a laugh into his shoulder.
"I'm so so proud of you, for your first Formula 1 win!" you exclaim, kissing his cheek and he kisses your head. Reporters flood around you as well as the mechanics and you start to feel a little crushed. You see Oscar and Lily to one side and Lily nudges Oscar seeing the look on your face and that you're looking a little flushed and panicked.
Oscar manages to pull you out and you thank him, laughing along with Lily as you regain your composure.
"Are you okay?" Oscar asks.
"Yeah, I'm going to go wait for Lando on his driver room. He'll want to celebrate tonight I'm sure of it" you smile. You walk off, waving to people through the paddock before entering the Mclaren motorhome.
You sit patiently waiting for him to come and meet you in the driver's room, just scrolling threw TikTok and Instagram making a post about your boyfriends win. You were so happy for him that you felt like you needed to share that with your few followers on your main account. You also had an account for your house flipping, that was public and fans followed you on there instead, so you made a story to congratulate him on there as well.
You waited and waited for what felt like hours, until you stepped out of his drivers room not hearing many people around anymore.
"Hello?" you called out.
You walked out through to find only a few mechanics left still packing away.
"Hey guys, where's everybody gone?" you ask starting to help feeling bad that there was only a few workers left on site. You look around seeing some light coming from the other motorhomes but it was similar to here at Mclaren.
"Thanks for the help Y/N but you don't have too, everyone's left for the night!" he smiles at you and you stop confused.
"Everyone? Even Lando?" you ask confused as to why he hadn't come and seen you yet.
"Oh yeah Lando, left about an hour ago? Went back to the hotel with Max and Daniel i think" he admits as he walks with you.
"He didn't come looking for me?" you ask and the guy has a thoughtful look before shaking his head at you.
"Oh, erm okay. Well, I'm sort of stuck here, can i help you guys at all with packing up?" you ask, hoping that one of the mechanics would be nice enough to give you a lift.
"Sure, come on!" he advises before showing you he little pieces that you could help them pack away. You stayed until Mclaren were pretty much done, but seeing your phone blow up with millions of notifications you decided to check.
Message from Oscah - Where are you? Thought Lando said you were meeting us here?
Message from Lils Z - Girl, where you at. I need you here at the after party :(
Message from Maxie Fewtie - Lando's being weird, where the hell are you?!
Message from P - Y/N, i thought you were coming with me and Max to the club? Aren't you coming?
You then move onto Instagram checking all the stories from you friends. You could see Lando was already at the club, up at the DJ booth Max feeling with Daniel dancing behind him. In Daniel's story you see Lando lean into a girl at the club as she talks to him, nodding at whatever she said. It made you frown at first but he was DJing so it was probably a request. But still why had he left without you and not bothered to text you.
"I'm really sorry, I'm going to have to go guys!" you exclaim, seeing all the notifs.
"Are you going to be okay, how will you get back?" the mechanic asks worry etching on his face.
"I can walk, it'll be fine and good for me to get fresh air. I thought maybe someone would have realized I'm missing by now and come and got me. I'll be okay!" you smile before pulling the hood of Lando's hoodie up over you head.
You make the cold walk and halfway through when you start to feel uncomfortable with how quiet the road is you try to call Lando, he didn't answer making you sigh and tears brim your eyes.
"You alright pretty!" A man exclaims coming up to you making you freeze in shock. He grabs your arm, making you gasp loudly looking round trying to catch someone's eyes for help.
"You seem lost, let me help" he grins, gripping onto your waist, a weak whimper coming our your mouth as you attempt to push his hands away. His breath smells horrid and his hands are cold on your exposed wrist.
"Y/N!" A voice shouts and you turn round seeing the mechanic from earlier and two other guys in the car all glaring at the man.
"These your friends darling, or are you a little slut with three men at your feet. You come with me, I'd give you a better time than these little boys" he scoffs looking at them.
"Y/N, come join us in the car" the one driving directs, you immediately go sitting in the back next to the mechanic who was in the back. Tears were streaming down your face at this point and you just wanted to go home.
