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rafesslxt · 26 days

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Showerhead 2 | mattheo riddle

pt. 2 — you can find pt. 1 here

summary: after you and mattheo had some fun in the shower, you two can‘t stop thinking about each other and that night. But who gives in first to sin again after a little jealousy?

words: 5,1k

warnings: heavy dirty talk again, cursing, making out, dry humping, teasing, controlling, praising, bj, unprotected p in v, shower, swallowing, legilimency (mind reading),

note: you don‘t have to read part 1 for this part but have fun if you want to

— in the great hall —

After that night in the shower 2 weeks ago, I couldn‘t stop thinking about it. I dreamed about it in my sleep, daydreamed about it in class and lunch while Hermione talked about some book we needed to read to understand everything in potions.

I hated it but everytime we crossed paths, he winked at me and I couldn't help myself but start blushing. As soon as I saw his face, I saw it between my legs.

"Y/n? Are you even listening?" Hermione says and shakes me a litte at my shoulder. "What? Yeah yeah of course, I'm gonna read it." They all look at each other before their eyes are on me again. "We were actually talking about how Cormac seems to have quite interest in you." Harry then continues.

I start laughing loud, looking at them as If each of them has 3 heads." What the hell are you talking about?" "Told ya she's not listening.." Ron says, raising his eyebrows as he bites into his toast.

"I thought he‘s interested in Hermione?" I ask as my laughter calms down a bit. "Harry heard him talking about how he would - well.. do certain things to you." My amused face turns into a disgusting one as I hear what Ron says.

"Yeah and guess who‘s got an invention to Slughorn‘s dinner?" Hermione says with raised eyebrows.

Ron looks at her shoked. "What?? That prick got one and I didn‘t?"

"Oh god no.." a few days ago Harry, Hermione and myself got an invention to tonights Slughorn‘s dinner for his favorite students. ".. but wait, how do you know who‘s coming?" I ask her. "I just asked him after the last lesson of potions. It‘s Neville, Ginny, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, Corma –" "Mattheo Riddle?" I ask her shocked, looking at her with wide eyes.

I would see him again? Like.. this close and with people around us? My mind is racing as Hermione answers. "Yeah well, you know he‘s really smart and good in potions." "And he has an interest in special students and Mattheo is.. well – special." Harry comments.

Ron snorts and talks with a full mouth. "Mh yeaw hiff fatha was "speschal".

Hermione rolls his eyes at his full mouth and looks at me again. "Why are you so suprised by his name?" she asks me a little suspicious. " oh uh- just suprised, i always thought Mattheo is uh - not interested in things like that."

"Why would chou think about wat Mattheo is-" "Ron just eat and shut up!" I snap at him making the other two widen their eyes a bit.

I collect my things and stand up from the table. "I‘m gonna go to.. god i don‘t know I‘m gonna go." I say, walking off before they can answer. Because it‘s the weekend I luckily don‘t have classes today. I don‘t think I could concentrate in one of them after the information I just got. God why him? Why me? Maybe I can say I feel sick.. no he would know. I can‘t back down.

I walk down a hall, not thinking where I am going and suddenly crash into something hard but not as hard as a wall. My book and writing stuff falls to the ground and I look up, staring right into the face of Mattheo.

My brain went blank in this monent. "What princess? Aren‘t you happy to see me?" he grins down at me before he gets down and picks up my stuff. "Hm I remember a similar moment, same position." He smiles even more when he sees my red cheeks and not talking mouth. As he gives me my stuff he presses his mouth to my ear and whispers "I‘m looking forward to tonight" And with that, he‘s gone.

I‘m so fucked.

— at the evening —

" Do you know what you‘re wearing?" I ask Hermione while I put on some makeup. I hear her sigh and she goes "yeah I have this one dress I really like. What about you?" I shake my head as I search for my lipliner. " Not really, but I have enough dresses so I‘ll find something." Hermione laughs at my comment as she pulls out her dress and changes into it.

After I‘m done with my makeup and hair, I walk over to my closet, looking for a nice dress.

"What about this one? It would fit perfectly for the occasion." She says as she pulls out a dress of mine. It is long and black, with cute little arms on it. "It‘s pretty but I want something.. else." As i go trough my clothes I think about Mattheo again and what would impress him. God I need to stop it.

"Well what are you looking for?" "Hmm something likeee.. this." It‘s perfect. It‘s short but not too short, i know it sits beautifully on me and.. it‘s green.

(imagine something like this but in some green tone and longer so it‘s more school approved)

Hermione raises her eyebrows and looks at me. "Are you sure? Isn‘t it a little too.. party?" I love her for how she always chose her words wisely and with a knowledge for not hurting and judging people. I know what she meant but she would never think about judging me. Even when I put my clothes on she wouldn‘t pick, she makes me feel great in them.

"Yeah, I‘m sure." I smile, putting it on. When I look into the mirror I smile even more, thinking about how Mattheo will react seeing me in it.

As the time comes we take our purses and walk outside our dorms, meeting Harry and Ron in the common room. "You both look great." Harry tells us like the gentlemen he is but Ron just scans me like a little hater and looks at me. "Isn‘t that a little too flashy?" "Ron!" Hermione hits him on the shoulder.

"Don‘t be mad at what you can‘t have Ronald." I say grinning and winking at him before I link my arm into Harry‘s with Hermione doing the same on his right side.

We walked through Hogwarts, towards the dinner and the closer we got the more my heart started beating as If I‘m running a marathon.

I open the door in front of us after taking one last deep breath and walk inside with my two friends.

Everyone was already there, seated perfectly. "Oh hello you three! I‘m so glad you made it. Please choose a seat and get comfortable." Professor Slughorn greets us. I always liked him, even tho many say he‘s a little weird sometimes but I think thats exactly what I do like about him.

As I walk towards an empty seat, I scan the table, looking at Mattheo when I found him but his eyes were already on my dress.

Quickly I look away, seeing that Cormacs eyes were on me too which made me gag a little.

But god Mattheo looks so good. He wears a simple white shirt with a black tie and black slacks. Damn what I would give to ride his thigh in these – "Y/n you‘re staring." Hermione whispers into my ear, making me realise i stared right at Mattheo, but to my suprise he‘s still looking, not breaking eye contact for a second.

I gulp and look away, feeling my cheeks getting warm. God I hate it so much what kind of affect he has on me. I can‘t be the only one..

Wait. I‘m a woman. I can definitely tease him and make him feel the same.

The dinner goes on, nothing special besides Ginny who came in crying. Definitely have to ask her with Hermione about that later in detail.

As desert comes I look around the table, meeting Cormacs eyes. He licks of some ice cream from his fingers and wiggles his eybrows at me. Oh god I think I‘m gonna throw up.

As soon as I can I look away to Mattheo who was giving Cormac one of his death stares. Interesting.

I don‘t really know why i think it‘s a good idea but i do think it is. So I lean back a little, presenting the low cut at the front of my chest. I see Mattheo‘s eyes flicker to my chest and so do Cormac‘s but Mattheo‘s eyes switch back really fast to Cormac and give him a second glare. Really interesting.

I smile triumphal and lean a bit forwards again, pressing my boobs together this time. Instantly I get a headache but a really intense one. I hiss in pain which makes Harry look at me worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I just got an really bad headache.“ i whisper back, wondering what it caused.

Soon the dinner was over and everyone thanked Slughorn for the invitation. "I‘ll stay and try to figure out what that missing memory of Slughorn‘s is." Harry whispers to us before staying behind.

My headache got a bit better but It still didn‘t go away. As we walked trough the door I said to Hermione and Ginny "You guys go to the common room, I‘ll follow. I just wanna get some advil from Miss Pomfrey.“ They nod and tell me that they will go into Ginny‘s room to talk more privately.

It‘s already late and a bit after curfew but Professor Slughorn told us he made sure we would get in no trouble If someone sees us.

I rub my head slighty, trying to ease the pain on my way but nothing helped.

Then, out if nowhere a hand slaps over my mouth and a arm wraps around me, pressing me against a body. I scream into the hand, trying to get myself free until I see who the hand and arm belongs to.

"You didn‘t think I would let you go off that easily in that little dress of yours huh?“ Mattheo breathes against my face as it was only a few inches away from mine.

He slowly takes his hand away from my mouth, letting me speak. "What do you mean?" I ask and try the innocent act but he doesn‘t buy it.

"Oh princess, princess, princess. You can‘t fool me. I know that you wore this excuse of an dress for me. Fuck and also in my house color's? That‘s no fucking coincidence."

I gulp at his words and the fact that he knows who I wore it for. There‘s not even a single chance for me to lie. "And what If I did wore it for someone else?" Only one way and that‘s to push his last buttons. Oh how I wanted to push that buttons until –

"Someone else, yeah? Then who was it for?" "Cormac." As soon as his name left my mouth I regretted it. I see his jaw clenching and his grin fading. "Cormac yeah? So you didn‘t thought about me the whole dinner?" I slowly shake my head no, not daring to move now.

"So you‘re wet for him right now? Not me?" "What? I‘m not–" but as soon as I move my legs I feel it too. Shit. When I only look up at him his grin comes back.

"Yeah that‘s what I thought.. so why don‘t we skip this bullshit and you come with me?" Before I can even answer him, he takes my hand and pulls me trough the corridors, towards the Slytherin common room. " Mattheo I can't-" "Shut up." he hisses and whispers something under his breath so the doors to his common room would open.

"Can't fucking believe you pulled such a show in front of that stupid dick." he growled quietly before we reach his dorm. I start smiling as I see he's getting mad at the fact that Cormac saw me in that dress. "T'fuck you smiling about huh?"

As we enter his room I notice that there is only one bed which makes me wonder. "Don't you have a roommate?" "No, I have my own room." I scoff at his answer and look around his room. It has a big bed beside the window of the room and a little nightstand beside it. On the other side of the room is a big couch and a armchair.

But before I could think about it any further, he pulls me into his lap, face towards his, after he sat down on the armchair. "You know, you could have just told me If you missed me princess. Didn't need to dress all up for me." He puts his hands on my hips, grabbing them tightly.

I roll my eyes at him and act as If I didn't already enjoy his touch. "Didn't miss you." I say, looking away from him. He chuckles and pulls my face back to his with his fingers on my chin. "Are you sure?" I only nod and look into his brown eyes. They look so dark without any light in the room, that they send even more shivers down my spine than usual.

"Is your head better? Still in any pain?" he asks me grinning. "Yeah they-" wait. I never told him about my headache. Or could he hear when I told Hermione and Ginny? Or when Harry asked me at dinner?

His hands slowly wander down to my tights were my dress slowly rose up and placed them there, squeezing my flesh lightly. I felt his breath on my neck, giving me goosebumps. "It's gotten better, right?" he asks again. His lips ghosted over my skin, making me bite my lip.

"How do you know?" I ask him in a whisper. "I know everything that goes through your pretty little mind baby."

I tried to figure out what he meant by that but I couldn't concentrate with his hands on my skin and his lips almost against my neck. I need him so much.

"What baby, can't concentrate? Too much for you already?" he coos and finally kisses my neck, nibbling on the skin between his lips.

I can't believe how easy he gets under my skin with his kisses and whispers, not even doing anything. " I know you dreamed about me these last two weeks, thought about me at every chance you got. In class, in the shower, wishing it was me who touched you." he groaned against my throat.

