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andvys · 8 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 8

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, mentions of weight loss and allusions to an ED, sexual harassment (reader being cornered by a guy & mentions of Billy groping reader in the past), grab some tissues this one is sad

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: You spend one last night with Steve.

Word count: 10k

A/N: @mysticmunson thank you as always, angel. you always inspire me so much with your amazing ideas, I love u🤍 — also its mostly proofread but if there are any mistakes…. you didn’t see them!

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Steve stares at you with a mixture of hope and curiosity in his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he had seen you on his doorsteps. He knows that you aren’t here for the reasons he hopes for but his heart still holds onto that hope.

You look at him expectedly, your hands are shaking. There’s a snowflake on your eyelash, you wipe it away and blink as you look up at him.

“Y-Yeah, come inside,” he says as he moves to the side. His gaze softens when your eyes flash with uncertainty, you look behind his shoulder.

“Can’t you come outside?”

“Y/n, just come in–”

“Steven, who is it?” You hear his mom say. You hear her footsteps and see her as she walks into the hallway, her eyes widen and a smile appears on her face when her eyes meet yours.

“Y/n!” She smiles excitedly, “come on in, dear. What are you doing out there in the cold?”

You really don’t want to step inside his house but you can’t say no to her and before you can even protest, she pulls you inside and wraps her arms around you, hugging you tightly.

“It’s been so long!” Helen says. She pulls away and places her hands on your shoulders, “look at you – she’s getting more and more beautiful, isn’t she, Steve?” She turns around to face her son with a smile on her face. You look at him with narrowed eyes, he nods.

“Yes she is,” he says.

He is not making any of this easier for you.

“Come inside, we are just about to eat dinner.”

“Oh no, I don’t mean to intrude, I just wanted to–”

“I won’t accept a no and you know you could never intrude, darling,” she says, shaking her head. “Come on, we got so much catching up to do! Take your coat off.”

She looks at you expectedly, she really won’t accept a no. You can’t help but chuckle, you take your coat off and hand it to Steve who holds his hand out.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you look into his eyes.

He smiles.

You look away from him, you fix your hair and smooth down your skirt.

“That’s a beautiful skirt,” Helen gushes, she reaches for your hand and pulls you further into the house.

Steve’s heart flutters when he hears your giggle. He watches you walk into the kitchen with his mom. He can’t help but feel excitement rushing through him at the thought of spending the night with you, he knows that this won’t mean anything and deep down he knows you came to talk about something that won’t leave him with a smile on his face at the end of the night but he can’t help but hold onto the hope that you might want to give him a chance – as silly as the thought is.

He hears his dad saying your name with an excited tone in his voice, when he walks into the kitchen, he finds him hugging you.

They are never this excited to see her. Steve looks down, a feeling of self hatred blooms in his chest.

He ruined everything.

“Are you eating enough, kid? You look like you’ve lost some weight.”

Steve raises his head to look at you, you raise your brows in surprise as you stare at his dad, a nervous laugh falls from your lips.

“Dad,” Steve warns when he notices your discomfort.

His dad looks over your shoulder, waving his son off, he looks back down at you and wraps his arm around your shoulder as he leads you into the dining room.

“Helen is making Lasagna tonight, it’s still your favorite right?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re here, who else would I share all the garlic bread with.”

Another laugh falls from your lips and Steve has to close his eyes, he takes a deep breath. All this takes him back to all the Saturday dinners you have spent together.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He shakes his head and opens his eyes as he looks at the ceiling.

“It’s never too late to fix things, Steve.”

He feels a little startled by his mom’s voice.

“Sometimes it is,” Steve says. “She hates me.”

She sighs and shakes her head at him, “she wouldn’t be here if she hated you–”

“She’s here because you wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Steve mumbles, rolling his eyes. He knows that you came here to talk, not to spend a family dinner with his family.

“Yeah but she came here for you, to talk, I assume?”

Steve shrugs, he hears your voice in the dining room along with his dad’s laughter.

“Not for the reasons I’d hope.”

She raises her brows in questions, she tilts her head and leans her hand against the counter.

“What reasons were you hoping for?”

“A second chance, mom.”

“Well, you won’t get one if you don’t leave that girl of yours first,” she mumbles and reaches for the bowl of salad, pushing it in his hands and giving him a stern look, “you’re behaving like a fool, Steven.”

He closes his eyes again and clenches his jaw. He feels embarrassed.

“You know, you remind me of Harold. He was breaking hearts left and right when he was younger, then he had this amazing girlfriend and guess what he did?”

“He cheated on her,” Steve mumbles, nodding, “you told me this story a thousand times already.”

“Yeah and I’ll tell it a thousand times more. I don’t want you to end up like my brother, Steven. Look at him now, he is old and miserable and hung up on a woman who has been happily married for the past twenty years.”

“I’m not gonna end up like uncle Harold,” Steve sighs.

“You’re on the best way there.” She points her finger at him and gives him a stern look as she leans closer, “you broke that poor girl’s heart – I can see the pain in her eyes and your father is right, she lost weight, she’s not doing well.”

Worry flashes in his eyes and the guilt that has been nagging at him comes rushing back.

“I don’t want either of you to be miserable but I know that you will be if you don’t pull yourself together. She’s an amazing girl, Steve. Someday, she’s gonna try again and she’s gonna meet an amazing man who will give her everything she wants and you’ll regret letting her go.”

Steve frowns. He knows that she is right. There will be someone who will give you the things that he never could but the thought of that makes him want to throw up and break down.

The thought of you falling in love with someone else hurts him. The thought of you getting married to someone else, having kids and living that life without him makes him miserable.

He can see why his mom is so afraid of him becoming like his uncle – he will if he doesn’t make things right.

He snaps himself out of his thoughts when his mom squeezes his shoulder, “if you want her back, you gotta fight for this girl and it won’t happen overnight, Steve.”

She gives him a look of sympathy, one that he doesn’t deserve. It was him who screwed up after all.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. He turns around and walks away, stepping into the dining room, he places the salad bowl on the large table and glances at you. You’re in the living room, sitting on the couch next to his dad who is showing you his new vinyl collection. He knows that you don’t want to be here, not like this. You are probably already regretting the decision of coming here.

He sees the excited look on your face when you reach for the Fleetwood Mac Vinyl. You instantly begin to gush over the band, his dad chuckles at your excitement.

His parents might not be around a lot but you had always gotten along with them, you were the one who convinced him to stay at home for dinners on the weekends, you were the one who convinced him to spend more time with his dad when he asked him to. Steve was angry at his parents for not being around and he punished them by giving them the cold shoulder when they were at home. You changed that. His relationship with his dad is better than it ever was, thanks to you.

You have done so many good things for him.

He never did anything for you – he didn’t do any good.

As he looks at you, he notices that they are right. You did lose some weight, your face looks thinner and the circles beneath your eyes are visible even through the concealer you are wearing. He feels sick, knowing that he was the one who caused – causes you so much distress.

His dad leads you back into the dining room and Steve straightens up when your eyes lock.

“Take a seat, darling. I’ll go help Helen in the kitchen.” He says, giving you a smile before he turns around and walks back into the kitchen, leaving you and Steve alone in the dining room.

You swallow nervously and clear your throat. Fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater, you look around.

Steve stares at you, just taking in the sight of you in his house. Steve is convinced that you are the most beautiful girl in the world.

You are nervous, he can tell by the way you are bouncing your knee and playing with the loose string on your sleeve.

“Come here,” he says, gesturing to the chair that he pulls back.

You nod and walk over to him, you sit down and turn your head to look up at him. He sits down beside you. This feels like a deja vu and you don’t know how you feel about it.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you break the silence between the two of you.

“What?” He mumbles, looking at you in confusion. “What are you sorry for?”

“I didn’t want to intrude–”

“You could never,” he says, interrupting you. Out of instinct, he places his hand over yours, causing you to freeze, he notices it right away and pulls his hand back, closing his eyes, he sighs, “I’m sorry. I’m just – I’m happy you’re here even though I know you didn’t come here for this.”

“We can talk later.”

He nods, swallowing nervously. He hopes the time will pass slowly tonight.

He notices how calm you are despite the nervousness you are showing. He doesn’t know whether it’s a good or bad sign. The last time you had been together, you ended up kicking him out with tears streaming down your face and now you are calm, peaceful and there isn’t an ounce of anger in your eyes left. What does it mean?

A bad feeling settles in the pit of his stomach, something tells him that this night won’t end well.

“Did you have a nice night?” He asks as he watches your face contort in confusion, “with Eddie, I mean.”

“Oh,” you mumble. His question takes you back to the conversation you had with Eddie, the one about him. “Yeah, we went to the diner and then watched a movie at his place.”

Steve nods, keeping his composure.

“Y-You spent the night with him?”

You know that you don’t have to answer his question, it’s none of his business but you nod anyway and look into his eyes.

“Yeah, sometimes he stays over at my place.”

His heart twists at your words. A sullen look takes over his face. He tastes that bitterness on his tongue. You say you’re just friends but he saw more than friendship between you both when you danced together but maybe it was just his jealousy that tried to make him believe that it’s more than that.

“Oh.”

“How was your night?” You ask as though you care. You don’t want to hear about his night with Nancy. “Did you have fun?”

Steve can see your clenched jaw – you are jealous.

“It was okay.” The night was horrible and he hated every second of it. He didn’t want to be with her, he wanted to be with you.

You stare at each other in silence for a long moment before you break eye contact.

“I’m gonna see if your parents need help–”

“Don’t,” Steve says as he puts his hand on the back of your chair, holding himself back from touching you this time. “You know my mom won’t let you do anything anyway.”

His parents walk into the room seconds later, glancing between the both of you. By the looks on their faces, you can tell that they have been talking about you two in the kitchen. You don’t know what to think or feel but you can’t help but wonder; do they like her?

She puts way too much food on your plate, the way she always does – she ignores your protests.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” John asks you, jokingly of course. He holds the bottle up before he pours some of it into his wife’s glass.

“John,” she chuckles, rolling her eyes. “They’re too young.”

You and Steve glance at each other with narrowed eyes. You have stolen a few bottles of his mom’s favorite wine and you’ve gotten drunk together.. a lot.

“We used to be young too.”

You chuckle at his words and at the sigh that leaves her lips as she sits down across from you, she waves him off.

You would’ve thought that this would be awkward and well, between you and Steve it absolutely is but his parents make it less awkward. It all still feels so natural and it makes you sad.

“Did you go to the dance last night?” Helen asks, reaching for the wine glass before taking a bite of her salad.

You nod, “yeah, it was uh– nice.”

“Who was the lucky guy?” John asks, he glances at Steve with narrowed eyes as he bites into the garlic bread.

Steve sighs.

“I uh, I didn’t actually–”

“Eddie Munson,” Steve mumbles as he grips the fork tightly in his hand.

His mom raises her brows at Steve, her eyes flash with amusement when she sees the very obvious jealousy on his face.

His dad laughs and for a moment, you feel nervous. The Harringtons never seemed like judgmental people, despite the things people say about them but you know how people talk about Eddie and how cursed his last name is thanks to his father.

“Wayne Munson’s boy?” He asks you.

“You know Wayne?” You ask and straighten up in your seat.

“Yeah! We were friends in high school, we didn’t have much in common but he was nice. We didn’t see much of each other after school but I liked him.”

You smile, feeling a little surprised at the revelation.

“You were friends with Eddie’s uncle?” Steve mumbles with confusion on his face that could be easily mistaken with judgment.

His dad leans back, giving him a stern look, “yeah, he was a real friend, son. You’re supposed to know what that is but you don’t put much value on real friendships – or relationships,” he mutters the last bit.

You almost feel bad for Steve, almost.

He deserves this. He deserves all of this and worse, he knows it.

“Is he treating you well?” Helen asks, breaking the awkward silence in the room, “Eddie?”

A nervous chuckle escapes your lips, you can’t help but blush when you feel all eyes on you.

“Oh, we are not dating. Eddie and I are just friends,” you say before you finally take a bite of the Lasagna, hoping that you won’t get asked any more questions about this.

“That’s a shame, I’m sure he is amazing.”

Steve glares at his dad. He feels his blood boiling.

“Oh, he is,” you smile, “he’s very sweet. He drove Steve home the other day.”

His parents look at you in surprise and then turn to look at Steve who tenses up a little.

“When his car broke down.”

Steve turns to look at you and you can’t help but smirk when you see the annoyed look on his face.

“That’s funny,” Helen laughs, “that’s how you and Wayne became friends, right?” She asks her husband who nods at her words. He begins to tell the story about the summer he and Wayne started hanging out.

You listen intently while Steve begins to eat his food. You can sense his irritation, it’s been there ever since he brought about Eddie. He relaxes a little when his mom changes the topic and starts talking about her plans for Christmas this year.

It’s weird for you to sit next to him, to sit at a table with his parents and eat dinner like nothing ever happened. At some point, Steve places his hand on the back of your chair when he is done eating. You don’t think that he realizes that he did, he is too absorbed in a conversation with his dad.

When Helen gets up, you use the opportunity to escape as well, ignoring her protests, you help her clean up the table. You gather all the plates and ignore the looks he gives you. You walk into the kitchen and place the dirty plates next to the sink, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

All you wanted was to have a conversation, to have him lay all the cards on the table, to finally be completely honest with you. You didn’t want this because this is only making things so much harder.

“Is everything alright?” Helen asks as she walks into the kitchen as well, carrying the dirty dishes over to the sink.

You force a smile on your face and turn around to face her.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You lie.

She doesn’t look convinced. She knows you almost as well as your mom does. She tilts her head and smiles at you, sadly.

“It’s okay to not be okay, y/n.”

She places her hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressured you into this.”

You shake your head, “no, it’s okay! You know I always liked the family dinner’s,” you smile, “and your cooking.”

She smiles warmly but the look in her eyes is one of sadness and sympathy. She knows that you love him, you always showed it and you still do, whether you know it or not. It’s in your eyes, it’s written all over your face. You may be young with a whole life and so many chapters ahead of you but one thing is for certain – there won’t be another love like this, not for you. He was the one for you.

“How are you, y/n?” She asks.

She doesn’t want to hear any lies, she wants to hear the truth.

It’s a genuine question, not just a conversation started or a small check-up. She genuinely wants to know how you really feel. You don’t know why but it makes your heart clench in your chest and the tears that well up in your eyes are inevitable.

You blink, trying to push them away. You don’t want to cry and break down in your ex boyfriend’s kitchen.

You look down when you feel your bottom lip trembling.

“I-I hate this,” you whisper as you continue to blink, hoping that your tears will vanish. “I hate that he did this, I hate that I miss him so much and that I love him even after he broke my heart.”

You feel so pathetic when you break into tears.

“Oh y/n,” she whispers as she pulls you into a hug. She squeezes you tightly and rubs your back. “You will be okay – both of you.” She says and looks over at Steve who stands in the doorway with a guilty and sad look on his face.

It hurts to see you like this, it’s something he will never forgive himself, to know that he was the one who did all of this. To know that he was the one who hurt the girl he loves more than anything else in this world.

When you pull away from the hug and your eyes lock with his, you look a little startled. You quickly wipe your tears away and step back, “I-I’m sorry, I should go.”

Before he or his mom can react, you rush out of the kitchen and into the hallway. You put on your shoes and grab your coat, leaving the house quickly. The air is colder than it was before, the snow is falling peacefully. You sniffle as you wipe your tears away. You knew it was a bad idea to come here. You knew it.

You hear the door shutting behind you as you walk down the driveway.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You don’t turn around, you continue to walk whilst you put your jacket on. You hear his footsteps coming closer, there is no use trying to run from him.

“Wait!” He sighs. He reaches for your hand and pulls you back, he is surprised when you don’t push his hand away. He falls quiet when he looks at your face, you have wiped your tears away but the glassiness in your eyes is still present. “Y/n,” he says, softly.

You hate the sorry look on his face, the soft eyes and the gentle touch of his hand.

“You wanted to talk.”

“Can we do this tomorrow–”

“No,” he shakes his head, holding your hand tighter than before, “let’s do it now, please.”

“I just wanna go home, Steve.”

“Then I’ll drive you home and we can talk in the car.”

You shake your head. You hate that you feel so weak all of the sudden, that you struggle to push his hand away, that you struggle to look away from him. You don’t know what happened but it’s like every strength has left your body and you can no longer push him away from you with that cold front you put up before.

“I want to walk.”

He nods, “okay, then I’ll walk you home.”

“Steve,” you sigh.

“Please,” he whispers, “I won’t let you walk home by yourself anyway. So you either get in the car or you let me walk you home.”

Sighing, you tear your eyes away from his and look down, you nod, “okay, let’s walk then.”

You pull your hand out of his grip and turn around.

The road is illuminated by the street lights, the snow glitters beneath it, it crunches under your boots as you step on it. You’ve done this way too many times before but usually, you would walk hand in hand, you would steal kisses from him and he would pretend to be annoyed, now there is just distance and awkward silence between you both.

At this point, you don’t even know what you wanted to talk about.

You wanted answers but what are the questions?

Why did you fall out of love with me? But wait. He said that he fell out of love with you and the next day he said that he never loved you in the first place and now, two months later, he claims that he lied to you when he said that he never loved you – apparently he still loves you even though he is with her.

Why did you leave me for her?

What does she have that I don’t?

Why did you treat me like shit?

Why are you so good to her?

Why did you fall in love with her when you were supposed to love me?

“Why Nancy?”

Steve furrows his brows and looks at you in confusion.

“What?”

“It’s just, there have been so many girls that threw themselves at you but you never gave them the chance – at least, I hoped you didn’t.”

“I didn’t, y/n.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter under your breath, “you flirted with them and expected me to be okay with it but you would get mad whenever a guy even looked my way.”

If you would have had this conversation with him three months ago, he would have scoffed by now and either start a fight or kiss you to shut you up but now, he just stays calm and he looks at you with guilt in his eyes.

She changed him in just a few weeks.

“I know that it doesn’t mean much anymore but I never wanted any of them, those girls that I flirted with, I couldn’t give a shit about them,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes at his past behavior, “and to be honest, I didn’t do it to keep my reputation or whatever. I– god, that’s gonna sound so bad,” he pauses, he looks up into the sky and takes a deep breath before he looks back down at you, “I did it to see what you would do, I wanted to see if you would get jealous ‘cause sometimes I struggled to believe that you loved me – not that you ever gave me a reason to doubt you, it’s just, some things would just get into my head and I don’t know – you never got jealous, at least, it didn’t seem like you did. You would always be so calm, you rarely ever confronted me about it a-and I guess, I don’t know, I figured that you didn’t love me as much as I love you.”

You choose to ignore his last three words. You don’t know whether to scoff in disbelief or to laugh at his words. He must be joking, you think. But his face is serious and the look in his eyes is filled with nothing but honesty.

“Why would you think that?”

He shrugs, “‘cause I knew how I felt when a guy looked at you a certain way o-or when someone flirted with you – I felt like shit. I got so fucking jealous and angry and it made me want to rip my hair out.”

You can’t help but giggle at his words as you look at the seriousness in his face, “your beloved hair?”

His eyes light up when he hears your laugh, a smile tugs at his lips, “yeah, I’d rip my hair out for you.”

You snort and shake your head as you look back down. He keeps staring at you for a moment before he speaks up again, “but what I’m trying to say is, seeing you with someone else broke my heart–”

“But I wasn’t with anyone else, I was with you and I wanted it to stay that way, Steve.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, “I was so insecure and a part of me thought that I was losing you and that hurt and I knew how much it would hurt if I actually lost you, if you left me for someone else – if you broke my heart.”

So he broke yours first.

“Do you remember the party at my place, back in august?”

“Yeah, I remember it.”

Steve clears his throat and you glance at him, a frown takes over his face.

“After I saw you dance with Eddie last night, I remembered something.”

“What did you remember?”

“We got into a fight at that party because of Billy. He was flirting with you.”

Yeah, you remember that very well. You were dancing with your friends when Billy came up behind you, he grabbed your waist and before you could react, he pressed himself up against you. He whispered something in your ear and in that moment, Steve walked back into the room with a drink in his hand. He didn’t bother sticking around to see how you had pushed Billy away or how you slapped his cheek for touching you that way.

You and Steve had gotten into a huge fight that night – one that left you both in tears. He was the one who slammed the door in your face when he pushed you out of his room after you got sick of arguing with each other.

He stayed back in his room to calm down while you went downstairs and planned to go home when you bumped into Eddie. You didn’t realize that you had tears streaming down your face until he had asked you if you were okay. He pulled you into the kitchen, away from all the prying eyes.

Eddie had given you a shoulder to lean on that night. He could have easily ignored you, you weren’t friends, not at that time, at least. But he didn’t, he was there for you. He helped you wipe your tears away, gave you something to drink and managed to cheer you up.

“After we fought, I went downstairs to look for you, I wanted to apologize but then I saw you with him, with Eddie.”

You furrow your brows, “okay, and?”

“You were laughing with him like nothing ever happened, like we didn’t just get into a fight and I think that was the moment I figured that I wasn’t the one for you – ‘cause you were happy and smiling and I was fucking miserable and I couldn’t stand it so I drank until I passed out in the bathroom. I didn’t even remember that Eddie was the one you talked to when I woke up the next day, I just remembered seeing you with some guy.”

It would be a lie if you said that you aren’t shocked. You didn’t know how insecure he was. You always saw him as arrogant, confident and controlling. Not as insecure and scared.

“And uh to get back to your question. Nancy, she’s just, I don’t know,” he trails off.

Your heart begins to beat faster at the mention of her name. It takes you back to the night it all fell apart and to the day when he had confessed to you that he fell in love with her. You remember the pain, you remember all of it.

“You promised me, you told me that you would love me forever.”

“Did you really think that I meant that?”

“I didn’t, I-I’m not even sure if I ever loved you, y/n. I wouldn’t have fallen for her if I did love you, right?”

You can already feel the tears coming, just the memory of it all hurts you. You are scared to hear him tell you why he fell in love with her. Why you weren’t enough for him.

Why is he so speechless? You wonder as you look at him. His brows are furrowed in concentration.

Are there so many things that he loves about her that he doesn’t know where to start?

While you prepare for another heartbreak, Steve tries to think of what made him believe that he could ever love someone else the way he loves you. He didn’t fall in love with her. He never fell out of love with you. You were always the one. It’s simple.

But it’s not simple, because how can he explain any of this to you without sounding like a goddamn liar?

How can he explain to you that he broke your heart because he was scared that you would break his first?

How will he tell you that he only ever thought about you?

How can he look into your eyes and tell you that it made him feel sick to kiss her, to sleep with her and tell her that he loves her when all he ever wanted was you?

“Nancy, she just, she wanted me in the same way you did. My jealousy had gotten out of hand at that point and I was convinced that I was losing you so I uh, I convinced myself that I liked her too. That night at the Halloween party, I got drunk, blackout drunk. I thought it would be easier to break up with you that way.”

His words will hurt you more than he will ever know. Just the thought of him planning to break up with you hurts so bad. While you were lying in bed thinking about him with nothing but love in your heart, he was thinking about leaving you.

And all of this because he was convinced that he was losing you?

You never gave him a reason to think that. He had all your attention, your devotion, your love, your heart. He had it all. You gave him absolutely everything. You understand the insecurities and the jealousy and a part of you wants to believe his words but the other part can’t.

He loves her.

He changed for her not for you.

And now that he has changed, he must feel guilty for the way he treated you, for the things he said to you, for the way he broke your heart. He wants to make things better, he wants to make it up to you, to take your pain away.

He said that he had to convince himself that he loved her, now he is doing the same with you.

You are not angry at him, not anymore.

You are just hurt and heartbroken.

You love him and you always will.

Suddenly, you feel numb when you realize that he is still with her.

If he loves you then why is he still with her?

It was easy for him to leave you.

“Y/n?”

You hate this feeling. The numbness. You want it gone.

“Hey, y/n.” Steve says softly as he places his hand on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blink and halt in your tracks, you were so wrapped up in your mind, you didn’t even notice that you were already in front of your house.You look at his hand before you look up at him. His hazel eyes are filled with worry.

“Are you okay?”

No. Of course you are not okay.

Your attention strays away from him when you hear the loud music from the house down the street. Jimmy Davidson is home for the holidays, his parents are gone this weekend, he already invited you to his ‘pre christmas party’.

An idea crosses your mind, you will probably come to regret it but right now, you don’t care.

“Hey, do you remember Jimmy, you know that super intimidating looking guy who’s actually really nice?”

Steve looks confused, his eyebrows are drawn together and he tilts his head at your question.

“Uh yeah, he was on the football team– why are we talking about him again?”

You hold your hand up and point your finger into the direction of his house, “he’s throwing a party, do you wanna go?”

He looks taken aback and still confused. You want to go to a party with him?

“I need a drink,” you mumble, “or two.”

Steve doesn’t know if that is a good idea and he doesn’t understand how you went from hating him to wanting a conversation with him to wanting to party with him but it’s not like he would say no to you. He will take any opportunity to spend time with you these days.

He looks down at you. You are waiting for him to say something. You have that look in your eyes that he always loved so much, the one you gave him when you wanted something.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He wishes he could see the smile that you used to give him but instead he gets a nod before you turn around. He follows you, suddenly feeling the giddiness that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He is excited to spend time with you.

Two nights ago, he got drunk at a bar, thinking that he lost you forever. Now you are walking down the street together, your hand brushes against his and he fights the urge to just grab it.

While Steve feels hopeful, thinking that this could lead to a second chance. You feel sad because you know that this will be the last time.

You keep telling yourself that you have let go of him but you haven’t fully let go. You don’t just miss him as your boyfriend, you also miss him as your friend.

The music in Jimmy’s house is loud, you are surprised that the cops haven’t been called yet. The smell of liquor is strong. The hallway is crowded with groups of teenagers, you take a peek into the living room, it’s even more crowded. Jimmy kept his popularity going, even after leaving Hawkins for college.

You and Steve take your jackets off, he takes yours from your hand and hangs it up on the rack. You pull at your sleeves and step closer to him without realizing it.

“Yo, y/n!”

You turn your head to see Jimmy walking towards you and Steve, a red solo cup is in his hand. You can’t help but laugh when you see the ugly Christmas sweater and the Santa hat that he is wearing. He really stuck to the theme.

His eyes flash with surprise when he sees Steve.

“Harrington! Long time no see, man! How’s it going?” He asks and greets him with a handshake.

Steve smiles, “hey man.”

“I didn’t know you were still together,” he says as he points between the two of you.

“Oh, we aren’t–”

“Jimmy! Let’s go, man!” Some guy yells, waving him over, “I’m losing here!” He throws his hands up as he holds the ping pong in his hand.

“I’m coming!” Jimmy yells back causing you to cringe at the volume of his voice. He turns back to you, “get yourself some drinks, guys. We’ll catch up later!” He says to Steve before he looks at you and winks, “don’t have too much fun, lovebirds.”

Steve scratches the back of his neck while you roll your eyes.

You look at each other awkwardly at first but when another guy with a similar Christmas sweater as Jimmy walks past you, you can’t help but laugh as you share a glance.

You make your way into the kitchen. Steve follows close behind. You both notice the few curious glances that get thrown your way. You don’t recognize many people but there are definitely a few from Hawkins High around. You just hope that Heather and Chrissy aren’t here tonight.

Steve places his hand on the small of your back when you both walk into the kitchen. Your eyes land on the bottle on the counter, you instantly reach for the tequila bottle but before you can even think about pouring it into one of the small solo cups, Steve grabs your hand, stopping you.

Furrowing your brows, you look up at him.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “we can just, I don’t know, we can just forget everything for tonight.”

Steve is surprised to hear these words coming from your mouth.

“We can just have fun, just like old times, when we were friends.”

He can hear the shakiness in your voice, he can see the vulnerability in your eyes that you have been hiding all this time. You were pretending to be okay after the breakup, you gave him the cold shoulder and acted like you moved on but you never did, he realized that after he tried to kiss you.

You never moved on and you are not as strong as you pretend to be. You are breaking a little more, everyday.

Just one last time. You think to yourself as you look into his eyes.

He nods, “yeah, okay.”

He reaches for the bottle in your hand, he grabs the cups and fills them with tequila. You both down the liquid in one go, cringing at the strong taste. Steve wipes his mouth, “god, that’s disgusting,” he mumbles.

You nod in agreement but reach for the bottle nonetheless, ignoring his disapproving look when you fill the cups again.

“You should take it slow–”

You shake your head, “no, I wanna get drunk.”

“Jesus,” he mumbles, knowing that you want to get rid of this awkwardness between the two of you by getting alcohol into your system. “Okay.” This isn’t a good idea, he knows it isn’t. This will only complicate things even more, yet he joins you and downs the second one as well.

You look into his eyes, it’s something you have always avoided since the breakup but now you look at him, you truly look at him and you get lost in his eyes. You feel the ache in your chest, the one that will never fade away.

You will never know how much he regrets it, how guilty he feels when he sees the pain in your eyes, the love that is still there. How could he be so stupid? How could he ever think that you would hurt him?

If he could turn back time, this would have never happened.

He could’ve pulled you into his arms right now, he would’ve kissed you and told you that he loves you.

You look down and lick your lips, you place the cup on the counter.

The house is filled with people, you hear different voices, laughter and loud music. You notice the stares and the curious glances. You feel someone brushing past you. Yet, it’s just you and him, right now.

“Come on,” he says as he holds his hand out for you, “let’s dance, like old times, right?”

You stare at his hand for a long moment before you decide to take it.

You don’t know how happy he is to feel your touch.

He doesn’t know how painful it is to you.

He leads you out of the kitchen, keeping a tight grip on your hand. He greets a few people from school, waving and smiling at some guys. You are just focused on his touch and the way it’s making you feel.

The way it makes your heartbeat speed up and the way it makes it hurt so horribly at the same time.

“Hey Steve, y/n!”

You both turn around, a guy from the basketball team is waving at you, “wanna play beer pong?”

Steve looks down at you and you shrug, “sure.”

It seems as though this night is full of bad ideas. First, you ended up on his doorsteps after telling him to leave you alone, then, you asked him to go to a party with you and now you are about to get plastered with the guy you shouldn’t even look at anymore.

But if there is anything that will kill this awkward tension between you two then it’s a game of beer pong and the two drunk jocks with the Santa hats.

The dining room is filled with people, just like the rest of the house. It smells like weed and beer in here – you could use some weed right now.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks as he leans closer. The smell of his cologne drives you insane.

He scans your face, he looks into your eyes and eyes the line between your eyebrows, he notes the tension, he wants to take it away so bad. A strand of hair falls in front of your face and before he can stop himself, he reaches out to tuck it behind your ear. You don’t move away, not this time.

You feel so stupid, so weak and pathetic for savoring the touch of the man who hurt you so badly.

The tension, the bad thoughts and the worries leave your mind after winning the first round of beer pong.

A few drinks in and all your sadness and the heartbreak is forgotten, temporarily.

Both of you forget everything.

Tonight, it’s just the two of you.

You both get drunker and drunker and more comfortable with each other with each round you win.

By the time you actually make it to the dance floor, you are both wasted. Stumbling and bumping into each other. Though you still keep the distance between you two. Your hands brush against each other and he ends up taking the risk and hooking his pinky around yours which you don’t seem to mind.

Steve feels the urge to do more, to wrap his arms around you and hold you. His heart longs for you, all of him longs for you. He gets so lost in your eyes, in you. He doesn’t notice anything around him, he only sees you.

You joke around like you used to, you hold onto each other like you used to, you smile and laugh and for the first time in a long time, you are both happy.

And of course, Billy Hargrove is the one who sees you two together. He smirks when he sees the way Steve looks at you, when he notices his hand sliding down your body, stopping just on the small of your back to pull you closer and to his surprise, you don’t even seem to mind. You must be drunk or on drugs, Billy thinks. There is no way you would let him touch you that way otherwise.

“Well, well, well.”

Billy raises his brows and glances down at the redhead by his side.

“Looks like the queen and king are back together.”

“Oh no, he is still with Nancy. They're sneaking around,” Tommy says as he leans against the wall next to him.

“Well what do they say about cheaters?” Carol smirks as she looks at the way Steve leans closer to you to whisper something in your ear.

“Once a cheater, always a cheater,” Tommy chuckles.

Billy takes a sip of his beer and shakes his head, “I thought she’s smarter than that.”

Carol and Tommy laugh at his words, “what’d you expect? She was always in love with him.”

“Yeah, poor little thing always followed him around like some lost puppy,” Carol mocks, twirling her hair with her finger. “I wish Nancy was here so she could see this,” she smirks as she watches Steve lead you away.

Steve plops down on the sofa and pulls you down with him. You lean your shoulder against his. Your head is spinning and your mouth feels dry.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” Steve says, he looks down at you. A fond expression takes over his face. Your hair is messy and your pupils are blown, you are breathing heavily, a small smile is pulling at your lips when you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“Me neither.”

Steve smiles at you. His hand brushes against yours, the feeling of your skin against his makes his heart flutter in his chest. When he goes to wrap his hand around yours, to intertwine his fingers with yours, you seem to snap out of your trance. You break eye contact and cough as you straighten up.

Something about the way he looked at you made you sober up a little.

“I-I’m gonna go drink some water,” you mutter and push yourself up, “do you want something?”

He shakes his head.

He knows better than to follow you, he knows when you need space and right now, you need it, even if just for a moment. He watches you walk away, smiling when you look over your shoulder to glance at him.

He leans back against the soft cushions and looks around the crowded room. Right now, he feels content. You were an unexpected surprise this evening and he can’t help but bask in the feeling of being with you again.

Three nights ago, he thought he lost you forever but here you are, back with him.

Though he can’t shake the feeling that something is off about this night, he chooses to ignore it, not wanting to ruin it sooner than necessary.