"Y/N, hey hey its okay. He's gone now your safe!" the one next to you exclaims, pulling you in for a hug.
"Please, please can you just take me to the club Lando is at" you admit looking at Dan who was the mechanic driving.
"Yeah, sure"
In no time he pulls up in the center of the city in the club you'd all discussed going too.
"Thank you, I owe you lunch or dinner or something for this" you say tears still running down your face.
"Y/N are you sure your okay?" he asks, and you simply nod before hopping out the car. You run over to the VIP entrance and hold up your ID to the man, he checks the list nodding and letting the rope down so you could go through. Your walk round the club, the loud music pounding in your ears as you look for your boyfriend.
You lock eyes with Lily and Oscar first and they rush over to you, asking where you've been.
"Where's Lando, I just want to speak with him" you sob, leaning into Lily's comforting hug, sniveling and wiping it with the hoodie cuff. Oscar guides you round to a booth that currently occupied, Max, Kelly, Other Max, Pietra, Daniel, Heidi, Lando and a few others. As you round the corner everyone notices Oscar's sudden appearance and then yours behind him.
"Lando, mate look who i found!" Oscar tries grabbing his attention but he's one of the only people at the table right now that hasn't got your attention.
"Oh... yeah cool, ill be there in a min" he says noticing it you but not taking anything in, you look over at Oscar tears welling in your eyes just wanting a reassuring hug from your boyfriend and for him to either help you calm down, or take you back to the hotel.
"L-lando?" you stutter, and everyone is looking at you in confusion having no clue what had happened.
"What Y/N, I'm trying to celebrate with my friends that actually bother to turn up..." he huffs, everyone had noticed that he had a semi sour mood tonight, and now they had started to understand why.
"Mate, look lets take this to the balcony!" Max says, taking Pietra's hand trying to get her to stand up so he can let the girl whose sat next to Lando and the boy himself out. He noticed the tear stains down your face even in the dim-lighting of the club the minute you came over, him and Pietra having shared a look.
"Nope, if she's got something to say, she can say it here..." he grins, even though he doesn't normally drink, he'd had to many drinks tonight and it was effecting him.
"Lando, you don't want to do this" Oscar, tries stepping next to you, making Lando scoff.
"Oscar's right mate. Not tonight" Max agree's.
"She's a big girl, come on Y/N tell me why you cant even be bothered to fucking celebrate with me? Huh? You know what your so fucking useless and I shouldn't have thought you'd care for something as big as this for me... your jealous...." he slurs his words.
"Fuck you Lando. Just... I hate you" you cry, everyone at the table stiffens as your mouth opens like a fish, as if you want to say something more.
"I'm done, We're done, I'm not coming home to Monaco, I'm going back to London" you add, before turning round and storming out the club. Out the front you found a sober, Alex getting George and Pierre into Charles car, while he got Lily in his own.
"Alex!" you exclaim running over to him, he see's you and waves before pulling you into a hug.
"Can you drop me to the hotel please?" you ask and he nods.
The minute you got back to the hotel, you locked the main door before entering the bathroom and scrubbing your body raw. You looked at your sleepwear options, you normally just slept in Lando's older tops... but of course you didn't want the thought, sight or smell of him anywhere near you right now.
You fell asleep pretty quickly considering what happened. Lando didn't disturb you, you assumed he went back with one of his friends and slept on their floor or sofa.
You got up early, wanting to get the earliest flight back to London that you could. You were packing up when a knock came from the door, and then the sound of a key card swiping before the door opened.
"Morning baby, how are you?" a voice asks that you didn't want to hear. You keep going on about your packing, leaving Lando's stuff alone.
"Getting an early start to head back home huh?" he tries again, Lando looked at you, with concern on his face. He hadn't spoken to Carlos before he left wanting to come straight to his girlfriend who he was confused as to why he didnt wake up in their room with her.
"Ah your a grouchy morning person, why don't we go back to bed for a little" he laughs, about to touch your shoulder to pull you up before you shrug him off.
"Don't touch me" you whisper, zipping your suitcase up.