My eyebrows squeeze together at his words. " How would you know that?" "Did you never wonder why your head always hurted at the same times?" I gasp and pull my neck away from him. " Are you reading my mind?" my eyes go wide as he just smiles at me sheepishly. Oh my god, no. This can't be. He's not allowed to know all these private thoughts.

"You don't know how hard it was for me to stay away and wait until you would come back to me but you little minx didn't and after tonight.. I couldn't just let you slip away from me again."

"Y-you can't do that Mattheo. That's not allowed. These are my thoughts." "I know baby but I couldn't help myself after that night in the shower. You were like a dream coming true so submissive and responsive to me. Fuck I'm already getting hard just thinking about it. But you understand I didn't have a chance, right? I couldn't risk you thinking about someone else then me."

He slowly pulled my dress up, exposing my tights and underwear. "God are you for real? Did you plan this?" he groans as he sees my matching set, a dark green lingerie set.

He pulls me closer to him, looking deep into my eyes.

"Ride my thigh." he commands and puts his hands back on my hips. "What?" I ask, looking at him dumbfounded. " It's my thigh or nothing. I'm not helping you getting off this time." I look at him with my mouth hanging open in shock. How could he be so cruel?

"C'mon, ride it baby I know you thought about it at dinner." My cheeks got red as he mentioned that. He dips his head towards my neck again and starts covering it in wet kisses. "Don't test my patience, love." he whispers and tightens his grip on my hips, moving them slowly. I gasp at the sudden friction.

"Feels good, right?" I only nod, closing my eyes as I start to move my hips in circles against his thigh. I feel so dirty doing this but at the same time it feels so good to finally get the friction I needed the last weeks again.

I feel my clit rubbing against my underwear, making me whimper and move my hips faster. "Fuck, look at you. I thought you were desperate back in the shower but now you're just getting yourself off on my thigh like a dirty little whore." I moaned at his words combined with his kisses on my skin. His lips went lower, first towards my collarbones, then further down to my chest.

I feel one hand of him wander to my underwear and pushing it to the side so my bare pussy rubbed against the material of his pants. I whine at the feeling, my hands grabbing his broad shoulders. " Oh my god. I'm so close Mattheo." He laughs wickedly against my chest, pushing down my dress so it hangs at the middle of my body. His mouth wanders to my bra, unclasping it with one hand behind my back.

"You're so beautiful baby, never ever am I waiting two weeks again for that." he growls and starts massaging my boobs and playing with my sensitive nipples.

I arch my back, shivers run down my spine at his touch. The grinding get's more and more intense. "Feel this?" he asks as he takes my hand and puts it on his bulge. "It's just for you." I bite my lip and look down at my hand. It looks so painful that I start massaging it through his pants. He bucks his hips up into my touch, his breathing getting heavier.

While still riding his thigh, I open his pants and push them down together with his boxershorts. His already fully hard cock slaps against his stomach before I take him into my hand. I spread the pre-cum over his tip with my thumb and start moving my hand up and down. "Shit princess.." he hisses, thrusting his hips up into my hand.

"I'm so close Mattheo.." I whine as I almost start rutting my hips against him. "Come on my leg baby, do it." he groans, lips apart.

I let go of his cock for a moment to dig my nails into his shoulders for support as I press my throbbing clit harder against him. He takes his cock into his hand and jerks himself off as he watches me panting and moaning.

With a deep twisting feeling in my stomach I come all over his thigh, riding out my orgasm.

"So good for me, look at how much you came." he says and I look down at his pants, a big wet spot on them now. My legs still shake from my high and I look up at him again.

Mattheo's POV:

Fuck. I don't know what it is but I have a feeling that this girl is going to be the death of me. With hooded eyes she looks up at me and almost get's me to cum in my own hand just from her eyes looking into mine. She had such a chokehold on me, but I will never admit that to her.

I smile down at her before I speak "already fucked out again and I didn't even touched you." The same thing I told her two weeks ago after I've eaten her pussy and she came after 3 minutes.

"Fuck off." she mumbles and falls slightly against my chest. "As much as I enjoy this closeness baby.." I start, nodding towards my rock hard cock, laying against my stomach.

I push a strand of hair behind her ear and whisper into it. " Suck on it." Her eyes go wide and she looks down on me with those innocent eyes again. " Don't tell me you never sucked cock with those pretty lips." I say, looking at her plump lips, almost begging to be fucked.

She rolls her eyes at me again, making me want to choke her until she stops. " I have." Her answer makes my clench my jaw, wishing she would've just said she didn't.

I pushed her down in front of my legs. I grab a pillow from the couch beside us and put it under her knees, making her grin. " Don't tell me you suddenly care for me Matty?" Now I am the one who rolls his eyes.

I grab her pretty hair into a ponytail and push her towards my cock. She takes it into her hand and starts to lick off the pre-cum from my tip. A moment later she starts sucking on my tip, making me smile. I have a feeling this is going to be good.

I hiss as her wet lips and warm mouth take more of my cock into her mouth. I close my eyes and let my head hang backwards. " Come on y/n, show me what you got."

Suddenly she takes me all the way down her throat, my eyes almost bulging out of my head and my mouth falling open. "Oh fuck, yeah!" I groan, gritting my teeth together. I swear I could feel her smile around me.

She bobs her head up and down in a fast pace, making me moan and groan like a little bitch. Fuck, what is it with this girl?

I feel my tip hitting the back of her throat. " Oh Shit." I lift my head up to look down at her. Her eyes are teary and her hands support herself on my tights. I start grinning, wishing I could take a picture of her pretty mouth around me.

Her throat clenches around me so delicious I almost came. "Hmm baby, you know how to suck cock. Gonna give you that." I pant.

One of her hands go down to my balls, massaging them. " Oh - " I throw my head back again, feeling something in my lower stomach. My hips buck up and I hear her gag, only getting me closer to my high. "M' gonna cum down your throat and you'll swallow it, yeah?" I ask her, breathing heavy. It doesn't take me long to cum and fill her mouth. "Fuckkk.." I groan, pushing her down even harder so her nose touches my stomach.

"Swallow it. All of it." I slowly let go of her, but seeing her cough a little only fuels my desire. She opens her mouth after she swallows and shows me that she swallowed every single drop.

"That's a good girl. Now come on.. let's take a shower." I say grinning at her and helping her back up. "Mattheo I don't know If I can walk so far." she sighs as she stands on her still shaky legs.

I kiss the top of her head, something I never do but just feels right with her. " You don't have to. I have my own shower." I pick her up bridal style and carry her towards my bathroom."

Y/n's POV:

As he picks me up to carry me, I feel a few butterfly's in my stomach but I try to suppress them.

He let's me down when we stand under his shower. His clothes hit the floor. "Hot or cold?" he ask, putting his hand on the tap. "Hot." I say and watch his back. Last time I didn't noticed but he has big scars all over his back, some even on his chest. He must see my face cause he asks me "What's wrong?" I shake my head and try to smile.

"Nothing." I see it in his eyes that he doesn't buy my lie but doesn't push me either. As the warm water hits my skin, I sigh in relief. I let my hair get wet and wash off the makeup I had on. While I did so, Mattheo stands right behind me, his hands on my hips, scanning my face.

I open my eyes and see him looking. " What?" I ask grinning. " You're beautiful." I roll my eyes and look away again, trying to hide my blush. "You don't have to try to get into my pants. You already are." He turns me around and holds my face. " Hey.. I really mean it. And not just your body. Your face is prettier than the ones of angels." My eyes widen at his words, not expecting that kind of words from him.

He clears his throat and looks away for a moment himself. That's when I grab his face in both my hands and crash my lips into his. The kiss is hungry, more passionate and different than the last times. More tender.

One of his hands slide up and down my back, while the other lays on my hip. "You make me crazy, princess." he admits, mumbling against my lips. I smile into the kiss. "Don't go soft Mattheo." I say, teasing him.

He starts kissing my neck, but less soft and more aggressively now. "Remember who's in charge here baby. I would choose your words wisely." He lifts me up so I wrap my legs around his waist. "This time I wanna see your face when I fuck you."

He takes his cock into his hand and positions it at my entrance, teasing me with it. „Mattheo come on, fuck me.." i huff out frustrated. "Beg for it, wanna hear you beg again like the last time I fucked you." I roll my eyes at his ego, but still do as he tells me to. "Please, I'm already begging you to fuck me."

Ge grins down at me and slowly pushes inside me, holding eye contact the whole time. His lips part and his eyes get lazy. "Fuck, you feel just as good as the first time I fucked you stupid."

I want to bite back but only bite my lip as he starts thrusting in a fast and hard pace. "What was that? I'm going soft princess?" His grip on my hips gets tighter and he starts kissing my neck up and down. " N-no you're not.." I whimper, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back against the wall.

What was is that he had me under his control so much? Not even a single brain cell told me to not do as he says. I can't with this boy..

His lips work their way up to my ear and he whispers "I'm a man baby, a boy wouldn't fuck you like I do. " Goosebumps erupt over my body and again he's right. " Stop messing around in my head." I growl lightly, supressing a moan in my throat. "You're all mine. I don't give a shit about how you see that, cause I know your body screams for mine every night. And it will never get someone else's. Do you understand?"

He stops kissing my neck and looks at me while thrusting his hips against mine. A shiver run down my spine as I looked into his eyes, but this time not a good one. It was ice cold. I never saw him looking tat serious and cold. Possesive. "Do. You. Under. Stand." he asks me again, deep and hard thrust for every word.

"God yes, Mattheo. I understand!" I cry out as his fingers find their way towards my clit, rubbing it in circles. My nails leave marks all over his back, drawing a little blood.

He starts hissing but laughing at the same time at the pain. He's gonna be the death of me. "No, you're gonna be mine, princess. Do that again with your nails, turns me on." As I don't, he mumbles a quite "okay" and presses me harder against the shower wall, fucking me even deeper and more brutal. My nails find their way back inside his skin and I'm sure If we had been o the bed It would be broken by now.

"When are you gonna learn to not be a little brat, huh?" he asks, a smirk on his face. "I own you now, baby." I let out half a snort half a chuckle. " Do I own you then too?" I ask sarcastically. " You own every inch of me."

My face falls a little at his answer, not expecting it. Did he mean that?But as soon as my thoughts started, I forgot them as he starts to rub my clit even harder, but in a steady rhythm.

"Oh yeah look at that in pleasure twisting face, that's fucking it." he groans, his thrust becoming more erratic. One hand leaves my hip and wraps itself around my throat, squeezing it with the perfect amount of pressure. A broken scream leaves my lips with my eyes rolling back.

"Yeah scream so loud Cormac hears who‘s name you‘re moaning tonight." I press my lips together but he squeezes my throat tighter. My walls clench around him, making him lose his control, eyes rolling back a bit with a smile to it. "I love that pussy so much fuck.I bet he can't fuck you like I can, huh?"

This time my answer comes in a instant. " No- no he can't. I'm so close Mattheo, please." I moan as I feel this deep twisting feeling in my stomach. His lips meet mine, to my surprise. Unlike how he fucks, he kisses me soft and passionate. "Come around me baby.Please fucking come around me." he groans almost desperate.

And just like that I let go and let the feeling of my orgasm overflow me. "Hm shit.. can I come inside you baby?" Mattheo pants against my lips while he looks down between us. I just nod quickly, feeling him coming inside me a few seconds later. "Shit.." a whimper leaves his lips as he fills me up.

My stomach twists again at the sound so I look at him and scan his face for a moment. I think that's the hottest sound my ears ever came across. He looks fucked out too, his eyes heavy.