A few minutes pass and there is no sight of you, he runs his fingers through his messy hair. He leans his elbows on his knees and looks around. He stares at the doorway, waiting for you to come through but you don’t.

He gets up and his stomach churns a little. He definitely drank way too much.

He pushes past a group of drunken boys and steps into the crowded hallway. A couple is making out against the wall, a girl is crying to her friends, a group of jocks are sitting on the stairs, laughing loudly.

He walks into the kitchen, the sight he is met with makes him freeze on the spot. You are standing with your back pressed against the kitchen island, a guy is towering over you. He is much taller than you, his shoulders are broad, it’s clear that he is working out.

His first reaction is to tense up and clench his jaw in anger. The sight of him smirking down at you makes his blood boil.

He sobers up quickly when he notices how tense you are, how your hands grip the counter tightly as you press yourself further against the counter to get away from him. You are uncomfortable and flinch away when he reaches out to touch your face.

All the jealousy fades away and anger takes over instead. He doesn’t hesitate to walk over and push the guy away from you. Your eyes are wide and filled with fear, you look at Steve and he instantly grabs your hand and pushes you behind him.

“Stay away from my girl.” He spits without even thinking.

The guy looks startled at first but he quickly relaxes and laughs. He looks Steve up and down before his attention goes back to you.

“Shit, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

Steve can feel how scared you are, you grip his hand tightly with your shaky one and it only makes his anger worse.

“Even if she didn’t, you had no right to touch her like that, you fucking asshole.”

Your heartbeat picks up, fear rushes through you. You always hated when he got into fights.

The guy still looks at you, he eyes you up and down and it makes you shudder. It’s not the first time he’d done it.

“Steve.”

Steve is glaring at the guy in front of him, the urge to throw a punch is strong – a few months ago, he would’ve done it but protecting you and making sure that you feel comfortable is more important to him now.

“Sorry man, won’t happen again” he says but there is clearly no meaning behind his words, he chuckles and gives you both a mocking smile before he turns around to leave.

Steve takes a step forward to follow him but you pull him back, “please don’t.” You hold his hand even tighter and step in front of him.You are sober now and so is he. The night is over, almost. His hazel eyes are darker than usual, he looks mad. “Can we just go, please? I wanna go home.”

Your words and the panicked look on your face take him back to the night at the Halloween party – the way you begged for him to go home with you not knowing that moments later, he would break your heart.

You wear that same look on your face you did that night.

His eyes soften and his shoulders slump. He is not ready for this night to end but he nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He keeps on holding your hand and you don’t fight him. Your hand is still shaky. You are nervous and scared.

He only lets your hand go to help you put on your coat. You open the door and step out with your hands tucked in your pockets. His face falls a little but he doesn’t say anything. He follows you out and puts his jacket on once he’s outside. He shuts the door and just like that, it’s all back to the way it was before.

But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want things to go back to the way they were before. He wants to keep you but he feels you slipping through his fingers just like you felt him slipping through your fingers, two months ago.

The snow is falling quietly and as you get further away from the party, you can hear the music less and less, only the silence of the night and your footsteps are heard.

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay after what happened in there?” He asks, “h-he didn’t do worse did he?”

“Oh,” you whisper and shake your head, “no – I mean, yes I’m okay and no, he didn’t do worse. I’m kinda used to it, it’s not the first time he did this.”

“Wait what?” He asks as the anger comes rushing back in.

You shrug, a sour expression appears on your face, “I mean, I haven’t seen him since Heather’s party back in september–”

“Back in– what? Y/n, that’s when we were still together! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you mumble, “you were always focused on those girls and picking fights about stuff that wasn’t real so..”

He feels a flash of irritation and anger but also guilt and sadness. He made you think that he didn’t care about your safety and your wellbeing.

“Of course, I’d care.”

He hates the shift of energy between you two. He wants to go back to the party, he wants to live inside that bubble again, the one where you still like him.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” He whispers knowing that you might not want to hear his apology. “I failed you, I failed us.” He thinks about his mother’s words, how she told him to fight for you and he wants to so bad but he doesn’t know how.

You stop in front of your house, the moment you have been dreading all night is finally here.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper, “I’m not angry at you anymore.”

You look at the way his expression changes.

“You’re not?”

By the tone of his voice, you know that he thinks that this must be a good sign.

You shake your head. The bile thickens in your throat and you already feel sick.

“No, I’m not.”

You are calm, your voice is soft and quiet and the look in your eyes makes him nervous. He stays silent for a moment. You stand beneath the night sky, the snow is falling and it reminds him of the night you have kissed for the first time, right here.

“I-I understand it now.”

He doesn’t know why but he can feel the fear rushing through him, that pit growing in his stomach.

“What do you understand?”

“Everything,” you whisper, “I wanted the truth and the other day you said that you weren't honest with me back then but you were. You really did leave me because you fell in love with her just like you had told me back then.”

He frowns at your words, he steps closer to you and he shakes his head.

Your eyes well up with tears, your bottom lip begins to quiver.

“And I-I think that you really love her because you wouldn’t have left me if you didn’t – no matter how scared you are, you don’t leave the person that you love for someone else, you don’t hurt the person you love. You would rather have your heart broken than break their heart,” you say as tears stream down your cheeks, “it was so easy for you to leave me but you can’t leave her, you are still with her because you can’t and you don't want to break her heart so that must mean something."

He shakes his head, “no,” he whispers.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper, brokenly. You look down and the tears slip from your face and down into the snow, “you changed a-and I can tell that you are trying to do better and that you want to make it up to me b-but I don’t want it, I don’t want you to think that you owe me anything. I-I just want you to know that it’s okay. You don’t have to feel bad or guilty.”

He shakes his head again but he can’t form any words. His heart is racing in his chest, the fear is holding him tightly. His vision blurs, he can’t stand to see you cry.

“I love you, Steve and I think that I always will but we have to let each other go.”

His eyes widen with panic and he finally snaps out of it, he cups your cheeks and pulls you closer, “I love you too, y/n! I love you. I will leave her, I will!”

You shake your head, you raise your hands and grab his wrists as you look into his eyes.

You are both crying and it hurts so bad. It feels like your heart is being ripped apart.

“She is the one for you. You should be with her. I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

Steve wants to say that you make him happy, that you are the one for him, that you are the one he loves but his words are strangled in his throat. Tears roll down his cheeks and his chest aches. He can see the pain in your eyes and the way you are suffering because of him.

He shakes his head, he is shaking, he is on the verge of breaking down, of falling to his knees and begging for a second chance. He leans his forehead against yours. He whispers your name so brokenly it makes you cry even harder.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper and cup his cheeks, “I promise, it’s okay.”

He feels the warmth of your touch and the sound of your voice that makes his heart ache. He doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want to let you go, he doesn’t want to lose you.

“You can let me go, it’s okay. You don’t have to feel bad anymore.”

Steve feels like his chest is being ripped open, like his heart is getting torn out of his body.

You wrap your arms around him and lay your head on his chest, wanting to feel the warmth of his body, one last time. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you even tighter against him. He holds onto you for dear life, he buries his face in your neck, he breathes in your sweet scent.

Your broken heart is breaking more and more.

You close your eyes and you let yourself feel him, one last time.

You wish you wouldn’t have to do this.

You wish you could live in a world where he loves you, where you wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

You thought that it couldn’t get any worse after he dumped you and after he tried to kiss you but this is so much worse.

This is goodbye.

You stand beneath the falling snow just this time, he won’t pull you in for a first kiss, he won’t make you smile, he won’t pull you back for one more kiss before you walk into your house but he pulls you in for another hug when you try to walk away from him and this time, he holds you even tighter.

He wants to fight for you but how can he when you don’t want him to?

It hurts to hear him cry and it hurts to feel him hold you so tightly and it will hurt even more when you will see him with her again.

As much as it hurts, as much as you don’t want it, as wrong as it feels – you step away from him and you look at him, one last time. You can’t stand the tears that run down his cheeks. His large sad eyes will haunt you for the rest of your life.

You step away from him and it makes him cry even harder.

You have to go.

You need to go.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

He looks crestfallen and broken and it takes everything in you to turn away from him. You clutch your chest and walk away. You can hear his sniffles and before your heart can convince you to turn back around, you unlock the door and step inside. You shut it and press your back against the door. Finally, you let the sob break free as you fall to the ground. You bury your face in your hands and you cry, once again.

Now it’s truly over.

It’s all over and you don't even know that you are the one who is still holding his heart.

That you will always be the one.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @hellfire--cult @taintedcigs @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #stranger things angst

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lacedinweb22 · 9 months

Text

୨୧ Pudge & Cuddles ୨୧ ˚⋆✦ Miguel O’Hara x you Boyfriend Headcanons ˚⋆✦

nsfw 18+

cw: scratching, masochism, scars, body image/descriptions (stretch marks, cellulite, etc.), biting, sex (p in v), pain kink

note: Shit gets a little crazy so don’t act like I didn’t fucking warn ur asses 🤝 I’m planning on making one-shots for these because AWWJJDJE so that’ll be cumming SOON. love u my fellow pudgy simps

♡ Miguel is addicted to squeezing and holding your pudge!!! You lay on your side, Miguel spooning you. The laptop set in front of you plays a horror movie, which Miguel promised he’d stay awake through. He’s an exhausted, bratty liar so naturally he falls asleep halfway through. His arms wrap around you, one hand under your shirt, holding your pudgy, soft under belly for comfort, his hands full of your hot flesh. His grip keeps your body tightly pressed up against him. His face rests in the crook of your neck, breathing softly into your skin. He dreams, his muscles flexing, moving against you suddenly.

♡ Miguel’s nightmares cause his grasp to tighten on your pudge, claws unsheathing into your skin. You usually wake him up, but you’re a masochist, so sometimes you let him, leaving scratches around your hips and lower belly. It feels good and you love seeing evidence of him spread on you. He’ll scold you the next day when he sees them, but he secretly loves marking your soft skin as his.

♡ Miguel uses your thighs and tummy as a pillow. He loves digging his face into your belly, or thighs, anywhere where there is warmth and soft tissue. You’ll sit on the couch reading, or watching a movie, and he’ll make himself more than comfortable on you, losing himself in absolute bliss. Sometimes he’ll just lay in between your legs resting his head on your fluffy thighs, watching a movie on the tv. Other times, he’ll completely dig his face into your warmth, snoring into your soft skin. He wraps his arms around your hips, keeping himself wrapped around you, using you as his own special pillow.

♡ Miguel comforts/whines when you’re insecure. If you don’t let him dig his face into your flesh, he’ll throw a fit. He’ll kiss all along your cellulite, your stretch marks, your pudgy softness, whispering his admiration for you, “Eres tan hermosa, tan perfecta, mi suave ángel. What would I do without my soft girl keeping me warm, keeping me safe,” he’ll murmur against your skin, brushing his lips against you.

♡ Miguel will fixate on your thick thighs. He’ll adore and caress you for hours, lying in between your legs, or beside your thighs, tracing your stretch marks, leaving kisses along your scars of growth, gripping your fat in his muscular hands. He loves when the heavy hot flesh of your thighs wrap around his waist, and how your big thighs suffocate him when you sit on his face. He’ll lift you up effortlessly once you’re done, your soft figure being only craveable, comfortable pressure. He’s huge, strong, and he craves all of you, all of your weight, enveloping him, wrapping around him.

♡ He loves the way your abundant thighs and hips gate your heat, sealing your delicate flesh. He loves prying you open, your strong thighs closing habitually from pleasurable overstimulation.

♡ He marks up your thighs, biting the shit out of you, or digging his claws into you when he’s overstimulated. You have to avoid skirts for the next week or so now that your thighs are covered in bites, scratches, and bruises.

♡ He’ll reach for your skin at night, or when you’re watching tv on the couch, or when you’re cooking in the kitchen. He’ll come from behind you, slipping his hands under your top to fill his hands with the warm comfort your body provides. In public, he’s forced to control himself, not grabbing your ass or belly, or thighs, but when you two are left alone or in a dark restaurant, he’ll slip his hand under the tablecloth and grip your skin. He needs your body in his hands.

♡ Miguel presses his broad hand on your lower belly, feeling his length squeeze into you, pushing all of your insides tightly against your skin. He adds that pressure, squeezing your plush flesh, gripping you down onto him. He watches you squirm, your skin plump, body full with his wide burning, pleasurable invasion. When he reaches his climax, his claws unsheathe, digging into your stomach, leaving marks of desire spread across your belly.

♡ Miguel will tightly grip your under belly while on top of you, getting off looking down at the love bites he’s spread across your wet, sweaty skin. Your flesh beats against his, ripples of his impact visible to him. His thumbs dig into you, holding you in place, as he squeezes himself into you.

my lovely taglist ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ✧ @wingedturtledream @skaochii @bat-yo-us @lostpirate79 @renn-pumkin-head @princessa-micomicona @waiif-uwu @punpuun @thbidkbutok @acehyacinth @thetoetickler @kaqua @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @inafantasyworld10 @d1lf-loverrr @altheadq @thesilenthill @trash-king18 @imnotyourbcbe @tiffanypooh @ihateuguys @littlemissilovecoconuts @royal-jester @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @tbh2idk @gilliantate23 @envyjmoney @qiaipia @ur-fav-ginger @lacook246 @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @blair6th

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sturnioloskyline · 2 months

Note

Matt x reader

The triplets are filming a random video and somewhere during the video they try smelling salts Chris calls reader to try them not telling her why it is and she has a funny reaction but a couple seconds after she has a massive nosebleed.<3

nosebleed

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: language, smelling salts(?), blood, pain, yelling

summary: your boyfriend's brother makes you try smelling salts without a warning.

thank u for the request, anon! 😚

your boyfriend, matt, had invited you to spend the night with him at his and his brothers' house. you were sitting on the couch in their living room, scrolling on your phone while the triplets were all in the kitchen.

nick had informed his brothers just yesterday that they didn't have enough content for their vlog that was supposed to be out in a few days. as a result, the three of them had been carrying cameras around all day trying to record as much as they could.

chris had ordered something on amazon for his brothers to try on camera, and he was currently trying to convince them to do it for the vlog.

"c'mon, just try it!" chris giggled. his brothers looked at him as if he were insane.

"i don't trust you," nick said, his eyes flicking to the unlabelled bottle in chris's hand.

"yeah, just tell us what it is chris," matt agreed with nick, backing away from chris.

"ugh, just try it! it'll be funny!" chris whined, getting fed up with his brothers' refusal to participate.

"chris, we're not gonna sniff something out of a random bottle you ordered from amazon," nick rolled his eyes.

chris looked at the camera in defeat, before noticing you sitting on the couch on your phone. an idea immediately popped into his head.

"hey, y/n, can you come over here and smell this for the vlog?" your head snapped up at the request. you didn't think much of it, tossing your phone on the couch and getting up to join the boys by the counter.

"what is it?" you asked chris, looking at matt and nick, who just shrugged their shoulders.

"you'll see," chris replied secretively, twisting open the bottle and setting the cap down on the counter. he handed the bottle to you. "just take a big ol' whiff."

you hesitantly brought the bottle under your nose, before inhaling deeply. you were immediately hit by an intense burning sensation in your nose. you slammed the bottle down on the counter, doubling over.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, CHRIS?!" you yelled out, causing chris and his brothers to break out into a fit of laughter. chris picked up the camera from where he had it propped up, angling it to record your reaction. a lightheaded rush washed over you as tears welled up in your eyes, and your nose felt like it was on fire.

matt walked up behind you and placed his hands on your hips. he was laughing softly at your outburst, but the longer you stayed leaning against the counter, the more he grew concerned.

"are you okay?" matt whispered, rubbing your waist with his thumbs. you sniffed and let out a groan, shaking your head. the lightheadedness you were feeling quickly turned into a throbbing headache. matt's smile faltered a bit, but chris and nick just kept laughing.

"can you get me a tissue?" you croaked out a request to matt. he immediately rushed to grab a box of tissues, setting it down beside you on the counter. you grabbed a tissue and wiped your eyes, before using it to blow your nose. you sighed and stepped back from the counter, rubbing your nose and letting out a sigh.

"OH MY GOD," chris exclaimed when your face was visible again, his eyes widening. you looked at him in worry, before looking down at the tissue in your hand. the tissue was now almost completely dyed red with blood from your nose. you looked back up at chris before feeling liquid rush out of your nose again.

"oh my god!" you shrieked back, quickly grabbing another tissue and bringing it to your nose. nick was at chris's side, clapping a hand over his mouth when he noticed the bloodied tissues.

matt stepped in front of you so he could see what was going on, his jaw dropping at the sight of blood filling the tissue pressed under your nose.

"chris, what did you do?" matt yelled at his brother, not taking his eyes off you. he moved the tissue you were holding to better assess the situation, wincing when he saw blood smeared on your upper lip.

"i didn't know they could make her nose bleed!" chris set the camera down, turning it away.

"what the fuck is in that bottle chris?" nick yelled in confusion and concern.

"smelling salts! i thought people used them to like, get better at sports!" chris tried to defend himself. nick buried his face in his hands.

matt turned away from you to stare at chris in shock. "chris, those are fucking dangerous! they can seriously hurt if you don't use them right!"

"i'm sorry, i didn't know!" chris apologized regrettfully, watching matt as he wet a tissue and tried to wipe the blood from your face.

"it's okay chris," your voice was muffled from the tissue matt was using to dab your nose. chris frowned at you with remorse.

by the time your nose had finally stopped bleeding, matt was still inspecting your face, his eyebrows still knitted with worry.

"matt.." you chuckled softly, hoping to ease some of his tension. "i'm okay now. everything's fine."

matt met your eyes and smiled softly at you, pulling you into a tight hug. chris picked the camera back up and pointed it at you, teasing matt.

"shut the fuck up chris," matt turned around to look at his brother, rolling his eyes. "don't ever try some shit like this again."

chris was unfazed by matt's comments, knowing that matt wasn't actually mad at him. he smiled at him through the camera.

"we have to put this in wednesday's video." chris looked at you for confirmation.

"yeah, of course? i didn't do that shit for nothing," you scoffed, holding back a smile.

"yes y/n!" chris cheered, panning the camera to nick and matt. nick still had his face in his hands, turning away from the camera while matt shook his head.

"you guys are insane," matt mumbled, walking out of the kitchen to his room. you and chris looked at each other and burst out laughing.

...

COMMENTS[extra!!!]:

holy shit chris almost killed y/n 😭

HELP THE SMELLING SALTS?!?!

matt hugging y/n my heart 🥹🥹

chris + y/n = underrated duo

...

author's note: ngl i didn’t actually know what smelling salts were before this…

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader

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revasserium · 2 months

Note

A request for Zayne with the prompt, "a note on public health" 🙏🫶☺️

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

32. a note on public health

zayne; 1,519 words; fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", zayne!branded humor, vague innuendos, established relationship

summary: a couple of public service announcements.

a/n: zayne cares much about your health ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

001. sleep

For optimal health, one should get eight to ten hours of sleep per night.

You try to stifle a yawn as Zayne glances over the day’s news, projected onto the smooth white tabletop. He looks up, eyes narrowing as you freeze halfway through, attempting to mask the motion with a soft cough.

You reach for your half-finished coffee but Zayne tugs it away with a soft sigh.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?”

You purse your lips, averting your eyes as you reach for a slice of toast, tugging off a corner and stuffing it in your mouth.

“Would’ve slept better if someone hadn’t kept me up past my bedtime.”

This time, it’s Zayne who looks away, coughing as he sips at his own coffee.

“I made sure we finished at a reasonable hour.”

You jerk upright, eyes wide, mouth dropping open, a hot flush working its way into your cheeks. You wonder how he can keep such a straight face, how he looks so fundamentally unbothered. But then, he lets out a light chuckle.

“But you’re right — they say it’s not good to have strenuous exercise right before bed. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Zayne!” you toss a crumpled bit of napkin at him, your heartbeat pounding at the back of your throat.

Zayne’s eyebrow flicks upward as he picks up the piece of tissue and gently lobs it into the trash can next to the kitchen counter before going back to this breakfast, the faintest hint of a smile shadowing his lips.

002. water

Adults over 19 should drink 1.5 to 2 liters of water a day for optimal health.

“Hello? What is it?”

“Hi! Uhm… where are you? I don’t — I don’t see you.”

“I’m… at home.”

“What? But… the app says you’ve arrived…”

Zayne sighs, “Did you dial the wrong number? This is Zayne.”

“…Oh! Oops.”

“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”

You hiccup, and he can almost see you shaking your head the way you do when you want to deny something you’d obviously been doing. He pushes up from the sofa, grabbing his coat.

“Not… not a lot — Tara just wanted to celebrate since —“ you hiccup again, “since it’s her first promotion, y’know?”

Zayne hums, “Mhm. Where are you?”

“No, no! It’s okay! I called a cab —“

“Cancel it. I’ll come get you.”

“But…”

“Cancel it. And send me your location.”

Thirteen minutes later, you’re climbing into the passenger seat of Zayne’s car with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be. Here.”

You blink down at the bottle of water Zayne is pressing into your lap.

“Oh… thanks, but I had a lot of water at the bar!” You turn to flash him a bright, proud smile, “See? I do listen to you!”

Zayne laughs as he pulls into a stop light, glancing over at you, the bottle of water cradled between your hands.

“Yes, and I suppose you’re very proud of yourself this time?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that lets you know he’s not mad. Still, you scowl.

“Shouldn’t you be proud that your patient is getting better at taking care of herself?”

Zayne sighs, reaching over the tug the bottle from your hands before unscrewing the cap and handing it back to you.

“Drink.”

You look like you’re about to argue for a split second before you catch the sharp look in his eye and bring the bottle up to your lips for a long drink. Zayne allows himself a satisfied smile as he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze.

“Good. Good girl.”

003. sun

To maintain healthy blood levels, aim to get 10 - 30 minutes of midday sun, several days a week.

“It’s been raining for forever…”

Zayne looks up from the patient chart propped up in his lap.

You’re sprawled across the sofa on the other side of the room, staring at the bleary, rain-streaked windows with a dull, world-weary expression. Zayne’s eyes flick toward the window for a second before sliding up to the large clock above his door.

It’s three minutes till the end of the day, and he’d agreed you could wait for him in his office while he finished up.

“It has.” He drops his eyes back down to the chart in his hands. The patient is doing well — all things considered. He should keep them for another night of study before signing off to let him go home. Zayne punches in the quick note in for his nurses before setting the chart down.

“Weather forecast says it’s gonna rain all through the weekend too.”

“Hm.” Zayne gets up, rolling his shoulders loose of the knots that had gathered there before rounding his desk, “Come on then.”

“Oh! Are you done? Are we… going to get dinner?” You jump up from the sofa, seemingly revived, a smile on your face. Zayne regards you for a moment before turning.

“Not yet.”

“Not… yet?” you trail after him as he shrugs on his coat and locks his office door.

He can feel your curiosity bubbling for the entire walk to his car through the vast parking garage. He allows himself a smile as you slide in and look at him expectantly. For a second, he toys with the idea of not telling you, of seeing just how long you can hold out before you start to pester him.

“You’ll see,” he says, just as you open your mouth to ask.

“So… it’s a surprise?” you ask.

He shrugs, pulling out of the parking space and cresting through the dimly lit parking structure till he turns onto the bustling city street.

“I suppose it will be.”

“Did you… plan this?” he can hear the hopefulness in your voice, the giddiness sparkling there like soda fizz.

“No, but did you say I should try to be more spontaneous sometimes?”

“Sure but…” he can hear you pouting, “well, fine, if you really don’t want to tell me.”

He keeps quiet just to savor in the silence, in the knowledge that you are here with him, and so, so eager to know what he has planned for you. He wonders if it’s cruel to enjoy this, to love the way you’re so reactive, to love… everything about you.

You blink as he pulls into a darkened road, wide as it is, to the clearly gated Botanical Gardens. Your confusion only grows as the night guard there gives him a cheery wave before punching a button and the giant gates hiss open to allow you both entry.

“Thanks,” Zayne says, lifting a hand as the night guard waves them through with a bright smile.

He casts you a single glance before chuckling, “His daughter was a patient of mine a while back — she had a genetic cardiac condition that — well,” Zayne breaks off as he parks the car in the first space and opens the door.

“Regardless, she needed surgery. It was risky but… we managed to save her.”

He leads you down the winding path to one of the smaller greenhouses, lit up so brightly from the inside that you have to squint your eyes as he punches in an access code and lets you both through the door.

The wall of heat that greets you both nearly knocks you off your feet but a moment later, you smile as the warmth seeps into your skin, and you turn your face up towards the high ceilings, speckled with what you’re certain are tiny little sunlamps, beaming down at the arid landscape below.

“Are these… cacti?” you wonder aloud, shuffling over to a large, bulbous plant with long thin spikes.

“Yes, these are the desert plants. They need prolonged exposure to sunlight to live.”

“Oh…” you bend down to read the short description of the cacti before moving onto the next one, and then the next one. Zayne trails behind you, watching with a soft smile and softer eyes as you point out the tiny little yellow flowers budding on one, and the strange shapes of another.

“Not that this isn’t fun and all but…” you turn to him as you finally return to the front of the greenhouse, having seen all the different varieties of desert plants in this particular area, “why’d you bring me here?”

Zayne holds open the door for you.

“You looked like you were missing the sun.”

Even beneath the barely there lighting of the parking lot, Zayne sees your blush darkening your cheeks.

“I — I guess I was,” you say as you slip once more into the passenger seat of his car, looking over at him, “but… weren’t you missing it too?”

Zayne’s grin skews as he tugs on his seatbelt, but he schools his expression back into its usual mask of stoicism as he answers, “No. I’ve already got you.”

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churipu · 3 months

Note

hii hope you’re doing good and taking care of yourself!! Can u do jjk men headcannons when their s/o is finds a bug and is telling them to kill it (can u also add nanami)

JJK MEN KILLING BUGS FOR THEIR PARTNER

featuring. nanami kento, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen x reader

warnings. cursing, bugs ew.

note. hii anonnn, as a person who despises bugs a lot. yes. this request is just *chefs kiss*, and i'm doing absolutely amazing bby, hbuuu?? i hope you like it and thank you so much for requesting mwah mwah <;33

AND U GUYS WE REACHED 800+ FOLLOWERS??? i really don't know what to say, thank you so much <33 this means a lot to me, and i feel so loved i'm gonna cry. i love u all

NANAMI KENTO. your knight in shining armor. the moment you called out for him in a voice lacing with worry, he just knows what was up — you'd be fifteen minutes in your shower, and nanami is in the living room watching the television until you call out to him. voice loud, mixing in with the vivid sounds of water pouring.

"ken!"

he jolts up in surprise and walked towards the bathroom door, raising his hand to knock on the door a couple times, "are you alright, sweetheart?" he asks.

"come in, please," your voice was meek, and he could hear the shower turn off.

the male slowly opens the door, and he could feel the steam from your shower caressing his face lightly. you were there, still inside the shower with a nervous smile and a towel wrapping around you, "bug. kill. please?" was all you said.

"where is it, baby?"

you pointed at the sink, and there it was — the sacred and vile being, just sitting there beside the sink. though, it was so little nanami almost laugh, but seeing his partner being terrified; he was not going to make fun of them, he finds it adorable actually. and glad that the first thing you decided to do was call him for help.

nanami didn't even use a tissue, no hitting, no slapping, no squishing; he just grabs the bug in his grasp and tells you to have a nice shower and left.

your knight in shining armor.

GOJO SATORU. little bastard would definitely be all bark and no bite, he's all about that "oh, it's just a bug, baby. it's not like it's going to kill you" or "come on, baby, what's a bug going to do?"

until it flies. and he uses you as a shield.

"y/n kill that disgusting thing! holy fuck, i'm going to die." he cowered behind you, pointing at a little bug just resting on top of the kitchen counter — you rolled your eyes at him, not even having the energy to be as scared as him anymore.

"oh, it's just a bug, satoru. it's not like it's going to kill you," you mimicked his words sarcastically, and the male glares at you, wrapping his arms around you.

"it flies," he mumbled lowly, "bugs that can fly are disgusting. and don't quote my words on me, it hurts my pride," he kisses your shoulder, almost pouting.

"rock, paper, scissors? loser kills it," you asked him, raising your balled up fist with a smirk on your face.

he sighs, "bring it on, loser."

gojo lost. it took him half an hour and half a can of bug spray along with a mask to protect his handsome face from a possible bug attack, a pan lid to use as a shield, and a sandal (for protection) to get rid of the said bug.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. ignores you at first because you couldn't actually be serious? a human scared of a bug? just the mere thought of it makes him break out into laughter.

until he actually realizes it was that serious.

"brat, are you really not going to come out because there's a bug on the door?" he asks out in annoyance, standing in front of the door where you were on the other side of the open door, nodding with a lop-sided grin.

"come on, ryo. i hate bugs, 've always told you that," you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

"it's a bug. it won't do anything," sukuna mutters out.

"bug bites kill more people than shark attacks every year," you informed him, drumming your foot as your anxious eyes looked over to the bug as it moves slowly all over the surface of the door, "ryo, please. just squish it."

"why don't you squish it?"

"because i'm scared."

"well, ha ha. i'm scared too," he tells you with a proud smirk, crossing his arms. he finds joy in seeing you like this, really — he finds it laugh worthy, sukuna could do this all day.

"huh. the king of curses having a fear of bugs? how cute." you muttered out.

alright, that took him by surprise. the male stomps over to the door and got rid of the said bug almost immediately, "'m not scared, i was just kidding."

"i know, i said that so you could kill the bug for me," you walked out of the door, brushing past him with a big smile.

sukuna 00

y/n 01

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trashmouth-richie · 9 months

Text

Eddie x Fem! reader

master list

the conversation of the century finally happens, grab your tissues.

**edited to add as a content warning— the major character death I talked about in chapter 12— happens within this chapter, if we remember, Tooty experienced heavy trauma to her abdomen……… this story has never and will never be a pregnancy fix all trope. — sorry it wasn’t labeled correctly the first time. **

no minors 🔞, talk of trauma, another traumatic event, miscarriage

a/n: this is a shorter chapter the next one will be longer and not out as soon. Thank you again to @sweetsweetjellybean for beta reading for me and helped me tweak this chapter @blueywrites who helped me months ago come up with this plot. And @jo-harrington who helped also. This story would be nothing without all the people liking and reblogging it— so T H A N K Y O U for continuing to read it even when it got dark, when weeks went by and there wasn’t an update in sight, I appreciate each and every single one of you. Here’s to our two dumbasses, finally figuring it out 🥂

“Eddie.”

Your throat was bruised and weak. The slow painful flick open of your swollen eyes have you paralyzed with doubt.

Deceiving sight of a beaten man sitting in front of you with a hard cast covering his right hand, the fingers are deeply swollen and bruised, the nails tinged with dried blood.

This wasn’t a version of Eddie you had seen before.

His normal pale skin is purpling and raised around his cheek and left eye. His top lip is split and agitatedly red against black stitches, probably from him picking at it.

He was handsome, even with his face twisting into relief and sorrow. Tears flow down the colorful sunset painting of healing and broken skin on Eddie’s face. He stands quickly, leaning over you carefully.

Quivering, timid hands reach for your cheeks, realizing the cast would probably scratch or scrape you, he settles for one hand laid dainty on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin like a ghost.

The dark pools of his eyes pull you in as his tears fall freely, and your heart begins to sew itself whole again. As his lips meet your hairline he whispers a cut off sob of his worries. Your tears flow with his. Merriment of grief and comfort as you cry into his shirt. Wishing you could live in this moment forever.

A dark wave full of emotions crash down on you all at once. The joy of seeing Eddie mixing with shame and guilt over what he must have braved while defending you. Finally, confusion on what exactly had happened and how you both ended up here and alive?

“You’re here,” you choke, a tubing clustered hand strokes Eddie’s face, “I was so scared,” you mumble weakly, “I thought we were d—” your throat tightens on the word and won’t release it, lost on a sobbing gasp that is muffled into his shirt as he pulls you into him.

The soft cotton of his shirt envelops you in a calming light state, the same smoky essence of Eddie washes over you, settling your hiccuping cries. His hand is stroking your hair, careful around the stitches. And if you listened close you could hear his heart breaking.

Eddie would find a way to melt the galaxies for you if you asked, hearing you crumble about the thought of him being dead is almost too much for him to handle.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he says, strongly, firm toned to get his point across in as few words as possible, no need to go into detail about how it was done, you and the baby were safe and that’s what mattered, “he’s gone.”

Gone? Did he get away?

“Wh—-” you try your best to make any sort of sense register and click in your brain, but it’s not connecting, “Eddie?”

He took a deep weighty breath, the final swing of the wooden bat playing behind his eyes like a film in class, he watched Chad’s lifeless body slump to the floor, the dirty and blood riddled nails wedged into his temple like a knife through soft butter. The horrified expression Mr. Derry gave as blood splattered on the walls, and coated Eddie’s face.

He lowered his head and shook the image from his mind, “I took care of it,” he whispered gravely, “he won’t be bothering you again.”

The muddied storm in his eyes thunders as you comprehend his words. Would you be afraid of him? The same hands that held you so tenderly were also capable of murdering a man who nearly took your life. The thought of you being terrified of him tingles his spine and makes his knees weak, he turns away from you before you can see him cry again.

Chad is dead. And you want to scream at yourself when you feel remorse. He was terrifying. A real life in the flesh monster. Quite literally tried to kill you. All he brought to you was pain. And he was dead at Eddie’s hand. The nightmare finally over.

He tried to hide the distressed pain burrowed deep in his face. He was everything the town always said about him. Satanic. Future convict. White trash, just needed to stitch ‘murderer’ to the long list of insults he’d worn his entire life, like a cloak to shield others away from him.