"What's going on with you baby!" he asks, pulling your chin up so your eyes met his and he almost gasped in shock when he saw the tears streaming down her face.
"I'm guessing you don't remember much of last night?" you say trying not to sound angry.
"No, I think Charles and Pierre had me do shots straight away" he laughs a little before turning back seriously.
"Why?" he asks.
"Well considering I broke up with you last night ..." you glare looking at him before he stumbles back a little from the pure shock of the statement. He was about to ask if you were joking, nut seeing your face there was no joke there.
"What? Baby... no what happened?" he asks looking at you. You snivel and lean for a tissue to wipe your nose.
"Figure it out, because i need some space right now... you hurt me Lando... and I need time. This isn't the end I just need to think" you say, pulling your suitcase up before walking to the door.
"Please baby, lets just talk about this. I don't even know what i did..." he argues throwing his hands out.
"No... because you hurt me! And you need to apologize for everything said!" you say tears in your eyes.
"Maybe talk to Oscar, Max and those Mclaren Mechanics that stay late" you sigh walking out the door leaving a shell shocked Lando behind.
A/N: I'm so so so sorry, i need to write more fluff instead of all these angst pieces... and some smut i gotta delve into smut coz I'm a pretty decent spicy writer... so look out for that too.
Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Vox, Valentino, Velvette x GN! Reader
Warnings: Implied breakup, Stalking, Just all around angst
Word count: 600
â°Masterlist
Charlie will hangout with her friends to get your mind off you. This strategy works for a little while, until she starts to notice small bits of your personality in them. All the little things pile up and it brings down her mood, causing her stay away from her friends as to not get reminded.
"Sorry guys, can't hangout today, not feeling the greatest."
Vaggie will bottle up all her emotions and avoid everyone. But, being all alone causes her to start thinking about you more. All the happy memories you created together. Laughs and smiles shared. Vulnerable venting sessions that ended in cuddles. She won't be able to scrape you from her mind and end up crying angry tears.
"Why... after everything we've been through! Why.. why did you leave me..?"
Angel Dust will probably be too distracted with work to think about you. But of course he misses you and wishes to have you back. If he ever does get time to just sit and think about you, his insecurities will get the best of him and he'll think your better off without him.
"Maybe.. they're better off. More happier without me.."
Husk will drown himself in alcohol like he always does. Silently doing his job. It wasn't much of a change to most of the others. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he'll see your figure. He shivers every time he realizes you're not actually there.
"Must be the alcohol makin' me see shit..."
Sir Pentious will lay awake at night thinking about you. It doesn't help that his eggs will keep bringing stuff up about you. He doesn't want to think about you, but he just can't get you out of his head. He wishes to see you one last time before he lets you go.
"I haven't asked for much. Please, just let me see them again."
Alastor will convince himself that he was perfectly able to go on with his afterlife before he met you, so he can definitely do it after you left. Although, that's a lie, because he misses your presence everyday. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he goes over your daily schedule before you left in his head and goes to the places you used to frequent.
"I am perfectly capable all on my own."
Lucifer will dream about you every night after you leave. He'll dream about all the good times you had together. Your smile and your laugh. His dreams are so realistic that when he wakes up it takes him a minute to remember you left.
"Right.. they left.. but, my dream was so.. real.."
Adam will kinda stalk you, justifying it as protection. Whenever he sees you hanging out with another angel, though, envy will fill his veins. Even if he knows it's one of your friends, he'll still get jealous.
"You were supposed to hangout with me, not this fucking nobody."
Vox will also very much stalk you with his cameras. Nervously searching his screens whenever you leave your house. He just wants to know where you are, and that you're safe.
"My sweet would never have to worry about their safety again."
Valentino will check your past messages 50 times a day. He's just itching to text you, but if he does you might block him, and then he'll lose your conversations forever. He might throw his phone in frustration.
"God fucking damn it!"
Velvette will regularly check your social media for any updates from you. If you do post something new, expect her to be one of the first to like it.
"@Velvvette liked your post."
Star's notes -> I've binged Hazbin Hotel like 3 times now OMG