He slowly pulls out but still holds me. "You make me so addicted." he confesses to me, looking between my eyes and lips. I had to. " So you're going soft now again?" I tease him, out of breath.

He chuckles lowly which ends with me bent over every single surface in his room.

I don't know how long I can survive in that.

—

I just know ya‘ll hate and love me for posting this.. after weeks :) <3

There‘s gonna be a part 3, the final then. Hehe.

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xoxo sarah <3

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month

Text

babys first flight

words: 1.3k

warnings: flying, dad!rafe, mom!reader, breastfeeding, dude briefly being rude about your baby crying

a/n: i guess this could be a prequel to pink unicorn but honestly i just wanted to use the same name for the baby again lol

rafe sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as he looks at the flight board. you can tell from the defeated look on his face as he walks back over to you that your flight is delayed.

“two hours.” he states, sitting down next to you. you sigh just as deeply as your husband, looking at your sleeping daughter in your arms.

“i think i should wake her up. that way she falls asleep on the plane.” you say, running your finger over rosie’s cheek, her skin soft and flushed pink as she naps.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “whatever you think is best.” rafe defaults often to you, letting you guide the way through raising your daughter. he has experience with his two younger sisters, but you grew up in an even bigger family and often helped out with the babies.

you feel bad having to wake rosie up, especially when she’s asleep during her usual naptime. “wake up, babygirl.” you coo, pressing kisses to her cheeks until her eyes open up, lips instantly turning into a pout.

“its okay!” you stretch a smile over your face. “its okay, rosie!” your soft tone stops her tears, but her pout remains. you jiggle her favorite toy in front of her. your daughter is only three months old and still working on her grip, so you manage to entertain her by placing the toy in her hand every time she drops it.

“here, let me take her.” rafe reaches out. “you stretch your legs and take a break.”

you glance at the clock. still an hour and a half until you can get on your plane. its a short flight, from north carolina to the bahamas for a much needed vacation, deciding to spend the entire summer at your second home while rafe has paternity time away from work.

“gonna use the bathroom.” you press a kiss to rafes cheek, then rosies. “be right back.”

you don’t hurry as you walk around the airport, glad that you’re booked in first class and can use the lounge as the bustling sounds of the airport would surely annoy rosie.

you use the bathroom and get a coffee for rafe, deciding to ditch the decaf and get a mocha for yourself. while you know its generally safe to drink coffee while breastfeeding, you still try to stay away from it, but on days like today, you certainly need it.

“here ya go.” you hand the coffee to your husband after making your way back to the waiting area.

“oh god, thank you.” rafe lets out a moan as he tips the cup back, the warm liquid filling his mouth. he bounces rosie gently on his knee to keep her eyes open.

“would we be terrible parents if i turned on something on my phone for her to watch?” you pout, trying hard to keep her away from screens, but sometimes you just need something to distract her.

“we absolutely would not but if it makes you feel better, i’ll use my phone.” rafe pulls it out of his pocket, transferring rosie easily back into your arms. you cradle her in a way that still allows her to look at the phone screen, her eyes glancing between rafes face cooing at her and the dancing fruits and vegetables.

“shes loving this.” rafe laughs when rosie giggles, her plump cheeks stretching. rosie just started laughing last week, and rafe is still the only one who can get it out of her, although she smiles at you constantly since she first developed the muscles.

“now boarding first class.” the announcer calls out, the hour flying by with rosie entertained.

“she just started looking tired too.” rafe says, taking your carry ons in his hands as you place rosie into her sling, deciding to babywear her until you’re all settled in your seats and can put her in the carseat that rafe also manages to carry.

“welcome aboard.” the flight attendant smiles at you, leading you towards your seats. three all in a row. rafe works quickly to get everything set, placing rosies carseat in the middle seat.

“babys first flight!” you coo to her, hoping to keep her awake through boarding so she will hopefully sleep the entire two hour flight.

“here, i got her.” rafe places her in the carseat once its all strapped down, waiting to do up her buckle until the plane actually takes off.

you both talk partially to her and partially to each other to keep her eyes open, even occasionally giving her tummy little tickles to keep her droopy eyes from closing completely.

while the flight attendant does the safety demonstration, you do up rosie’s buckles. she’s asleep before the plane even begins to move, and you’re surprised when she doesn’t even startle during take off. you reach over to hold rafes hand until you’re steady in the air, hating the rising feeling in your stomach.

“doing good baby?” rafe asks, swiping his thumb over the back of your hand.

you take a deep breath. “yeah, yeah.” looking at rosie and your husband helps sooth the little bit of nerves you have about flying.

the flight goes smoothly until halfway to the bahamas, rosie suddenly startles away with a cry.

“ohhh, its okay baby.” you coo to her, able to recognise from her cry alone that she’s simply hungry.

“oh god, will you shut that baby up?” a man behind you groans before you can even undo her buckles to get her out of her seat.

“what did you say about my daughter?” rafe stands up, glaring as you just try to quiet rosie, pulling her into her lap while you search for a blanket to cover yourself with.

“you heard me! i didn’t pay for first class seats to listen to a crying baby!” the man grunts.

“you’re lucky we’re on a plane or-” rafe begins, until you hiss out his name. “stop it, let the flight attendants handle it.”

rafe sees the stress on your face, nodding as he grabs you a thin blanket, draping it over your shoulder while you adjust your shirt to feed rosie, her cries quieting as she latches onto your nipple.

“sir, that is not appropriate behavior for our airline-” the flight attendant begins to lecture the man behind you, clearly a mom herself.

“it’s okay.” you tell rafe as he turns his shoulder to glare at the man. you rub your hand over his cheek just like you would to rosie until he’s calm.

“dudes an asshole.” rafe grunts out, but his tone is softer now, leaning across rosies car seat to press a kiss to your cheek. he pulls the blanket away slightly so he can look down at your daughter, happily nursing.

“she’s so perfect.” he sighs, glad he has such a well behaved baby for her first flight.

you both settle into your seats as rosie finishes, clearly just needing her tummy to be full before going right back to sleep. you decide to keep her in your arms until the plane begins to descend.

“i got her.” rafe pushes your hands away to do up her seat belts. he knows how much of a stress pregnancy and breastfeeding is on you, so he tries to do absolutely everything he can, even naming himself the sole diaper changer.

you hold rafes hand again as the plane descends, letting out a sigh of relief when the wheels make smooth contact with the runway.

“this was absolutely worth the pain of the flight.” you smile to rafe, resting your head on his shoulder as rosie lays on the towel in front of you, body completely shaded by a pink umbrella.

you look out onto the ocean, waves lightly lapping against the pale yellow sand.

“couldn’t agree more.” rafe hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

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sorrowfulrosebud · 7 months

Text

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: in which Katsuki sees you get rid of a scrap book you planned to give him after he broke up with you

The breakup was… rough to say the least. You supposed it could have been described as a perfect mirror image to your relationship to begin with; the crushing pain of Katsuki being Katsuki.

Katsuki cracked his knuckles loudly from outside of the Heights Alliance building as he waited in the cold for you. Everyone was out doing something with the group, and Katsuki could not have been more quietly grateful. Even though he was going to rip your beating heart straight out of your body, he wanted you to maintain the dignity and pride that he had originally fallen in love with.

It wasn’t like Katsuki had woke up that morning and decided that he was going to break up with you; months of inner self-depreciation crept into his thoughts day by day, alongside the crippling realisation of his ex-victim’s strength and progress. The weight of his existence was slowly crashing around him, and he needed all of his attention for his strength.

Unfortunately, that meant cutting away dead weight.

Your happy humming could be heard as you wandered your way to your boyfriend. Your face lightened at the sight of him, before your smile drops at his scowl.

“Hi, Suki! Is everything alright?” You asked him worriedly, head tilted to the side. Katsuki’s scowl deepened, causing you to reach out to him.

“Suki please, you’re starting to worry me,” your voice rang through his ears as his hand locked around your wrist before it could reach his fluffy locks. There was a long pause as you retracted your hand, staring wildly at your boyfriend’s face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he sneered. If he was going to break your heart, he had to rip it out and shove it in the blender. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took your hand back.

“Katsuki, I-,” you were interrupted by Katsuki.

“Don’t fucking call me that either,” he grunted, shoving his hand in his pocket. Tears threatened to prick at your eyes.

“I’m breaking this thing up. It’s not worth my time at all. I’m training to be the number one hero, so I have no time to waste on other useless shit,” his gaze steeled, no ounce of insincerity to be detected. His words cut deep like a sword, your knees feeling weak as tears cling to your lashes.

“Y-you don’t mean that,” you sniffed. Katsuki let out a gruff laugh.

“Don’t I? Look, I guess it was fun when it started, but my priorities haven’t changed. You were just a distraction, something I could put my mind to. I’m not wasting any more time on you, so just leave me alone. I don’t care what you do, or who you get with. Just don’t fucking talk to me anymore, got it?”

His strength was impressive, you thought. How he could say such horrible things to you without buckling or feeling barbed wire dig into his throat. You could only stare at him with tears in your eyes, before shakily nodding. You turned at your heels and unsteadily walked off, before delving into a run back to the dorms.

Katsuki waited until you left. And he waited. And he waited. Until your sobs could no longer be heard. His body shook, before hushed hiccups and cries left his lips. His exhausted body slumped against the wall, shaky hands knuckling at his wet eyes. Well, his dirty deed was done.

Life afterwards was rough for you. After being together for 10 months, your daily routine stung in ways you didn’t know was possible. You found yourself stopping during tasks you had grown unconscious to; you had to stop texting him during the day. Even just the silly thoughts in your head couldn’t be translated in a text to him.

You could only make protein shakes for one now. Laundry loads grew lighter, snack trips became quicker and physical touch with others withdrew exponentially. For the next month, you rotted in your dorm. You ate when Mina would bring you food, her hugging you tightly and angrily grumbling about how much of a dick her friend was.

You managed to stumble to class when you didn’t oversleep the day away. Insomnia plagued you like the Black Death, tossing and turning as you tearfully mourned the relationship you lost. You arrived to class way later than your ex would, avoiding all eye contact even though you were deskmates. (You soon requested a seat change).

Aizawa had had enough when you stumbled late to his lesson for the 5th time, demanding you stay back after class. You gulped and felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that your teacher called you out.

The bell for the end of class sounded, bringing you out of your daze.

“(L/N), stay behind please,” came the tired drone of Mr Aizawa. Mina offered you a smile and a rub on the back as she walked off with Kirishima, throwing you a sympathetic look when she left.

Mr Aizawa cleared his throat as he signalled for you to take a seat in front of his desk. He continued marking some papers as his onyx eyes slightly looked at you.

“Your grades are slipping. You’re arriving late to class. You’re avoiding… certain classmates. If you’re struggling, I’d recommend telling me now and continuing the course. If not, pack your bags and take your grievances elsewhere. We’re training heroes, so you need to be exemplary,” he said bluntly, eyes flickering back to his paper.

You sniffled a little, rubbing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr Aizawa. I’ll be better,” you promised dully, wiping your eyes on a tissue. His eyes looked back at you.

“I’m not an idiot. I can tell that you and Bakugou have come to some sort of disagreement. If it can get sorted, I would recommend making up as soon as possible-,” he starts.

“We broke up. He… he dumped me. He said such… horrible things to me. About me,” you whimpered, face screwed up as you clutched your uniform. Aizawa stopped writing before putting down his pen.