With your head held high you wipe the tears from your eyes and pull Eddie’s chin to face you, and you’re surprised when he jerks away slowly.

You forget the time spent away. Finding it easy to fall into sync with him again, your Eddie. Would he ever be yours again? He’s been left out in the cold, sick from the frigid heart you peacocked off to him, boundaries up and lies in your head.

He was the most important person in your life. And it was time you told him so.

“Look at me, Eddie,” you coax, trying to make your voice seem velvety instead of the scratchy crack of desperation you currently are pleading to him, “you saved my life.”

The brooding deepens and he presses his lips tight together before looking at you, guilt and shame riddle his features, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “I’m so fucking sorry,” the tears fall freely down his face, and he wipes them away hastily with the back of his leather covered arm, “I should have been there.”

The words stab like a knife into your soul. Everything happened because of your actions, your apprehensive heart. Eddie almost got himself killed and in turn had to kill your abuser, yet he was the one apologizing for not being there.

“It’s my fault,” you say weakly, reaching up to brush a tear away from his wet eyelashes, “I’m the one that pushed you away, and then… I’m sorry Eddie…I couldn’t..”

He pulls you into him, his lips skirting your hair line, kissing sweetly and soft like butterfly wings. He shushes you, and whispers that everything will be okay, and in that moment you realize you didn’t have to stroll the pearly gates to be his.

His eyes drop slightly to the blanket cozied up around you, flitting over your stomach. When his eyes find yours again, there are fresh tears, and a sad smile. It takes a nano second for the realization to hit you like a ton of bricks in the chest. A gasp breeches your lungs and guilt forms in the shape of tears in your eyes.

He knows.

Regret is billowing from your body and you try to cover your eyes, terrified of Eddie’s reaction to not only you being pregnant with his baby, but keeping it from him for months.

Outside of telling Eddie to leave and trying to convince him that you didn’t love him—- this was the hardest thing you’d ever done. But you told yourself he wouldn’t want to be a part of you with a baby in the mix. A baby that would ruin plans and put a halt to dreams. He didn’t need to be tethered to you because of one night.

One single night that you had been lying to yourself about— trying to ease away the pain of loving Eddie and pushing him away for his own good. People had been distancing themselves from you your whole life.. you were guarded and as hard as it was to let the barrier fall around your heart, it was just as easy to put it back up, barricaded in yellow caution tape of lies.

Unworthy

Before you can drift into a full fledged spiral Eddie’s warm hands find your cheeks and tilt your head upwards to look at him.

“I’m here,” his eyes search yours, and they flood with the warmth of the sun behind the black storm, “I’m not going anywhere,Tooty.”

The drop of an aluminum can and spray of carbonated soda fills the room behind a loud shriek, making Eddie jump and stand up, instinctively placing his body around yours, his back covering you in a leather shield, and you grab his hand between your fingers, an instant comfort to your panic.

“STEVE!” Robin screams, her hands fly to her face like that little punk Kevin McCallister in Home Alone, mouth hung open in shock.

Steve enters the room with a fancy company cell phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. A package of Oreos in his hands, “No, Jack— I don’t care how long it takes just fucking f—“ his eyes go wide in disbelief, and he slams the presses a button to end the call when you smile weakly and wave your fingers between Eddie’s at him.

The next half hour is full of tears and hugs, calls to the Wheeler’s and the rest of your friends, letting them know you were awake.

The nurses flood in like a gaggle of cadets. Checking monitors and adjusting tubing. Letting you have your moment with your friends, explaining you were still going to be weak and the doctor would be by in a while to go over things with you.

Steve hasn’t stopped crying since seeing your eyes opened, blowing his nose every few mins. Robin talks enough for everyone, your throat still rubbing raw whenever you tried to say anything so you work with nodding along when asked questions. Eddie is unusually quiet, sniffing loud every now and then, offering you ice chips the nurses brought to you, a plastic spoon to your lips.

“So what hap—” Robin starts and Eddie immediately glares at her, shaking his head and a firm “no” falls from his lips, and nobody tries to bring it up again.

Eddie didn’t want you getting upset, he’d protect you for the rest of his life if that’s what it would take. Fuck, he’d even be happy to sit in jail for a life sentence for killing that mother fucker. Pride swelling his chest knowing Chad was dead at his hand. Finally making his mother proud for protecting someone when he couldn’t do the same for her… and now there was someone else to protect. A tiny little someone.

The days you had been sedated he was beside himself. When he wasn’t in your room holding your hand and humming songs to you, he would be down in the gift shop. Thumbing through baby books, familiarizing himself with the favorite nursery rhymes of Mother Goose. His fingers traced the lace on a pair of tiny little white socks. Blue plastic baby toys that he found were called a rattle and made a clunky noise when shook.

He looked out of place. Torn jeans and chains hanging from his waist amongst the delicate pastels of the baby section, but he didn’t care. He made himself a promise. That when this was fall said and done and you were healed—he would move you all into a new house. Out of Hawkins, away from this shithole of despair that only held bad memories.

And he intended to keep his word.

“Umm, I know it’s a little soon to figure this all out— but none of us want you staying… there, Tooty,” Steve says, blowing his nose one more time, hands on his hips in his typical mother hen style, “we didn’t know when you would… but eh…Leighanne already has the spare bedroom set up for you… and you can stay as long as you want.”

You hadn’t even thought about the house. But the thought of possibly having to go back there had you trembling. The smell of your own blood dripping onto the carpet filled your nose, Chad’s maniacal laugh…

“Later,” Eddie says, shutting the conversation down by clearing his throat, his eyebrows pulled in and he tries to hide his worry again by wiping his hand down his face.

You’re thankful when visiting hours are through, your body aches and the bruises lining your stomach are tender, each movement making sharp bolts of pain shoot all over. Everyone says their goodbyes, you squeeze Eddie’s hand, a panic set lightning strikes in your eyes. You didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not anytime soon.

He doesn’t pause, doesn't recoil. He stands tall, squeezing your hand, his eyes finding yours, a silent comfort washing over you as he whispers so only you could hear, “I’m here, always.”

He needed you to know how serious he was taking this. You, the baby, everything. He wanted to be there for it all.

Small waves from your friends and powerful hugs with murmured conversations between Eddie and Steve, leaving them both nodding and agreeing on something out of earshot.

The room feels small without them there. The elephant in the room hovering over you and weighing heavy on your chest, bigger by the second and you can’t wait anymore.

“Eddie?” you croak, barely audible, vocal cords rubbing raw trying to speak.

The tears are already brimming in his eyes, he looks up at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing small patterns on the back of your hand, “when?”

You remember the exact day and time you felt something off in your body. Tired and achy all the time you couldn’t catch believe the amount of hours you could sleep uninterrupted.

The same calendar that once held your schedule for you and Eddie also held when your period was supposed to begin, but since Nancy had crossed Eddie’s name off you hadn’t even thought about possibly being late. Flipping through the pages you realized you were 3 weeks late. And blamed it on the stress. When February came and you still hadn’t gotten your period, you made an appointment with the clinic, and on the black monitor the doctor pointed out the tiniest baby growing in your belly, almost eight weeks along.

“When what?” You answered feebly, throat aching with each word.

Taking a deep ragged breath, Eddie looks at you, concern shadowing his face, he looks haunted, and depleted, “when did you find out you were pregnant?”

“Last month,” you clear your throat and reach for the ice chips, but Eddie helps you spoon them into your mouth. The ice melting on your tongue, pooling slowly and sliding down your throat to ease the ache.

“Eddie, I—” tears fall as you look into the hurt man’s whiskey colored eyes, “I was scared to tell you.”

He's blinking back tears, dropping your hand to walk around the room, landing at the window and pretending to look at the sky, “Did you think I wouldn’t care?”

A long pause between you is more than enough of an answer for him, and he sniffs loudly, “I’m not my dad y’know?” His voice hurt and wavering the delivery , “If you thought for a second that I wouldn’t give a shit about you or the baby, you’re wrong.”

Words you never thought would be said flow so easily from him, and you’re embarrassed you ever doubted him, “We aren’t together, Eddie,” you explain, letting the tears free fall, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Eddie scoffs and pushes off from the window, pouring his heart into his words as he explains his hurt, “hold me back? From what the band? Tooty, I’ve been trying to prove to you for months that all I’ve ever wanted was you,” he moves across the room, sitting next to your legs on the bed, reaching for your closed fist to thread his fingers with yours.

“Every part sweetheart, the good and the bad. Don’t you see that?”

Of course you did, but it was never that easy.

“I just— ” you couldn’t find the words, even though he deserved them, it was too much, “I can’t even say that…how could I tell you that I’m pregnant after what I did and how I treated you?”

That night with Eddie blurred in your mind. He was gentle and sweet, you had never experienced such passion in all your life. It was everything you could have hoped for and more, but your scared heart ruined it.

“I’m a bitch, Eddie. Look at what happened to you because of me!” yoj gesture to his bruised beautiful face, and the tears flow quick down your cheeks, “you deserve someone who doesn’t hurt you,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from him and looking at the ceiling tiles.

“Goddamnit Tooty, you are possibly the most stubborn person, biggest pain in my ass… but I have cared about you since you were 14. And I have loved you since the minute you opened up that front door and yelled at me.”

You both laugh through the tears and he brings your chin to face him, his dark brown eyes swim with the glitter of fallen happiness, and he quickly blinks, “let me take care of you, sweetheart, both of you.”

It could be that simple. He loved you and you loved him. It wasn’t rocket science or poor willed fate. This was two people who cared about each other enough to look past all the ugly shit the world had to offer and chose to stick together. The epiphany sewed your heart closed and locked it tight, a branded “EM” on the lock and Eddie held the key.

You grab him with more force than either of you were expecting and collide your lips with his. Tears and stitches fill the gaps where your tongue danced the last time these lips touched yours. But it was somehow sweeter than any kiss before.

“I love you, Eddie Munson…” you breathe, “but I swear I will cut that hair of yours down to the scalp if you try to name this baby ‘Ronnie Dio’, or ‘dragon slayer 86’ or whatever the hell you used to call yourself in your demon club in high school.”

For the first time in days, Eddie belly laughs, and kisses each of your cheeks, “ohh princess, don’t tell me your still jealous because Eyeball wouldn’t let you join?”

You cross your arms in a pout and Eddie laughs again, “there she is, that’s my girl.”

Pushing him away with a playful shove he comes back and kisses you again, both of you smiling and giggling, two idiots in love. With a wince, you scoot over in the bed and make room for him to sit with you, adjusting the wires and tubing around you both you snuggle into him, placing his hand on your belly where you assume the baby to be.

He snuggled into your neck and sniffs quietly. Content.

“Promise me something?” you whisper as your fingers thread through his curls, he nods into you, kissing your neck sweetly and humming a yes. It’s a big ask, and you’re new to this feeling, “please don’t ever stop loving me.”

Eddie’s grin is warm on your cheek as he sits up, looking so far into your eyes your souls reach out and hold hands, “I couldn’t even if I wanted too, baby.”

A knock on the door interrupts the moment and you both turn to see a doctor in a long white coat, and green scrubs. His face is jolly and caring, an instant comfort.

“Ah yes, the nurses told me you were awake,” he says with a big smile, “it was pretty touch and go for awhile there but you look good considering what happened, how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you answer, “everywhere.”

“That’ll be expected with the hellish ordeal you went through. Mr. Munson here gave us a brief rundown on what happened, and your injuries coincide that statement. We will be helping you both set up counseling appointments, usually with instances such as these, there will be panic and trauma that will develop from it. I urge you both to take them seriously.”

Eddie nods and answers for you, “yes sir.”

“Good. Now this soreness, is it generally all over or more localized in one spot?”

“I mean my head and face feel pretty awful, but mainly it’s my stomach.”

A small look of panic settles on the doctors face but is quickly replaced with a gentle smile, “we will schedule from scans for later today to make sure everything is okay, if you don’t mind— while I’m here,” he says, removing his stethoscope from his neck, “I’ll have a little check, alright?”

Eddie moves from the bed and settles by your shoulder, briefly pressing his lips to your hairline, his warm hand rubbing your arm slowly.

“Just routine,” the doctor says, lifting your hospital gown to the top of your stomach, pulling the blankets down to the stop of your knees, “nothing to worr—” his broad smile fades and Eddie lets out a loud gasp.

The inside of your thighs and the sheet beneath you are soaked in claret colored blood. You don’t have time to register what is happening before the doctor crosses the room and begins yelling orders through the phone, “this is Dr. Newby, prep OR 2 for a D&E…possible c-section, I’ll need everyone available.” He hangs up with a loud click and turns to address you and Eddie.

“What’s going on?!” Eddie demands, fear stricken eyes almost onyx in color, his fingers gripping yours tight.

“She needs to be prepped for surgery,” he answers Eddie curtly but still politely.

You balk, “Surgery?! Why?!”

The doctor looks into your eyes with a sympathetic expression, “you’re having a miscarriage.”

——

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things

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macfrog · 6 months

Text

you'll hurt me if you don't trust me sex on fire chapter eight

super special sparkly shoutout to @chloeangelic ✨💛✨ whose influence inspired a whole load of intimacy in this. it is, unashamedly, eleven thousand words of sheer self-indulgence. so. love u guys. see u soon

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you’re unwell. joel makes you feel better. until he doesn’t.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, cursing, sugardaddy!joel, softsoftsoft!joel, they eat chinese food together, reader has her period + mention/description of used tampon, discussion of abandonment/absent parents & parental death, discussion of cheating, lying, thigh riding, unprotected piv period shower sex (that is a mouthful thatswhatshesaid), VERY needy reader, SLIGHT dacryphilia (kinda not really?), creampie, aftercare joel, praise kink, daddy kink, angst & fluff & angst all over again

word count: 11k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

Martha had been pretty good about it. She’d watched you near-doubled in pain most of yesterday, hobbling to the kitchen every four hours to top up on pain meds. She knew you weren’t making it up. She made a conservative two jokes about you calling in this morning, and then told you to rest up. She’d let Joel know you’d be back tomorrow.

“You owe me, though. Joel’s got that shareholders meeting today. If I’m forced to sit in with him ‘n his cronies talkin’ numbers and takin’ notes, sweetheart, all so you can catch up on The Bachelorette…”

Alright. Three jokes.

You hang up and slide the phone back across your nightstand; roll over and stuff a pillow between your thighs as if that’ll do anything against the dull throb gnawing at your belly. Your shades are tilted upward, shrinking your bedroom into a foggy gray save for the shards of light which split across the ceiling.

There’s a heavy ache tugging behind your eyes, an irritating weight which shoves you into the arms of sleep and then pulls you back by the hair before you’re taken off by it. You’re dozing, fingertips massaging your eyelids and stretching the skin back and forth when the doorbell slices the stillness of your apartment in two, shrill in your sleep-deprived ears.

You ignore it at first. Fuck that. Fuck whoever that is. You’re not planning on leaving your cocoon today unless it’s to go pee, grab a snack, or maybe if you lose the remote in your sheets.

But it rings out again. Twice, this time. And in a blur of hormonal rage, you whip the sheets back, throw yourself out of bed and stagger down the hallway. You straighten up only enough to peer through the peephole, your palms pressed to the back of the door, and that’s when you see him.

He’s cradling a brown bag in his left arm, a second dangling from his wrist. His head is huge in comparison to his body, owing to the distorted fisheye glass. He shifts from foot to foot impatiently, awkwardly glancing down the hall. You’d recognize that jawline fucking anywhere.

Your breath pushes nervously against the door. You click the lock and curl around the heavy wood, your fingers clamping on the edge.

The two of you eye one another up and down before Joel speaks.

“Hi, darlin’.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Martha said you were sick?”

You pause. Look down to the bunch of wild flowers sat in the crook of his elbow, and then back up to his face, painted with – what is it – concern? There are lines you rarely see when he’s looking at you, carved deep between his brows.

A fire strikes in your belly.

“…I’m fine. I’m – I’m all good. Just – feeling a little…”

“What is it? Is it the flu? I brought flu stuff.” He nods into the bag, and reaches inside for a box of cold tablets and a pack of tissues. He tosses them across the threshold and you catch them, holding them close against your shoulder.

You smile, trying to hold back on a laugh, but also because what the fuck? He’s so sweet. The flames lick at the bottom of your lungs.

“It’s not…it’s not the flu, no.”

Joel nods, looking back into the bag. “Good thing I also brought these, then.”

He tilts it forward and you unhook from the door, leaning over to peer in. A box of Tampax, two bottles of painkillers, green packets of face masks and floral sachets of herbal teas. You fish one out.

“Chamomile,” you muse, pouting.

He shrugs. “Lady at the store said it’s a good muscle relaxant, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a meeting today?”

“Cancelled it. You freaked me out.”

Your heart knocks on your chest wall. Did you fucking hear that? You freaked him out. You gulp in response. Swallow hard to shut it the hell up.

“So, Martha’s in the office by herself?”

“She’s a big girl. Told her she could leave early if she got my to-do list done. I give it until one,” he mutters, glancing down at his watch. “Oh,” he says then, spotting the brush of green and burst of purple in his arm, “got you these. I don’t know what you like yet, but…”

Yet. Yet yet yet.

You take the posy delicately between your fingers, as if it might fall apart at the mere touch of your hand. The brown paper crinkles as it lifts from Joel’s arm, and you tilt them in the hallway’s milky light.

The sprigs shoot in wild directions, tangling and twisting around one another. Daisies, lazy in their climb, swirling around the gentle brush of lavender, wrapped tightly to some other flower you don’t recognize. They’re tied together in a neat, white lace bow.

You imagine Joel stood in the middle of some fragrant florist, rotating on the spot. Dumbfounded before some assistant in a flowing skirt and tinkling bracelets sweeps over to him. I don’t know what she likes – yet, he tells them. And your heart screams into the pillow of muscle surrounding it.

“Thank you.” The smile on your lips threatens to break into a grin. At the same time, a shot of pain rips across your belly. “Come in,” you groan through a wince, taking his shirt in your fist and pulling him inside.

Your apartment is probably a couple years too small for you. You’ve accumulated so much in the time you’ve lived here that you could do with finding a bigger place – but you’re comfortable. It feels like home, when nowhere did for so long. It’s snug, and humble, and as you lead him down your hallway, you imagine you’re feeling how Joel probably did when he showed you around his childhood home.

Your cheeks flush with something a little blunter than embarrassment, but prickled with nerves. Your living room rolls its eyes inward, every object looking over in suspicion and wonder. Who the hell is this man, in your space, armed with toiletries and a ten-grand watch on his wrist?

You pause by the sink, filling a glass with water for the flowers. Your teeth bite down on your lip. There are dishes on the counter, there’s laundry piled on stools, blankets and cushions strewn messily across your couch. Joel shakes his head when you apologize, holds a palm up when you try to explain how you’d gotten home from work last night and gone straight to bed. I haven’t had the energy to clean.

He won’t hear it. Says he’s not here to see your clean apartment. Here to see you.

He sets the bags on the worktop and looks around the room. Blinks from the sheer curtains guarding the balcony doors, to the pastel candles on your coffee table. Smiles when he notices the Pretty Woman poster framed above the couch.

“What?” you ask, when his eyes finally land back on you. You tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it further down your bare thighs.

“Nothin’. Just – knew there was somethin’ more to you.”

You fold your arms and rock forward gently on the balls of your feet. Your head tilts. Your brows knit.

Joel clarifies, “I knew you weren’t as put together as you pretend to be at work. This – looks like your place. That’s all.”

“Oh, yeah? ‘n what does my place look like?

His cheeks lift. “Little all over the place. Little surprising. But bright. Cozy. You.”

“Bright ‘n cozy,” you echo.

He nods. Purses his lips, then adds, “And great in bed.”

You cough a laugh, reach out to shove his arm, and he catches your hand. He reels you in against his body and cups your head, fixing some flyaway strands of hair. You stare up at him, eyelashes slowly blinking him in and out of focus. His mottled beard and hazel eyes. The flecks of honeydew and amber swimming around his pupil. His shirt wrinkles beneath your chin.

“You hungry?” he asks, voice rumbling through his chest. You seem to understand the vibrations sooner than the words, these days. He reaches for the handles of the white bag, sliding it over towards you. “I brought lunch.”

“You brought lunch.” You scoff, grinning to yourself. It quickly fades, though, when your hand lowers into the bag and meets a warm, flat surface – two halves of a folded lid. Your brows pull. “You brought…”

Joel smiles as you lift the box, popping it open. Hot steam escapes the minute the lid folds back.

“Chinese okay? I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise by callin’ to ask what you wanted. I can run out and grab somethin’ else if you’re not –”

“How did you know to get…?” Your voice whittles to nothing as you stare down at the fresh-cooked meal, the bed of greasy noodles mixed with fried vegetables. Your tongue swipes at the corners of your mouth.

“’cause I know you,” Joel says, digging for a second box from the bag. “Anytime you’re stressed with work, anytime I give you a hard day, that’s what you order in for lunch, right?” He nods to the container as he tosses an egg roll into his mouth.

You giggle, lifting the box to hide your swollen cheeks. Your heartbeat hammers below your jaw.

“Right?” Joel laughs. “Chow mein? I’m right, ain’t I? You know I’m right.”

He nudges against you, taking his own lunch from the bag, and casts a familiar glance – the same one you saw a few days ago in Lavender Oaks. Like the decades-old mask slips just for a second and suddenly, a younger, shyer Joel shines through. He’s almost imperceptible, almost concealed by the cocky smirk and witty remarks of his older self, but you’ve seen him once, and now – he’s impossible to lose sight of.

“You’re weird,” you note, spinning off towards your bedroom.

Joel’s hot at your heels. “I’m weird?”

“Uhuh. For noticing that.”

He snorts, and then you feel a slap to your ass cheek. “Nice underwear, by the way. Who’d you steal them from?” he murmurs close to your ear, averting your gaze when you turn back, beaming.

You pad across the soft rug to your bed, dropping down and pulling the sheets back to make room for Joel. He’s setting his food down. You think to offer him a change of clothes – something more comfortable than a dress shirt and suit trousers – but the best you’d have is an oversized tee, and not much else.

The thought almost dizzies you. Joel, in his boxers and a t-shirt from your wardrobe. A shirt that smells like you, feels like you, belongs to you. A piece of you, hung from his shoulders like it was always meant to be shared between you. The way it’d still smell of him even after the sun had set and he’d peeled it from his body, folded it into a pile at the end of your bed and left in his button up.

He sits on the edge of your mattress to kick his shoes off, and marvels some more at the room just like he did in the kitchen. The fire in your chest is slowly turning your lungs to ash, stealing breath each time his dimples appear – squinting at the framed photographs on your dresser, tilting his head to read the titles of the books on your shelves.

When he catches sight of the paint-splattered easel in the corner, he turns back. Your eyes are already locked back on your chow mein, refusing to meet his. He doesn’t say anything. Just shuffles up against the headboard, nudges your knee with his own.

“You get that at the concert?” he asks, eyes a little south of yours.

You glance down. You’re wearing an old Queen tour tee, graphic print accompanied by 1986 in multicolored lettering. A little before your grand entrance on the planet. A little after Joel’s.

“Rod’s Retro, eastside,” you reply. “You find some cool stuff in there, Mr. CEO.”

Joel’s chin lifts, considering. “Hm,” he says, “you gonna take me someday?”

You nod. Maybe a little too eagerly. It doesn’t feel like you ought to care. “Um, yes. You would fucking love it. Half my wardrobe is thrifted.”

He nods once – banking the information. “Every day, I learn somethin’ new.”

“Shut up,” you quip, kicking him gently. “How come I never get to learn anything new about you?”

He shrugs, chewing. “Self-absorbed.”

You kick him for real this time. He laughs into his takeout box.

“I’m messing with you. You know plenty about me. You met my mom the other day, for cryin’ out loud.”

“Not enough. Don’t know where you get all your clothes from, or what your comfort food is.”

He replies through a mouthful of chop suey. “Then, ask.”

Your voice is high, defensive. “No. That’s too easy.”

Joel snorts.

You reach for the remote and click the screen opposite to life. Joel lifts his arm to let you sink against his body, and you flick through the channels. Shark Tank, Grey’s Anatomy, Wendy fucking Williams, and then –

You gasp. Joel looks up from his food. His brows arch, eyes flitting from you to the screen. You swear a groan escapes from his lips. You feel the thunder against your ear.

“You ever seen it?”

“Dirty Dancing? Yeah, I’ve seen Dirty Dancing, pretty girl.”

“You probably saw it at the movies, right? When it came out? In the eighties?”

“Careful.”

You smile. “What did you think of it?”

Joel’s shoulders lift. His eyes are back on the screen. Be My Baby is crooning from the TV. “I liked Patrick Swayze,” he says.

You watch him, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, you lean closer. “You…you liked Patrick Swayze?”

“Yeah,” Joel says, like it’s obvious. He turns back to you, one eyebrow raised. “He was cool. You don’t like ‘im in it?”

“No, I like Patrick Swayze,” you tell him. “Just…if that’s all you like about it, then…we might have a problem.”

He scoffs. “I don’t remember much of it, to tell you the truth.”

“Good. We’re watching it.”

Your head moves with his chest as he sucks in a deep, defeated breath. “Baby, I –”

“Ah,” you tap the remote on his knuckles, “you remember the Baby part.”

With a laugh which sounds an awful lot like approval and a grunt which sounds an awful lot like Alright, Joel sinks lower into the mattress. You drape your legs across his, and when he finishes eating, his fingers draw round shapes on your hot skin, daring past the hem of his own boxers on your thighs.

Somewhere around the lake scene, you notice your hand intertwined with his. Locked together, surfing over one another, squeezing and then loosening. Tracing the curve of each other’s palms and learning the lines scored into the skin. Fingertips becoming fluent in the landscape of one another’s bodies. Mapping them, like you’re afraid to forget.

Your eyes glass over, whether from fatigue, or from the now smoldering fire inside you, or from something harder to pinpoint. Your head feels heavy, leaning on Joel’s chest, listening to the drum of his heart against your ear. It sounds familiar, like you’ve known it forever. Like you can almost hear the whisperings between the soft thudding.

You start when you feel him moving beneath you. He groans, stretches his arms, and then snakes them around your body. The end credits are rolling. The movie’s over. You weren’t asleep, but you missed half of it. Your mind elsewhere – though you have no idea where.

Maybe you do. Maybe that’s not something you can bear – yet. Yet yet yet.

You crane your neck and look up to your boss. He’s already staring right back at you. His eyes widen.

“What did you think?” you ask sleepily.

He sniffs. “It’s good. Very politically charged. Lotsa Swayze.”

Your lips curve, cheek nuzzles into his shirt. “Very us, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Especially that part in the water. When he –” his arms lift, holding an invisible Baby up – “y’know? You ‘n me, we do that all the time.”

“I hate you.”

He tightens his grip around your shoulders and lifts you closer, smiling. You think, when his eyes dart for half a second to your lips, that he might kiss you. You think you want him to. But he simply asks, “You want some tea?” and reaches over to swipe the empty containers from your nightstand.

You nod. “I’ll come help.”

“I got it,” he assures in that Southern gentleman tone, steady hand on your thigh as he slips out of bed.

“You don’t even know where the mugs are.”

Joel considers this for all of five seconds. Shrugs. Tells you, “I’ll figure it out,” and disappears through to the kitchen.

You lay back and close your eyes, counting each cupboard door opening and then immediately falling shut as he makes his way around the place, seeking out your collection of mugs. When he eventually opens what must be the right one, you hear him exclaim.

“Ha! First try.”

You snort, bleary eyes opening again to focus on the TV. They’re discussing the Kardashians on The View. Your eyebrows lift in agreement as if you’re sat in the studio with them. They move on to some segment on the president.

Joel returns a few minutes later, two mugs in hand, and passes you the one shaped like a ghost.

“Cute,” you whisper, taking it in both hands.

He flashes you a proud grin as he lays back down, sipping on a black coffee in a faded mug your mom gave you years ago.

You tap your nail against the ceramic in his hands. “World’s Best Daughter.”

“That’s me,” he replies, propping himself up on an elbow. “Your mom get you it?”

Your head drops, eyes staring at him from under low brows. “No. My fucking neighbor did.”

He stares back as he lifts the mug to his lips. They melt in a kiss against the ceramic. When he pulls it away again, he swallows, and says, “You’re close to her.”

“My neighbor? Yeah, she lives right next door.”

“Easy, smartass.”

You flash him a smug grin, which dissolves as quickly as you notice his eyes lingering on the half-heart charm around your neck. By instinct, your fingers clutch the smooth gold, as if protecting the smallest part of yourself from him. The only part you’ve never let him in on.

But there’s something in his eye – something that feels less like a spotlight and more like a warm fire. Sharing secrets muted by the sputtering of wood, held safely by the round rusty glow of the flames. Something kinder. Something protective.

“Yeah,” you say, voice crackling, “we’re closer ‘n anyone. Been through a lot together.”

Joel nods. He knew that already. “I’ll bet, pretty girl.”

And in typical Joel fashion, he doesn’t press for any more than you willingly offer. A part of you kind of wants him to ask more, wants him to push you. A weight jumps at the bottom of your chest, like the words fail to launch. And before you can retry, before you can confess more of yourself into his hands, he says –

“Ask me som’.”

You stall, and look at him intently. “What?”

“Anything you want. Free pass.”

Your cheeks swell. “What do you mean?”

“If we’re sharin’ things, ‘s only fair we both do.”

“I don’t – We don’t have to –”

“Ask me,” he says slowly, eyebrows twitching.

“O-kay…”

You push a deep breath from your lips, cheeks globing as you scan around the room for inspiration. Something casual enough that you can ask it with ease, but deep enough that he’ll give you an answer worth sinking your teeth into. Something you don’t know about him; light enough to roll off your tongue, and then heavy when it lands in your palms.

Your gaze orbits back to his patient form and you ask, “How did you get the money to start your company?”

Joel seems to feel the weight of it when he catches it. Heavy, rather than light. Deep, rather than casual. He opens his mouth, runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek before he answers. “My, uh…my dad. He had a little bit of money.”

“He invest in it?”

“No, no. He, uh…he left it when he died.”

Your lips pull in a wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, and Joel looks up.

“’s okay, baby,” he replies, with a soft chuckle that makes the loose collar of his shirt quiver. He pushes some hair out of your face, settles his hand on your knee.

You hook two fingers around his thumb. He squeezes lightly.

“He musta loved you a lot. Leavin’ you so much.”

Another deep breath. His body stiffens. You think to unlock your fingers and take his hand properly, comfort him, maybe – but he’s already lifting it, scratching his beard with his thumb. He watches a bubble swirl around in his mug until it disappears with a pop into the dark coffee, and he finally looks up.

“It’s kinda…complicated. He and my mom – they were married for years, ‘n he ended up…” Joel swallows. His jaw clenches. “He cheated on her. Had this mistress for months. Mom found out through a friend of hers. She kicked him out of the house, but they never divorced. Just stayed separated until he died, ‘n then he left all his money to her.”

“To your mom?”

Joel nods. “She didn’t want a penny of it. Hated the man ‘til the day he died ‘n beyond.”

And you believe it. Ruth Miller was kind, warm and charming to you. She laughed with you, she smiled like she’d known you her whole life, she held your hands and she whispered secrets about Joel in your ear – purposefully to embarrass him, to make that bashful side turn its head again.

But she was sharp. She was quick, and you knew within the first five minutes of meeting her exactly where Joel got his wit and his mind. You can see her, clear as day, guarding the front porch of that little white house – one hand on her hip and the other pointing in the direction her cheating husband was to head.

Just as clear, you can see her stood over that same husband’s grave, waving her fist and tearing his will into confetti. It brings something of a smile to your face. Sad, sympathetic, but…impressed.

“Wow…So she – she gave it to you? And you – put it into the company?”

He shrugs, grip tightening around the mug. “When I started makin’ money, I paid off the mortgage on her house, managed to convince her to retire early. Got her into a good retirement home, once she was ready for it.”

Smart guy.

A calm quiet falls between you. Joel turns to watch the commercials on TV. Your chest fills with a need to ask him something – a feeling all too familiar whenever you’re around him. Only him. A weight on your mind, a bubbling which starts in your stomach and rises up until it’s practically pushing the words out over your tongue.

“Your dad – how do you not hate him?”

He turns back. Your eyes are stinging. He notices. Holds his palm out, and your fingers instantly lace through his. Your nails find those same valleys, the grooves you’d traced while Swayze and Grey mamboed.

Joel stares up at you, face suddenly tight with worry. He knows there’s something loaded behind your question. Knows you’re asking for something more than another jigsaw piece of him. You’re doing it again. You’re freakin’ him out.

“I…” He falls quiet, looks between your eyes at the pearly tears which form in the corners, the way your face sets to stone. He glances down at your necklace again, and shakes his head softly. “I spent a long time hatin’ him, baby. Changed nothin’. He did what he did. He was a scumbag.”

The answer melts your angry frame, body folding and sinking further into your pillows. You tug the bedsheet a little closer to your chin, press your lips into the top of the ceramic ghost’s head.

Your voice sounds small, sounds like it doesn’t even come from your chest, when you say, “I think I hate my dad. For what he did.”

Joel finally relaxes. Like he’s finally seen the tiny creature casting the huge, stretched shadow on the wall. “You…Yeah?”

You nod. Stare at the cotton mountain of your legs entangled in his. “Yeah. He just up ‘n left, when things got boring. When I grew up, and my mom got older. Just packed his car, and…I always wonder –” a breath lurches from your chest, “– I always wonder why I wasn’t worth stickin’ around for. Why he just – decided one day to…”

Your voice fails to carry. Joel knows the end of the sentence, anyway.