“I-I know I’m not exactly as composed as Todoroki, or as fast as Iida or as smart as Yaomomo, but I thought there was something about me that he liked. It just hurts how quickly he discarded me. I’m sorry for disturbing your lessons Mr Aizawa, it won’t happen again,” you quietly cried as you sunk your head in shame.

Only to lift your teary head as Mr Aizawa’s large hand encompassed your scalp. He looked at you with slight concern as you wiped your eyes.

“While it’s true that some of your classmates have advantages that you do not, a real hero doesn’t sell themselves short. Where Todoroki is composed, you’re bubbly and outgoing. Although Iida is fast, he often lacks the ability to let loose and enjoy the small things. And yes, Yaoyorozu is a prodigy student due to private schooling, but you put in the hard work and reap the rewards” his words soothed you as he softly rubbed your head.

“A real hero wouldn’t let someone who had to be chained up at the sports festival make them cry. So don’t sell yourself short. That boy has been in far too many detentions to have the nerve to point out your shortcomings,” he finished, removing his hand and gently pressing his fist into your shoulder.

“Understand me? I’ll let this incident pass if you can prove to me that you can put in the rest of the work and be a hero that everyone can put their faith in.”

The tears returned, but for a completely different reason. You quickly hugged Aizawa, his face immediately shifting into one of discomfort before gingerly patting your back. He let out his signature sly grin.

“Besides, if he tries anything, I can always say to Gang Orca that he needs more classes at the provisional licensing centre.”

You smiled at your home room teacher.

“Thank you Mr Aizawa,” you said, releasing him. He let out a small cough.

“Thank me with your actions. Tell anyone I let you hug me and it’s detention for the next month, understand?” He grilled you.

“I understand sir,” you giggled.

“Now go find Ashido, I can smell her anticipation from here,” he instructed.

“Yes sir.”

After Mr Aizawa’s curt but helpful words, you aimed on self improvement. You focused on bettering a routine, sleeping more and eating healthier. Days you would have spent rotting in bed were forced into activities with your classmates.

The breakup still stung like a knife, but it was easier to manage and slowly dwindled down to a papercut. You hadn’t talked to your ex in 2 months, only sly glances when he wasn’t looking.

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki was absolutely miserable. Seeing you rot and struggle to cope absolutely murdered him inside knowing that he was the person who ripped your heart out, and that he couldn’t stitch it back together. He managed to keep his own composure, training even harder to avoid seeing you or bumping into you.

He nearly passed out from training, he was overworking so hard. It was his own fault, he knew that. He just couldn’t work past his issues with you there; you didn’t deserve to be at the end of his shitty stick.

The pride he felt when you started cleaning yourself up and interacting more with your classmates made his chest swell. You looked so much more beautiful and radiant; the person he fell in love with.

And dumped.

“Stupid fucking Sparky, gettin’ sick and makin’ me do his chores,” Katsuki grumbled, arms overflowing with bin bags as he stumbled to the large bins. It had been 2 months since your breakup. Or, even worse; your 1 year anniversary.

His heart was absolutely wrecked, but he could now slide quick glances to you without fear of you looking at him. He was so proud that you were able to overcome his asshole behaviour, and hopefully swallow any more feelings that you had about him. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sniffling.

He peeked his head around the corner, dropping the bin bags as quietly as he could. His eyes widened. You were stood near the incinerator, a thick book wedged in your hands.

Tears slowly trickled down your face as you looked at the book. A small smile appeared as you thumbed the cover.

“I… I thought we would have made it. I don’t know, I thought it was all going so well. I know I’ll never probably understand what was going through your head that day, but… it’s time to let go of the past,” you say quietly, rubbing your teary eyes as you open the incinerator door.

“I loved you, god fucking damnit! More than I think I could have ever loved anyone! I suppose a small part of me always will now, though. I just thought we had a better chance. Happy one year anniversary, Katsuki,” you finish as you let out a sob, throwing the book into the furnace. You ran off before checking that the book was fully inside the furnace, slamming the door and running back inside.

Katsuki waited until your steps made no noise, before running forward and pulling the book from the furnace. It was a scrapbook; the book was ridiculously chunky, with glitter glue and doodles smothering the outside, as well as stickers from your combined favourite TV shows. The furnace had charred a large chunk of the book, the smell permeating his nose.

Then he saw your names scrawled neatly in cursive. His heart started to thud as he thumbed the pages.

Polaroid photos of you on dates were plastered neatly on the pages; some photos he remembered, others he had no recollection of. Movie ticket stubs, post it notes with cute messages detailing your affections, stickers you gifted each other, silly photos from photo booths that you dragged him into.

Each page was a flash of white-hot pain. There were photos of him during a festival winning you a fish from a difficult carnival game, his eyes smoked beautifully with eyeliner as he grinned (and won the fish). He wonders if you still had it.

Another photo of his birthday party. The two of you had snuck off to your favourite spot in the woods, where he found that you had created your own picnic spot with a spread of his favourite foods. Photos of shy hand-holding, of him resting in your lap and vice versa.

Katsuki was struggling to see the paper for the tears he tried so desperately to blink away before reaching the last page. A whole page was filled with your writing, and Katsuki had to knuckle his eyes to read it.

Dearest Katsuki,

Wow, a year already! I’m so happy that we’ve come so far, my love. I’m so indebted to you for everything that you’ve done for me; helped me with training, putting up with me, hell even just being there for me.

I know I’m not exactly the easiest to get along with, I know I’m easily excitable and not exactly quiet. I love and appreciate that you can listen to me and not get bored, just as I do with you.

Training to be a hero is hard work, so I’m so thankful that you’ve chosen to take your journey with me, even though you’re training so hard to become number one.

I love you more than words can ever describe; you’re the reason I wake up everyday. I adore you, and I hope we can have many more years together kicking ass and beating Deku >o<

Lots and lots and lots of love,

Your (N/N)

Katsuki couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down his face. Reading your words of quiet insecurity, thanking him for things that he threw right back into your face like you were nothing made his heart ache so badly.

He clutched the scrapbook to his chest tightly, sending silent but desperate apologies to you as his head sunk to the floor. Guttural cries escaped him as his choices swirled through his head. The scrapbook’s cover buckled due to the force of his grip as he sobbed his heart out.

Months of self deprecation caught up to him as he craved your touch; he wanted you to hear him, to turn around and hold him tightly to your chest and never ever let go ever again. He needed your sweet affirmations as you played with his hair; “my number one hero,” you would croon as you hugged your tired boyfriend.

His stupid pride got in his way once again, and he finally came to the one conclusion he should have met those 2 fateful months ago.

He couldn’t do this without you.

The trip back to Heights Alliance was a painful one, but Mina hugged away your issues as soon as she saw your misty orbs.

“I’m so proud of you for doing this bestie. You deserve so much better. It’s time to let go of the past,” she told you softly, pink hair tickling your face. You smiled at your best friend.

“Thank you for everything Mina, I really mean it,” you sniffle, wiping your nose and taking a deep breath. You let go of your friend as you smiled at her.

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap, training was super rough today,” you told her, squeezing her hand as she squeezes back.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything. Sleep well, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready,” Mina promised, giving you one last hug.

You gave her a wan smile as you walked to your dorm room, throwing a pained look at your exes room. You shook your head as you unlocked the door and got changed into some comfy clothes. Tired bones sunk onto your bed as you let out a sigh.

“It’s time to let go of the past,” you murmur as you fell asleep. As soon as you were about to beat Shigaraki to a pulp, a loud knocking on your door pulled you from your dream.

The knocking was quiet at first, then grew louder, more desperate. You thought it was Mina, and that you had skipped dinner.

You let out a tired laugh, getting out of bed and redoing your hair.

“Okay, okay Mina, I’m coming-“ your voice was cut short as you opened the door, seeing a disgruntled ex staring at the floor.

Clutched tightly in his hand was the scrapbook, as you looked on in shock. How did he get it?! He wasn’t there when you- oh fuck.

Katsuki raised his head, volcanic eyes plagued with tears as he wildly searched your face. He gingerly reached for your hand before sinking to his knees, placing your hand on his face.

“P-please take me back. I know I was a dick, but I’m willing to show you all of my vulnerabilities. Please baby,” he raised his head again.

“I can’t live without you.”

#🥀 rambles #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader angst #bakugou angst #open ending bc fuck yall #nah I can’t be arsed to write an ending lol #so don’t get pissy with me #bakugou katsuki x reader angst #katsuki angst #bnha x reader angst #MHA x reader angst #Katsuki x reader

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moonlinos · 3 months

Text

Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat.

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.”

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable.

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day.

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch. When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless.

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

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tabbedtabby · 10 days

Text

good luck, babe! | chapter 1

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: if you couldn’t tell from the title, this fic is inspired by “good luck, babe!” by chappell roan. if you’ve never heard it, definitely check it out. updates will most likely be weekly. i don’t know how some of y’all have the time to update every day lol. as a general warning for the whole fic, it will contain homophobia, derogatory language, substance abuse, and unhealthy relationships. other than that thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this first chapter!!

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Entering your third year of high school, you assumed you knew everything there was to know about North Shore.

Well, at least, how to steer clear of infamy. More specifically, Regina George and her shadows that followed her around like a pair of lost dogs. You knew the trouble and attention they brought with them, a constant trail of destruction that was almost as potent as the stench of their perfume. The secret to avoiding it was as simple as straying from the limelight. You kept to your group, stayed quiet, kept your head down. Didn’t do anything wild enough to trigger Regina’s predatory instincts. You couldn’t say you were afraid of her and her group, but honestly, harassment is the last thing you need as North Shore’s token plug. It would be plain stupid to garner more attention to yourself than necessary.

But even with all of that in mind, here you are, sitting in the principal’s office with enough anger in your chest to probably strangle the man sitting in front of you. Because you didn’t even fucking do what you’re being penalized for. But guess who told Mr. Duvall that you were taking pictures of girls changing in gym? Regina George. She could make up whatever she wanted and even the authority figures at this school would treat it like it was the holy grail. You stare at him with venom in your eyes as he explains to you that you will have to be suspended. For something you didn’t even do.

Regina was in your gym class. You had heard around that she was spreading rumors about you being a lesbian, but that’s not new information to literally anyone, so you didn’t especially care. Then people started giving you disgusted looks in the hallways, calling you some really nasty names, and even some of your close female friends started to avoid you. You didn’t know why until about 10 minutes ago. Apparently, you were the last person to know about your supposed photo collection.

When Mr. Duvall finally lets you leave, you feel the rage boil up inside of you before you can stop it. You’re going to get in so much trouble at home, and for what? Because the world’s most spoiled brat decided your reputation was the one to ruin this week? Does she even realize how her rumors can affect people? Obviously not, because she does it all the fucking time.

You’re way late to lunch, but the moment you step into that cafeteria, it’s like a wild dog being released into the ring. You skip on the lunch line and head straight towards the table where you see Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners talking with wide eyes to the blonde head of hair with her back to you. Regina. You lock on like a target, not glancing at anything else surrounding you. Your hands are bunched into fists at your sides as the anger rises up in your throat like bile. How dare she? How dare she completely make up this bullshit about you, get you suspended because of it? And why hasn’t anyone actually done something about it?

You see her turn around. Two ice blue eyes look up at you. Disgusted, maybe even a little confused as she sees you approaching her table. Because no one ever dares enter her territory. She thinks she’s above that. She doesn’t look at you more than a second, though, before your hands are ripping her off the bench by the collar of her shirt.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you practically snarl, your arms already dragging her towards the wall as you slam her against it. Your hands still grip the collar of her shirt, your anger almost palpable. You hear what you think to be Gretchen scream. The cafeteria descends into chaos around you. You don’t care. The only thing you’re concerned about is what’s in front of you right now.

Regina doesn’t even look slightly bothered. In fact, she cocks an eyebrow. Her eyes seem to glow with that malice now. Your hands grip the fabric of her shirt even tighter.

“Oh, no, did I hit a nerve?” she laughs, her eyes looking you over with a newfound disgust. Like you’re simply a piece of trash a wild animal found out it could not digest and spit back up. Like you’re beneath her. You hate the woman, but it’s almost impressive how controlled she is in moments like these.

“You’re just proving me right, you know. Just admit you’re the weird freak that everyone knows you are. I can’t stand a closet lesbo.” she sneers, pushing her face close enough to yours that you can feel her breath on your face.

Something in you snaps when she says those words. Because it’s not even true, and you’re the only person who seems to believe that. The anger’s hot in your chest. Its flames seem to carry your arms as you ball your right hand into a fist.

And you punch the Queen Bee of North Shore directly in the eye.

Your suspension was extended. Obviously.

You spend the next 2 weeks cleaning the house until your fingers peel and keeping up with your school work on your computer. People are talking about your fight with Regina all over Instagram and Regina’s acting like a total victim about the whole thing. People sending her their condolences and all that bullshit. As if she was dying and didn’t only get one punch to the face before someone pulled you off of her. It was your health teacher from last year; he seemed a little too eager to grab you and pull you off of Regina.

When you return to school, it seems people still believe those rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing rooms, because your peers are giving you the same sort of looks as before. They clear away from you when you walk past, but not in the worshipful kind of way they do for Regina. More like they’re disgusted to be around you.

Some people are impressed you stood up to her, though. You’re the first of your time. Janis ‘Imi’ike from your AP Lit class gives you a high five in the morning and you give her a big grin in return.

You see Regina in your gym class after lunch, and she looks as good as new. You’re a little disappointed. You kind of wanted to see her with that bright purple bruise on her eye that you’d seen all over Instagram. But there she was, looking like the perfectly crafted Barbie doll that she always seemed to be. Not even a stand of flawless blonde hair out of place. It made you mad. It’s like you did it all for nothing.

To your surprise, though, Regina ignores you. She doesn’t whisper to her minions while giving you dirty looks from across the room, doesn’t send them after you with a raise of her finger. It’s like you’re invisible to her. Honestly, you prefer it that way. You’re tired enough of this whole situation as it is. It’s a godsend she’s not making it worse today.

Coach Carr takes you all outside since it’s one of the last warm days until fall. You stick your Airpods in and walk the track, still keeping an eye on Regina. It’s not like her to not torment someone who got suspended because of one of her rumors. You don’t trust it at all, but she seems content with pretending you don’t exist. Since Karen and Gretchen aren’t in this class with her, Regina resorts to talking to the girls who aren’t quite Plastic, but are still high enough on the social pyramid for Regina to tolerate. You roll your eyes as they mindlessly follow her lead like a pack of lion cubs.

After a couple of minutes, you get bored and sneak off to the woods surrounding the track. Your coach wasn’t the most attentive person in the world, so it was pretty easy. You needed to smoke or you were going to go insane. You take an Airpod out and grab the cart out of your bra. Have to keep it non-suspicious.

You only plan on taking a few hits since it’s so concentrated and you still have another class after this. You come out here so much that you don’t even think about it. Until you hear a voice behind you.

“Are you smoking weed?”

Your neck nearly snaps when you whip your head around. Your heart sinks back down to your chest from your throat when you see Regina George standing there instead of Coach Carr.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” you immediately respond, your voice wavering a bit as you hadn’t even considered someone had seen you slip out. The weed had just started to hit and you could feel it amplify the fear in your chest, even though Regina wasn’t technically immediate danger. Although, your heart begins to race faster as you realize she will definitely try to get you in deeper shit because of this.

Regina begins to open her mouth before you immediately cut her off. “Before you go and tell everyone on this side of the country, everyone already knows. It’s not gonna do anything to ruin my reputation.” Your voice shakes similarly to your legs out of the pure shock of her finding you. You hate feeling cornered, but after your little tussle with her, you know how badly Regina must want to destroy you. Her eyes stare at you unflinchingly, unaffected by what you said. She looks smug enough to make you nervous. You don’t know if it’s because of the weed or your pounding chest, but it seems like minutes pass before Regina says anything else.

“What about Mr. Duvall? Does he know?” Fuck. You’re not getting out of this, are you? Your mouth begins to dry, the spit thick on your tongue as you think of a response. Your dad was already mad enough at you. You didn’t need this.

“No. But I can’t imagine it’ll go well for you if you tell him. I sell to half the school, including Karen. Everyone will be pissed if I get caught.” you respond, already feeling defeated, but you keep your tone searing. You’re taller than her; hopefully it makes you intimidating enough for her to have mercy. Regina doesn’t respond right away. All she does is raise an eyebrow, a smug smirk on one side of her mouth as you watch her consider her options. She’s flawlessly gorgeous in a way that’s enviable. But you kind of need her to not take away your source of income.

“Look, I smoke behind the baseball field every day after school. I’ll give you some for free if you just keep your damn mouth shut for once.” Your voice is almost pleading now. You wish she wasn’t so dead-set on ruining your life.

Time only gets slower as Regina’s smirk begins to widen. It’s a win-win situation for her, and she knows it.

“Fine. But you better not try to kiss me or anything.” she says slowly, spitting out the words like they’re poisonous.

You feel the relief pool in your stomach as soon as you hear those words. It must be obvious by the look on your face, because Regina laughs at you. She has that angry, disgusted sort of look in her eyes that you can’t quite figure out the reason for. It’s a shame because she’s so beautiful. Your body takes multiple seconds to keep up with your thoughts until a question crosses your mind.

“Did you follow me?” you ask, your voice a little too loud as you see her head turn back around.

“Obviously. I knew you weren’t sneaking off to do anything good,” she shoots back, the repugnant expression back on her face. She curls her lip at you before stalking off back to the track field, blonde hair flowing behind her.

How the hell did she even see you leave? Maybe you weren’t the only one paying attention to what the other was doing after your fight with her. But, why? Did she seriously think you were going to try and swing at her on your first day back?

You guess you’ll find out at 3:00P.M. behind the baseball field.

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george 2024 #mean girls x reader #fem reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

AITA for making a joke about my sex life to a student? 😏🐓 Nsfw text obv i know the title sounds bad but please read everything

I (Transmasc, 25) work on a school, very open as being gay, pride pins and it all, not as a teacher but I take care of computers, textbooks and the library. The younger folk seem to like me, but it's in high school folks things get ugly. Most just don't care about me, which I can't judge, being a teen sucks. Some hate me for telling them to go back to class. The ones that like me (mostly queer/autistic folk) like me for real.

There's this one boy (he's either 16 or 17 so he's NOT a kid) that always makes fun of me, is always skipping classes, is mean to everyone, implied a old teacher she should be better off dead, bothers everyone, talk loudly and complains about everything on his sight.

And he is. Very bigoted. I saw him more than once hurting the girls he studies with (slapping/punching) and caling the whores and more, telling them to suck him off, ride his dick, gag on his cock, etc, saying very hurtful things on gay men/anyone he deemed gay, and principal can only call his parents so many times before the parents stop showing and taking the concerns seriously. This is an ongoing issue since 6th grade, as far as I know. He hates my guts since I've called the principal on him more than once for going off on me telling me to fuck myself for asking him to go back to class.

My main strategy with him is ignoring him and the second one is answering as I don't understand him. Perks of being autistic I guess, being able to do this with a straight face. So: he calls me a chicken, I tell him they're my favorite farm animal, how did he guess? They're so amazing and cute. He tells me the lunch is gross, I say they can buy their lunch to bring if they want to, school food isn't that good (not true, the school food is amazing. Most students eat more than one plate). The computers are too slow, I ask him to please be patient cause they're old men that don't like to work, be nice to them :(. Guy says that the classes sucks, I tell him that the complaint box is at (governor's address) but yea they suck but at least he has only one year left.

This is where I might be the asshole, because I hurt myself going up and down a chair to organize some textbooks and I already have severe hip/knee pain so this only made me hurt worse so I am already pretty grumpy. A teacher asks for a banner of a periodic table and I have to find the table and go up a chair to hang it, and in the process, I let out a moan of pain becaude my knees dream of my downfall, and the teacher asks me if I am okay, so I tell yea, my hips and knees just hurt like a bitch. And this one student tells me "why, are you beaten up from taking cock in your ass?" And I breath deeply and answer "If it was from fucking I would be damn happy, but it's only from working. Anyways teacher here you go (with the periodic table)" and the teacher looks me with a surprised expression and all the class is silent and uncomfortable so I just left. Now the student can't look in my eyes but at least they're not talking to me anymore and the teacher hasn't said anything. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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sage-green-matcha · 9 months

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NEIGHBOR - ETHAN LANDRY 🏙️

When Ethan can’t get enough of the girl next door!

MINORS DNI!

Content includes: SMUT! oral receiving !Fem, Ethan catching you! Switch Ethan kinda? A bit of praise!

A/n: wanted this to be longer but honestly had no energy to finish it :( but I rlly wanted to publish it anyways so here u go!

You sighed at the sound of loud music playing. It was just loud enough to be heard through the wall. Even if the song that was playing was from one of your favorite artists, you just wanted to sleep. You had a big Econ test that you couldn't afford to fail.

You picked yourself up lazily, blanket wrapped around you as you slipped on your loafers. You felt the cold touch your legs, shivering as you walked next door.

You knocked a couple of times, looking up to be met with a familiar face. "Oh uh, Y/n...what are you doing here?" Ethan Landry? You knew him from your Econ class, and also Chad's best friend. You two had been partners for projects a couple times, so to say he was a stranger would be a lie. "Oh uh, hey Ethan. I was wondering if you could turn down your music a bit? I'm trying to sleep" He gulped, feeling immediate guilt for disturbing your sleep.

"Oh, yea..yea! I'm sorry" "Thanks" you smiled. You walked back to your apartment, you didn't know he was your neighbor. You had been living in the small, New York apartment complex for about 6 months. And you hadn't seen him till now.

It was the same thing for the next couple of days, waking up at night to tell him he was being too loud or his music was making the wall shake. He always apologized, yet he never cared to change his volume before you went over to ask.

Ethan started doing it on purpose. He loved the way you looked when you had just rolled out of bed. It drove him crazy. Tired eyes with the prettiest sleepy voice. You would always wear a baggy teeshirt, no shorts underneath and just a blanket wrapped around you, bare legs.

You struggled to fall asleep, confused at the disappearance of the loud music you had been hearing for the past week. It felt strange but you shook it off, finally able to enjoy a full night's rest without any disruptions.

Or so you'd thought.

You groaned into your pillow as you heard a couple knocks on the door. It was a Friday, and you weren't expecting anyone to come over, especially not at 1 am. You dragged yourself out of bed, not caring about your slippers. You slipped out a yawn as you opened the door, this time Ethan at yours.