You’ve never told anybody any of this. Not Blake, not your mom, not any of your friends; you barely even know in yourself how you feel about it – even twelve years later. But the air in the room feels different – feels thicker, like you’re tucked away from the world. The conversation won’t leave your apartment, you know that much. Know that Joel wouldn’t speak of it again, wouldn’t so much as let it cross his own mind, if you asked him not to. And so you let the words tumble from your tongue, let them sit heavy in the space between you.

The space between you, which is now silent, like you’re both preoccupied. Joel, taking in the weight of what you’ve said into strong, safe hands; and you, feeling that same weight lift off of your chest. Until the silence itself feels clunky, and awkward, and you scram to find something to break it up.

“Anyway. Sorry to be a bummer.”

“You ain’t a bummer. Are you kidding?” Joel sighs. “I’m sorry, babygirl. Sorry that happened to you.”

“’s okay. He was just a scumbag, right?”

“Sure sounds it.”

You take a small sip, the tea sugarcoating your lips and flooding over your tongue – the sweet taste ridding them of the bitter memory of your dad. “Your turn,” you hum.

Joel’s head jerks. “No, darlin’, you already told me somethin’. You go again.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’m changin’ the rules.”

You try to protest, manage the sound Jo– before his hand lifts and he shushes you.

“That’s what I was gonna ask, anyways. Was gonna ask about you ‘n your dad. Now, go.”

He’s lying. You know it, and you suspect he knows you know it, too. It’s a terrible attempt at a lie, no matter how kind it is. But you’re too tired, a little too in pain to argue back over it. And he’s looking at you again, with that honeycomb twinkle in his eye, that Joel look which stirs something in you every time he shows you it.

You sigh, accepting defeat, and rack your brain for something else you want him to talk about.

“Alright, uh…What about your brother? He didn’t want any of your dad’s money?”

Joel’s face twists into something of a grimace. You instantly regret bringing it up.

“Touchy subject?” you ask, already coming up with five new, two-dimensional questions to ask in place of that one. Who was your first kiss and what was your first car and when did you find your first gray hair and what’s your mom’s maiden name and –

But you don’t need them.

Joel says, “Not with you,” and tilts his head, like measuring up his answer. He takes his time letting it filter down to his lips, and you reckon you’ve a good idea of why.

He was closed-off about it in Paris. About his brother. Didn’t say more than three sentences about him. And that was only where a sheep farm was considered. What you’re asking about right now is a hell of a lot deeper and a hell of a lot more difficult than a ranch in the Texan countryside.

“He was always closer to Dad. They used to go out huntin’ every Sunday. Liked the same music, watched the same TV. They were buddies, more ‘n anything. When it turned out my dad had this whole other life behind our backs – behind Tommy’s back – he flipped. Couldn’t take it. He disappeared, never looked back. Just packed his car, moved across the country.”

He’s staring at the TV now, barely blinking. Barely breathing, until you speak and it’s like he remembers he’s in your apartment, on your bed, with you. Not back in time twenty years, watching the dust kick up from under his little brother’s tires.

“He must’ve been pretty mad.”

“Yeah. Tommy’s like that, he’s got a hot head on his shoulders. But it meant leavin’ Mom, y’know? She went through all of that without him. I had to pick up all these broken pieces, juggle all this stuff, ‘n he just got to walk away from it all. And then, when Dad died, he refused to come back still. Left me to organize everything – the money, the funeral. The whole damn thing.”

He flicks his head, resentfully, like trying to dislodge the memory from his mind. Trying to shake it free. When you speak, it seems to soften him. Seems to thaw whatever angry image was frozen behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “that part sucks. I bet it was hard goin’ through all that without him.”

Joel’s head angles towards you. “Not any harder ‘n it was on you, goin’ through what you did.”

“Well…I know I would’ve found it easier if I had a brother or sister. Someone like me, someone who gets it, y’know?”

“Hm. We weren’t all that close to begin with, I guess.”

“You were close enough to want to buy a ranch together.”

He shakes his head again, this time refusing to let the idea in. Turning it away at the door.

“You miss him?”

“It my turn to ask somethin’ yet?” he asks, smiling.

But you’re feeling braver now. He’s answered everything up until now; it feels less like a game and more like…more like he wants to talk about it. Like it’s been pent up all this time and this is the first anyone’s brought it up. A relief to get it off his chest, if nothing else.

You ignore him. Press him. “Do you?”

Joel sighs deep enough that his coffee ripples a little in his mug, and then nods. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like if we were on speaking terms, yeah.”

“So, call him. You have his number?”

“I ain’t gonna call him, baby.”

“Where’s he at?”

“Last I heard, ‘n it was a long time ago now – he was in Wyoming. Married, kid on the way.”

“Call him. You really gonna let that kid grow up without Uncle Joel around?”

“Uncle Joel,” he repeats, laughing now. “He does not want to hear from me, angel. Let it go.”

Joel turns the volume up and settles back into bed, pillows propped behind him. You pass him your empty mug and he slots it alongside his own. As the commercials end and Whoopi Goldberg flashes a grin into the camera, you give it one final shot.

“I’d give anything to have someone who knew and understood me as well as a brother might.”

His hand falls limp against your bedsheets, remote loose in his fingers. You lift his arm, nuzzling underneath it to lean your head by his heart, and he sighs.

Argument won.

“Too many big questions,” you mutter after a while, eyes clinging to the screen. “Ask me somethin’ stupid.”

“Somethin’ stupid,” Joel repeats, and you nod. “Alright. Who’d you lose your virginity to?”

You slap his chest. “Dirtbag!”

He chuckles. “Who was it? Blake?”

“No,” you reply.

“Damn. Who?”

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see you.

But suddenly you feel the loose spaghetti straps of a slip dress over your shoulders, see the off-white glow of three-year-old sneakers crossed at your ankles, chipped pink fingernails tracing the blurry pastel shapes on floral bedsheets. A dry throat, the sanitized backwash of vodka and coke splashing across your tongue. A smash from downstairs – someone’s broken the host’s mom’s best vase.

“Was just this guy I slept with at a house party,” you tell Joel, clearing your throat. “Lisa Tait’s sweet sixteenth. We were in her bedroom, all of us, ‘n everyone started heading downstairs, ‘til it was just me ‘n this dude Jack laying on her bed.”

“You had sex on some other girl’s bed?”

You nod, cringing a little. “I wasn’t even friends with her. Wasn’t even friends with him. Just thought, fuck it. I didn’t wanna go into senior year a virgin ‘n neither did he, I guess.”

“How’d it go?”

The messy, uncomfortable thrusts between your legs. The hand shooting down to guide himself back in. The wet lips running along the shell of your ear, the acidic breath on your cheek. Is that good for you? Yeah, it’s good for me. You sure? I’m sure. Just hurry up.

“Lasted, like, four minutes, thirty seconds.”

Joel’s body jerks. You know he’s staring at the crown of your head. “You timed him?”

“No. He lasted as long as Paradise by Coldplay. It was playin’ downstairs in the living room.”

He tips his head back and laughs to the ceiling. You giggle into his shirt.

“Poor guy,” Joel says, rubbing your shoulder.

“Poor me, more like.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and pats your head. “Least you’re doin’ alright now.”

You push yourself up from his chest and glare at his satisfied smirk, dodging his thumb when it lifts to clip your chin. “Oh, you’re so smug about it.”

“Are you kidding? For lastin’ longer than five minutes? ‘course I am. Can make you come twice in that time.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. Runs the tip of his tongue along his top lip, corners of his mouth twitching. Something sparks to life inside you.

Your knee lifts, reaching over his waist and planting into the mattress on the opposite side. Joel’s hands come to rest on your thighs, fingers slipping up beneath the black cotton and edging against your hipbones. You bend over him, lips running a wet trail from the base of his neck to his earlobe. His breath falters.

“Prove it, daddy,” you whisper, and his grip tightens.

“Baby,” he warns, voice suddenly sharper. “We don’t have to –”

You ignore him, holding him down by the shoulders. “I want to.”

“I’m just sayin’,” his fingers wrap around your wrists, “’s not why I came here. We can just hang out.”

“We are hanging out,” you tell him. “This is what we do.”

And he seems to agree. Or, at least, accepts defeat, in the form of rolling his hips upwards. His fingers slip through yours, locking at your knuckles, anchoring you to him. You grind against his belt buckle, the hard metal flat against your clit. Joel clocks you instantly.

He sits up. Holds you by the ass on his body until your center is flush with his. You feel him stir beneath your open legs.

He shifts to the edge of the bed, keeping you chest to chest in his lap. Your teeth grit against one another. His lips are warm, they still taste like coffee. You lick at the corners.

“Wanna make yourself feel good on me?” he asks.

A smile as sweet as sugar and laced with something darker spreads across your lips. “You’re best at it, right?”

Joel hums. “Alright,” he says, impressed. His chin lifts; he breathes a laugh as you pepper his jaw with kisses. “Take what you need, angel. ‘s all yours.”

Your knees spread wider. You push down on his swollen crotch, voice catching as he meets you halfway, bucking up into you again. Your clit throbs at the contact, forcing you back up off him.

“D-addy,” you choke, hands suddenly gripping his shoulders.

Joel’s stronger. He takes your waist and replaces you on his lap. “Shh,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “’s okay, baby. I got you. We’re gonna make you feel good together, alright? Here.”

He slides you over until your legs are either side of one of his, his thick thigh flat against your most sensitive spot. You dig your nails into his forearms, squeezing hard, but he doesn’t budge. Just looks up at you, holding you steady, and says –

“Go on. Ride it, babygirl.”

You move an inch. The rough fabric catches on the soft of Joel’s underwear. You gasp, relief mixing with arousal and spilling warm and soothing between your legs.

Joel squeezes your hips. “Do it, darlin’. Make yourself feel good. ‘m here, I’ll watch.”

The fabric beneath your pussy is soaked, probably dampening a mark into his pants – and you don’t fucking care. It feels good – the steady weight of him, lifting his thigh as you drag yourself along it, beginning to rock back and forth.

Your eyes are closed, head to the ceiling, grinding your core against his. You can feel him staring. Watching you, his gaze red hot on your already fevered skin. You collapse into him over and over, his body solid as a rock, letting yours fold against him. Liquid in pleasure and feeling.

Your eyes open a sliver and you smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Joel smirks. “You know how fucking perfect you look right now?”

You nod, forehead coming to lean heavily on his.

He bucks his leg, jaw tight. “How – fucking – beautiful you are? Making yourself come on daddy’s thigh?”

You inhale the words as he speaks them, swallowing them in gasps and parting your lips complacently for more. Keep going. Keep telling me –

“–you my good girl?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, legs starting to give.

“Gonna get me covered in you? Gonna come all fuckin’ over me, babygirl?”

“Daddy, I want –”

“Tell me,” he demands, “tell me what you want.”

His hands are clamped on your waist, guiding you – driving you, more than your weak hips are able to – holding you to him almost painfully. Your body circles messily, becoming sloppier the closer your orgasm draws, quivering when the feeling runs a delicate hand through your hair and plants wet kisses along your neck.

“Want you to fuck me, daddy,” you whine, body rocking again. Your hand lowers to cup the outline of him, rock-hard and restrained beneath linen. He shudders when you squeeze him – looks down to your small hand on the huge bulge in his trousers. “Need to feel you inside me.”

Your own eyes are stuck on the place where your bodies connect, writhing against one another – the wet seam of Joel’s underwear, the folds of his pant leg as you rut against him. Your empty cunt tightens, aching for more against his firm thigh.

“’m gonna, pretty girl,” he says, groaning as you palm him. “‘m gonna fuck you so good. Just give me one first, alright? Let me see you come for me.”

Your body jolts as you come. Hips lose their rhythm; arms lock tight around Joel’s shoulders. And all the while, his lips stay pressed against your ear.

“Look so good, baby,” he coos. “That feel good, angel? Yeah?”

As quickly as your orgasm sent you under, you’re pulling back. You haven’t even regained feeling between your legs, but you’re pushing yourself from his lap, separating your bodies.

Joel sits back, body lightweight when you tug on his wrists and drag him up to height in front of you. You’re backing up across the plush rug, his chest bumping against yours, your fingers fumbling for the buttons of his shirt. Your back hits the bathroom door. Joel twists the handle.

You spill onto the cold tile, attached at the mouth, frantically tearing clothes from each other’s bodies. It’s desperate. It’s burning. It’s almost fucking painful, how bad you need him.

His hands run from your cheeks to the hem of your shirt, hauling it over your torso and tossing it to the counter. You peel the shirt from his shoulders and your bare chest meets his, his hands finding your hips again when he whips them from his sleeves. The white shirt drops to your damp floor, dark, wet marks spreading across the dress fabric.

“Shoot,” you mumble against his lips. “My – bad. Sorry.”

“Don’t – care,” Joel breathes, and his thumbs push beneath his waistband.

You spin on your heel, backing towards the shower and taking him by the jaw with you. He shoves the clothing down his legs, stepping out of them and catching you again in time to drag the underwear from your thighs.

You shift into the shower, both fully naked. Joel spins the nozzle and the warm water rains down between you. His chest quickly soaks, dark hair thicker and blacker, flat against his glistening skin. He tilts his head under the spray and soaks his hair – gives one heavy flick of the head like a wet dog, and you laugh as he pulls you in again.

His hands cup your face as he connects your lips, and then his right drifts down your neck and pushes your tit up, squeezing the sensitive skin in his palm and rolling your firm nipple between two fingers. He lets it drop, runs his hand delicately down your frame, following the curve of your waist to your hips. He cups between your legs.

You come up for air, a sudden realization over your head as though the water runs freezing cold. “Wait,” you start, “I gotta –”

But he’s rubbing gentle circles against your clit, slow, pacing you as the tide of your first orgasm disappears to sea. He doesn’t seem to know, yet – or if he does, he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Joel –”

“I know,” he says, voice low and busy, but still – assuring. Unbothered. He moves his hand lower, surfing along your slit, until his fingers brush the wet string.

Your breathing jumps. He taps the seam of your thigh twice, and your leg tilts aside. Your eyes flit back up, crossing over his chest to fix on his jaw. You feel a flushing heat cross your cheeks, a moment’s hesitation before your fingers clamp around his wrist.

“Hey,” he whispers, and you almost don’t hear him over the running of the shower. He keeps his left hand on your jaw, his right between your legs. He shakes his head once, and takes the string in two fingers, and –

Gently pulls. Only a fraction, and then he pauses. Looks back up at you, a question in his stare.

You nod, exhaling heavily. He pulls again, and he doesn’t stop.

The tampon falls wet and heavy into his palm. His hand leaves your cheek and settles around your waist, leaning both of you out of the shower while he reaches for some toilet paper. Once it’s wrapped in a roll of white tissue and sat on your sink, he moves back into the cubicle.

He runs his palm under the flow; splashes of red swept up, watered down, and carried to the drain along with every last whispering of worry on your lips. Your elbows bend around his neck and he dips his head to kiss you, pushing you carefully into the corner.

“You tell me –” he kisses you, “– if it hurts or it gets too much, you tell me.” His body stands huge, blocking yours from the stream of water. Your back bumps against the shower wall; the shock of the cold tile pushes you closer to Joel.

“Just – fuck me.”

But he’s adamant. “You tell me.”

“I’ll tell you. You’ll know.”

“This is about you feelin’ good.”

“I’ll tell you,” you whine.

“We’re gonna have a word,” Joel instructs, lining up between your legs. He lifts your thigh to sit on his hip. “’n if you say it, I stop. Alright?”

You nod, fervently. “Please –”

His fingers separate your lips; his tip nudges your entrance. “Maple, alright? It gets too much, you say maple. You do that?”

“Joel, if you don’t –”

“Baby.”

“Maple,” you agree, “I’ll say it. Just –”

He pushes in without another word.

How many times has it been, by now? Ten? More than that? Enough for you to know in your mind, if not from trying to learn then simply from muscle memory, exactly how he feels. The curve of his cock, the width of the tip, the length of him as he slots deep inside you.

And yet – every fucking time – you feel so full. Full of him in every sense – your cunt, swollen around him, your lungs, breathing his scent, your every thought and feeling and sense replaced by Joel. Joel Joel Joel Joel –

He’s suffocating. And if you died right now – if you were smothered by him, swaddled until you couldn’t feel anything anymore – you’re not sure you’d be able to tell. Not sure you’d care enough to notice.

He pushes in slow, but deep. So fucking deep. Lets your walls expand around him the first few thrusts, lets your body welcome him back in. His lips press against your temple, his arms cradle your lower back. Your weight bears down on his shoulders and he lifts you, your other leg sitting on his waist. He holds your ass in both hands, begins to bounce you steadily.

“So good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me. You’re daddy’s girl, ain’t you?”

Your answer leaves your lips in the form of a moan. Something shaped like his name, or maybe some attempt at a response to his question, or maybe something more dangerous.

“My girl,” he repeats, whatever it was you said. “Daddy’s girl.”

Your head rolls back, cushioned by Joel’s hand between you and the tile wall. He knots his fingers in your hair, snaps his hips quick and hard, panting into your shoulder. And there’s a feeling – a stinging, a burning, sweeping across your eyes, and for a second you think it feels like shampoo, like the sharp scratch of soap between your lashes, until you realize it’s –

Tears. The heavy cut of tears, brimming your eyes. Blurring your vision. And with every thrust, every blissful meeting of Joel’s cock and your cervix, every inch he spreads you open wide – they form quicker, and quicker, and quicker. Until they spill down onto your cheeks, and you can’t tell the difference between them and the spray of the shower.

But Joel can. His head lifts from the crook of your neck, his teeth dragging from your skin. He spots your eyelashes, silky and wet, and in one motion, wraps his arm around your head, holds you with the inside of his elbow.

He dips his jaw, presses his lips featherlight to your cheeks, kisses the tears away as quickly as they roll down.

“I –” gasp, “– don’t know –” gasp, “– why I’m –”

Joel’s head shakes as he pulls away. Shuts you up. His answer is simple. You believe it instantly.

“’s okay. You’re okay.”

And right then – you think you understand.

Because you can see him – plain as day. You can see the amounts he cares for you, the limitless needs he can meet for you. There’s a warmth within you, spread throughout your body for him, and you have no fucking idea how to let him feel it. How to have it seep through your skin – so that every time his fingers ghost over your body, he’s met with a blaze strong enough to burn. A fire, big enough and bright enough that it shows him exactly how you feel.

Only him. No one else. A flame only he can see, dancing across your eyes when you look at him. A heat only he can feel. How do you make him feel it? How do you tell him? What combination of words might translate it?

It’s like slamming your fists against a glass barrier. A transparent wall, that allows you only to see him and draw near to him – never to feel him. Not really.

And so, you cry. You cry for him, for yourself. And Joel lets you.

For a little while.

His lips are back on your neck, biting marks into the soaking skin. “’attagirl,” he hums. It rattles your pulse, disturbs the rhythm and sends his own beating through your veins. “So good, baby.”

They soothe you – his lips, and the words which come from them. Soothe the sweet pain between your legs, the swollen ache every time Joel pushes into you. The stretch, the bruising tinge when his tip finds home in the deepest part of your body. Somewhere no one has ever reached, no one has ever found. No one, you feel, has ever been worthy enough to know.

Until him. Until Joel.

That same rhythm – your pulse on his wavelength – begins to flee south. Loops and swirls and dives to where his body connects with yours. Tightens rapidly around your cunt. Your hips grind against his, your thighs clamp on his waist. He starts to falter, hips slipping whether from blood or come or water. And then he’s growling, face burying into your chest as he steadies the two of you with an abrupt palm on the wall, and he stills.

The feeling of his release tips you over. The warmth spreading inside, so far you feel him in your stomach. Your walls contract around him, squeezing until every last drop of him is buried somewhere in you, and you lower one foot to the shower floor.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants, pulling his lips from your collarbone. “You okay?”

You nod, head rolling against the wall behind. You’re not crying anymore. The shower whirrs somewhere over Joel’s shoulder. Your chest feels tight. And you feel fucking euphoric.

He gives three more lazy, broken thrusts, pushing his come deeper inside. You both still, mouths curved open, exchanging breath and letting your tongues flick idly against one another.

You hold onto him long after your orgasm is shallow ripples between your legs. Long after the feeling has washed back into the ocean, your high a glimmer of sunlight bursting over the distant horizon, the aftereffects painting your world golden.

You hold onto him, and you let him run his hands slowly up and down your spine, and you sift your weak fingers through his dark hair, and you let him kiss your neck and your shoulders and your collarbones. He leans back; the flow of water cascades between you, carrying away any mess left on your bodies.

And then you let him carry you out of the shower, his tip still inside you, slowly softening. He settles you carefully against your counter, and reaches over for two white towels, caping one around your shoulders and using it to draw your body against his own.

You take the corners from his fingers and he lifts your chin, pushing your lips apart with his tongue. Then he pulls away, allows you to wrap the terry around yourself.

Joel wraps his own towel around his waist, slung loose enough that you can trace the dark hair peppered from his belly button down between his hips.

“You know how inappropriate it is to look at your boss like that?” he tuts.

You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back in. “Then stop lookin’ at me the way you do,” you tease, and he kisses your cheek.

He disappears through to your kitchen, reappears moments later with the box of Tampax, and you don’t even think to laugh or tell him you’ve an open box sat in the cupboard you’re leaning against. You just smile, and accept the clean tampon he holds out in his fingers. He leaves you to get dressed with the door closed over.

He’s sat on your bed when you emerge from the bathroom, holding his soaking shirt between two fingers. “Sorry about, uh…”

“’s alright,” he shrugs, standing up, “I’ll take it from your paycheck.”

His knuckles pinch your nose. You free yourself to place a chaste kiss on his fingers, and pass him the crinkled mess.

“I have something that’ll fit you somewhere,” you mutter, slipping past him as he hangs the shirt by the collar over your door.

“Do me a favor,” Joel’s voice follows, and he takes your wrist. You turn back to face him. “Catch your breath.”

“Huh?” you ask, and his hand comes up to mold around your cheek, the way it always fucking does. As if your bodies were made to be held by one another.

“Just – take a breath. You’re doin’ it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Movin’ at a hundred miles an hour. Breathe for me.”

You scoff, loosening yourself from his grasp to go sift through your wardrobe for something big enough for him. You settle for a Jurassic Park tee – logo faded and cracked, hem a little ragged.

“Rod’s?” he asks, holding the shirt up.

You’re already collapsing onto the mattress. “You bet.”

Joel smirks and tugs it over his head, throwing himself down against the headboard. Your hand wraps around his thigh, lips press soft kisses on the skin. He runs his hand over your hair.

“Are you gonna take a sick day off me for this?” you ask.

He shakes his head simply. “Doctor’s orders. Can’t say nothin’ to that.”

“I didn’t go to the doc–”

His thumb presses against your lips. “You don’t know when to fuckin’ lie, do you?” he whispers. “’s alright, we’ll getcha trained up.”

You snort, shaking yourself free of his hand. Your head settles by his hip, nails draw aimless patterns along the curve of his stomach.

“Need you better by Sunday, anyway,” Joel sighs, “Martha’s son’s birthday party.”

You grunt in response. You forgot about that.

Joel tuts. “Still gotta find him a present. How in the hell do I know what to buy a twelve-year-old?”

Your hand pauses. Neck cranes up to look at him. He’s staring down at you, his trademark glower still recognizable even upside down. Somehow, not sat upright in front of him, the thought seems less scary. Less of a commitment, more a casual suggestion.

“Why don’t we just get ‘im a joint one?”

The hard expression immediately wipes from his face. Replaced by something rounder. He blinks at you. “Really? From – you ‘n me?”

You shrug against his waist. It’s not answer enough for him.

“As in, you n’ me?” he asks.

“Why not?”

Joel’s head shakes. His mouth curves as he considers the thought. But he can’t mask the pang it sends through his body; can’t pretend he’s not covering the way his veins light and his nerves stand to attention by taking your hand in his and squeezing it briskly.

It doesn’t have to mean something. You, Joel, and Deb are the only people from work that Martha invited, and Deb’s bringing her two sons, which means her gift will be from them, too. All it has to mean is that you’re Martha’s co-workers, and figured it’d be cheaper and easier to get one gift over two.

Except – one of you is a millionaire.

It means something. The fact you asked. You’re not asking to save a buck, to make it simpler. You’re asking because you want to wrap some video game in paper Joel picked out; you want him to hold the folds down with one finger while you tear tape with your teeth. You want to sign the card with both of your names, in your handwriting. See how they look paired up.

You ask him because you want to feel the way you think you ought to have felt this entire time. Your body is ablaze. You’re ready to let him feel it. And you ‘n me seems like a pretty good combination of words to start with.

You’re ready. And that’s why you ask him.

Joel’s quiet for as long as you are. You both go to talk at the same time, both noticing how silent the room has fallen while you realize all of those things in real time.

“Sorry, baby, you go,” Joel says, sniffing.

“No, I was just – no, you go. What were you gonna say?”

He smiles. “Was just – wonderin’ what you wanted to get Alan.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and then you pause. “Al–? What?”

“What you wanted to get ‘im,” Joel repeats.

You push yourself up, lean on one hip in front of him. “Yeah, I heard that part. What did you call him?”

“Alan?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Joel stares right back. “Martha’s son.”

“Martha’s son’s name is Henry.”

“No, it fuckin’ ain’t.”

You’re biting back a laugh. “Yes, it fuckin’ is.”

“She calls him Little Al. All the damn time, baby, he’s –”

“That’s because he acts like Alan. Her husband. His father. All the damn time. You gotta be messing with me. Have you been calling him Alan the entire time he’s been alive?”

“No.”

His expression tells you yes.

You’re laughing now. Really laughing. It breaks your words in two, your head tilting back to the ceiling. “You…idiot.”

Joel’s struggling to compose himself, sliding off the bed. “The email she sent out says Alan’s Twelfth Birthday. The hell’s my phone?”

“You think she had a kid in two thousand eleven, and named it Alan? You don’t think they’d call Child Protection on her for that?”

He points a finger, tossing pillows to the bottom of your bed. “That’s disrespectful to the Alans of the world. Where the fuck is my –?”

Your chest swells in a giggle, eyes start to sting with tears. “What do you write in her Christmas cards? To Martha, Alan, and Alan?”

You slap the bed, leaning forward with a deep gasp, trying to catch your fucking breath. Joel’s still stripping the bed, still keeping his own laughter deep in his chest, but it’s quickly crumbling.

“Her email –” he chuckles, “– says Alan’s Twel–”

“She’s fucking with you!” you holler, catching the pillows he throws to you. “She’s fucking with – I’m gonna piss my pants. Martha, Alan, and Alan, oh my fucking –”

“Here,” he finally throws you the phone, “go find it. Find the email. Search the damn word Alan; she uses it every time she talks about him. Jesus Christ, I need a coffee. You want another chamomile tea, Little Miss Smartass?”

He lifts your mug and tilts it in your direction. You nod as you reach for the phone, wiping tears from your cheeks. Joel disappears through to the kitchen.

He clued you in on his passcode a few months after you started. You were still in the office past five o’clock, looking out files he needed for some client visit the following morning. His phone had buzzed, you were nearest it. He lifted his head and nodded to the lit screen.

1-6-9-1, he told you.

It finally made sense only a few days ago, after three years of wondering. Three years of knowing and never asking; a mystery solved. 1691 Maple.

His background was always one of the standard ones. The boring ones. A soft, blue gradient. Usually, his lock screen was too populated by notifications for you to even notice.

But now – it’s changed.

Now, it’s a photo of the view from the terrace in Paris. The pale sunset, faded blue into sweet yellow. The Eiffel Tower carved out in the center. You suck in a deep breath as you swipe texts and emails away to properly study it, figure out exactly where he was standing to take it, and exactly where you might’ve been when he did.

You tap in the four digits and his home screen lays out before you. Only, the background is different – again.

It’s Paris, still, but indoors. Dark wall, an ornate frame pinned to it, housing an amused smirk and soft hands. She’s looking off into the distance, past the photographer. Or maybe – she’s looking at you.

You, stood leaning on the barrier in front of her. The Mona Lisa. Your head tilted towards her, beaming like it’s a photo with your favorite celebrity.

It’s not a big deal. That’s what you tell yourself. It’s his home screen. Only visible if you know his password – and you’re fairly sure that you’re the only one who does. Not even Martha would know that this photo exists, never mind the fact that it’s his wallpaper. It’s not a big fucking deal.

No matter how much you think you want it to be.

You swiftly tap on the email app icon, trying to rid your mind of your own cheesing image. He has thirteen unread emails, all from the last hour. Some you know he’ll forward straight to you and Martha; others look a little more serious. As you’re scrolling down them, you notice a familiar face.

Denis Pelletier. His square-jawed grin flashes back at you from the tiny circle icon beside his name. You tap on the email, and your cheeks lift higher the further down it you read.

I hope your flight home was pleasant, and It was wonderful to take you both around Paris, and Your assistant was very sweet. You breathe a laugh, scrolling down the three-paragraph message urging Joel that if he’s ever back in Paris – if you’re ever back in Paris, both of you – to make sure you let the chauffeur know.

But there’s no email from Martha. At least, none in Joel’s inbox. You return out of the folder and wheel down to his Deleted folder, scrolling past password reset emails, panicked cries for help from Mackley and Tom, past order confirmations for brands you’ve never heard of, when –

A head of hair, more salt than pepper. A bright, unnerving smile, too many dazzling teeth in a mouth too small to house them. A pink sky behind him; candy floss clouds and townhouses glowing orange in the sunset – the building blocks of the Paris skyline.

Jean-Marc. An email – a deleted email – from Jean-Marc.

Dear Joel, It was such a pl… is all you can read from the preview. Your eyes flit up to your door. Joel’s still in the kitchen, humming. You glance back down to his phone.

Would it be invading his privacy? It’s only an email from Jean-Marc. It’s not like you don’t know who he is. What if your thumb slipped? Accidentally opened it? What if your eyes scanned over the text before you quickly swiped back out of the email?

There’s the sound of a drawer rolling closed. A spoon rattling against ceramic. He’s stirring your tea.

You click on the email.

It was such a pleasure to see you again.

You scan over the first paragraph. It’s just Jean-Marc cozying up to Joel. Your nose wrinkles and your lips turn.

I loved meeting your assistant, the next paragraph begins. And your focus is pulled.

I wonder if you had given our conversation any more thought? Whether she might be looking for a new challenge? Something this side of the Atlantic, perhaps?

Your heart skips a beat. A new challenge.

“You want the last egg roll?” Joel calls from the kitchen.

You jolt back to life. “N-no, you have it,” you reply. You hear the rustle of the bag.

I wonder if you might relay the message onto her, Jean-Marc continues. Please give her my email address and phone number.

You quickly pull the screen up, noting the date the message was sent. Three days after you got home from Paris. More than a week ago. You tap on Joel’s response as his footsteps creak back towards your bedroom.

His reply is as short and sweet as the few words he spoke to the Frenchman that Sunday morning.

I’ll pass on your details, he’s written, but unfortunately, my assistant is currently unavailable. Maybe sometime in the future.

Your jaw jerks. Eyes trace the words, over and over. Thumb scrolls up and down the email, making sure you’re reading it right. Joel, making promises he never followed through. Joel – your Joel, the one you pestered for fucking days after Paris over what he’d talked with Jean-Marc about – one hand laced through yours, the other with a vice grip around a secret he never intended to clue you in on.

You. He’d talked about you. They’d probably talked about you the entire fucking meeting, as soon as Joel mentioned you. You can see Jean-Marc’s ears twig; his eyebrows lift with interest. The way he sets his wine glass down, offers Joel another whiskey and invites him to say more.

Joel. Lying. And covering up. And keeping you close by his hip, walking in stride with him out of that fucking penthouse – like you’re on some kind of leash, or something.

The fabric of his underwear on your hips feels claustrophobic; a second layer of skin that rubs against yours like sandpaper. You want to rip them off off off – want to separate yourself from him, peel him from your body and forget the feeling of him as quickly as you seemed to absorb it. Instinct tells you to detach yourself – to remove any trace of him ever having laid eyes on you, never mind touched you.

What a fucking idiot, you think. He doesn’t fucking care about you after all.

You don’t even notice when his form saunters back into the room, when he shoves the door closed with his elbow. There’s a bitter taste on your tongue, sour with disappointment. Acrid with anger. Sick with fear.

Unavail–?

“You find it?” he asks, and you subconsciously clutch the phone to your chest.

“Not yet,” you murmur, watching as he sets the mug back on your nightstand.

His fingers slip through the handle, knuckle nudges the temple of the ghost a little further along the surface, and he straightens, lifting his own mug to his lips.

“’s in there,” he says against the ceramic. He holds a hand out, curls his fingers. “Let’s see.”

“Never mind,” you say, tapping out of the email, out of the folder, out of the app. “I believe you.”

And then –

“…You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

He licks his lips. Holds the mug by his side, fingers gripping the lip. He gives a non-committal shrug of the shoulders.

“No, darlin’. Why would I lie to you?”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #sex on fire

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Milf and Cookies

pairing; Lumberjack!Henry x Pregnant!Shy!Reader

summary: Henry’s wants his shy wife’s titty milk and pussy, a gender reveal, and baby Marly the Cat goes missing. (Lactation!Kink)(Dilf!Henry)(Dom!Henry)

(short story 🫶)

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are appreciated🫶

Lumberjack Masterlist, Henry Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“H-Hen, I-I can’t find b-baby Marly” Y/n whined plopping herself onto her grumpy husband’s lap, his hands instinctively reaching around to grope her ass, clad in some soft cotton shorts. “Shh s’okay sugar cube, ‘m sure our baby hasn’t toddled off too far” Henry grumbled moving his hand up to smooth over her 8 month bump, feeling his little miracle squirming inside their momma.