"Ethan...hey, what are you doing here?" You rubbed your eyes, the light from the hallway hurting them. "I got locked out of my apartment...I left my keys in class.." you frowned. "Oh no, did you call the landlord?" "He's in New Jersey?" his hands were in his sweats, small and worried frown on his face.

"Uhm, I guess you could stay with me for the night" his heart pumped out of his chest. That's exactly what he hoped you'd say. "Are you sure...? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything" You nodded. "Yea It's fine" you smiled, letting him inside. "Sorry to wake you up again" you shrugged. "Felt weird without your music anyways, I'm kinda getting used to it"

He put down his bag by the couch, watching you walk Into your bedroom to get blankets. He was more than excited. His plan had worked. He had his keys in his bag and had dressed in comfy clothes so he had no problem with having to change.

You plopped down the pile of blankets on the couch, tossing a pillow over to him. He watched as you laid out the blankets for him, placing the other pillow at the end of the couch. "Thanks" He smiled up at you. "No problem, if you want any snacks you can go in my pantry, Tara makes me stack up. And uh, there are drinks in the fridge"

"Thanks, for everything" "Stop thanking me, I'd want you to let me sleep over if I was locked out" you shrugged, turning around to go back to bed. "Night, Ethan" "Goodnight..."

But you weren't having a good night. Tossing in turning in your bed as you felt an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. Warmth gathered in your core and you rubbed your thighs against each other. You knew you couldn't do anything about it, especially not with a guest in the house.

But your pussy was hungry for touch, a pain filled you up. A pain that could only be relieved by touching yourself. You sighed with guilt as you stuck your hand into your panties, rubbing small circles against your sensitive bud. You bit your lip, holding back any small whimpers. You'd die before you'd let Ethan see you like this, yet again you probably wouldn't mind if he walked in on you.

Your movements got faster, a small sloppy moan coming from your mouth. You heard the couch creak, making you pause. "Y/n...you okay in there?" "I'm fine" you answered, melting into the mattress as you pulled out your hand. You were frustrated, almost close to your small orgasm. "You sure?" "I'm Good, Ethan" You heard his footsteps go back to where he originally was, putting your hand back into your panties.

This time you were careful not to make a noise. Only the sound of your wetness was barely heard under the sheets. Your mouth was deep into your pillow, shoving two of your fingers deep into your hole. Your walls tightened around your hand, dripping wet as you thrust your fingers into yourself.

Your mind was clouded, the feeling of your hand on your clit while the other was thrusting hard made you roll your eyes back. You were careful not to make any noise, a tie in your stomach forming. You were so so close, the possibility of getting caught turned you on even more.

What would Ethan think of you? That you're a slut? That you're gross? Or would he rip your legs open and help you out? You felt your legs shake as you pushed towards your orgasm. Frustrating and embarrassment filled you as you heard the door open. You couldn't care less though, you continued to fuck yourself as Ethan walked over.

"Y/n...what are you doing?" Ethan rubbed his eyes, staring at your position. "Oh..." he walked closer to the bed, your head still fucked out as you rubbed small circles against your clit. "You're so dirty..." a small scoff fell from his lips as he peeled the cover off of you, your hands covered in your juices.

"You're not very quiet Y/n" Every time he said your name you wanted to melt. It sounded so good rolling off his tongue. You continued to pump your fingers into yourself, biting your lip with your eyes closed as he watched. You felt so dirty, just like he said.

Your body heated up at his touch, his warm hand gripping your thigh. A whimper escaped your mouth as your movements slowed down, the tie in your stomach seconds away from snapping. "Don't stop, you can do it" his hands held onto your inner thigh, thumb gently rubbing on your skin.

"You look so pretty fucked out" his words shot straight to your core, legs shaking as you felt yourself release onto your fingers. "Wasn't that hard, was it?" Your chest raised with every breath you took, Ethan taking your cum covered fingers into his mouth.

Your breath hitched Ethan, staring into your eyes as he sucked your fingers, letting them out with a "pop" coming from his lips. You didn't think twice before you were on top of him, lips sucking with desperation as his hands ran up your shirt.

You knew this was wrong, but damn it felt so right. The way his hands perfectly grabbed your waist, lips fitting together like a puzzle. He let out a small groan as your knee slipped in between his legs. Feeling his hard boner on your skin.

You deepened the kiss, lowering yourself on top of him as you rubbed against his dick. He let out a small moan, your hands now pulling on the strings of his grey sweats.

"You're such a slut" You pulled away from the kiss, Ethan's lips on your neck. "Yet you're the one that was watching me" "And you're the one that kept going" you melted into him as he pressed down on your clit, still sensitive from earlier.

Your small, whiney sounds turned him on. Thrusting himself against your clit. "Don't be so desperate" you mumbled, your teeth sinking into his shoulder as he made friction. "I could say the same about you" he flipped the two of you over, pushing you up closer against the headboard.

He hovered over top of you, biting down on your lip as you looked up at him with eyes full of desire. You'd never looked as good as you did right there. "Can I go down on you?" You were slightly taken aback but nodded anyways. You had never had a guy ask you, you always had to ask them first. And they always insisted for something in return.

Ethan wasn't like that, he just wanted to pleasure you. Just getting to see your eyes roll back and your cum on his fingers would be enough for him.

He pampered small kisses against your jaw. They got sloppier as he moved down, marking you with his lips all the way to your waist. Ethan looked up at you with sweet eyes. He pulled down your panties, pulling apart your legs. You felt the cold air on your pussy, wetness covering your glistening core. You felt nervousness gather in your stomach, taking a deep breath.

He ran his fingers through your folds, jolting at the feel. You felt so vulnerable with him. He honestly had no idea what he was doing. He had seen it done once. Accidentally walking in on Chad and Tara one night. But besides that, absolutely clueless.

You sensed his confidence start to go down, taking small breaths. "You okay...?" "I uhm, yea...just not too sure how to do this" You just shook your head, smiling before sitting up. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to do anything" his face was soft, running your hand through his hair as he stared with his lips agape.

"No...no it's okay. I want to learn" "yea?" "Mhm," he chewed on his lip, staring back at you with doughy brown eyes. "Just do what feels right. And I'll tell you what feels good, alright?" He nodded, watching as you spread your legs open once again. He swore you were the prettiest person he'd ever seen. And to see you like this got him so flustered.

He ran his finger through your folds once again, collecting the extra cum from your hole. Your body shivered, craving more of his fingers on you. Your breath hitched as you felt his tongue flatten on your clit, biting back your lip as he stared at you.

"Keep going, good" he felt better as you praised him, doing tricks with his mouth on your pussy. His nails dug into the skin of your thighs, the pain proving you with more pleasure. Small whimpers and heavy breaths escaped from your mouth, Ethan lapping and sucking all over your core.

Your mind was cloudy, your back arching as you grabbed onto the bedsheets. "Please please please" Your hands dug into his hair, pushing his mouth closer to your pussy. His nose rubbed against your clit, his tongue deep in your hole. Your stomach pulsed, feeling hot all over your body.

"Fuck, E... I'm gonna cum" you hummed, feeling his fingers quicken on your sensitive clit. He hadn't even pushed his fingers into you and you were about to cum. The way he looked up at you made you moan, staring back through barely open eyes. Your legs wrapped tightly around his head, basically suffocating him with your thighs.

He pried your legs apart, shaking and weak as he continued to taste you. You tasted so sweet, the feeling of you on his tongue was addicting. He tried to rub himself against the bed, feeling the pain of his ignored boner get to him.

"Shit…shit" you bit back your bottom lip, body shaking as you felt cum drip from your pussy. Ethan's mouth was wide open, licking all of the cum up like your pussy was an ice cream cone. "Taste so good" You pushed his head away while he licked, too sensitive to continue.

He admired your sweaty face, watching as your chest rose with each heavy breath. "You okay...?" He asked, concerned. "Mhm," you hid your face in the pillow, Ethan coming back up to kiss you. "Was I okay?" You held back a smile, nodding at him.

Your lips connected once again, tasting yourself in his mouth. You got why he wanted more, pushing yourself closer to him. Heavy breaths filled the room, Ethan grabbing your waist before whispering something in your ear. “I didn’t actually…leave my keys” he chewed on his lip, watching as your eyebrows furrowed. “Really? Why’d you lie?” “For this”

You rolled your eyes before kissing him again, his cheeks a light pink as you pulled back. “Fucking creep” your lips formed into a smile, teasing him. “I’m not a creep” “You are, but you know what? It’s kinda hot”

2K notes · View notes

cupidsdolll · 4 months

Text

For Whatever It’s Worth I Love You (Ain’t That the Worst Thing You Ever Heard?)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; best friend!Harry x fem!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; best friends forever or whatever the saying is. how bittersweet it is to love someone that you can’t have how you want.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 8.8k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; angst, drinking, one mention of a sexual encounter, foul language, use of Y/N. date with a college guy who only wants sex and is obvious about it.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: i did link a playlist in another post, but here it is. this fic is something personal to me so not everyone will relate but if you’ve ever been in love with your best friend, this is for you. you don’t have to listen to the playlist while reading but a few deserve a honorable mention that i feel accurately describe the feelings throughout.

yours - conan gray, it’s nice to have a friend - taylor swift, falling for u - peachy! ft mxmtoon, heather - conan gray, people watching - conan gray.

— — —

Y/N and Harry were friends. They were the absolute best of friends if anyone asked. They grew up near one another but she tended to shy away from him in their early days. During their elementary years, she observed him from a distance. Him and his seemingly always put together outfits, the way he would snicker in class whenever the teacher mentioned anything remotely funny (it never was to the little girl.) She watched as he sometimes decided he wanted to take notes and would write everything down as fast as he could.

She watched as he grew a small circle of friends and would go around the school playing pranks, placing fake bugs inside lockers or on the teachers desk. She couldn’t help but to be curious of the boy as time went, something about him intrigued her. Years go by and eventually Y/N grew the courage to approach the young boy. She was still hesitant, nervous really, she didn't know what to say to him in any sense. But her legs carried her to him, her mind runs a mile a minute the closer she gets to him. She was bound to make a fool of herself, she just couldn’t stop.

Her feet stopped, she stood right in front of him and he’s yet to notice her, too deep into whatever conversation he’s having with his friend to notice the scared girl. She can’t help her gaze from roaming over his face, the soft cheeks and pretty green eyes, his pink lips and long eyelashes. His hair has gotten quite curly over the years, it’s honestly her favorite feature of his. She wishes she could look at him this close every day, just admire him without any fear or doubt and oh- he’s staring at her. When did he stop talking to his friend? Her eyes drop to his lips and they’re moving.. he’s talking to her, oh god he’s talking to her. This is it, she’s gonna make an utter and absolute fool of herself and he’s never going to talk to her again.

“Uh hello? Did y’need something?” He asks and she just stares blankly. She can’t force her brain to say something, anything please.

“Uh- well.. jeez. You see.. I just,” is all that comes out of her mouth when she finally decides to open it. She can feel heat rising to her cheeks, the embarrassment warming her and making her want to hide in her room until the end of time.

Harry’s just staring at her, his lips pulled up into an amused smirk of some sort and she can't help the shame that fills her.

“Go on then, I don't have all day.“ He says with amusement laced in his tone and she nearly melts. She couldn’t think he could get any better but his accent is heavenly. It’s smooth and soft and she wishes she could listen to it all day- no she doesn’t. That’s irrational and oh, he’s still looking at her. She needs to say something, she begs her mind to come up with anything at this point.

“You’re pretty.” His face immediately morphs into a look of disbelief as he shakes his head gently.

“Well thanks I guess.” He laughs gently before looking back at her.

“I don’t think pretty is a term meant for me, maybe for you though.” He smiles gently at her and she swears her heart skips three beats. Her skin flushes with heat at the compliment he gives her, and she can’t help but to smile shyly at the curly haired boy.

“Oh, um thank you.” She can’t help but to giggle and he watches her with a curious gaze.

“What’s your name then?” He asks her and she tells him, he compliments her name and says his own.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” They smile at each other and he invites her to sit with him and his friends.

Just like that, a new friendship begins to bloom between the children. They stay by each other’s side through the years, becoming the best of friends in the seventh grade over their shared disgust for dissecting frogs. Their faces screw up and they just keep complaining about how gross it feels and how they hate the sliminess of the skin. It’s hard to imagine that anything could break them apart, they’re too similar. They’re too close, their friendship is far too strong.

— — —

When high school came around, you never got one without the other. The pair were always attached at the hip. Some students thought the two were dating, and Harry always shot them down by saying she’s just a really close friend, they’re just friends, they couldn’t date. Y/N kept her mouth shut, always had to swallow the big lump that formed in her throat whenever the topic came up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to deny it, or she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from admitting her feelings.

She’s not sure when she started catching feelings for Harry exactly. There’s many moments where it could be possible. It could’ve been all those nights they share a bed, they’re close enough and their parents figured nothing bad will happen. If they were to sneak around, they would’ve done it already. Harry will be over at Y/N’s house, either studying or just hanging out with her and they’ll stay up too late and Anne wouldn’t want to come and pick him up so Harry will pick an outfit or steal some of her bigger clothes to wear (she likes to wear oversized clothing when she’s going to sleep, they’re the only clothes that’ll fit him.) The first night was awkward to say the least, she didn’t own a sleeping bag and wanted him to stay with her. They thought of piling some blankets on the floor, but he said it’d be too uncomfortable and would hurt his back. He offered to sleep on the couch but she fussed and said it wouldn’t be a proper sleepover if they weren’t in the same room.

The last offer was said with hesitation, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned red and he stared at the floor with a bashful smile.

“We could, maybe if you’re comfortable with it of course, maybe share a bed? We don’t have to. I’m sure your mom could figure something out-” She’s embarrassed at how fast she answers the boy, her skin warmed and shy eyes.

“Yeah! That works.” And just like that, the first initial problem is solved. They lay relatively stiffly in their own sides of the bed, a line of pillows lay in between them acting as a protective barrier, the moonlight filtering through her bedroom window and resting on his face. Casting a soft white hue onto his face, making him look even softer and she can’t help but to keep sneaking glances at her best friend. She doesn’t want to just stare and ogle, she doesn’t want to make this even more awkward for the two of them, so she settles for quick glances. They talk about anything and everything, whatever they learned in class or Harry’s newest favorite song, her current book she’s reading or some gossip one of them overheard.

Time passes, and Y/N can hear his breathing even out. She watches as his chest rises and falls slower signaling the young boy is sleeping. She then turns on her side, slowly and quietly as she pays attention to how much sound she’s making, her gaze landing on the sleeping boy. This should be, this is weird. She shouldn’t be watching him, but she can’t help it. Her eyes roam over his face once more, this time unashamed and more slowly, she wants to memorize every single detail.

She takes in the way his lashes fan his cheeks, she’s always been jealous of how long his eyelashes are. There’s no point in him having them if he doesn’t put them to good use. His eyelids flutter ever so often as he sleeps, his nose and his lips. They’re soft and pink, pillowy as if they’re made from the softest fabric. They’re inviting, but she shouldn’t be thinking like that. They’re best friends, best friends don’t kiss. They don’t think about cuddling up to them, they don’t do what she does.

Besides it’s normal for a young girl to develop a small crush on her best friend, it happens to everyone. At least that’s what her mom had told her weeks after the bed sharing experience.

— — —

She manages to bottle up those measly feelings for him, she doesn’t want to ruin anything and lose him. Years pass and now the two are in college. Freshman, the jokes of the school, the perfect targets for all of the upperclassmen. Y/N and Harry are still as close as ever, in fact some may say they’ve gotten closer. Harry’s always there to protect her from anyone who tries to pick on her, to lend a hand when she needs a study partner. Y/N’s there to support his dreams, to embrace him after a long day, to listen to him ramble about anything and everything.

The two would usually spend their nights sitting side by side as they help the other study, listening to the newest music on their phones, or just chatting happily with each other. The silence that settled over them sometimes never felt uncomfortable in any way, anything that had to do with Harry was warm. It was happy, filled with care and cozy, constantly feeling like she was enveloped in a warm hug. It was always a comforting moment whenever she’s around him, never awkward in any way or a silence so deafening that makes her feel the need to ramble about anything just to fill the silence.

True enough, college was stressful for the girl. She was known to overwork herself and to stack more and more things onto her imaginary plate. A stack so high that she can’t see over or around, and the weight of it only gets heavier as time passes by. It’s not something she can help though, she’s always been one to want to overachieve her own dreams and goals — even if said goals were highly unattainable and unrealistic — but she always had Harry to help her. She’d tack on classes that she may or may not need to take but she thinks it will be easier to take all the classes just in case.

She makes frequent stops to her teacher’s office to ask for help or to check her work (she’s sure the teachers are sick of her at this point), she’s constantly working on homework and studying for her exams and any tests she may have. It’s safe to say Y/N is as good a student as one can get, and she takes great pride in that! As much time as she spends in her dorm room or in the library with her face glued into text books, she makes sure to set time aside to spend time with her best friend.

She always makes time for him, how could she not when he’s the best part of her day? They’ll meet up in the library for an impromptu study session that usually ends up with their studies forgotten as they talk about whatever comes to mind, him sitting beside her on her bed because she doesn’t like visiting the boy’s dormitories simply because they’re loud and the majority of the time it smells unpleasant, or they’ll stroll around the campus because she loves being in nature. They’ll talk about how their classes are doing (hers are good but overwhelming and loud, his are good as well and he quite enjoys them,) or they’ll talk about potential crushes they have.

It usually always just results in Harry talking about whatever girl he thought was pretty as Y/N nodded along. She never had anything to contribute, she never had any crushes other than him and didn’t feel the need to add anything to the conversation. She was always too jealous, too upset to say anything anyways. She wished it was her. She hoped that she could hold his hand and kiss him whenever she wanted, wanted to play with his hair and cuddle up to him whenever she wanted, wanted to show him off and announce to the world that he was hers.

It was silly, she knew that, which was why she never said anything about her feelings. She couldn’t have him the way she wanted him, they were always just gonna be best friends. She was okay with that, to a point, she was glad to have him in her life just the same. She wouldn’t tell him in fear of losing him. She couldn’t bear the thought of not being in his life, to not traveling to his place and hanging out with his family, to not have that one person who meant everything and anything to her.

So she pined, she yearned from a distance while still encouraging him to go on dates. Which is exactly what she’s doing now, sat on his bed with a sad smile as he told her about the current girl he’s interested in.

“No, you don’t understand. She’s so smart, always one of the first to raise her hand, she could honestly give you a run for your money. She always looks so pretty, it’s like she never has bad days. She even volunteers on the weekends!” He goes on and on, not realizing the sadness etched on his friend's face, he never noticed it as he rambled about whatever girl he was interested in.

Y/N nodded along, halfway listening as she felt the small ping of hurt begin to bloom in her chest. She wishes she could be all the way happy for Harry. She hates that she gets jealous of all the girls, she just can’t help it. She wishes she had a chance.

“Why don’t you ask her out then, Harry?” Her voice is quiet, scared of it coming out as shaky as she feels.

“I don’t even know if she likes me! I’d hate to ask her out just to get rejected.” He says as he paces, a habit he does when he’s nervous.

“You won’t know if you try, or you could just try talking to her normally and see how it goes from there.” She says and he nods, a big smile on his face (one she wishes he would give to her) as he thinks it over.

She hates these moments if she’s being honest, it always leads to the same outcome. He’ll listen to her advice, he and whatever girl he’s interested in will start talking, they’ll realize they’re compatible and start hanging out more, he’ll bring her around to meet Y/N and then something happens and they break up. She wishes he would stop, at least for a while, and go back to give all of his attention to her.

— — —

They’re now juniors in college and the two are still relatively close friends. Harry will walk her to class if his own is close enough, they eat lunch together when their schedules line up, Harry still takes her to and from school every day (unless something came up with his soccer schedule.) Harry did get into the party scene though, and Y/N thinks this is where it all got complicated. He would go to parties thrown on the campus and when he first started going, Harry would invite Y/N to come with him and the girl always said no.

Partying wasn’t her thing, she didn't find the whole appeal of it all. Going to someone’s dorm room or house, either way the space is entirely too crowded for her, the smell of cigarettes and weed fill the air and songs she’ll never enjoy blasts through whatever speakers they have. The drinks are usually not that bad after she’s had a couple before heading in, but she doesn’t necessarily like to drink anyways.

This was where her and Harry had begun to drift in a way, Harry enjoyed partying. He enjoyed it a lot, the thrill, and once he had gotten a couple of tattoos and grew his hair out he became quite the ladies man.

He would go on about whatever party was going on, to her it seemed there was a party every week. She didn’t understand why these people aren’t studying and making the most of their time, but she realizes that not everyone’s like her. It was very rare for her to accompany Harry to a party, but when she did, she made him promise to stay by her side as much as he could. He agreed, because why wouldn’t he, and tried to get to enjoy herself as much as she could.

Tonight’s a party, she couldn’t believe someone is throwing a party on a Thursday night, she would be cozied up in her bed with her textbooks laid across as she wrote down notes. Harry had convinced her to come with him, and told her it was going to be a small party and said they were having a pick a music DJ so she could even request a couple of her favorite songs! She reluctantly agreed only after Harry gave her the biggest eyes and pout she ever saw. She’s always had a soft spot for him, mainly because he’s never given her a reason not to trust his word and judgment.

So she sighed as she ushered him out, playfully swatting his butt with whatever she was able to grab and shooed him.

“Go on then, get ready! This better be good otherwise I’m shaving your head while you sleep.” She said with a soft smile on her lips, they both knew she would never do so simply because she enjoyed running her hands through his hair. He shook his head and laughed at her fondly as he allowed her to push him to the door. He then left her dorm with a smile on his lips to get ready for said party, one of his main priorities is to make his best friend begin to like parties so they could go together.

A while later, they’re standing against one another, a plastic solo cup in each of their hands in a somewhat crowded house. Harry was right, it was smaller than the normal party, there’s more room to walk around without the fear of bumping into someone and causing a scene. The music vibrates through the floors and fills the space, the air is stuffy and filled with the smell of weed. There’s so much happening all at once, and Y/N’s glad she doesn’t get overstimulated easily otherwise she’d have to leave.

Y/N sips on her drink, taking just the smallest of drinks simply because whatever Harry gave her smells and tastes bad, burning her throat and leaving a bad aftertaste on her tongue with every drink. Her eyes roam over the kitchen but they always manage to land on Harry. He’s so pretty, and just happy. He looks like he belongs here, long sleeve black shirt partially open, a black tie barely even tied around his neck, a pair of black jeans and a pair of white tennis shoes. He’s let his hair down instead of his usual man bun, and Y/N swears every girl has their eyes trained on him. She doesn’t blame them honestly, she just wishes she wasn’t there to watch as her best friend checks the girls out as well.