“B-But she isn’t i-in her cat h-house, o-or the bed a-and not even the nursery!” Y/n whined blowing her nose as Henry held the tissue for her, her fingers fiddling with the hem of his white vest, his new tattoo on his chest being exposed slightly. “baby bun don’t worry your pretty lil head alright? We can go find baby Marly together, now have you checked everywhere in the house?”

“Mhm even u-under the bed”

“How on hell did you get onto the ground?” Henry quirked knowing damn well she struggled to even get clothes on or lotion up after a shower, leading to him having to lather her up in her coconut body butter, and helping her get her clothes on (that’s on the odd occasion she didn’t sleep in the nude) “I-I used my stool t-to help me down”

A sharp squeal immediately left her pouty lips as his hands made contact with her ass, grabbing onto it, “aw sugar pie, if you need help ya call daddy, don’t ya momma?” He growled through gritted teeth as she nodded, it wasn’t surprising that now he had knocked her up, his possessive and protectiveness had increased by ten folds. Helping her to slip on some shorts, he held her hand tightly as they both slipped on their matching fluffy crocs (ones she again insisted they buy at the market)

Her mood instantly lightening up at the sight of all the flowers and fruits starting to bloom, with her giggling at simply nothing and everything; Henry swinging their hands and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles every few minutes. “W-what if w-we can’t find b-baby?” She whimpered remembering why they were out there in the first place,

“I’ll find her momma don’t you worry, in fact a’ think I can see her from ‘ere” Henry stopped looking in between the tall grass to see their tiny white flur baby, mingling with a larger black grumpy looking cat, how ironic. “Looks like Marly got a boyfriend” Henry chuckled bending down to see both of the cats cuddling together, their tails interlinked as the black cat licked up Marly’s fur.

“O-Oh my! They’re so cute” Y/n squealed looking up to Henry, with that same sparkle in her eyes, he already knew what she was about to ask, “Fine yes okay, we can take him home, as long as we don’t find a collar on him or anythin like that, sound okay sugar cube?” She nodded eagerly picking up Marly, watching as the black cat walked alongside them to the log wood cabin.

“Now come on momma, let’s leave these two in their bed while I tend to my baby, we still have to cut the box remember?” He whispered, seeing the sugar cube shaped cupcake sitting waiting for them, it had only arrived that morning; in it contained the gender of their little miracle and God could he not wait. With Y/n wanting Marly to be with them for the whole experience. “O-Oh yeah, I f-forgot”

“S’okay baby I know you’re dumbed out, can’t help it with your condition” He smiled sickly rubbing over her stomach as he sat them both onto the couch, the box sitting on her lap as she giggled and nodded along to his insult. His hands combing back her hair gingerly, her nose wrinkling every so often. “C-can we cut i-it now? m’ excited” She whispered wiggling on his lap, watching intently as he took the cupcake from her hands, peeling back its covering.

“Open wide bun” He whispered watching her take a bite, showcasing that she would be bringing a precious baby boy and baby girl into the world. The perfect mix of them both, a tiny Henry and an even tinier Y/n, both of them cocooned away in their momma’s stomach all safe and sound. “I-It’s both? Does that m-mean twins Hen?” She said shocked, feeling Henry smirk and chuckle as he licked up the cream from her lips and chin; not only did he manage to knock her up, but he managed to double it.

“Aww baby I could fuck you till the sun goes down, my little petal givin’ me two miracles at once, your pussy really musta milked my cock for all its worth” His hands patted her stomach as tears rushed to her eyes, she finally knew what she was having, her own little boy and girl; if anything this was a dream to her. “S-stop it, y-you’re ruinin’ the moment, tell y-your dads to s-stop it” She sniffed putting her hand on too of Henry’s, feeling the strong kicks following their touch everywhere they moved, their babies were here right now.

“You better not take her away from me squirts, Cus a’ swear my woman is-“

“Y-you gotta l-learn to share” Y/n huffed crossing her arms, “Yeah sure, one tit for them and one for me” Henry chuckled leaning down to press a kiss onto the exposed part of her chest, cupping underneath it and squeezing the swollen flesh softly, watching as her shirt dampened due to her milk coming in earlier than normal. He maintained eye contact with her as he licked over her hardened nipple over the thin fabric, the sweet milk streaming into hid mouth ad he started to suckle gently, a habit he had picked up to help her fall asleep and him at the same time. Sometimes with him waking up due to her nipple popping out of his mouth, or with her when she realised the pressure in them was building up again. Either way it was a new bonding experience for them both

“I wan’ go to b-bed, m’ tired” She whispered kissing the top of his, her eyed lidded while she watched him press kisses onto her tits, taking his sweet time with each one of them. “Alright sugar, I’ve got ya, get ya all nice n’ snuggled in” He grunted picking her up, carrying her to their shared marital bedroom, their pictures littering the room in pink fluffy photo frames she had chosen.

Sitting slightly upwards with an extra pillow underneath her head, she shuffled towards Henry’s side, letting him lay his head onto her puffy chest; sighing out in relief as he started kissing and sucking at her nipples. Lifting his head up he spat some of her own milk into her mouth, letting her taste it as he licked wetly into her mouth, drool and excess milk dripping from the sides of their lips. His babygirl’s sweet milk was the best thing he had tasted, and he’d rather die before sharing it with someone else but he knew better than to mess with his woman and their babies. Their baby boy and baby girl, their miracles

———

PSA: I know this is short, but tomorrow I’m posting a full fic on how Shy!Y/n lost her virginity to Lumberjack!Henry :)) So if you would like tagged in that tomorrow please let me know🫶

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

taglist: @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @elenavampire21 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25 @livesinfantasyland @louyoursins @lightdragonrayne @realm-of-azrael @cruelfvkingsummer @shecamedowninabubble @sweetanimebakery @rinimitchell @rebeccapineapple @namjoons-t1ddies @sparklemarysunshine @noideawhyimdoingthislol @ameliascreampuffs @kimhtoo17

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill rpf #rpf #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x shy!reader #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill x pregnant!reader #dad!henry cavill #lumberjack!henry cavill

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soobnny · 1 year

Text

eighteen — kim seungmin.

trope. best friends to lovers. college au. slow burn. angst. fluff.

synopsis. it takes you a while to realize being known is being loved, and kim seungmin just so happens to be an expert in the study of you.

word count: 19.8k words

warnings. just extreme slow burn. some curse words. sexual jokes. drinking and being intoxicated.

note. again my self indulgent take on seungmin in college :)

one.

Kim Seungmin has a habit of blowing up your phone every chance he gets. So, it really isn’t anything new to wake up to a million notifications from your best friend.

The range of apps from which he bothers you is astronomical.

(Instagram): _seungmin mentioned you in a comment: @ynbread lmao this video reminded me of u cos ure an idiot

(Tiktok): seungmin mentioned you in a comment: @ynbread us

(Twitter): seungmin replied to your tweet: I’m hungry can u reply to my messages

But nothing, absolutely nothing, can beat the 56 messages and 9 missed calls on your phone. You’d think it was an emergency if not for his last message, shining brightly through your screen.

minnie: i need a new face wash come with me so i can shut up about it 😡

You roll your eyes to yourself, skimming through the notifications on your lock screen without really opening them. It’s mostly just a series of Seungmin asking you if you were awake every hour with a few whining in between about how he’s bored and how you need to wake up.

While you’re laughing at his overdramatic messages (has he been hanging out with Hyunjin too much these days?), you accidentally unleash a storm upon yourself.

You hadn’t meant to click on one of the notifications, and now a taunting “read” is on the bottom of his messages.

Big mistake.

All hell is about to break lose.

The moment Kim Seungmin receives the small indication that you’re finally awake, his face flashes on your screen almost immediately in a Facetime call. It’s tempting to decline his call in favor of burying your face back into your pillows, but the clock reads 11am and you have an annoying best friend that needs your attention. You know never to ignore Seungmin. You’ve learned that the hard way.

Swiping on accept, his head of fluffy hair pops up on your screen. “Finally! What took you so long?” His phone angle shifts so his face shows now – it seems like he’s outside as he’s looking left and right before crossing somewhere.

“Sleeping.” You rub your eyes, propping your phone against a box of tissues so he can see you while you fix your bed.

“Didn’t wanna wake up cause you were dreaming of me?” You can hear the laughter in his voice.

Appropriately, you respond by gifting him your middle finger. “You wish.”

“Did you sleep well?” You hum in response even though you doubt he could hear you amidst the noise outside and the shuffling of your bedsheets. “What did you need?” You grab your phone from your nightstand, walking towards your refrigerator to get a glass of water.

“Face wash. You’re coming with me. Oh, and bring an umbrella, it’s drizzling a little.”

“Gonna have to raincheck.”

Second big mistake.

“Why?” He drawls his question, whining and pushing his phone deeper towards his face so you can see his visible disapproval at your response.

“Seungmin, I just woke up. It’s gonna take me forever to get ready, and you’re already outside.”

There’s a lack of response from his end after a few seconds. When you look back at your phone screen, he seems preoccupied. “Minnie?”

“Wait, wait. I have to hang up, give me a second.”

You tilt your head in confusion, but you don’t say anything else. This was a rare moment when you got to escape from Seungmin’s evil clutches of always dragging you along when he goes out. Looking through your closet for a change of clothes after you shower, you jump at the sudden and very rushed pounding on your door.

You should’ve known better.

Opening the door, a breathless Seungmin slips past the space before pushing your door closed. “Why was Crazy Karen on shift today?” He falls face first on your couch, still heaving after the cardio he’d done to sprint towards your unit.

Seungmin’s been quite the expert at sneaking into your very ‘strict with visitors’ building. Not only has he befriended Derek (the security guard on duty when it wasn’t Karen), he’s gone through every possible entrance and has mastered the way to your door. He’s been doing it for the past three years, to the point you’re convinced he could navigate his way around blindfolded.

Funnily enough, he was basically a criminal in your building. Karen (Crazy Karen, as Seungmin likes to call her) has been trying to catch him for forever. You’re convinced that one more push from Seungmin and she’d be printing flyers with his face on it with a clear “BANNED” message in red bold font and taping it on the walls of your building.

Seungmin’s been able to escape her for months now. Though, despite being an expert vigilante, he still has his lapses. And today, he hadn’t been aware that Karen was on duty. “(Name), she hates me!”

“She hates everyone.” You deadpan. Seungmin’s always found it disturbing that Karen didn’t like him. He was an angel in everyone’s eyes – your parents, Derek the security guard, your professors, your friends. If only they knew better.

With the thousands of people that adore him, Seungmin doesn’t know why Karen was such a tough egg to crack. Maybe she knew better, that your best friend is the devil incarnate, but the devil incarnate that you adore.

“How’d you get here so quickly? Wait… were you already on your way here before I picked up your call?” You ask pointedly, leaning against the wall and furrowing your eyebrows at Seungmin who still hasn’t left your couch, instead making himself comfortable by draping his legs across the armrest and hugging your throw pillow to his chest.

“Yes, cause you were ignoring me!” The pout on his face is so exaggerated, you would’ve smacked it off if you didn’t have the biggest crush on him.

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was sleeping!”

“Tomato, tomato. Same thing.”

You concede the argument with a sigh because God forbid he lost an argument to you. “Anyways, (name).” He’s whining again, staring at you while you skim through your clothes. “I’m so hungry, I could eat your couch.”

“You do you, I guess.”

“Do you hate me?”

“Only sometimes.”

This was the funny thing about your friendship with Seungmin. From an outsider’s perspective, they would’ve sworn you two disliked each other – from your pointed responses and backhanded comments towards one another. However, through the lens of your shared friends, they knew you completed each other. Nobody (aside from Minho, and occasionally Jeongin) could match your best friend’s personality quite well, and absolutely nobody could get him as soft as you could. It’s reserved for your eyes only.

Chan jokes around that Seungmin should never drive you away because he’s finally found someone who gets along with him terribly well aside from them. He agrees, but he would never outwardly admit it out loud to his friends or to you. But deep down, he knows that you two understand every inch of each other like you’re a reflection of one another.

With that said, he wouldn’t want to spend his time buying face wash with anyone else.

When he suddenly gets off the couch, you look at him suspiciously. He’s walking in your direction now, beaming with his eyes squinting and lips curving up and hair falling perfectly on his forehead – he looks so cute that your heart starts feeling something you can’t quite identify. “(Name).”

“Seungmin.” He grabs your hands without warning and your heart catapults out of your chest.

“Come with me to buy face wash and we can eat lunch together. Please please, cause I’m your best friend and you can’t say no to me.” Seungmin defends his case like a lawyer desperate to win.

He leans in impossibly closer to your face as a vindictive tactic to get you to say yes, and you’re embarrassed to admit it’s working. You tell yourself you’re only agreeing so he would stop fiddling with your fingers with his perfectly crafted hands and looking at you with his stupid, pretty eyes.

“Fine, now let go of me so I can get a change of clothes. Besides, aren’t you like the number one Touch Hater anyway?”

Seungmin smiles triumphantly to himself, slipping his hands from yours. “How narcissistic of you to think you’re the only one I enjoy holding. I like Kkami too! And Soonie, and Doongie–”

“Why am I being classified with your friends’ pets?”

Kim Seungmin doesn’t admit that you’re the only person he likes to hold. Instead, he shrugs and pushes you towards your bathroom so you could hurry up and he can finally buy his face wash.

two.

The next time Kim Seungmin blows up your notifications is after you’ve just finished your last class of the week.

He’s already waiting for you outside your building, leaning against a lamp post and scrolling through dog videos on Tiktok with a few quokka appearances.

The algorithm confuses Seungmin in that it’s so fast to pick up the videos you’ve liked – even if it was just one. He’s pretty sure he’s only getting these rather abundant quokka videos because Jisung had borrowed his phone once and probably liked a Tiktok. Now it’s everywhere to the point that Seungmin could probably tell you at least 5 facts about them.

He’s been standing there for a good 10 minutes now. He has given up on texting you to ask when your classes end (he reasons your professor must have overtime again), instead just adding a shit ton of videos to his “dog” collection on Tiktok.

When you exit the building with some of your blockmates, you feel your heartbeat pick up its pace at the sight of Seungmin in his oversized gray Dodgers hoodie (one of your personal favorites to steal) and some light washed pants with his cute smile and messy hair.

He looks a little embarrassed, as if he wants the earth to swallow him up right then and there. You suppose it’s because he’s been standing there awkwardly, having to look at people in the passing while waiting for you.

Once you appear though, the embarrassment fizzles away and Seungmin is making his way towards you with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie.

“One more overtime and I’m gonna have to report that professor.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re impatient and you hate having to wait for five minutes.”

“10 minutes. I waited ten minutes today.” You laugh at the boy, attention wavering when your friends bid their goodbyes to you and Seungmin. You wave politely, and Seungmin mimics you, smiling sheepishly and waving back.

You know they’re tripping over themselves after Seungmin smiles and waves back at them. You’ve been told multiple times by your blockmates that your best friend looks like a walking dream – the campus crush from the International Law and Legal Studies building.

You don’t disagree, it’s not exactly like you were blind. Every time you’d walk with Seungmin anywhere, he was bound to get some attention from the people around you.

There are multiple admirers lining up for your best friend, shaking as they make their way up to him just to say ‘hi’ or purposely standing near him during college events. It also doesn’t help that his whole friend group were the campus crush from their respective majors.

Too bad for your blockmates and the multiple people lining up willing to donate their kidneys though. Seungmin doesn’t care much about anything and anyone outside his carefully selected circle.

He’s polite, smiling back and waving and holding small conversations but there’s always a hint of disinterest when they’d try to keep the conversation longer than he’d like. He isn’t stupid and knows there’s always an ulterior motive to get with him. He knows how easy it is to mistake politeness for interest.

“Come on, I want coffee.” How demonic is it to have a friend who’s convinced he’s Bill Gates’ son with the amount of times he’s asked you to eat out.

Seungmin pushes you forward by placing a hand on the small of your back, his other hand clutching his messenger bag, guiding you to walk ahead along the sidewalks of your university.

He makes sure you’re on the safer side of the road, bumping you to move to the side.

You stop in your tracks, shaking your head at the boy and he looks at you with utter confusion. “I’m not coming with you to buy overpriced coffee. I’ve used up all my allowance for the week.”

“Waited for you for ten minutes just to be rejected. Ouch.”

“Sucks to be you.”

You’re about to say your goodbye to your best friend, heels shifting to walk the other way when his hand easily wraps around your wrist, pulling you back to where he’s stood. You slap his hand away, pointing an accusatory finger at his direction. “You are not gonna convince me. Not again.”

Screw him and his large hands and how easy it is for him to maneuver them back around your wrist to keep you in place. “I’ll pay, just come with me.”

You surrender in an instant. Who were you to pass on free coffee?

Seungmin smiles victoriously when you start walking by his side again before his face falls in a pout, going off in a tangent about how you’re only willing to hangout with him if he’s paying and how he’s too young to be your sugar daddy.

You sigh in relief when you reach the campus coffee shop, the strong aroma of coffee immediately filling your senses as Seungmin breathes out in delight.

Going straight to the counter, he orders himself an Iced Americano before turning to look at you. “Just the usual?” You nod your head, moving away to find a seat for the both of you.

Every time you’re in a coffee shop (which is, a lot), you’re reminded of the first time you met Seungmin.

He was working part time at a coffee shop, trying to save some money for college and you were merely a customer. He had accidentally knocked the - thankfully, cold - coffee all over you. In compensation, he begs for your order again so he could make it for free.

He still knows your coffee order by heart up until today.

Taking both of your orders, Seungmin moves to settle back to wherever you’re seated when he spots Jisung and Changbin sitting at your table as well.

He should’ve known they’d be here today – they practically lived on coffee. Seungmin supposes this is what double majoring in Music Management and with Music Theory and Composition looks like.

“Not you two again.” Seungmin fakes exasperation, standing by Jisung who’s seated next to you before shooing him away, claiming that Jisung was in his spot. Jisung simply smirks knowingly before shuffling towards the seat next to Changbin.

“So, I have a funny story.” When Changbin speaks up, Jisung is quick to clasp a hand over his mouth.

“We don’t have a funny story.” He counters Changbin’s claim pointedly, shaking his head and glaring at his best friend.

But who could open up a topic and not proceed around Seungmin? He’ll pull up every piece of blackmail he has on his phone, appropriately labeled “to use against friends” and start threatening you. Absolutely no one can escape Seungmin, and that’s how you find Changbin telling the story of how someone had kissed Jisung and when she pulled away, all he did was say “thank you”.

“Who says that after kissing someone?” Your laughter triggers a smile on Seungmin’s face, too busy observing you to make fun of Jisung. He’ll save that for later when you walk home together. For now, the sight of you laughing is too enchanting to look away from.

Jisung, on the other hand, ignores your question. He’s already embarrassed enough.

“I don’t know! I was nervous! My brain doesn’t work sometimes, you know?” Jisung’s running his hand through his hair in frustration, desperately trying to defend himself, hands moving inanimately while speaking.

“Your brain doesn’t work all the time.” Seungmin retorts and the boy pouts at his younger friend.

“Can we talk about something else?”

You, in fact, do not talk about anything else much to Jisung’s dismay. On your way back home, Changbin brings it up again after jokingly kissing Jisung’s cheek and saying “thank you” right after.

A heavy arm swings around your shoulder, Seungmin pulling you towards him as he lets his other friends be with their teasing. You look up at your best friend, shifting your attention back to the ground when you meet his gaze.

You’re walking slightly ahead of the two boys, and Seungmin’s just asking you how your day was. He always does this. Every time he walks you back to your building, he’d always ask how your day went.

This might have stemmed from your first and only huge argument – when you kept your feelings to yourself because you didn’t want to be a bother to him. Seungmin’s made sure to create a comfortable space for you to vent to him ever since.

When you talk, Seungmin listens attentively. You don’t know if you love or hate it. It’s a little difficult to recount what happened in your day when he’s looking at you like that. Seungmin may tease you a lot, but you know he cares a lot and one of his ways of showing that is by listening to you.

Your quiet conversation is cut short when the two boys catch up with you, Jisung’s eyes narrow at Seungmin while he walks backward so he’s in front of Seungmin. “How come you like touching (name) and not us?”

“Don’t say it like that, you sound like a perv.” Changbin smacks the back of his head and Jisung giggles when his choice of words dawn on him.

“Sorry. I mean, how come you’re not disgusted to initiate physical contact with her! What about me?”

(Because I like her, Seungmin thinks but doesn’t actually say).

Instead, Seungmin smirks, keeping his arm around you before teasing his older friend. “Aw, is our Jisung getting jealous? Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand once we drop (name) off.”

“Actually?” Jisung beams at what Seungmin says and he halts his steps, instead walking forward with his hand outstretched towards where Seungmin’s standing.

“No, fuck off! I was kidding!” You laugh when Seungmin detaches himself from you so he can properly run away from Jisung who’s desperate to hold the young boy’s hand.

It’s in moments like these, when the feeling of his arm around your shoulder still lingers, and Jisung’s words echo in your head (why does he only hold you?), and Changbin’s nudging your side knowingly, that makes you think.

Could you possibly mean something more to Seungmin? The way that he means to you?

three.

Apart from your notifications, Kim Seungmin has a habit of blowing up your ears.

You hear him before you see him. Winter seems startled at the sudden screech of your name from the other side of the street, laughing quietly to herself when she spots Seungmin running at you in full speed. She pays no mind when Seungmin latches himself around you, waving at her after finding a comfortable spot to rest his chin (on top of your head).

“That felt like it came out of a movie.”

You’re still waiting for your food with Winter by the food truck. Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind the wait. Despite learning over the years that he was impatient and usually annoyed at anyone and everything that made him wait, he’s also come to realize that he doesn’t mind the wait when it comes to you. Why else would he wait for you despite your professor being well known for always going past his allotted time?

He couldn’t do that for anyone else.

“What are your plans after here?” Seungmin directs the question towards the both of you, slowly unhooking himself from around you to look at the menu of the food truck.

“Might go to the mall and buy some airpods.” Winter mumbles, pulling her bucket hat down in embarrassment as Seungmin stares at her in disbelief. “Wow. You said that as if you’re just buying a pencil or something.”

“No! What happened is that… I thought I left my airpods in my mom’s car. But look at this.” She pulls out her phone, showing the notification that said ‘French fries (the name of her airpods) is far from the user’. “So I think I must’ve left it on the plane when I was coming back here from the academic break.”

Winter’s pouting now at the thought of her upcoming big purchase. “I can’t survive without them. How am I supposed to tune everyone out?”

“Order for Winter.” The conversation is cut abruptly by the man at the food truck with your orders. You break out in a smile at the sight of the food, taking it from Winter and whispering a quick ‘thank you’.

“Spending money is so easy, but saving feels like a war.” Winter adds before she smells her food, mirroring the smile on your face and taking a bite out of the hard-shell taco she ordered. Seungmin looks around for a place to sit, spotting a bench not too far. “Come on, you girls need to sit.”

Ever the gentleman, Seungmin carries your drinks for you while you eat your food and walk to the bench he had spotted. Taking your seats, Winter pats your thigh and nods her head. “You got yourself a good one. I approve.”

You’re confused for a moment before you feel the heat creep up from your neck to your entire face. Thank God Seungmin didn’t hear Winter implying that she approved of him as your boyfriend. If he did, he pretended not to hear.

However, he isn’t blind and can see your impossibly red face in abruptness.

“Woah, do you need something to drink?” He grabs his water bottle from his bag, unscrewing the cap and nudging it to your general direction. You gratefully take it from him, chugging down his water to try and cool yourself down. Winter all but giggles, pretending she didn’t almost trigger you to choke down on your food.

The next few minutes are spent in silence with you and Winter savoring your food and Seungmin scrolling through his phone to check if he had any deadlines he missed. One of his hands rests naturally on your thigh, as if it was the most normal thing.

When Winter finishes her food, she abruptly gets up from her seat, facing the both of you. “I’m gonna get going now so I can buy the airpods and wallow in my dorm until I fall asleep.” Your face scrunches up in amusement, nodding your head and getting up from your seat to give her a quick hug. “Take care! Text me when you get home.”

“I hope you get me for Secret Santa this year!” Seungmin earns a soft punch from Winter at his side comment before she’s off to the mall. Seungmin’s quick to pull you back down on the bench when Winter leaves, scooting so there’s almost no space between the two of you.

“Do you have plans after here?” You hum, trying to think if you needed to be somewhere. Chewing down on your bottom lip, you shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Good. You’re eating dinner with me. And don’t worry, I know what you’re thinking. We’re just going to the cafeteria on campus. I’m not gonna rob you off of your allowance.” You laugh in approval, taking another bite down your taco before tilting your body so you’re facing Seungmin, offering some up to your best friend.

“You want some?” You find he’s staring somewhere else instead of the food you had pushed up to his face. Trying to follow his gaze, you tilt your head with wide, doe-eyes before looking back to see if there was something behind you. “What are you looking at?”

Seungmin clears his throat, snapping out of his daydream. “Nowhere. Just…” You’ve never seen Seungmin this hesitant before. He’s pulling at the sleeves of the green sweater he’s wearing, looking around before he fixes his gaze on you again.

Without warning, he sticks his thumb out to wipe something at the corner of your lips.

“You had some sauce on your lips.” He’s looking straight ahead now, avoiding your eyes, as if he didn’t just leave you dumbfounded. “Close your mouth. You look like a fish.” Only then do you realize your lips have parted a little at his sudden actions.

And then, just like Winter, he abruptly gets up. You don’t notice the redness at the tip of his ears when he leans down to pinch your cheeks. “Jeongin says he needs me. I’ll meet you for dinner, okay?”

You don’t tell him you know that Jeongin’s still in class right now.

four.

When you arrive, Kim Seungmin is already there, waving you over to where he’s seated.

It’s packed, as usual, filled with college kids that lived in the dorm areas around the campus. However, Seungmin still finds a seat for the both of you.

Slipping past numerous sleep-deprived college kids, you make your way to your best friend. He greets you with a quick side hug before he’s pushing the best selling mango shake of your cafeteria in your direction. “Oh my god, they weren’t sold out?”

Every student in your university knows that The Sunshine Harvest’s mango shake was the best drink ever made in mankind. It’s the stall with the longest line in your cafeteria which explains why it always sells out so fast. Everyone would rush to the cafeteria after their last class just to buy a cup – and it was budget friendly. You’ve long given up on buying one (after months) as your schedule never lined up to when there were still some left. You complained about it all the time to Seungmin.

“It wasn’t sold out when I got there. Probably is now.” He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant even though your smile is tipping him over the edge.

All you did was smile, and Seungmin’s forgotten everything he’s supposed to say or do. It was definitely worth waiting in line for 30 minutes, he concludes.

Happily sipping on your shake, you ask Seungmin if you should start lining up at the food stalls to get dinner. He simply nods his head, telling you to go ahead so he could look after your seats while you search for what you want to eat. Seungmin takes the small time he has alone to calm down.

Then, he receives a phone call from you.

“Do you want pizza?”

“Pizza’s fine.”

“Okay, I’ll buy us pizza.”

“When you finish ordering, just come here and give me the receipt, okay? I’ll wait for it.”

“Minnie, you’re quite literally the most impatient man on this planet. I can do it.”

“And you had a long day of classes today. Get your ass back here.”

Within minutes, you’re back at your seat and Seungmin’s sitting you down, taking the receipt from your hands. “Good girl.” He ruffles your hair, dropping his hand right after to squish your pouting cheeks before he’s off to wait for your pizza.

You drop your head on the table immediately after he leaves. Something in the way he said ‘good girl’ has your heart racing, and you can hear him tell you the table’s dirty but you cannot function at the moment so your face takes the consequence of Seungmin’s words.

Moments later, Seungmin returns with your pizza, setting it down on the table before taking his seat across from you. There’s still steam blowing from the pizza from how recent it was baked, and you hear your stomach grumble at the sight. You start to fiddle with your fingers, contemplating whether you should wait for it to cool down or grab a slice right now.

It looks so tempting to take a bite off.

“Don’t.” Before you can even proceed with your devious plan, you feel Seungmin flick your forehead as if he knows what you’re thinking. It’s because he does. Seungmin has memorized your body language. He knows you want to take a slice, and he also knows it’s still hot, and your tongue’s gonna burn, and you’re going to regret it. You slump back in your seat in defeat.

Seungmin considers himself a genius when it comes to the study of you. While was a stellar student in his school subjects, nothing will come close to the extent of knowledge he has on you. He’s learned about you for years, to the point he thinks he might know you better than he knows himself. He can read you like an open book – his open book. He knows that when the tip of your ears turn red, it means you’re angry. He knows you fiddle with your fingers when you’re bored. He knows you’re one of the few people who puts milk before the cereal (he’s sworn to keep that secret safe with him).

If Seungmin were to write his thesis paper about you, he was sure he’d get a perfect mark. He’s been unknowingly tucking little things he loved about you in his heart, which is why he waited those thirty damn minutes just to buy you that stupid mango shake that you loved so much.

He’s looking at you now, staring intensely at the pizza as if it'll cool down faster if you sent it a threatening glare. He smiles to himself, where you can’t see, and he thinks – “Wow, I really really like her.” And for a moment, he thinks he’s brave enough to say it out loud, but seconds turn into minutes and the moment passes. Instead, he chooses to roll up the wrapper from your straw and flick it at you to get your attention and tell you it’s okay to eat your pizza now.

And you smile, immediately going in to take a slice. You smile, and Seungmin thinks he never wants to go a day without seeing you smile. He forgives himself for not being able to tell you how he feels right now. He thinks he still has time. He still has so much time in the world to confess to you.

“It’s still hot. Careful, okay?” You take a bite and immediately wave a hand in front of your mouth from the heat. He laughs at your eagerness to finish the pizza despite its temperature and he reaches to grab his own slice.

Seungmin wishes he can spend all his dinners like this.

It isn’t long before Seungmin’s walking you home. Despite living in the dorms within campus, he still pushes to walk you back to your building that’s a little outside of the campus. “I’ll walk you home. Come on.”

On the way back, you spot the campus cats and dogs. You squeal at the sight of them, immediately crouching down and calling at them to come to where you and Seungmin are. The cats come mewling by your feet. Seungmin mirrors you and crouches down to pick one up in his arms, checking their collars and cooing audibly. “Hello, mushroom.”

“Oh, she’s so cute.” You stand back up to pet the little kitten in Seungmin’s arms. She reminds you of one of Minho’s cats. Minho would love her. And then, you gasp. You spot the cutest golden retriever puppy, scratching at his collar. Seungmin puts the kitten down to follow you towards where the puppy’s sitting.

“Hello there…” You take a quick glimpse at his collar. “Fang. What a cute name.” You speak in a soft voice, lifting him up gently in your arms. Fang seems to immediately melt in your touch the moment you pick him up and give him some head rubs.

Mushroom’s meowing in jealousy when Seungmin gives his attention elsewhere.

“Want me to rub your back? Or give you some belly rubs?” You smile sweetly, moving your hard towards his back and moving your fingers along his fur. “Minnie. Do you ever think about how easy it is to steal them?”

He laughs at your proposition, giving it a thought. “Maybe sometimes. I’m already a criminal in your building. Might as well be a criminal on campus too.” Seungmin joins you to rub behind Fang’s ears, a smile creeping up on his face.

“It’s getting late. We’re gonna have to go.” Seungmin says gently and you pout as you put the boy down. “I wish I could put you in my bag and take you home. You’re such a good boy.” You bid your goodbye to the puppy before letting him down.

“That just made my entire day.” You say to no one in particular as you wave one last time to the cats and dogs who go back to playing amongst themselves.

On the rest of the way back, Seungmin complains about Minho and his Criminal Law professor, and you talk about the long list of long tests and quizzes you have lined up for next week. Conversation with Seungmin always comes so easy. And when he sees your building, he makes it a point to slow down his pace so you can finish your story about the time Ryujin put red dye in Chaeryeong’s shampoo bottle. And he listens.

With you, it’s easy to forget time.

You finish your story just in time. Seungmin won’t tell you he tried to time it perfectly so you wouldn’t be interrupted while you happily shared the story.

“Goodnight idiot. Don’t pull another all nighter.” As usual, Seungmin’s fingers find their way to pinch your cheeks before pushing you towards the glass doors of your building. You laugh when you notice Seungmin’s eyes brighten at the sight of Derek, and he immediately sends a wave to his favorite security guard which Derek happily returns.

“Goodnight. Walk home safely!”

On the way back to his dorms, Seungmin’s phone buzzes from the pocket of his jeans. It's a notification from Jeongin.

(Instagram): maknaeontop mentioned you in a comment: @_seungmin isnt this u with yn LOL

The post reads: “I’ll walk with you” is just an excuse to spend more time with someone before they go and that’s romantic as fuck.

Seungmin rolls his eyes and locks his phone before shoving it in the pockets of his jeans. How convenient is Jeongin’s timing to tag him in that post after he just walked you home.

five.

Kim Seungmin also enjoys complaining a lot. Despite being the one to offer his help, he’s holding up quite an attitude while he’s carrying your laundry to the laundry shop.

You were simply just texting each other, and you happened to tell him you were going to be doing your laundry today, and how you were dreading the long walk while carrying your shit ton of dirty clothes. That’s how you find Kim Seungmin waiting for you outside your building, taking his sweet time glaring at Karen.

“Seungmin in the building!” His arms are open when he greets you and you fall into them in an instant. Seungmin rarely offers to hug you first so you take the moment to wrap your arms around him and stay in his embrace. Although, his enthusiasm doesn’t hold though when he’s carrying two bags of laundry on each of his shoulders and you’re walking to the laundry shop together.

“You seriously didn’t have to do this.”

“You would’ve suffered from extreme shoulder and back pains, and I would’ve had to hear about it for the rest of the day. I’m doing myself a favor.”

You roll your eyes and the conversation falls silent. A comfortable silence.

You take the moment to look Seungmin over. He’s just wearing a white shirt and some sweatpants, and yet he looks like the most beautiful person on the planet. That’s Seungmin for you. He could wear anything and make it work.

Fuck, he’s an alarm clock, and you’re so dazed by the way his hair looks like fluffy auburn under the sun, and how the outline of his chest is easy to see through his white shirt, and how his muscles are flexing from the weight of the bags he’s carrying. Since when did he start going to the gym? Was he always this tall?

He looks painfully dashing and you’re unaware that you’ve made it to the laundry shop until Seungmin’s snapping his fingers in front of your face to get your attention. “Huh, wait. Sorry.” You flush in embarrassment at being caught daydreaming.

“Lost you for a second there.”

You immediately get to work. You’ve already separated your clothes prior to coming here, so you begin to pour two caps of laundry detergent into the washer. Seungmin mirrors your actions so you can finish your laundry earlier. Pile by pile, you start adding your clothes to the washer and push the knob to turn it to normal cycle setting.

While waiting, you and Seungmin simply sit on the floor and lean against the wall, staring at the washer with your head resting on his shoulder and your legs outstretched on the ground.

You wonder when you should do your groceries. Maybe on Tuesday after your 1pm long test? You don’t think you have anything else to do on that day. Has Seungmin finished doing his groceries or would he want to come with you? You think he has a full day of classes on Tuesday.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Huh, what?” You pull your head away from his shoulder, and Seungmin regrets asking what’s on your mind. It’s too late to double down though.

“You were chewing on your lips. Assumed you were deep in thought.” You don’t know how chewing your lips has anything to do with being deep in thought. Have you always chewed down on your lips when you were thinking of something? Seungmin curses himself for letting that slip out so easily.

“Just thinking about when I should do my groceries.” Seungmin quickly dismisses the topic in fear of his feelings being caught. It doesn’t seem like you want to talk much about groceries either. So, you fall back in your comfortable silence and your head is back on his shoulder and a smile instantly crawls its way to Seungmin’s lips while he leans his head on yours.

“Why does it seem like it’s taking longer than usual?” You whine, staring at the washer with your eyes squinted a little. You look at the clock to see how much time has passed by and then back at the washer as if it’d speed up if you did. “Yeah, I’m tired of hanging out with you.”

Seungmin’s head falls when you pull your own head back to stick your tongue out at him. He just chuckles at you, linking his arm around you so he can pull you back. “Come back. I was comfortable.” He wraps an arm around you so he can push your head back on his shoulder and your heart skips a beat when he nuzzles his head against yours once again.

“Shouldn’t have said you were tired of hanging out with me then.” You mumble, afraid that your voice would quiver if you spoke any louder. Seungmin simply dismisses you with a wave of his head. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry.”

Time always moves faster when you’re actually enjoying the moment because a few minutes pass and the washer stops, and now you have to take your clothes out and place them in the dryer.

Seungmin stays, telling you he’d help with folding up your clothes and bringing them back to your building – which is exactly what he does when the dryer finishes. And somehow, folding your clothes has turned into a competition between the two of you when he’s claiming he can fold much more than you can.

He wins.

“It’s just because you have big hands!”

“Your argument makes no sense.”

“It does so! See, see. Look.”

You lift your hand mid-air, explaining to him why more work can be done with less effort if you have big hands compared to having smaller hands. It’s like walking less steps when you have longer legs. You’re not sure you’re making sense yourself, and you’re definitely not sure how to function when Seungmin reaches to meet his hand with yours.

His hands are big.

“You do have tiny baby hands. Are your hands smaller than Felix’s?” The moment feels way too intimate for you. While you’re just comparing hand sizes, it's the warmth of his hands that catch you off guard and the feeling that you wouldn’t mind feeling his hand like this every day.

Seungmin thinks about how easy it’d be to just intertwine your hands together.

“Uh… I don’t know. We’ll have to see.” You instantly pull your hand back, packing your folded clothes back in your bags. You don’t know why your face won’t stop smiling at what just happened so you bury your head deep into the bags so Seungmin can’t see how red your cheeks are.

“They’re definitely smaller. You don’t have to check.”

Seungmin doesn’t admit either that he doesn’t want you to press your hand against Felix’s like you did with his.

six.

Even when you’re not together physically, he still finds a way to annoy you.

“That’s what phones are made of!” He explains over the phone while you’re grocery shopping. Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind that his only view in your Facetime call is your double chin and the piles of food behind you.

“What are you doing grocery shopping on a Sunday anyway? Isn’t this your sleeping day?” He says as if it was a matter-of-fact. “There are no rules stating I can’t grocery shop on a Sunday.” You deadpan before grabbing a bottle of shampoo from the shelves.

The old lady looks at you like you’re crazy and you blush in embarrassment, pulling your cart away and moving to another section of the shop. It must look like you’re talking to yourself.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you?” Seungmin shifts from his position so he’s sitting up and he can hear you better which catches your attention. “So maybe I am a little.” You grab some toilet paper before you start to walk to the frozen section.

“You know you can talk to me, right? I’m always here to carry the weight with you.” You smile at the rare words of affirmation from your best friend. It was never his love language. He showed his affection through his acts of service, so you appreciate that he’s lowering down his teasing to genuinely comfort you while you’re stressed.

“I know. It’s just…” So you talk to him.

You rant to your best friend while you’re walking around the grocery store, and while numerous other old ladies and men look at you like you need to seek psychiatric help. You tell him about your blockmates and how they rarely put in work during group projects and activities. Seungmin knows it’s bothering you more than ever now since exams are nearing. That meant so were a shit ton of project deadlines.

“Need me to talk to them?” You laugh, dismissing him while you examine the ice cream flavors available. “That’s just embarrassing for me. Though, I’ll admit they’d be scared shitless if The Kim Seungmin scolded them.” You lean down to pick up the Rocky Road tub for yourself and a Mint Choco for Seungmin.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m all that. I’m just… Minnie.” Your heart warms at how he uses your nickname for him. “And I’m serious. I won’t hesitate talking to them if you need someone to knock some sense into them.” Your best friend scoffs at the thought of your group mates and the unnecessary amount of stress they’re putting you in.

“It’s alright. I’ll handle them. Do you need anything?” Your grocery list has long been crashed out and discarded in your pocket, now just looking around to see if there was anything else you could fit in your budget.

“Do you think you can get me some eggs?” You hum, moving towards where the dairy products are. “Just one carton?” You ask, skimming through them before grabbing a dozen upon Seungmin’s approval.

When he tells you he doesn’t need anything else, you move to fall in line so you can pay for your groceries. Only then do you realize that Seungmin’s wearing the fuzzy socks you got for him a few Christmases back.

“I thought you threw those out.”

“Hm?” Seungmin asks you to clarify.

“The socks I gave you as a gift.”

“I would never! They’re my happy socks. Also, wasn’t this the Christmas when you received that Ghibli inspired night light?”

“Yeah! How’d you remember?”

“You were really happy to get it. You would not stop talking about it.” He smiles his Seungmin smile while recalling the memory. You had quite literally screamed when you opened it and Seungmin almost fell out of his ass thinking that you got hurt or injured.

“Best. Gift. Ever.” You stressed every word, looking ahead to see you’re next in line. “I’m taking that as a challenge.”

“Alright. I have to pay. I’ll talk to you later!”

“Text me…”

“I’ll text you when I get home, I know, I know. Bye!” You hang up the call just in time for the person before you to finish and you start loading your items on the counter. When you exit the shop, you spot Felix with his own bag of groceries as well.

He greets you enthusiastically the moment he spots you, going in to give you a short hug and a small pat on your head. He’s smiling his sunshine smile as the two of you walk through the large shop together, and he’s kind enough to offer to carry one of your shopping bags for you as you exit. You decide to just take the train back to campus together as he lives in one of the in-campus dorms as well.

“Soooo… you and Seungmin together yet?” Felix stabs the silence with a knife, immediately going in for the kill. You scrunch your face, shaking your head as you look at him with your eyes squinted. “Felix.”

“No, but like! He’s always so happy when he’s with you. And even when you’re not around, he goes on and on about you. I’m pretty sure Changbin knew everything about you before he even met you.”

“Don’t give me false hope.” You nibble on your lip, looking down at your groceries as Felix navigates the both of you towards the train station.

Felix pauses, a small hand on your back to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the crowd of people waiting to catch the train. “It’s not false hope!” Felix is trying to find a way to properly articulate his thoughts to you. He’s not dumb – he sees the way Seungmin looks at you. Seungmin doesn’t need to tell him.

“Okay, listen to this. So, one time I went to their dorm, right? Cause I was stress-baking and I made too many brownies and I know how much Innie loves them so I went there. It was a little late in the night, and when I walked in about to announce my presence, Seungmin saw me.”

You look at him confused, but let him continue the story.

“Turns out, you had fallen asleep on him while the three of you were watching a movie, and there was this look on his face. I can’t even begin to explain, but he had this look, and he told me to be quiet so I don’t wake you up.”

You just scoff at his story.

“Fine, don’t believe me. One day, I’m gonna say I told you so.” He teases, and a faint smile forms on your face. “Let’s hope I get to hear that.” You feel your heart pumping at the thought. Felix seems really sincere with his words, but you didn’t want to hang onto something you don’t see yourself.

It’s quiet after that when you enter the train. It’s a little packed so there isn’t a seat for you and Felix, but he protectively stands beside you and ghosts an arm around you so you don’t fall when the train accelerates. Felix walks you all the way to your building before he hands you back your grocery bag.

“Bye Felix! Be safe.”

“Bye (name). Go and kiss Seungmin for me!”

“I hate you.”

He waves to you as he leaves and now the thought of kissing Seungmin is stuck in your head. Screw Lee Felix and his endless teasing.

seven.

You don’t see Seungmin until Thursday that week. You’ve been stressed. Really stressed. And Seungmin’s well aware.

He lets you rant to him at night, playing the part of your diary. He lets you be angry, he lets you be annoyed – without shame. He lets you feel every emotion and reminds you you’re valid for feeling that way.

You’re always thankful for Seungmin. You’re appreciative of the way he drops whatever he’s doing at any hint that you’re stressed just so he can listen. He doesn’t say anything while you rant, letting the moment be entirely yours. He simply plays his part as someone who’s there to hold the moment with you because he’s lucky enough to be the one to hear it.

So, on a Thursday, you text him asking if it was okay for you to drop by the dorms. He says yes in an instant, but tells you to come in 2 hours. He must’ve been busy.

But now, two hours later, you’re standing outside his dorm building with the carton of eggs you bought him and some jjajangmyeon. Jeongin, Seungmin’s roommate, is the one who greets you.

“(Name)!”

“Jeongin!”

He rushes to hug you, wrapping his long arms around you and lifting you from the ground just a little before placing you down safely. “How long has it been since you visited us? I’m a little hurt.” He accompanies you to leave your student ID with the guard, holding up the conversation and offering to bring the plastic bag you’re holding.

Jeongin announces your arrival by knocking on the door. How unusual for someone who also lives in that same dorm he’s knocking. Maybe he didn’t bring the keys with him?

There’s a sound of vague stumbling and cursing and rushing around before the door swings open to reveal a sweating Seungmin. “Hey. Long time no see.” He lets out a breath, one you think he’s been holding before he steps aside to let the both of you in. He smiles at you before his eyes land on the plastic Jeongin’s holding.

“My eggs! Thank you.” Seungmin pinches your cheeks in thanks before grabbing the bag from Jeongin who’s still chuckling over Seungmin’s very excited exclamation of his eggs. “And some jjajangmyeon, too? (Name), you sure know your way around my heart.”

“You’re welcome.” You sit yourself on their couch, noticing that the place has been tidied up a little. You laugh at the boys’ effort to clean up before you came over.

“You feeling better?” Seungmin plops down at the spot next to you, fixing his gaze on you.

“A little.” (Way better now that I’m here with you–).

“Good. Being stressed ages you faster. You’re already like half fifty or something.”

(--so I can strangle you.)

Jeongin nudges Seungmin suddenly, clearing his throat. You look at the younger boy suspiciously and suddenly Seungmin’s sweating again despite not doing anything. “I have a surprise.”

“You… have a surprise?” You tilt your head in confusion. Seungmin tells you to wait one moment as he waddles towards the door of their bathroom. What surprise could possibly be linked to their bathroom. “Seungmin. I swear to god if you show me one of your shit–”

Then, he opens the door and out comes running… Fang?

“Did you kidnap the campus dog?!” You shoot out of your seat, mouth dropping at the sight of the dog who’s excitedly jumping and demanding for your attention. “I was kidding when I talked about kidnapping them!”

“You said they’d cheer you up no matter what!” Your initial shock dissipates when Fang looks so cute barking and jumping at you, so you sit back down and he immediately hops on their couch to lay down on your lap.

“I helped too.” Jeongin states proudly, sitting on your left so you’re in between him and Seungmin who has taken the spot on your right. “You made the baby help you steal?” Seungmin rolls his eyes, rubbing Fang’s head. “He was more than happy to do it.”

Only then do you allow your heart to explode in your chest. Seungmin actually kidnapped the campus dog to surprise you because you’d been stressed for the week. Your emotions feel heightened, and you feel an overwhelming wave of love wash over you at its purest, unsolicited form.

He did this for you just because. He did it without expecting anything in return. He did it because you briefly mentioned how they made your day when you saw them that one time you ate dinner together.

You can’t do anything but stare at him for a moment, unable to really pay attention to Fang, not that he really needs it. Jeongin’s giving him enough attention by playing around with him. You’re absolutely dumbfounded at the heavy implication of care in his actions. Here he was next to you, holding with him all your feelings you’ve had for years.

“Thank you, Minnie.” You lean in to give him a small kiss on his cheek before you’re getting up to play with Fang and Jeongin. His pretty brown eyes go wide. There’s a deep inhalation while he sits there after you’d kissed his cheek. He’s taken by surprise, almost frozen in his spot.

He’d kidnap all the campus dogs and cats just to feel your lips on his cheek again.

He’s snapped out of his daze by the sound of knocking and almost immediately Jeongin’s rushing Fang back into their bathroom to hide him and their filthy crimes. They were going to return him. They were simply… borrowing.

Seungmin answers the door once Jeongin safely hides the cute puppy.

It’s Lee Minho.

“It’s just Minho!” Minho invites himself inside, waving at you once he spots you. “Why are you here?”

“I invited him so he could cook dinner for us. My wallet’s bleeding and I’m craving a home cooked meal.” Jeongin responds, opening the bathroom door to let Fang out again who instantly warms up to Minho. There’s obvious relief in his voice at not being caught. He was an accessory to the crime after all.

“Only if I get a hug from Seungminie.” Minho’s smirking, inching closer and closer to Seungmin who puts his arms out in front of him to block himself from the boy. “Move! You’re dirty! And don’t call me that.”

Minho all but laughs at Seungmin’s response, already having predicted it. He ignores Seungmin’s passiveness when it comes to affection, choosing instead to pet the puppy by his feet. “I’m not even gonna ask why you stole the campus dog.”

“We’re just borrowing him!”

“Can you steal Mushroom for me too?” Minho pats your head affectionately when he passes by you to make his way to the kitchen, looking through the pots and pans and ingredients to figure out what he’s going to be cooking tonight.

“Depends how much you’re willing to pay me.” Seungmin grins evilly, and Minho all but shakes his head at the younger boy.

It goes on like this for a while. You help Minho out sometimes at the kitchen because Seungmin and Jeongin cannot for the life of them cook without causing a fire, and then Minho pushes you to go back and play with Fang since Seungmin went through all the trouble kidnapping him for you (Jeongin couldn’t keep the secret and told Minho right away why they decided to steal the puppy).

You feel genuine happiness when you’re around them. The feeling remains even when you’ve sat down to eat.

Jeongin and Minho also can’t help but notice the happiness radiating off of Seungmin who’s staring at you and your smile when he thinks no one is looking.

eight.

Kim Seungmin’s friends are basically an extension of yours, like how your friends are an extension of his.

While some are closer with others, you don’t mind each other’s presence. Seungmin’s friend group is way bigger than yours – 8 boys including himself. As for you, you liked sticking with Winter, Chaeryeong, and Ryujin.

Hanging out in the big field of your school was supposed to be only amongst you and the 3 girls, but when the boys caught wind of your plans, they asked if they could tag along.

That’s how you find yourselves sitting on the field’s grass and chatting while some play a variation of volleyball by the side.

Everyone’s doing their own little thing, happy to just spend the afternoon with friends after a long week of classes. Ryujin’s bullying Chan, untying his shoelaces every chance she gets. Chaeryeong and Minho are discussing amongst themselves about their dance showcase coming up since they were both majoring in the same course (with Changbin constantly trying to bother them both – you wish Chaeryeong would punch him again so you could catch it on video this time). Hyunjin’s asking for Winter’s advice since he’s been tinkering with the idea of taking up Fashion Design. The rest of the boys are playing around with the exception of Seungmin who’s laying down on the picnic blanket you’d laid out.

“You mentioned you had a quiz today, right? How was that?” You look down at Seungmin even though he has an arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

“I think I did alright. Bolted out of there as soon as they started discussing their answers.”

The boy simply laughs, tuning out everyone else in favor of listening to your voice. It doesn’t last long though when Jisung is bothering everyone to play volleyball together. He claims it’s perfect since you were 12 total so exactly 6 people would be on each time like an actual game.

Feeling nice today, you decided to join in on his idea. Jisung is thankful for the support. It’s always his ideas that are turned down – though he’s to blame most of the time. Who thinks swimming in an ice cold lake is a good idea to hangout?

It’s only now that he thinks of something that’s normal to do so everyone gives him a chance.

So, you play. You, Ryujin, Chan, Felix, Minho and Hyunjin in one team and Seungmin, Changbin, Jeongin, Chaeryeong, Winter, and Jisung in another.

Your team wins both rounds. Seungmin’s just complaining about Changbin’s good at nothing while you switch courts to play a third round (even though your team’s already won). “That’s embarrassing.” Minho jests at the opposite team, laughing when Jisung pouts instantly.

“We’re just going to win again. Do you really wanna play another round?” Ryujin joins in on the teasing, finally creating a temporary truce with Chan as they were on the same team.

“Mean!” Chaeryeong remarks before slumping her shoulders. “She’s right though. They’re definitely gonna win again.”

“I hate all of you” are Seungmin’s last words before you play another round. The game goes by really quickly until Jisung accidentally spikes the ball in your direction and he’s immediately down on his knees apologizing to you.

Everyone’s eyes instantly land on Seungmin who’s already making his way to where you’re seated on the ground.

“I’m okay. It’s okay Ji!” Despite your verbal reassurance to everyone, he still places a fond hand on your head before he holds your chin, gently tilting your head on both sides to see if you were hit in the face.

Jisung’s now apologizing to both you and Seungmin.

Chan jumps on the opportunity to start taunting Jisung and how Seungmin was gonna be mad at him and Jisung’s sad attempts at getting the boy to hug him will all be in vain. “Chan, you’re my roommate. I thought you were supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m sorry, the roommate contract doesn’t cover taking your side.”

Seungmin doesn’t let the game continue after that, but nobody really minds, happy to finally take a break from playing.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Doting Seungmin is adorable as he’s wiping the sweat from your forehead, asking you a million times if you were hurt. He tells you it’s because he can’t pay in case you've broken a bone or something. You know better than that.

He was just being his ‘tsundere’ self.

“Yo, you guys ready for the midterms exams soon?” Chan opens up and a loud groan immediately leaves Ryujin’s lips in response. “Don’t even remind me.”

“I’m honestly just excited for the university festival right after.” Felix quips, hugging his knees to his chest. Winter and Hyunjin instantly agree, talking about wanting to help out with the booths.

“I wonder which artists are gonna perform. There’s no lineup yet, right?” Changbin asks, and everyone responds with a variation of ‘no’ or ‘I don’t know’ along with a list of some artists they wished would make an appearance.

“Ya, lovebirds!” Minho calls out to the both of you which catches your attention. “You’re going to the university festival after exams, right?”

Your eyes light up at the mention of the festival and you eagerly nod, completely disregarding how Minho called you lovebirds. Seungmin takes note of your excitement, smiling goofily to himself before replacing it with a straight face upon facing his friends. He knows they’ll never let him live it down if they caught him with that smile on his face.

Seungmin just watches as you start talking about which booths you wished to see and which artists you were hoping to perform, and how you were wondering if there was going to be a fireworks display at night.

Your grin is so wide and fond and excited that Seungmin can’t help but let his own smile unknowingly linger. Minho has a shit-eating grin on his face at the sight.

nine.

Hell week – the week before midterm exams – comes really quick, and soon you find yourself living through Seungmin’s coffee machine and 5 hours of sleep.

The campus library becomes your second home as does a lot of people from numerous departments, studying until ungodly hours and sneaking in cups of hot coffee. So, after eating dinner, you walk the familiar steps towards the library with your best friend.

Seungmin also seems to be running low on sleep, eyes drooping before you even made it to the library. However, ever the top student that he is, he fights through the exhaustion. He’s thankful for the distraction.

Ever since you mentioned your excitement for the university festival and the fireworks display, Seungmin’s mind has been eating at him to use it as the perfect opportunity to confess to you. It’s the only thing that replays in his mind when he isn’t doing anything — all the possible outcomes to a confession and all the possible ways to confess.

So, he’s more than grateful for the distraction.

Not so much the one in front of him right now though. You’ve been at the library for around an hour now, books and papers scattered around the table. Seungmin’s tapping his pen against his lips, elbow propped up on the wood of the table. Criminal law has long been discarded in his head, he’s read it way too many times for the past week in preparation for the exams.

“Stop looking. You’re distracting me.” You whisper for Seungmin to pay attention, not even bothering to look up from your own book as you shut your eyes closed to try the photographic memory you clearly don’t have before flipping to the next page.

“How narcissistic of you to think I’m staring at you.” He rolls his eyes just to be annoying before his cheek falls against his fist, eyes glazing over you again. He has little shame in his unabashed staring.

It’s how he notices your gentle shivering at the airconditioning of the library. “Did you forget to bring a jacket?”

You don’t hear him, and you don’t really have to as he’s already taking his hoodie off, dropping it on top of your book to grab your attention. “You’re shaking.” When you’re about to retort, saying he’d get cold too — he goes back to studying, placing his earphones in even though he isn’t listening to any music.

You notice it’s your favorite hoodie of his, the Dodgers gray hoodie, once you put it on. Almost immediately you’re engulfed in his warmth and his scent and you’re grateful for the jacket because your ass has been shaking for the last hour.

Seungmin’s attempt to get back to studying falls short when he catches a glimpse of you in his jacket that’s clearly too big for you.

His thoughts drift to the color of your eyes and the way your hair frames your face so prettily and how you look so cute with the sleeves of his jacket falling beyond where your hands are. He thinks about how it’d feel like if he went in for the first kiss, pressing his lips on yours without it being nerve-wracking.

He imagines everything and anything in that short amount of time, his notes discarded in favor of admiring you.

Seungmin is interrupted when you drop a copy of his perfectly written notes (from a class he took a year ago), asking him about a specific topic since you’re taking the class this year. He readjusts himself on the library seats, the ones he hates but puts up because you enjoy studying in the library so much.

Leaning in forward, Seungmin starts explaining to you the concepts of Politics and Governance and Health Laws. He glances at you with a frown when you seem to be staring at his notes blankly, having a hard time grasping all the information at once.

“You look like you’re fighting for your life in there.”

“That’s cause I am! How am I supposed to pass this class? Can it just be over so we can be at the university fest already?” Seungmin leans across the table to flick your forehead gently.

“You’re more concerned about the university fest than passing your exams.”

“Okay, mean.” You say to him with a frown, looking around to see if anyone’s looking before flashing him a middle finger. He rolls his eyes, pushing your notes further towards you before speaking again. “I’m not wrong though.”

He pokes you with a pen to get your attention, telling you to focus up before he’s explaining the concepts to you again. You try better to understand them now, repeating some of the things he tells you and answering his follow-up questions to make sure you really understand.

The soft smile he gives you when you answer correctly is enough motivation to perfect your exam. He looks like such a boyfriend right now. Lending you his hoodie, tutoring you on your exams, leaning in and smiling that soft smile directed at you. It takes everything in your head not to daydream of what it’d be like if he was actually yours.

You have to remind yourself he isn’t yours. He’s just your best friend. Your stupid boyfriend material best friend.

Similarly, Seungmin’s telling himself to get it together. He needs to stay focused on the upcoming exams and stop thinking about what it’d feel like to be yours.

ten.

It goes like this for a few more days until midterms week rolls through. And even then, you’d hold yourself in the library after an exam to study for the next.

Sometimes you’d be joined by Winter, and sometimes Jisung and Changbin would tag along which usually resulted in you trying to muffle your laughter underneath sweater sleeves. Who knew you could sneak in 12 cups of coffee in the library before actually getting caught?

Ever since then, Jisung’s been banned from your study sessions with Seungmin.

Tomorrow’s the last day of your exams, and you’re at Seungmin and Jeongin’s dorm to eat dinner before you head out to the library for the last time.

Seungmin’s out to buy dinner so you’re left with Jeongin who keeps trying to pry into yours and Seungmin’s non-existent relationship. “But you’ve definitely made out before, right?” Your face grows redder and redder every second that Jeongin speaks and you hit him with their couch throw pillow to rebut.

“We have not!”

“You’re right. Seungmin would’ve never shut up about it. But like, why not? Just get it over with and kiss!”

“We’re just best friends.”

“That’s what they all say.” Jeongin turns his full attention at you, smirking to himself before he starts making kissing noises. “Oh Minnie, kiss me already!” He purposely changes the pitch of his voice to try and imitate yours and you pretend not to feel the warmth on your cheeks.

“I’m gonna end up killing you before Seungmin does.”

He acts as if he doesn’t hear your comment (threat) and continues to tease you. “Seungminie, please fu—“

“Oh my god, shut up!” You almost jump at the poor boy upon realizing what he’s about to say next, and Seungmin arrives just in time before you can strangle the life out of his roommate.

“Am I interrupting something?” He glances at the two of you with an eyebrow raised, placing down the takeout containers on the table and motioning for you to sit so you can eat already.

“I think you might’ve just saved my life.” You send another glare at Jeongin and he raises his hands in surrender.

Seungmin just chuckles at this, coming up to sit beside you before he’s distributing the containers to the three of you. “What did you even do that made her jump you?”

“Everything he does makes me want to jump him.” You bark, squinting your eyes at the boy seated across from you and Seungmin.

“Woah, woah. (Name), I don’t see you like that. So eager to jump me?” You scoff loudly at his response, flicking a plastic spoon in his direction.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! We both know who you really want to jump.”

The plastic fork follows with the threat that if he doesn’t shut up, the hot soup from your noodles is gonna be next.

“Alright, both of you calm down and eat.” Almost instantly, Jeongin’s hunching over his chair, terrible posture leaned forward to start twisting the noodles around his chopsticks. Seungmin angles himself close to you so that your shoulders are brushing, leaning down and blowing on his food before he starts to eat as well.

You try and fail to hide a smile at the physical contact.

On your way to the library, you exchange reviewers to ask each other questions. It’s a good way to retain your memory on the concepts. Jeongin doesn’t seem to know any of the answers to his questions, and Seungmin makes that face exclusive to when he senses something horrible is going to happen — in this case, Jeongin’s grade on this subject.

“Don’t worry. God’s gonna give me a miracle tomorrow.”

“Did he tell you that?” You nudge Seungmin’s shoulder, laughing at their banter when Jeongin sticks his tongue out at your best friend.

“Of course you’re gonna pass your exams tomorrow. Pre-law students are nerds. You fit right in.” Jeongin snorts which earns him a smack from his roommate. “Do you wanna get kicked out of the dorms?”

The rest of the night falls smoothly with the three of you minding your own business (Jeongin instantly gets distracted by his phone). It’s only before midnight that you find Seungmin asleep in front of you, head resting on the wooden table of the library and eyes closed peacefully.

You glance at him and you almost feel bad you have to wake him up. Your heart flutters at the small smile gracing his lips, snapping a quick photo so you can go back to this moment forever.

You brush his skin gently, and a smile appears on his face. It’s soft, reserved, but it feels like everything to you. Something in the way he smiled at your touch has you feeling something you can’t quite identify. It makes your heart hurt in s good way.

“Minnie, wake up.” Your voice breaks him out of his nap. He glances up, sleep still evident in his eyes. Then, his dreamy smile returns.

“Sorry.” You apologize to the boy while he moves to tidy up his things. He must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for you to finish studying.

“Don’t apologize.” There’s that sincere, intense look in his eyes that makes sure to meet your gaze, so you know he’s being serious, yet his words are gently spoken. He doesn’t want you to feel bad. It was his choice to wait for you.

“Go straight to sleep when you get back, okay? I know you love pulling allnighters, but it’s not good for you.”

On normal circumstances, he’d protest, telling you that he was still able to get a good 4 hours of sleep, but the genuine concern swimming in your eyes has him sealing his mouth shut and nodding instead.

“Alright.”

Seungmin finds he’d do anything for you.

eleven.

After you finish your last test, you get a text from Seungmin telling you to come to JYP Diner.

He explains that the boys wanted to eat together after completing the midterm exams, and that you should try inviting Ryujin and Winter as well (Chaeryeong was already there as she shared her last exam schedule with Minho).

You reply that Winter had retired for the day, and that Ryujin still had an exam later this afternoon. He tells you to hurry up and get your ass to the diner.

As soon as you open the door, Seungmin’s eyes land on you and the annoyed look on his face melts into a fond smile. He’s quick to get up, greeting you by the door before wrapping his arm around your shoulder to draw you to where they were seated.

The inside of the diner is warm and pleasant. You’re thankful for the differing scenery of the calm diner compared to the stress of your university.

The boys and Chaeryeong wave at you when you make it to the table, and you fall on the empty seat right next to your best friend.

“Oh, (name). You should’ve heard him when you were still on your way here.” Minho quips, grin growing when Seungmin kicks him from under the table.

“Why’s (name) taking so long?”

“Has (name) texted you guys?”

The rest of the boys join in, overexaggerating their imitation of Seungmin’s words from earlier. Barely concealed laughters echo around your booth when your best friend shoots them a friendly show of his middle finger before he shushes them, asking you what you wanted to eat as everyone else had already ordered.

“Hey, where’s Felix?” You only now notice the boy’s absence, and Hyunjin snorts in response.

“Immediately fell asleep after his Advanced Calculus exam. He was actually in tears while studying for it last night.”

“Just like Jeongin then.” Seungmin earns a rather harsh nudge from Jeongin. “That was supposed to be a secret!”

There’s a gentle smile eating at your lips once your food arrives and your sleep-deprived friends start gobbling up the food as if they were sentenced to life and this was their last meal. There’s always that unidentifiable feeling of comfort when you’re with them, and you’re grateful to have found such friends.

“What’s wrong?” Seungmin asks you quietly, noticing that you haven't started eating yet. Humming, you shake your head with the same small smile on your face.

“It’s nothing.”

Your after-exam celebration is continued over teasing and conversations about the university festival, and one by one, everyone starts excusing themselves to go back home. As usual, Seungmin walks you home.

He doesn’t let you walk into your building immediately upon arrival, asking you to wait for a moment. You comply, tilting your head with an amused smile on your face.

He’s rummaging through his bag now, looking for something before he pulls out two… tickets? He shoves one in your direction and it takes you a while to realize it’s a ticket to the university festival concert. They weren’t even selling yet, and when they did, it sold out pretty fast.

“How did you…?”

“Chan’s part of the student organizers.”

You immediately jump to coddle the boy in your arms, squeezing his rather larger body and pressing your cheek on his chest as you repeatedly say ‘thank you’. Your eyes are squeezed shut from beaming too much and your smile’s a little crooked from how genuine it comes out.

Seungmin can’t properly tell you that it’s no problem. He finds his words jumbled up because the sight he’s subjected to is so… beautiful. He’s blushing and somehow it’s making you blush too.

There’s something tucked beneath your smile, a certain kind of shyness in the way your eyes crinkle. It’s beautiful, as it always has been, but there was something about it that had Seungmin staring at your lips and back at your eyes. It’s like he’s being pulled in, and he’s unaware that he’s slowly and slowly minimizing the gap between you.

Just when he’s about to bite the bullet, an unknown voice startles him.

“Is that the little menace?”

Fucking hell.

Karen’s marching her way down the steps to where Seungmin’s standing, and you know it’s time he goes before Karen catches up to the boy.

“I guess I’ll see you later.” You laugh, but there’s that hint of shyness again, of being flustered as you wave at him. And then, you turn around to head inside your building.

Seungmin bolts back to his dorms, and he spends the rest of the afternoon thinking about what could’ve happened if goddamn Crazy Karen would’ve just kept her mouth shut.

twelve.

The university festival comes really fast, and you’re more than excited to spend it with your friends.

“Give me one second.” Chaeryeong’s gathering products from her desk and makeup bag, gathering them up on the floor and telling you to sit still as she rummages through her multiple tubes and brushes.

She maneuvers your head so you’re facing her before she slathers something on her palms, transferring the product to your face and rubbing it gently on your skin. A thin layer of concealer follows before she’s brushing powder on your face.

Earlier, you had asked if she could do your makeup for you and she excitedly replied with a ‘yes’ and a ‘come over right away’.

It’s how you find multiple brushes being dabbed on your face, hues of pink on your cheeks and a little on your nose before she’s patting a few glitters on the lids of your eyes. She lets you put on the mascara yourself so she doesn’t accidentally poke you with the wand (like she did the last time she did your makeup).

Then she’s on the search for the perfect shade of lipstick. “Let’s just put a little. Seungmin’s just gonna wipe it all off anyway when you two eventually kiss tonight.”

“Oh my god, Ryeong.”

“What! I’m not wrong.” She’s giggling as she tells you to part your lips slightly, applying the soft pink shade on your lips. “You look so pretty.” She coos more to herself, proud of her creation before she’s pinching your cheeks lightly.

She shoves a mirror to your face so you can reap the results of her hard work. She was right.

Chaeryeong did a wonderful job highlighting your natural features and letting the makeup work naturally on your face. You smile brightly, giving her a quick hug and showering her in ‘thank you’s.

“Okay, now get changed. Go, go! We’re gonna be late.”

When you step out, you’re met with the sight of Chaeryeong in a cute, sleeveless dress, leather jacket and fishnets. She looks stunning as she playfully turns around to show off her whole fit. “Damn, one chance?”

“Yeah, right. One chance with Seungmin, you mean.”

“Actually, I’d like to take a million chances with Seungmin.” She cracks into a fit of giggles. “You’re so down horrendous. Look, with the way you look, I’m sensing the first chance will be taken tonight.”

You give yourself a final do-over with Chaeryeong’s words, looking at yourself in the mirror. You’re wearing some loose slacks and a black tube top with a cream colored cardigan. For someone who didn’t have enough time to consult Winter and her amazing fashion sense, you’d say you did pretty well at dressing yourself prettily.

“Okay, okay. Come here, let me put lip gloss on you. I think some of the boys are here already.” You comply, letting her fix up some lip gloss on you before applying some on herself.

“They’re picking us up?”

“Yup. Minho, Jeongin, and Seungmin, I think?”

“Seungmin?” You thought you’d have more time to gather yourself and your feelings on the walk to the big field where all the booths were set up.

“Yeah, their dorm is nearest to mine. Come on.”

When you and Chaeryeong step out of her building, the boys are dramatically whistling and clapping their hands. Only when you’re near them do they spill their genuine compliments at the way you two look.

Seungmin’s knee-jerking reaction at seeing you so prettily dressed-up is to just stare at you unabashedly. There’s so much he wants to say, but his eyes remain glued open and his mouth shut.

“Yah, stop staring.” Minho smacks the back of Seungmin’s head and he’s stuttering out for something to say. He wants to tell you that you look beautiful, wants to say something charming to woo you over but he’s left with his mouth parted.

You just laugh at their exchange, taking your spot next to Seungmin as the five of you start walking to the big field. Seungmin looks so painfully attractive with his white shirt and jeans and converse and varsity jacket. He looks like the epitome of a boyfriend – so painfully dashing but also very painfully out of your league.

Meanwhile, Seungmin’s still kicking himself over for not being able to tell you how beautiful he thinks you look. He’s just hoping he’s presented with another opportunity to tell you – and he hopes by then, he’ll have enough courage to say it.

Earlier today, Jeongin and Minho gave him quite the heart-to-heart talk and convinced him to confess his feelings tonight. Besides, as they said, it was the perfect opportunity.

“You like her. You have for like a few years now. Stop being a pussy and tell her.” Minho’s words are rather straightforward. Jeongin groans before punching his arm.

Minho grabs at his arm, shrugging his shoulders before continuing to snack on the chips he had stolen.

“I’m not telling her.” Seungmin mutters to the boys, dejected. “I’m gonna ruin our friendship.”

“How sure are you?” Minho is stubborn as he continues to push Seungmin. “I’m not. But I don’t want to know.”

This time, Jeongin interjects. “Are you sure you don’t want to know? How would you live with yourself if she liked you all along and you let go of that chance so easily?”

“I won’t.”

“Exactly. No one lives a happy life entirely within their comfort zone. If you like her so much then she’s worth dragging yourself out of that zone.” Seungmin stiffens at his roommate’s words, mind racing to truly think about what he’s saying.

Since when did Jeongin get so wise?

As if Minho was thinking the same thing, he narrows his eyes before staring at the youngest of the group. “You got something you wanna share with the class? How come you know so much about asking someone out?”

“The two of you are just stupid. Anyways, just do it.”

The waters Jeongin’s treading on are dangerous, but well worth it if it meant Seungmin’s genuine happiness. He thinks it’s time Seungmin ripped off the poor excuse of a bandaid he taped around his heart and deemed all good now.

“Yeah, or I’ll do it myself.” Minho throws him a sly grin, voice overflowing with mischief.

“Absolutely not.” Seungmin shakes his head in protest, eyes gaping in horror. He immediately grabs the bag of chips from Minho’s lap which the boy immediately tries to grab back. “What’re you gonna do to stop me?”

“Tell Chaeryeong how you wanted her to be your dance partner soooo bad with some screenshots of your messages to me.” Minho should’ve known better than to challenge the one boy that held multiple threats towards each one of them.

His argument was unfair because he and Jeongin were the only people he told that to. Minho’s mood darkens, pulling back the bag of chips with force and resigning from his evil plans of telling you how Seungmin feels about you.

Minho valued his pride more than anything else.

“Look, I’ll do it myself.” Seungmin huffs, rubbing the back of his neck and falling back on his bed to stare at the ceiling. “I think.”

Then, Minho’s phone buzzes from right next to him.

“The girls are almost ready. Let’s start walking.”

thirteen.

When the five of you arrive, most of your friends are already there.

Chan’s the first one that sees you.

“Finally.” He greets you and Chaeryeong with a big hug before bumping his fists with the boys. What is it with men and their fist bumps?

Before you can mingle with the rest of the group, Chan leans in discreetly (or at least, as discreet as he could) and whispers to the boys. “Watch out if you’re wearing shoes. Ryujin’s been messing with everyone’s shoelaces the moment we got here.”

You laugh at his warning. Ryujin’s actually such a menace.

“That sounds just about right.” You pat him in the back before going in to give Ryujin a hug. Her face immediately lights up when she sees you and Chaeryeong, wrapping an arm around the both of you as she starts to move away from the boys.

“Ryujin has more rizz than you.”

“I’m not talking to someone who cried while studying Advanced Calculus.”

“Noted.” Felix instantly shuts up, moving to talk about another topic with Hyunjin who's laughing his ass off at Seungmin’s response at the poor boy.

“We’re just waiting on Changbin, Winter, and… Jisung?”

Chan’s head counting the group, pointing at each person and mentally noting down the numbers, making sure that no one was missing. You remember the time Felix had accidentally joined in with Beomgyu’s friend group when he thought he was following Seungmin’s feet. Chan almost lost his mind.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect when they show up from a distance. Jisung seems to be talking Winter’s ear off and Changbin’s trying to pull him back. Winter looks a bit overstimulated with his level of energy, but divulges in the conversation anyway. Jisung appreciates it. You smile at how easy your friends got on with Seungmin’s friends.

Felix excitedly points at the arcade booths lining up, some shooting games, prize wheels, virtual reality. Everyone else reciprocates the excitement, immediately running up to the booths and getting in line. Meanwhile, Jeongin’s dragging Minho at the claw machine. He’s always been notorious for having luck when it came to the claw machine games, and Jeongin was taking his chances the moment he found a bread plushie in the glass case.

“Get it yourself.”

“Chaeryeong!”

Minho shuts him up with a bread plushie he immediately wins for Jeongin. The youngest boy happily holds his prize and keeps his mouth shut.

Chan easily wins Ryujin whatever she asks for in exchange for her leaving his shoelaces alone. Ryujin is easily bribed when it comes to food and free prizes and she knows Chan would probably win most of the games she wanted. Jisung and Changbin were comparing their strengths and boasting about their muscles by the punching machine, and Chaeryeong’s dominating the shooting games with Winter.

“Oh my god, the Sunshine Harvest has a booth. I’ll be back.” Before anyone from the group can accompany you, you’re running towards the direction of the booth. Seungmin understands your rush. Their mango shakes were probably on the way to selling out fast if you didn’t get there sooner.

When you don’t return in the next 20 minutes, Seungmin is sweating frantically. He knows you can handle yourself, but there was now a chock full of new people who had just arrived and were littering the area. It’s when you don’t pick up his calls that tips him over.

“I’m gonna go look for (name).” Chan nods understandingly, and Seungmin disappears in a flash. He thanks his parents for his height at this very moment, scanning through the groups of people and excusing himself so he can navigate towards the Sunshine Harvest booth.

His heart drops to his stomach when he doesn’t see you there. But just when he’s about to panic some more, he spots someone hunched over to the very far left, away from the crowd, discarded mango shake container to the side. He practically leaps out of the bench he’s standing on, jogging in your direction.

He doesn’t have the heart to scold you when he finds you playing with Mushroom.

“(Name).” You jump back at the sudden voice, but instantly smile upon realizing it’s just Seungmin. You finally say goodbye to the cat, grabbing your empty bottle before standing up. “Sorry, did I take too long?”

“No, it’s okay.” You just don’t have to know how frantic he was while he was looking everywhere for you.

On the way back to your friends, you don’t realize his hand is glued to the small of your waist so he doesn’t lose you again.

When the group decides to split up, Minho and Jeongin are instantly sending Seungmin stupid dirty looks with their stupid wiggling eyebrows. He knows if he doesn’t confess tonight, Minho might actually do it for him.

The rest of the afternoon goes by so fast. You applaud the university and the student body for organizing the fest. The afternoon transitions to night so smoothly, you don’t even realize the amount of time that passed by.

The bright lights and the loud music is so exhilarating, and it makes you feel so alive — the most alive you’ve felt in the week. There are times when you dance along to the music, exaggerating your movements and Seungmin laughs with his head rolled back and you’d embarrass yourself over and over to keep hearing him laugh.

Seungmin takes the weight off your chest so easily. All he does is pat your head and squeeze your cheeks and accompany you wherever you wish to go and suddenly, you feel lighter. Happier. And it is so, so loud. Everyone around you is talking, crowded together but you can’t hear them. All you can focus on is the feeling of his hand in yours to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the crowd and the way it fits perfectly. Like his hand was meant to be crafted to hold yours.

It’s how you continue to feel when you find yourselves amongst the crowd of the concert, pretending to know the lyrics of the songs playing, screaming at each other when you actually recognize the song. Everything you do with him is something you wish you could capture in a photo.

He’s singing, and you look at him with a silent glee in your eyes, hoping to touch the same greatness that Kim Seungmin always held and hoping to burn the memory of his singing and his soft eyes and his hand in yours. You almost feel like flying.

His eyes are warm when you look at them, golden brown peeking down at you with fondness. You’ve always loved his eyes the most. It has always been his most obvious tell — of the things they feel and the things they’ve made you feel when he stared at you a little longer than normal.

Your lips quirk up in a smile, and you find yourself singing along to the songs with him. You were never the greatest singer, but with him, you felt like loveliest melodies and tunes flow out of you comfortably.

This time, Seungmin allows himself a quick glance at you from his peripheral vision, admiring your naturally dusted cheeks and your beaming eyes and your messed up hair from the wind and from running around all night. How could you stand there and sing without a care in the world and smile and look so, so beautiful.

And there are many things Seungmin considers to be beautiful. He loves the sunrise and the sunsets and the way the sky blends into a perfect mix of colors along the horizon before the moon chases the sun away. He loves the flowers and the trees on his way to his classes and the wind’s breeze wrapping you in a cold blanket. He loves the stars and their relentless twinkling and how they coat the night sky, making sure the moon is never lonely. But above all, he loves you and your smile and the way you chew on your lips when you think and how you make him feel like he can touch the sky.

Seungmin finds he’d sacrifice the sunset and sunrise and the twinkling stars if it meant he could call you and all of you, his.

He doesn’t say anything when he drops his varsity jacket on your shoulders and he doesn’t meet your eyes when you look up at him to thank him.

You make Seungmin trip over his own words. All tangled in adoration and longing. Between all the galaxies and universes, Seungmin concludes he’s lucky to have landed under the same stars as you.

With all this in mind, Seungmin’s sure he’s upgraded way beyond the like. He’s in love with you — in the hopeless, clumsy, exhilarating kind of way. And he finds that loving you is something he wants to experience no matter the outcome.

If he was told you’d never feel the same and if he’d still take the chance to fall in love with you, he’d say yes. It’s a yes again and again and again. Always a yes. He’d prefer the unrequited over never knowing how it feels to love you and every part of you.

“(Name)?”

Despite the loudness of the music and the fireworks and the people around you, you find Seungmin’s voice cut through them all.

Looking up at him, you find him looking at you in a way he never has done before. In the way he’s done so many times when you weren’t looking. There’s something swirling in his eyes, some kind of longing and desire.

I've been alone for too long

You've been there all along

The distance between you is closing. Seungmin’s heart is racing when he peels his hand from yours in favor of cradling your cheek gently, tracing along your jaw and soaking in every detail about your face.

Ethereal love

I will choose you now and everyday

Seungmin’s putting everything on the line, stepping into the unknown, heartbeat pounding in his ears. There’s still time for you to pull away, to run away from the certainty he feels about you, to shatter him into a million pieces.

He hopes you won’t.

His eyes flutter shut, but when he opens them again, you’re already gone.

fourteen.

It’s the first time Seungmin doesn’t blow up your notifications.

Jeongin confiscates his phone when he comes home to Seungmin downing a bottle of vodka. He’s immediately concerned for his roommate’s wellbeing and what could’ve led to Seungmin’s sudden want to get drunk.

“Hey, what happened?” He sits on the ground to accompany Seungmin, grabbing the bottle when he sees that it’s almost empty.

“Let me sulk properly.” Then, he’s grabbing the bottle back from Jeongin, chugging down the remains before harshly setting it down on the ground. A sharp sigh leaves his throat before he leans in to rest his head on Jeongin’s shoulder. And he sits there and lets him.

Jeongin lets him because Seungmin needed someone right now. “I fucked up, Innie.”

It’s the most fragile Jeongin’s ever heard from his roommate and he takes Seungmin’s hand to let him know that he’s listening. “Tried to kiss (name). I ruined everything.”

Jeongin’s face twists in confusion, heart rising in his own throat. He knows you like Seungmin back. And if Seungmin tried to kiss you, he would’ve thought the result of that would be a very happy phone call from his roommate – not him drinking until he forgets.

Seungmin feels pathetic, and Jeongin swears to get to the bottom of things. With sleepy fucked up eyes, Seungmin looks up at the boy, chin tilted up and lips quivering. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

“I know she will. Come here.” Seungmin bows his head faintly, head falling on Jeongin’s chest as he allows himself to be hugged – allows himself to be vulnerable and to feel because it’s something that doesn’t need to be taught, but needs to be remembered over and over again.

Jeongin wraps his arms around the boy. Seungmin attempts to swat his arms away, the way he’s used to, but he thinks it feels quite nice to be hugged.

He had downed the pain and was begging for the temporary buzz to kick in all while his fingers are clenched on the fabric of Jeongin’s shirt and his tears are leaving a wet spot where his face is pressed against.

There’s a burn in his heart, just under his chest and it’s squeezing so tightly. When he closes his eyes, all he sees is you and he cries a little more. Is this what it felt like to have someone to lose?

Even if he knows you won’t let his feelings get in between your friendship, the unrequitedness of the feelings Seungmin has held for years is dawning on him and it is so, so painful.

Jeongin shoots you a quick text to meet him tomorrow.

fifteen.

You wake up to a text from Jeongin which is how you know you’ve truly fucked up now.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, and you feel horrendous.

You’re honestly not even sure how it happened. What a grief it is that your memory works the way they do and how you don’t remember how it felt to have his face so close to yours. It deprives you of the memory of his eyes and his lips, and they let go of the feeling of his hand in yours while you watched the fireworks.

The human brain is beautiful, but how dare it cost the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands cradling your face.

In hindsight, you know you shouldn’t have run away. But you were afraid. You were afraid it was just a heat of the moment thing and Seungmin didn’t actually want to kiss you. Were you the one that came onto him? Did you initiate the kiss?

Everything had felt so right before the fear settled in. You’ve been left with questions that were never answered before, all the voices in your head you’ve shut out for so long screaming at you. Was this how it felt to have someone to lose?

You bury your face in your hands in frustration. Did you ruin years of friendship because you wanted to know how his lips felt like on yours?

You’re not sure what you’re thinking when you walk towards where Jeongin tells you to meet up, but you do know you’re immediately regretting it. Especially when you see a familiar figure walking towards where you’re standing.

“I – I have to go.” You blurt out the moment you see him. “I’m sorry. I have to.. I need to be somewhere.” You feel selfish – walking away from him because you’re not ready to hear his rejection.

“Wait, (name). Let me explain myself.”

You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear the words you’d been dreading to hear.

Backed up by your one-sided feelings, you turn yourself around and your fingers tighten around the sleeves of the jacket you’re wearing, and you shake your head as you try to quicken your pace so you can get out of there as soon as you can.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen.”

His sudden confession stops you in your tracks.

You find it physically impossible to turn around and look at him. Trembling lips are so easy to discern, especially on Seungmin.

“(Name), please… please look at me.” You will yourself to look at him, and when you brave eye contact, you notice his lips trembling in trial of a smile. But it’s sad, it’s so sad and his lips start to quiver. It’s difficult to ignore the crack in his whispers and the pain in his transparent eyes.

“I feel like I’m losing you.” The words taste bitter on his tongue. He knows exactly why.

They’re words he never thought he’d ever utter in his lifetime, and now that he’s saying them, the reality is hitting him much harder.

“Did I do something wrong? Was it because I tried to kiss you?” Seungmin’s having difficulty speaking, especially with the lump in his throat and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He hasn’t cried in such a long time. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

He sounds ashamed, and the break in his voice does nothing to disguise his guilt.

You hate that. You hate that you made Seungmin feel this way over one big misunderstanding. His confession repeats in your head over and over and you feel the buildup of bile in your stomach when you realize you’ve hurt Seungmin.

Your mouth dries. There’s so much you want to tell him, but you find no words escape your throat. It feels like there are fingers being shoved down your throat.

Before you can push down the nausea, Seungmin breaks eye contact. His heart is beating incredibly fast and he thinks he’s fucked up with you further by confessing his repressed emotions – confessing his feelings he was so practiced in hiding.

A spell of dizziness sends Seungmin tumbling backwards, heart racing and palms sweating. He looks at you, studying your expression, and the silence feels like it goes on for too long and he thinks he’s made a mistake.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

His sorry feels a lot like he’s saying goodbye.

Seungmin disappears in the blink of an eye.

sixteen.

It’s the first time in a long time that you’re the one blowing up his notifications.

He doesn’t reply to your texts. Granted it’s 3AM and the poor boy is probably asleep.

You’ve been tossing and turning for the past few hours, unable to catch even a wink of sleep with the amount of thoughts racing in your mind. The image of Seungmin, of his red eyes, of his tears, emerges from the night around you. It stubbornly laments, refusing you any form of peace. You deserve it.

Overwhelming sadness stunned you, shadowing over Seungmin’s confession. You don’t allow his words to linger. It’s incredibly unfair to feel hope when Seungmin’s out there feeling his most hopeless.

You’re about to turn again, forcing your eyes shut when the familiar ringtone of Facetime echoes from your phone. Almost immediately, you’re leaping off your bed, grabbing your phone from the nightstand.

Oh.

It’s Winter.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” You stare at her through the screen of your phone, and it looks like she’s making herself comfortable. She’s seated on her lazy boy chair, blankets bunched up around her shoulders and a mug of something steaming by her side.

“What?”

“I was gonna walk over to your building, but it’s 3am and I am not about to die just so I can come over and hug you. I’ll do that tomorrow.”

Your heart melts at Winter’s observance. She notices, even if it’s the most minuscule little thing. Winter always notices, and unlike the insincerity pouring from other people when they say they’re only one call away, Winter actually is. She’s one call, one text, one anything away.

“Come on, talk to me.” So you do. You tell her everything from the start. The very start.

You tell her that from the moment you met Seungmin, your mind had started crafting a romance story, even if you didn’t know it yet. He was working part-time at a coffee shop, and you’re not exactly sure how it happened, but you remember the cold sensation of coffee all over you and a promise to make it up to you. When he introduced himself, he shook your hand.

His hand felt like warm cookies dipped in milk.

And you tell her ever since then, you spent almost every day getting to know Seungmin and his love for the sunrise and the sunset and how passionate he is about singing but rarely ever does it in front of people and how he is repulsed by physical touch but never really minds when it’s with you. He’s still the same boy you met in that coffee shop, albeit he walks more confidently now. He grew into his features and had a broader back now, but he was still the same boy whose hand you held on the way to his dentist appointment. He was still the Kim Seungmin who smiled at you so brightly when he got his braces removed, and continued to smile at you today.

It’s been a long way since that coffee shop, but he’s remained to be the one true constant in your life. You’re convinced you were always destined to meet him. You reason it’s because you’d be a completely different person now if it wasn’t for him. If you hadn’t met at that coffee shop, you’re convinced Whoever Is Above would’ve found a way for you to meet over and over and over again.

Everything carries you to him, as if everything that exists were little boats that sailed directly to him — to where he was waiting. To where he’s still waiting.

And then you tell her about the night of the festival. How you almost kissed him, and how you regret every second after for not just pressing your lips on his. You tell her of his confession, and how you love him tenfold, even before you knew what love was.

Loving Seungmin was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do. It was falling in love with his eyes and the sound of his laughter and the little things he reserves for you and for your eyes only.

“Why’d you run away?” It was a valid question. You don’t even know yourself.

“I guess I was just scared.” You hesitate with your answer, putting your arms around you and staring at nothing in particular.

“He loves you.”

“I didn’t know.”

And in hindsight, maybe you should’ve. When you look back for a sign that Seungmin’s loved you all along, you end up finding it interwoven in his teasing. He left so many signs, and you didn’t see a single one.

There was love in his long, overbearing messages — telling you to eat, asking you about your day, scolding you for worrying him. There was love in his phone calls, in keeping you company in whatever you did because he knows you don’t like the silence very much. The quiet left you alone in your head, and you despised feeling lonely. Love echoed in your laughter and reflected in your smiles even if your jokes weren’t funny. There was love, even in the tiktoks he sent you with the small comment of “us”. It was in the dinners you shared and in the absence of words because he just understood.

Maybe that’s what love is. Maybe this is what Kim Seungmin’s heart feels like. His love was never made up of grand gestures, it was always in the little things that told you his life is so intertwined with yours.

There was always love all along.

There still is.

“He just knows me so well, I thought he could never see me romantically after getting to know all my bad sides.”

“Being known is being loved.” Winter’s words linger in your head as you play a flashback of your years with Seungmin, replaying all the scenes.

Being known is being loved.

Everything hits you all at once. When he got you that mango shake you loved so much and complained about because it sells out so fast. When you saw the campus dogs and cats that one night, and how he remembered what you said. When he knows you’re deep in thought just because you were chewing at your lips. When he recalls the gift you got a few Christmases ago because it made you so happy. When he lets you borrow the hoodies you mentioned were your favorite. When he memorizes your coffee order by heart.

Love never needed to have the tsunamis and the thunderstorms. Love is just… love. It’s just the quietness, the stillness, the calm. Sometimes, it doesn’t have to feel like a million lightning strikes. It just has to feel like finally letting out that one breath you’ve been holding on for too long.

Being known is being loved.

“I have to talk to him.”

“I know.”

“I love him.”

“I know.”

“And he loves me.”

“He loves you.”

seventeen.

It isn’t even 8am when you’re pacing back and forth in front of his dorms.

You know Seungmin usually wakes up early, but you’re unsure of his sleeping patterns as of recently. You haven’t been given the privilege to know, so you text Jeongin.

Your fingers drum nervously on the side of your thighs, feet shuffling as you stare at their gate, thinking that any moment, he could walk out.

Last night, you practiced will-induced self conversations over how you were going to approach Seungmin today. You concluded it best not to practice anything you wanted to tell him. You owed him your honesty and a genuine, sincere undertone in your words and apology.

In all honesty, the moment you had arrived within the vicinity of their dorms, you had contemplated whether you should just continue right. Maybe you could just order an iced Americano at a cafe to remind you of Seungmin. Confrontation never came easy to you. But the thought of being an absentee in his life forever scared you and willed you to take the few steps forward towards the entrance of their dorms.

However, it’s been a good ten minutes since you arrived, and those ten minutes are not the most kind when you’re feeling nervous and about to throw up. It really leaves a lot of room for thinking, and right now it’s thinking that Seungmin wants absolutely nothing to do with you anymore because he thought you were so repulsed by the idea of him loving you and kissing you (even though you felt quite the opposite).

Just when you were about to take a step backward and contemplate the rest of your life, Jeongin walks out of the building pulling a still very sleepy and very disoriented Seungmin behind him.

“Okay, kiss and make up.” Jeongin clasps his hands together before pointing a threatening finger at you. “Don’t mess this up again.” And then he’s on his way back to the inside of their dorm building (peeking through their windows from time to time).

The first thing you discern is his incredibly puffy eyes. From sleeping or crying? You don’t know. And then it’s his pathetic attempt to smile even though he doesn’t feel like it. Seeing him like this, because of you, makes you want to fall on your knees and weep.

Your eyes trail to the rest of him – his messy hair, his slumped shoulders, his slightly shaking hands. The instinct to hold it is strong, you know it always manages to calm him down. But you don’t.

“(Name).” His voice sounds thick and heavy, looking at your eyes for a second before looking back down on the pavement. You recognize the pitch of his voice. He was sad and unsure.

You take a few steps forward, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he meets your eyes again. It has the same look the day he confessed to you. The same tilting of his head ever so slightly, albeit a little more tired and a little less hopeful. His eyes look like they’re filled with quiet thoughts, looking at you gently even though you had shattered them.

Seungmin, for the first time in a long time, looks regretful.

“Seungmin, I wanted to… I… I’m sorry.” He simply nods his head, sucking in a shark breath as he thinks this was it. This was the rejection he’d been dreading to hear.

“It’s okay.” He murmurs, your apology threatening to send a new wave of tears in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said what I said especially when I know you don’t feel the same.”

“Wait, what? No… no. Seungmin, that’s not it.”

There’s a long pause before you speak again.

“I just… dd you really mean it? What you said yesterday?”

Seungmin cringes at himself, but the red blossoming on his cheeks and the way his features soften when he remembers his words give him away. With a defeated sigh, he runs a hand through his hair.

“Yes.” He admits, an unknown feeling swelling in the pit of his stomach.

That’s all you needed to hear.

Placing your palms on each side of his face, you pull him towards you in what you thought would be a romantic show of your feelings.

Instead, you underestimate his height and your lips crash into his nose instead. Seungmin stiffens in surprise, at the sudden proximity of your face to his and the accidental kiss you pressed on his nose, and then he laughs.

Seungmin laughs in the hopeless, clumsy, breathless, exhilarating kind of laugh that sends your cheeks flushing and your heart fluttering because you’ve missed that laugh so much.

He was never sure he acted right that night, that he wasn’t being selfish. But with your palms in his cheeks and your eyes reciprocating the same love all along, he knows he did the right thing. So, with a gentle sigh of relief, he tilts his head and presses his lips against yours.

Seungmin feels like he can finally breathe again. He kisses you with every love and affection he’s kept hidden for years and years.

You were venturing into the void of the unknown again, kissing your best friend, but it feels safe. There wasn’t that fear of the uncharted. There was only comfort as it always has been with him. The weight of happiness is so overwhelming, and Seungmin thinks there’s nothing more beautiful than kissing you after years of longing.

When the both of you pull away, the feeling of his arms around your waist and his forehead pressed against yours and the fond look on his face sends you toppling over. This was the image of your dreams.

He mirrors the soft smile on your face, hand moving to trace your face and your jaw before placing another kiss on your nose, and your cheek, and the corner of your lips. Your skin tingles at the way his lips and his warm breath tickles you, and your heart skips a bit when you realize you don’t mind feeling this every day for the rest of your life.

“Can I hear you say it?” He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand.

“I love you.”

Seungmin feels wholeheartedly content, heart bursting and ears burning red at hearing you utter those three words he’s dreamt about.

“I’ve loved you since you begged me to come with you to your dentist appointment.”

And then he laughs again, pressing his pointer finger on your forehead with a slight betrayal in his eyes.

“You’re telling me I could’ve kissed you for years now?” He speaks in exaggeration, and you know he’s truly thinking about it.

“You have all the time in the world now.”

“You know what? I like the sound of that.” He moves his hands from your face in favor of wrapping them around your waist – pulling you in the type of hug where you can completely relax against him and melt into his familiar intimacy. The one that’s been there all along, although a little held back.

You don’t know what’s next. With the vastness and unpredictability of the earth you stand on, you don’t know what follows. The busy morning highway is starting to fill your ears, and the sound of lives starting echos from afar. Somewhere in the distance, someone’s phone rings and there’s a sound of laughing and running from students alike.

You find that in the chorus of laughter and honking horns and ringtones, the world is telling you that you don’t have to know what’s next. All you need to know is the inhale and exhale and the quietness that Seungmin’s heart offers.

He’ll be here for a long time, continuing to know and know and know and love you.

eighteen.

8:24am

jeongin: FUCKING FINALLY

minho: ????

chan: language

8:25am

jeongin: (sent a picture)

hyunjin: oh my god????

changbin: our seungmin’s a big boy now

jisung: wdym i wont have to hear seungmin’s mopy ass anymore

chaeryeong: ^^ same with yn :(( but also so happy lol

8:26am

ryujin: EVERYONE CHEERED

jeongin: everyone say thank you jeongin

winter: u mean thank u winter???

hyunjin: felix is crying again

chan: WHY

felix: love is beautiful

changbin: me and who

note. hi hi thank u for making it to the very end of my first ever stray kids fic. i hope you ended up enjoying the ride ^_^ lmk what u thought and who i should write for next!

#k-labels #seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fic #stray kids seungmin #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x reader fic #skz fanfic #skz seungmin #seungmin x you #seungmin x y/n #college au #kim seungmin #seungmin fanfic #seungmin fic

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sserajeans · 10 months

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friendly fire

kim minji x fem! reader

synopsis: ever since you bought a new game for your ps5, you've been spending a lot of your free time with hanni, the only other member who knew how to play properly. minji gets tired of it eventually.

others + genre: 6th member y/n, 04 liner y/n, outgoing (and very loud) y/n, straightforward y/n...., 04 line just a bunch of bffs who parent maknae line togt tbh, fluffyflfuufyflfhfyf

notes: requested!, nothing much.. just hope u guys enjoy.. perhaps not proof read, VERY SHORT‼️

"hanni behind you!"

"y/n i need a revive i'm behind the factory!"

"shit!"

"good game... didn't know players could control tanks..."

"yeah, well! now we know i guess.."

it had been a while since you spent a good portion of your first paycheck on a new ps5 and a first-person shooter game. and ever since then you and hanni have spent every hour of free time the group had playing.

which hadn't been an issue for you and minji!

or so you thought.

promotions for omg finally ended, so you and hanni intended to complete the game's storyline by the end of the day. you both slept early the night before, and getting on the game was the first thing you both did after taking a bath and eating breakfast.

unlike the rest of the girls, minji had schedules that day as a special mc, so she left the dorms an hour after you and hanni started your little game marathon. (neither of you forgetting a cheek kiss goodbye, despite hanni's disgust)

now you see, minji doesn't really get jealous easily, and if she did, she'd rationalize it without having the need to talk to you about it (not wanting to bother you). but with you spending almost every hour of your day playing with hanni, and doing so for the past week, it's been building up, and today was the breaking point.

when minji left the dorms, you were on the console, and when she arrived, you were still playing. the proximity between you and hanni didn't help much either, but you get cold easily and both of you were too lazy to get up and grab a blanket.

"oh! welcome back, min!" minji's worries left for a split second hearing your voice and a smile grew as she removed her shoes and coat in front of the door.

she sat on the couch behind you and hanni, trying her best to observe the gameplay, but ultimately failing as her eyes glued on your right arm intertwined with hanni's left.

"fuck i really need to pee.."

"let minji play for a bit she can cover."

hanni was gonna regret suggesting that.

"oh true." you turned around to face minji and handed her your controller before running to the bathroom. "PLAY WELL FOR ME, MIN!"

you should win a world record for fastest female peeing, 'cause it barely felt like a minute before you came back to the living room, drying your washed hands off with tissue.

"what the hell! i'm trying to detonate the explosives but someone's shooting at me! minji can you get them!" hanni exclaimed in fury as she focused every fiber of her being into the game's side puzzle.

your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes traveled to minji's half of the screen. she was definitely shooting someone! but somehow whenever minji's character shoots, the health bar on hanni's screen depletes.

realizing what was happening in front of you, you bursted out into laughter, hanni's face full of confusion and focus, minji's blank with a light smile.

"babe you're shooting hanni."

"WHAT THE HELL!"

but by the time you pointed it out it was too late. hanni's character died, marking it a game over.

"sorry about that, pham." minji managed to let out in between laughter. you sat beside her and set the game back to the main menu before resting your left arm around her shoulders.

"yeah.... sure.. i'm gonna take a nap." hanni playfully glared at minji before disappearing into the hallways to enter her shared room. "you lovebirds have fun!"

you let out a sigh of relaxation as you felt your girlfriend's head rest on your chest, your left arm pulling her closer. you heard a hum of satisfaction from minji as you kissed the top of her head before resting your cheek on her.

"you knew you were shooting hanni's character didn't you?"

you didn't hear any response, but a soft chuckle instead, which was more than enough to confirm your theory (that you thought you were crazy for to think of it).

"i love you, you know?" you felt her softly nod a yes before replying with a very soft "i love you too." that almost got drowned out by the game's background music.

"we'll deal with hanni's game progress later. how was work today?"

#newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #minji x reader #kim minji imagines #kim minji x reader

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y4z1 · 8 months

Text

𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡𝗜𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 | part 1

Pairing: Childhood friend Felix x reader

Genre: fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers

Synopsis: it's a boring Saturday and you're watching stranger things, when you see your phone light up to a text message. It's Felix asking to come over and make brownies. Things escalate quickly when you decide to do a small favor for him.

Warnings: swearing, possessive felix?, 18+ content, minors dni, making out, hickeys, dirty talk kinda, manhandling?, That's pretty much it enjoy!

WC: 0.8k

PART 2 →

The sound of Dustin's voice resonated in your ears as you were rewatching the stranger things. You had several plans today but none of which you could complete due to your lazing around. But it was a boring Saturday, you were tired from work, and all motivation had left your body. You lived alone, so who was to complain?

The sight of your phone lightning up on the corner of your eye snapped you out of your thoughts. It was Felix.

You instantly picked up your phone with excitement and started tapping away at the letters on your phone.

Yongbokie🧸🌹: Heyyy

Yongbokie🧸🌹: wyd????👀

You: HIII

You: watching stranger things wbuuuu

Yongbokie🧸🌹: again?

Yongbokie🧸🌹: I was just gonna ask if u wanna make brownies with me ^v^

You: yeah sure id love to :)

You and Felix were best friends since childhood. There isnt a single memory you can recall that Felix wasn't in, he was the only person who truly understood you. He was like your other piece of the puzzle.

Getting yourself up and off the couch you excitedly rushed to the bathroom to get ready and pick out a simple outfit from your closet. You quickly threw on a skirt and an oversized hoodie. You did some light makeup, grabbed a cute bag and left.

After what felt like forever, you finally arrived. You didn't know why but you felt a little nervous. Maybe it was just because you hadn't seen Felix in a while. You pushed all feelings aside and knocked on the door.

You were instantly met with a pair of brown chocolate eyes, you would stare at them for eternity if you could.

"hi"

"hey", his deep Australian accent never failed to fluster you. He pulled you into a hug, it was like a tradition for you and Felix now, you'd hug everytime you met. But this time it felt different.

A while after catching up and gathering all the ingredients, you both decided to finally begin baking, but how could you when he's standing right in front of you. His gaze was strong, like he could seduce you with just his eyes. His lips? Cherry red, so plush and soft. Oh the urge to pull him close and kiss him—what were you thinking. You were just friends. Nothing more. Even though it hurt to admit it, you knew it was wrong to have such thoughts about your childhood friend.

You pushed any intrusive thoughts away and, finally, you started the process. You broke the chocolate into pieces. You added the chocolate and some butter into the pan and started stirring until it melted. You were about to add the sugar, eggs, vanilla and flour but Felix insisted on doing it for you. After putting the brownies in the oven. You leaned against the counter. The whole time you could sense felix's quick glances at you from the side of your eye but you didn't think much of it.

You looked at Felix as he was already staring at you. You noticed the brownie batter on the side of his mouth.

"did you eat the batter?"

He chuckled, "yeah I did"

Walking over to the tissue roll, you ripped off a corner of the tissue. His eyes burning holes in your back. You walked over to him and glided the tissue across the corner of his plush lips.

He harshly pulled both your arms and wrapped them around his neck. His right arm, snaking around your waist. "You could've used your tongue instead". You were left speechless and a blushing hot mess. You were sure by now you'd looked like a tomato. "Hm?" he purred. Both of his hands now around your waist as he slowly pushed you into the edge of the island. You let go of your arms around his neck, and he instantly caged you in, both hands on your side, pushing you into the cold marble. Your hand went up to his chest, not finding it in you to push him away— maybe a part of you wanted this. He was leaning closer and closer. He cupped your cheeks and you could feel his soft lips crash into yours. Butterflies filling your stomach-more like a zoo. You couldn't take in what was happening but you wanted more. You pulled him closer, your bodies drawing eachother in like magnets. The room was filled in light groans and sounds of pleasure. What was once a kiss, was know a make out session. Hands roaming around eachothers body.

Without breaking the kiss, he used his strong arms, lifted you up by the waist and sat you on the kitchen island. He slowly trailed kisses down to your neck. He sucked onto your soft skin, which let a quiet moan out of you.

His left hand traveled down to your heat, rubbing your clit in circles. "Fuck, your so wet" he growled in your ear.

Just when you heard the bedroom door rattle.

This was short, and I know this might not be the best but i am still new to this app so I'm still learning. this got deleted 3 times and I'm so disappointed

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indouloureux · 2 years

Note

Eddie helping reader when her tampon is stuck🤭😭

poiuyfghjk fun fact i've never used a tampon but i know how that shit works! thank u for requesting <3

you've been in the bathroom for an hour.

eddie knows you're changing your tampon — you told him and he nodded his head, bidding you an unnecessary goodbye with a quick kiss to your temple before you disappeared in his bathroom. but when minute five passed by, he thought maybe you felt like taking a shit after you took it out.

even after he counts to minute 50, eddie began to wonder what you might have eaten last night for you to be in the bathroom for that long; thinks of how to get rid of the smell.

but by the time his clock strikes two pm and you've been in there for an hour, eddie pushes himself off the couch, and saunters over to the bathroom before knocking gently.

he hears your muffled yell behind the door. "babe?"

a five second silence. "...yeah?"

"what's going on?" he crosses his arms. "taking a long shit? want some water, or something? it always works!"

"no!" when something thumps against the bathroom floor, he presses his ear beside the door, eyebrows linked in concern. "fuck,"'

"seriously, babe, what's going on?"

you sigh, and he imagines how you've got your shorts hanging by your thighs, elbows on your knees, your thumb and index pressing against your eyes as you flush in embarrassment.

when you say something, it's low and muffled by the door. eddie laughs quietly. "can't hear you, sweetheart,"

"i said my tampon is stuck!"

he freezes, all his blood rushing his cheeks, suddenly feeling dizzy. though he's become quickly amused. eddie crosses his arms, shifts all his weight on his left leg and shaking his head with a small laugh.

"want some help?"

"fuck no!" he tries not to guffaw. "it's— it's messy and it's gross! it's blood that came from my vagina. it's... well, it isn't weird, but it's bloody."

eddie places his hands on his waist. "i've seen you naked. heard you grunt while taking a shit, peed between your legs while you were peeing," he's lifting a finger at each encounter he considers you might think is gross; though to him, he considers it as normal.

"held your hair back while you vomited, held your hand while you were peeing. oh! you wipe my mouth a lot when i eat– i don't think that's gross but others do. i mean, babe, you use a bidet to wash your ass. people here don't do that, they use toilet papers. taking your tampon out isn't as gross as you think it is, sweetheart,"

he hears you sigh; a long, contemplating one that turns into a groan. eddie doesn't think that you know he's right, but he does know that you've got no other choice. besides, his hands are more dexterous than yours, anyway. you'd just start crying out of frustration.

so when the door opens with a silent creak, eddie nudges his head in to see your back slumped against the toilet seat, legs closed with your shorts pooled around your feet, and a small pout in your face with the tips of your fingers covered in blood.

"hi there, my little ketchup packet,"

you pick up a tampon from the sink and hurl it at him. "don't call me that,"

"kidding," he kneels immediately, pressing his palms on your knees and pulls himself up to kiss your forehead. "now spread your legs for me– a little wider– more, ah, that's it baby,"

had you not been embarrassed, you would have found his choice of words endearing.

eddie sees the string poking out of you, and when he reaches between your legs, it slips between his thumb and index. he frowns, a hand on your knee and his elbow on your thigh; frustration weighing heavy on his eyebrows.

"i see why you struggled," he wrinkles his nose. "how'd that get in so deep, anyway,"

"'was getting itchy," you scratch your temple. "think i must have shoved it in deeper while i was scratching it. i could just, grab a tissue, or something."

"no no!" the determination is clear in his voice — he wants to take it out of you, thinks his dignity will be in shambles if he doesn't. "just, place your legs the bowl, babe. like- like that, yeah! yeah, like you're giving birth!"

you flick him in the head, thighs pressed on either side of your waist. "shut up and take it out."

using your calf as leverage, eddie leans closer to the bloody mess between your legs and tries again. he sticks the string between his index and thumb, poking his tongue out to graze his upper lip and pulls.

he does it with a grunt, too dramatic for your taste but funny nonetheless. in one tug, you feel your walls relax from relief, your hole clenching with a bit of blood dripping down. eddie sighs with you, throws it to the bin nearby and takes the new tampon packet and rips it open with his bloody fingers.

"see? i'm better at this shit than you are!" he hands you the fresh tampon, standing up from the floor. "how could you think this was gross, babe?"

embarrassment makes your cheeks puff and your lips twist into another pout, avoiding his eyes. "i dunno. just think that guys usually find this stuff... gross,"

eddie's eyes soften in sympathy, coming back down to kneel in front of you as you settle your legs back on the ground, knees on either side of his shoulders. "'s not ewie at all,"

your face twists. "ewie?"

"nope," he leans in to kiss your thigh. "not ewie. i mean, babe,"

he stands up suddenly, taking your hand in his and it takes you aback how you're suddenly feeling up the rock in his boxers, a damp spot left to where his tip begins leaking. you blush.

"if i thought this was gross, would i have gotten this hard?"

"i mean, well, you are a gross person so i wouldn't be surprised,"

"dude,"

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things x reader

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ sorry for the delay, too busy girlbossing hehehe I made a closet for the reader, here’s the link || Her Closet

Chapter 3: To Dance For You, To Die For You

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, depression, family angst, plot progression, long ass chapter, reader lore, underaged smoking.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

You || One hour ago

hey, u up already?

"… He sure is taking a while to answer."

You shut your phone with a click at the side, burying it down the sheets next to you.. "... I'm just gonna tell myself that he misses me so much, he can't put it to words."

You looked over to see the digital clock resting atop your nightstand, a bright 『 7:32 AM 』 gleaming right back at you.

… Maybe he’s still asleep.

It doesn’t take long before your attention drifts away from the subject. Unlike what Miles initially thought, you had priorities of your own. Sprawled before your table were books and notes you wrote all throughout your last lecture— neatly organized in pastels and glitters. You peered over the poorly written cursive, eyes cautiously and redundantly scouring through each word. Yet, despite the amount of time you've spent reading the paragraph, nothing at all entered your mind. That same suffocating scribble haunted you, and it sucked all the soul inside your body.

Saturday mornings.

Within the confines of your neat room, you still felt oddly and terribly exhausted. Which was ironic, as your routine was terrific as most would say. Ultimate Dream Girl was how your cousin put it. You woke up early, exercised, studied, ate good food, dressed in stylish clothes, went to school, and studied again after classes— and still, whenever you woke up every single day, you'd feel ultimately, and questionably exhausted.

It’s like you were sinking. Drowning even.

Yet you had to maintain your perfect, glamorous shell of a being. Even if it meant sleeping less these days.

But Miles took the boredom out of your humdrum life. Only he managed to tease out traits in you that even you didn't know existed— a bluntness paired with a foul mouth, and a sense of genuine lightness. He made you feel like your best self, and what was most ironic was the fact that your best self didn't have to be this talented, sophisticated, multi-achiever genius who managed to seamlessly shoulder adult matters— your best self just had to be happy.

And Miles made you genuinely, wholesomely, and incredibly happy.

Only Miles managed to eradicate the burden of carrying your family name. Around him, you were just you. A dumb, pretty teenager with a passion for art.

And that absolutely terrified you.

Peering over your books, spots of white shroud your vision. Like a feather, your head felt oddly light. You try to shake your head to refocus on the paragraph, only then you notice the blotches of red trailing down the page like splatters of paint.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your fingers cascade over your nose, only then noticing the bloody mess running down your lip. You cuss, bolting off your seat to grab the tissue box sitting above the vanity.

“Miss?” One of the maids called out from outside your door.

You drag the sheets of tissue over your nose, muffling your voice as you answered. “What is it?”

“Your tango practice will start soon. Would you like me to prepare your clothes?”

“.. That would be nice, thank you.”

As her footsteps echoed away, you lull your head down, hand gripping onto the edge of your table. It gushed out like an open faucet, and this hammering in your head had you kneeling down to the floor.

“Oh my God, what is that?”

“Quickly, take a picture.”

“Get moving, people.”

The endless wails of the siren. Deafening, unyielding, and alarming. What was once the symbol of hope, was now all that silenced New York.

The lights of red and blue emanated through the streets like a ghost. Those who watched whispered among themselves, turning their heads from the glares of the officers who’d circled the establishment. Above the sign stood what was once the glory of Senator Barlowe’s billboard— now trashed with a chilling message spray-painted in bloody red.

『　ＮＥＶＥＲ　ＦＯＲＧＩＶＥ．

ＮＥＶＥＲ　ＦＯＲＧＥＴ．』

The police figured to take down the board, ushering the media and the people away. Though you can never truly silence the people, the people only learn to talk quietly. It’s how the world works, Miles thinks. You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.

His figure appears above the buildings like the menace all of upperclass society viewed him as— the emblem of his chest shining brighter at the bottom of the billboard. A shameless warning from the vigilante. A warning for the oppressive, a threat for a threat.

An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

Miles dreamt of it: losing you the same way he lost his father.

An image of you dying in his arms. The stain of your blood in his hands, and the touch of your body growing colder. As he held you close in that illusion, he felt your heart slowly easing to an inevitable stop. There, Miles knew he couldn’t bear the thought of losing another person to the wickedness of the system.

So he plotted.

The digitalized purple of his mask gleamed in the foggy morning, the fingers of his gauntlet gripping on the empty can of red paint in his palms, crushing it with a single gritty grasp. Miles looked at his masterpiece, the image of the man’s face all painted in red. He figured to beat the old thing up himself, had he had the chance— but New York won’t change from the decision of one vigilante. The people have to wake themselves up, to untie the blindfold of fear around their eyes.

Because once that fear fully unfolds, it’s never going to blind you again.

You || Five hours ago

hey, u up already?

Still no reply.

"From the top in three, two, one!" Marks the start of the bandoneon.

Emerging from the band, you approached the center with steady, elegant steps. Your heels clack against the wooden floors, the hem of your dress tickling your ankles. Your hands gently glide down your body along to the dramatic rhythms of the orchestra. Across the room stood your partner, reaching a hand out while circling your presence— as if to admire your entirety.

"Step, step, step. Spin!" The choreographer bellows. The boy reaches for your hand and spins you into his arms, dipping you down. Your fingers paint the floor with one swipe, head down to feign shyness. When you're brought back, your hand glazes down his cheek, stepping back with his arm wrapped around your waist.

"Keep your head high, shoulders back!"

In the passion of the tango, your grace was your skill— yet your indifference was your detriment.

Your hand steadily grips his shoulder, each step like a tease in average courtship. In the midst of the music, your head's riddled with a million thoughts. With each passing thought, your moves become harsher, and meaner.

Grip tighter, moves sadder.

With each pass of the violin, the knot in your mind tangles and tangles. While gawking into the stage light above, you shut your eyes tight to shield your view. And when your partner's fingers brush against the curve of your waist— you think of Miles.

The memory of his grip on you was forever ingrained in your mind. And when you turn around once more, suddenly, in your hazy mind, Miles stands before you, holding your hand above your head to ready you for a twirl.

In the delusion of your comfort, a sense of ardency replaced your indifference.

Madame Eleanor marveled at the view of the spark before her, glowing like a vibrant vermillion.

But as the final pose commenced, you were disappointed to see a pair of blue eyes instead of Miles' brown ones.

"Perfect!" Eleanor gasps, her hands clasped together with a clap. "Finally! My goodness, how astounding."

You awkwardly pull away from your partner, your body drenched in sweat. Eleanor approaches you with a smile too wide for her cheeks. "That was amazing, dear. All four weeks of practice finally paid off." She sighs, placing a hand over your shoulder. "You dance just like your mother."

The words were harmless initially, but to you it was anything but praise.

You fake a smile. "Thank you."

"I think we've done enough today. Let's wrap it up and call it a day. Great job, everybody!"

Only then the burden was eased off your shoulders. Immediately, you walk towards the bench to reach for your backpack. You dip your hands inside to fish out for your phone, a variety of notifications written across the screen.

Despite the many notifications and boxes your phone bore, you endlessly scrolled down in search of one name and one name only.

Miles || 7 minutes ago

ye im up sorry ab that

kinda busy rn

what time r u gonna go btw

You look around in search of the clock, girl-mathing your way to fix your schedule.

You || Just now

maybe around 6?? idk yet, hold on

nvm maybe around 6:30 to 7:30

You had a lot on your plate, and though you were full, you still have to devour all of what's on there.

Before you could even shut your phone, Miles' text bubble suddenly pops up.

Miles replied to you || Just now

js be on time

[Y/n] replied to you || Just now

damn u must miss me sm ;)

Miles looked over his phone from behind the screen of his mask— allowing it to unfold as he hid behind the brick walls above the roof, sinking down to the floor in exhaustion. Even then, he felt utterly warm just from the sight of your message alone. With a single press, he slips his hand off from the gauntlet just to hold his phone better.

He lolled his head sidewards, pondering over what to reply.

『 so what if i do?| 』

His thumb brushes against the send button, mind in complete tatters.

"... Hey." His head perks up at the sound of his uncle's voice. "What’chu doin lyin around? Get yo punk ass up, we’ve got lots to do."

"Y-Yeah, sorry." He stammers, slipping his phone into his pockets.

You glare at the screen before you.

「 Seen two hours ago 」

Well, fuck damn it, Miles. If you don’t miss me, might as well just say it. Does the G in your name stand for Ghoster or what?

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snap away from the abyss when the sound of your brother’s voice pulls you back to reality. The smoke exits your tongue as your eyes go past the black screen, welcoming the sight of your brother’s frustrated glare. His mere presence was an annoyance to you— as he was always scourging through your work like an animal desperate for scraps. It was pathetic. Despite all that, the both of you still managed to live under one roof.

It was your most common hobby to hang around the balcony to drink whatever beverage you felt like drinking. And at this time of autumn, hot cocoa was your most preferred drink, paired with any pastry you craved. As miserable as you were, you preferred suffering in your wealth. After all, it was yours to keep.

And yet despite your efforts to unwind, your pest of a brother suddenly appears like an unwanted guest.

“Can you stop smoking?” He pleads. In spite of his cries, you take another hit and blow. Antonne only gives up with a disgruntled groan.

“Did you see my message?”

“I did.”

“… Why didn’t you reply?”

“I did reply.” You pulled the mug to your lips. “I replied with silence.”

“You’re insufferable.” He clicks his tongue, sitting before you. Even then, you spare no time to even glance at him. Your other hand traces past the notes you’ve written over the documents, fingers flipping through the pages for a triple-check. Antonne stretched his neck, taking a peek at the title, and yet, you rest your palm over the private contents decisively.

“What do you want?” The sentence comes off too harshly for your own liking, yet it doesn’t shake you. Antonne insists.

“I want us to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

The mug clicks against the marble table as if to mark the end of your words. Antonne clasped his hands together, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. “I know it’s a difficult task, but direly, [Y/n], in all seriousness, you’re not inheriting the hotel.”

“I already know all that.” You interject. “And I still won’t drop my responsibilities.”

“What for?” He queries. “You’re bound for a life outside of all this mess— why do you keep bringing yourself into this life?”

You clamp your fist.

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

Antonne sat there, all the words in his mouth vanishing— leaving only a speechless, baffled face of himself that only worsened your mood. For a moment, his jaw hangs open, his mind ravaging through his thoughts to form a sentence.

“I don’t understand. Why— why are you doing this?”

For a moment, the thought of bursting crosses your mind, though right after the thought followed this shame of vulnerability. After all that, the only words that exited your mouth were,

“You would never be able to understand.”

“Can’t you at least—“ Antonne huffs, running a hand through his hair. “[Y/n], if this is about what happened to mother—“

“Mention her one more time, I dare you.”

Ruthless. A familiar air. You were too much like your father, and it was the most tragic thing. “It’s true, isn’t it?” He chokes out, knuckles growing paler from the grit of his wrist. “All this, all of what happened, you’re—“

“I have a meeting with dad.” You stand up, picking your things together. “Go find someone else to plague with your questions.”

“You’re irredeemably suffocating.”

“We’re siblings for a reason.”

Miles || Just now

im On my way!

wtf is that autocorrect

i meant to say im omw

im just gonna pick up something for a moment

The bell sang a soft chime upon his entrance. The warm air welcomes him, with a fire behind the bars of a furnace, and the smell of freshly baked goods and hot chocolate permeating throughout the establishment. Miles felt the chill of autumn roll off his gloved hands, embracing the warmth that felt very much like you. He peers over the aisles of bookshelves lined up before a fake brick wall, picturing the idea of sitting next to you with your nose buried into some novel, allowing him to lean his head over your shoulder to listen to you whisper about some paragraph.

He wanders and wanders, taking note of the chalk-written menu above the cashier, the half-eaten pies beneath glass domes, and the homely pictures of the owner’s life story hung all across the walls.

Next to the counter, a lone, middle-aged woman stood with a mug and a rug in her hands. Her blue eyes flit open— and it reminds him of the dull grey he often witnessed during a heavy downpour, and she acknowledged him with a single nod.

“Afternoon.”

Miles returns the gesture. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

His steps take him closer to the counter. It must’ve been suspicious somewhat— him, who was dressed in tones of dark purple and black like some thief, standing by the entrance for far too long. Miles had to admit, his presence was unbefitting of this whole cozy theme, and yet when he imagines you there with him, suddenly, he didn’t feel all too out of place anymore.

Miles looked at the woman, only then recognizing her from the pictures on the wall. Instead, now, she’s aged past her prime, and her blonde hair was shorter and frizzier. Her eyes were now tucked behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, having to squint just to study his presence.

“I-I just had to ask..” Miles gulps. “Are you guys perhaps.. Hiring r’now?”

“Hiring?” The woman raised a brow. “Why? You wanna apply?”

“Oh no! Not me,” He frantically explained. “I-I’m inquiring after my girl— my girlfriend.”

Embarrassment bled into his freckled cheeks. Initially, he wanted to say the two terms, girl and friend, separately to explain you were just that (But were you, really?), instead the unsure label clumsily exited his lips.

Then again, it’s not like you’d correct him had you been there anyways.

“Your girlfriend?” The woman placed a hand over her hip, a southern sort of twang in her voice. “Why isn’t she the one asking me?”

“Oh— it’s just, she’s really busy, and I know she really likes this place.. God… Idonreallyknowhowtoexplainitbut,” She held a hand up to ease his pace, shaking her hand. “Hold on, lover boy. I can’t understand a single damn thing, hold your horses.”

Miles nibbled on his lower lip, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Basically, she mentioned about wanting to apply here but couldn’t find the time to ask, so just in case her schedule clears up, I wanted to know if you guys are up to hiring part-timers… So I can tell her.” He managed to explain in a much calmer way, watching carefully as the owner hummed.

“So you only really wanna ask?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, alright.” For a moment, she bends down to reach something beneath the counter. A second or two later, she stands right back up, slipping a crisp flyer towards him. “All the details are in there. If she wants to apply, tell her to call for me— the name’s Matilda, and you’re?”

“Miles, a-and my girlfriend’s name is [Y/n], by the way.” Miles beams, picking up the paper. He liked repeating that word, girlfriend.

“Alright, Miles. I’ll wait for your little girlie.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Looking over to the glass domes, Miles then added.

“Also, can I get like a slice of each pie you have?”

You || fifteen minutes ago

I’m already here

where the fuck are you smh

“One, two, three… Spin.”

Miles shuts the chain door behind him, eyes rummaging through the darkness in search of the voice’s owner. At the end of the hall, a dim light emerged along with a shadow dancing over the golden circle just behind a wall. The dark figure moved like a ghost, each step of her feet echoing throughout the subway. The boy neared like a moth to flame, holding the box of pies close to his chest as he neared and neared.

Slowly, he peeks over the wall, only to find you dancing along to something he couldn’t comprehend. You had your phone in your hand, and your headset on too. A count was on your lips, lasting in intervals of three to eight. Your steps were like pulses, and the way you had your hands up meant that it was likely a partnered dance, despite the evident gap, you carried the dance effortlessly well, even in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. You were too lost in the flurry of the Latin music that was melting into your ears like honey, and Miles was too lost in the sight of you. There he was, gawking like a little kid on Christmas day, with his lips half parted and eyes following the traces of your fingers.

He’d already known you were something of a dancer. The way you carried yourself, the way you walked, and the way you moved, Miles noticed it all; A sort of grace, or some sort of flow in the way you presented yourself.

Like a princess, little girls would say.

Yeah, like a princess. My princesa.

Only then, you twirled and met his gaze. You froze in terror as Miles placed his hand over your shoulder.

Do it, Miles! You can do it! Just like what Uncle Aaron taught you.

“Heyy…”

“… WHAT THE FUCK!”

Your phone comes flying out of your hands, landing straight into Miles’ abdomen with a powerful thud. He catches the gadget with a groan of pain and laughter, which comes out as a dying wheeze. You rush to his aid, pulling the box out of his grasp and placing it down.

“Holy shit! Are you okay? Why the fuck were you standing there like a fucking skincrawler— fucking hell, Miles!” You endlessly cussed, aiding him by the arm.

“… I couldn’t help it.” He heaved. “You looked like one of those inflatable tube dancers, jesus— HAHAHAHAHA“ And he’s back to howling in your face all over again, falling to the floor like a duck in search of air. You click your tongue and swat his shoulder.

“I bet you can’t even dance.”

“Yeah, that makes the both of us.”

“Oh I hate you so much.” You shove him lightly before burying your face behind your hands.

“… Why were you dancing anyway?” Miles eased, eyeing the darkness. “And why didn’t you turn on the lights? The whole damn scene looked kinda apocalyptic.”

You knelt next to him, nails digging into the fabric of your jeans. “Well, I kinda have this tango performance at school and it’s in two weeks… I’m still not all that confident with what I’m about to present, so I’ve been working my ass off to perfect it.” You waved your hand around. “And about.. This... I couldn’t find the damn switch.”

He shakes his head in disapproval, placing his arm over his knee. “God, you’re hopeless.”

You tilt your head, lowering your voice into a whisper. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“…. I can dance tango.” He dumbly grins. “I think— I mean, I’ve watched it before, and I’m hella great with my feet.”

“Is that a proposal to dance with me?”

Miles scoffed. “In your damn dreams.” He laughs, leaning his head over to the wall. There, you pout at him like some little kid.

“What? Why are you lookin at me like that?”

And the next thing he knows, he’s up with his chest pressed against yours, listening to the sound of your voice guiding him through the basic steps of the Latin dance. He takes your other hand in his, while your other is latched onto his shoulder. Carefully, his fingers creep up on your waist, the sensation silencing him.

“And then when I step back like this, you take your left foot forward, and we’re just going to do this back and forth.”

“Oh— okay, oh shit,”

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“Just think of it as a game, and follow my feet.”

Miles readily follows your words, uttering subtle apologies whenever he’d step on one of your feet. When he does get the eventual gist of it, the two of you prance around in short steps. Miles grew overly conscious with the sound of his breath, as you were too near that it was detrimental to his whole being. With your head down, you carefully watched his moves, completely anonymous to Miles’ staring. He was hoping you’d look up and catch him like you always do. You were so pretty like that.

“Very good.” You beam. “Damn, you really do dance well, huh?”

“Of course I do.” He clumsily twirls you into his arms, still catching you either way. “I got it from my mama.”

“I assume she’d be a greater dancer than you, though.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true.” He admits. “But hey, ain’t I a good partner?”

As you turned around once more, your faces inch closer, your lungs a little too short of breath. Your hand traces down the outlines of his arms, the tension between the both of you thickening. You could almost sense it, Miles begging you to give in, and you were bound to— eventually.

“Yeah, you’re doing great.”

Then again, you pull away, fingers brushing past and slipping away from his palm. Although you were the one distancing yourself, your hand reached out for his. You tried to fool yourself into thinking that it was just for the dance— but when you circle him, and when you notice that Miles couldn’t help but face your figure, no matter where it went— you were defenseless. He looked at you like you were the eclipse, a shadow that capered around the flashlight’s gleam like how the moon would collide with the sun. You swivel back into his grasp, and you couldn’t care less if it was anything but perfect, because it was only at that moment that you recognized tango in its truest form.

And it was through this dance that Miles realized he’d absolutely die for you.

As the ending commences, the two of you smile at one another. Miles, who grinned at you so lovingly, could hardly see the rue in yours. “You ain’t half bad.” He then states, easing a crack out of his limbs as he stretches. “That was some ground-breaking exercise, shit, I started feelin shit I ain’t never felt before.”

“Yeah,” You tiresomely added. “God, now I’m starving.”

His head perks up. “Actually, I brought some food today.”

“Oh?”

He gestured over to the box. “I bought like a fuck ton of pies for my mom to cheer her up.” Miles picked up the box, offering it to you with a nudge. “You can get only two.”

As he slips the lid off, you marvel at the pastries inside, mouth watering from the smell.

“This one’s butterscotch, blueberry, apple.. Chocolate and banana, pumpkin, and cherry… The fuck are you doing?”

Miles watched as you positioned your phone above the box, angling it well. “Taking a picture, dumbass.” You shot back. The flashlight gleams over the food with a quick snap. “Shit, it looks so pretty.”

“Okay, you ain’t eating shit.”

“Wait!”

You point the camera at him. “Pose in three, two, one.”

And he pulls up his middle finger with a blank face.

“Tsk. Not like that, Miles.”

And he pulls up his pointer finger, turning his pose into a peace sign.

As the photo snaps, you immediately look into your phone’s album, grinning stupendously wide. “Pretty boy, indeed.”

“.. Why’d you keep calling me that?”

“Because you’re pretty. I like pretty things and pretty people.” You answered as though it were too obvious. Miles shook his head, hardly saying another word. Yet in his mind, he couldn’t help but ponder.

But you’re prettier than me.

“Now, which one should I eat?” You pondered with a tune, eyeing each slice. “They all look so good.. God! Okay, I’ll take butterscotch, and uh, the chocolate and banana one.” You cautiously tug the wrappers to pull out each of the treats. Miles couldn’t help but playfully deride. “You choose like a kid.”

“Just because I chose the chocolate one means I’m a kid.”

You take the flashlight and place it down the floor before taking a seat. Miles follows suit, sitting beside you with his chin resting above his palm, unconsciously watching you devour the treat with your cheeks full like some chipmunk. You hummed with each bite, going on about how you adored the flavor. Even as you did so, Miles listened and stared, adoring the way you spoke and the way you boasted about the flavors. Then and there, he realized how much he liked seeing you eat, and at that moment as well, Miles knew he’d like to eat with you everyday in the far future.

As you finished your little meal, you licked the chocolate off your fingers, anonymous to the stain on your cheek.

“You got a little sum on your..” He points at the corner of your lip. You try to wipe it off, yet it simply smudges. His fingers naturally reach for your chin to clean it off. You lean in, not thinking much about the act.

“Is it gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” You sweetly beam.

Slowly, his fingers lift away from your chin.

You lean your head against the wall, heaving a short sigh. “That was absolutely delicious.”

“I bought it from that store we saw yesterday, down the block.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and uh,” He slips his hand into his pocket, fishing out the folded flyer. Hesitantly, he hands it over to you. “I got you something.”

“What’s this?” You airily query, unfolding the paper. You browsed into its contents, only then realizing that it was a part-timer flyer. Your jaw hung open, eyes switching glances between the contents and the boy beside you. “Wh-where did you get this?”

“I asked the owner.” He directly answered. “You wanted to know if you could.. Get a part time job, so I asked.”

“I—“ The mere act rendered you speechless. “Oh my god. This is… Why are you so nice to me?”

Miles’ head turns away. “I’m not being nice. I wanted to apply too.” He smoothly lied. “I got you a flyer just in case.”

【 Emilie Chocolat — We are now hiring! Open positions for: bookkeep, barista, cashier. Accepts part-timers. Must be at least fifteen years old. 】

“Oh, I don’t know if I could apply right now.”

“Why not?”

You chew on your inner cheek, cautious of your words. “I don’t really have the time to go to an interview right now. I’m very busy with school.. And at home..”

“Then go when you have the time.”

You think about it. “… Alright. I’ll try. Not entirely sure yet, but I’ll try.”

“Take your time.” Miles mildly suggested, as if to comfort. “You have all the time in the world, man.”

“… Yeah.”

You’d like the think his words were true. When it came to Miles, you find yourself a little too optimistic— a parallel of your usual self. You’d joked to yourself every now and then, that if the world was ending and Miles would tell you that there’s a cure, you’d believe him. And it wasn’t that you were easy to fool, no, it wasn’t that at all. You were quite smart, as mentioned by all those who watched you grow up, but since Miles’ entry into your life, you started optimistically letting things fall into place before scheming.

You didn’t know what to call it. Calling it infatuation was underwhelming for you. To say you simply like him didn’t feel enough.

Though you didn’t want to admit it too quick.

That’s how your mother fell anyway.

“Do you think,” You huff. “Do you think I can do it?”

Miles straightened his lips. “You probably can. You’re smart.”

You roll your eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Ion think someone dumb can lie so well about having band practice just to see someone at night.”

“I don’t lie often, Miles,” Your head lilts. “I lie only for you.”

“… By that, does lying to me also count?”

You don’t know how to answer. You can feel his expectant stare burning into your skin.

“…. It’s not about lying to you. There are just some things I prefer not to say.”

Your head pivots, finally earning the strength to look him in the eyes. Before he could even speak, you already knew what he was going to say. You knew him too damn well.

“If that’s the case, can I ask you about somethin?”

As you’re about to open your mouth, he holds up a finger.

“Don’t try to run away this time, and don’t lie. You’ve gotta swear on it.”

You raise your hand. “On God, I won’t lie nor will I try to run away.”

He brokenly nods, taking in a deep breath.

“… Then, who– who am I to you?”

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