It fuels a bubbling in her stomach, a queasy feeling that won’t go away. It’s a feeling she’s grown used to, being friends with Harry always led to her feeling envious of the girls he talked to. She wishes she could just accept the fact that they’ll never be together how she wants them to be, accept the fact that they’ll always just be best friends. She knows that she could treat him better than they can, she knows all the small things they’ll never know. She knows how to make him happy, how to comfort him, knows all of his secrets and ticks and cues.

She hates the painful feeling that resides in her chest, near her heart every time this happens. The horrible feeling of rejection that makes her hate the friendship they have, hates the fact that they’re so close and it’ll never go any further than that. She sighs and takes a bigger sip of her drink, her face screwing up in disgust at the bitter taste left on her tongue. She hopes he’s too busy checking out every girl at the party to notice her discomfort, but of course he has some kind of senses that ties to her as he wraps an arm softly around her shoulders.

He gives her a soft squeeze as he leans down to whisper in her ear, only to make sure she can hear him over the bass of the song.

“Y’okay?” She can’t help the shiver that runs through her at the feeling of his breath fanning across her neck. She only nods her head meekly, she doesn’t trust her voice enough to speak for her. He chuckles and squeezes her shoulder once more before pulling away and Y/N can only sigh quietly at the lack of contact and warmth. It’s moments like these where she wishes she’s back at home, cuddles next to Harry as they do whatever. The music’s getting too loud, she’s getting warmer and her drink doesn’t taste good, that can only mean she’s getting overwhelmed.

They stay alongside each other at the party, her wrapped in his arms as time goes on. She wishes he would say they can leave, but she’s unsure how long they’ve been here and she won’t be the reason Harry leaves a party early. Harry mutters in her ear something about getting another drink and she’s sure he asked if she wanted something different. She nods her head softly and turns her head, her eyes staring into his pretty emerald eyes and she smiles at him before asking if there’s something there that doesn’t taste so bitter and he can only laugh at her. She swears his eyes look so pretty in this light, pupils slightly dilated and the green of his eyes shine in the lighting above the two of them. They stare at each other for what seems like ages, not that Y/N’s complaining any, before Harry pulls back and tells her that he’ll be right back with the drinks and she nods in response. She watches him as he makes his way through the crowd, more than likely saying excuse me and apologizing if he even brushes past someone on his journey because he’s just that polite.

— — —

Y/N hates parties. She’s mentioned this to Harry several times and he’s so persistent on changing her mind, only to be left disappointed by her response the next day or through a text. They always smell bad, it’s hot, there’s no personal space and she just absolutely despises watching Harry get hit on by every girl in the vicinity. She gets it, he’s good looking, funny and an absolute gentleman which is not something she can say applies to any other boy on campus. Harry’s a rare gem and she wishes she could keep him for herself, but alas they’re just friends. That’s all they’ll ever be.

She hates when they go to parties and he leaves her, usually letting her know but sometimes he’s dragged away and never comes back until he’s drunk. Another reason she hates parties is how he acts when he’s drunk. She turns into a babysitter, making sure he’s careful not to throw up on himself, bump into some guy who had too much to drink and wants a fight, and has to drive them home when she doesn’t even like driving. Not to mention, she hates how affectionate he becomes. He’s always cuddling up to her, holding her hand and calling her all sorts of sweet pet names.

She thinks that’s the worst part, because not only does it fill her heart and make it swell, but it also causes her to be the target of all of the nasty glares from the girls at the party. That’s exactly what’s happening right now, he’s managed to bring her to yet another party even though she all but begged and pleaded not to come along. It was bigger, louder, and plain annoying. She just wanted to stay in bed, cozied up underneath her softest blanket with a book and her favorite songs. Harry insisted yet again that she’ll have fun, and it shouldn’t be too big. Insisted that they wouldn’t be there very long, and that was two hours ago. Y/N’s head hurts, her back and feet hurt as well and she doesn’t know any of the songs playing through the speaker. She’s just having a miserable time meanwhile Harry’s having the time of his life, she’s lost count of how many drinks he’s already had including the one currently in his hand. She knows it’s enough to get him to loosen up, to not care about the way he’s pressed against her, one tattooed arm wrapped around her waist and his breath fanning the side of her neck as he sings along to whatever song is blasting through.

They rock gently together as if it’s not an upbeat pop song, lost in his own drunken world and she just wants to go home.

“Honey, you’re just the sweetest thing. Y’know that?” His voice all but oozed into her bloodstream, warming her skin and making her fight back a smile.

“And you’re drunk, I think we should go home Harry.”’She says, hoping he listens and tells her to take them home. Instead he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck and squeezes her.

“Don’t wanna leave yet, m’having fun with you.” She can’t help the smile that tugs on her lips at his words.

“I know but we could have so much more fun at home in our pj’s. Doesn’t that sound nice, Harry?” He only hums and squeezes her tighter.

“M’having fun with you baby. S’nice seeing you all pretty. Look so pretty every day.” She can’t help the heat that rushes to her cheeks at his words, the main reason she doesn’t like attending parties with him.

He’s so cuddly and loving, the line they’ve made blurs whenever he’s drunk and makes it hard to differentiate between just friendship or something more. She knows he doesn’t mean any of it though, at least not in the way she hopes he means it. She can feel the nasty glares from all of the other girls, knowing they’re wishing to be her in shoes. Who wouldn’t want to be wrapped in Harry’s arms with him whispering in your ear and a goofy looking smile on his lips?

“Thank you, Harry. We can still have fun at home, I won’t change so I can still be all pretty for you and it’ll just be the two of us. I’m sorry, I wanna go home, Har. It’s getting to be too much.” She says just loud enough for him to hear, her eyes scanning the crowd. He sighs before kissing her neck ever so gently, a kiss so feathery soft that if she weren’t so sober she wouldn’t even feel it.

“Fine, let’s go home then baby. Don’t want my girl to be overwhelmed.” He says before unwrapping her from his embrace only to intertwine their hands together as he leads her to the exit. She’s grateful that he’s taking charge, her brain repeating the same three words over and over again.

My girl, my girl, MY girl, my GIRL, MY GIRL.

Those two words do something to her brain, sending her spiraling into the delusion she only entertains late at night when she’s alone in her bed. The fantasy that they’ve been together for a couple months, every drunken interaction always ends with a kiss and then cuddling in the bed. She follows him outside and to their, his car and he opens the door to the drivers side for her and walks around to the passenger side. She stands by the door, making sure he can get in the car without hurting himself and he huffs, reminding her of when they were kids.

“I can get in the car by myself, love. No need to fret over me.” His accent is deeper because of the alcohol and Y/N can only sigh and roll her eyes affectionately.

“I know H, just don’t want you to hurt yourself is all.” She says softly as she pulls the seatbelt around him.

“Always so sweet for me, baby. Thank you.” He smiles at her, a dopey expression on his face and she can only smile at him in return. She closes the door gently and walks to the other side, getting into the car and starting it, immediately turning on the radio in hopes it’ll distract him from seeing the tears roll down her face.

— — —

If there’s one thing Y/N hates is going on dates. Especially if they’re dates she doesn’t necessarily want to be on, just like the one she’s on now. Harry had insisted that he takes up the majority of the time (he does) and that she needs to go out more, (she doesn’t want to) so she reluctantly agreed to go on this stupid date. She arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early just in case and to prepare herself, waited for ten extra minutes for him to decide to show up smelling strongly of some cheap cologne and cigarettes. Once they were seated, things stayed somewhat relaxed as they made small talk and got to know each other; he had made some remarks she didn’t necessarily agree with but she stayed quiet.

When it came time to order, there was a certain look on his eyes when she ordered. One that felt almost as if he was… judging her? He stayed quiet otherwise though, didn’t let his disgust be known verbally and she’s thankful for that. She’s sure they’ve been at the restaurant for about thirty minutes, give or take, but this is the longest she’s been out with a guy who isn’t Harry. That has to mean something, right? Sure the conversation could be better, maybe he could talk more and maybe seem a little more interested in what she has to say, but she can’t complain too much.

She can’t help but to wonder what Harry is doing right now, probably either sleep or playing on his game system. He might be on a date as well which could explain why he was soo insistent on getting her to go on this date, but she refuses to think that’s why. She’s bored and she misses him. She always misses him though, she’s gotten so used to basically being attached at the hip with him that it feels like years whenever they’re apart (even if it’s only a couple of hours, she’s just dramatic as Harry would say.)

“So are you and Harry together, or…” The guy asks and Y/N shakes her head quickly.

“Oh.. uh no! We’re not together.” He squints his eyes at her like he doesn’t believe her, and honestly she doesn’t blame him.

“So are you guys just screwing around?” Y/N laughs, a sound in between a snort and a scoff bubbles from her lips and her date only to stare at her in confusion.

She’s heard plenty of rumors regarding her and Harry’s friendship, that they’re dating or maybe siblings, one even said she’s secretly someone famous and he’s just her bodyguard. She laughed at that one and when she told Harry he simply smiled at her and said it’s only true; she’s his princess and he vowed to protect her from any and all harm and she smacked his shoulder with a dopey smile on her lips. But to hear that people think that they’re just sleeping around with each other is new, well at least to hear it. She won’t deny the fact that sometimes late at night she’ll daydream scenarios where the two are happily together doing all the couple-y stuff but sometimes those daydreams tend to wander and turn into something filthy.

Dreams of him whispering in her ear, praising her as he rocks against her. Dreams of him maybe catching her reading her smut books and recreating them together, trying new things and exploring each other’s bodies.. She shakes her head, thankful that she can play it off as her denying the rumor.

“No, no! We’re just friends, best friends actually.” She says and laughs gently, hoping her voice doesn’t crack. He stares at her a little while longer before his gaze begins lower and he clears his throat, she knows where this is going. This happens all the time on her dates.

“Well I mean, I wouldn’t blame him if he did.” He smirks afterwards and Y/N has to hold herself back from screwing her face up in disgust.

This is usually the part where she’ll excuse herself or the date begins to head downwards, leaving her with disappointment and the small hole in her chest she’s holding out for the small chance of Harry returning her feelings begins to ache. She clears her throat in response and begins to fidget in her seat.

“Uh, yeah sure. Anyways, are you enjoying your food?” She asks in hope that it’ll detour the conversation back into safer topics.

“I mean.. it’s alright. You look gorgeous, that dress really fits you. Are you enjoying your food?” He asks as he brings his fork to his mouth and the girl has to refrain from frowning at her date.

It’s safe to say that she misses her best friend, misses being cuddled up next to him and the two of them talking about anything and everything. She misses how comfortable they are, she misses his voice, his hugs.

“Yeah, I’m enjoying it so far.” She says, her voice sounding disappointed that once more her date is turning into all of her previous ones.

“I was wondering if maybe I could stay over a little after this is done. I’d love to get to know you more.” She sighs softly before answering him.

“No, I’m sorry. If you excuse me, I'm just gonna go ahead and go. It was nice meeting you, and this should be enough to cover my half.” She says as she puts a couple bills on the table in front of him, she’s sure that it’s more than enough to pay for her meal and she should stick around to get her change; she just wants to leave though, to get away from him and back to her comfort. She immediately heads to the door, her eyes beginning to well up with tears as she walks to her car. The disappointment stinging her heart yet again at the ending of another unsuccessful date.

— — —

Y/N’s managed to find herself at another party but this time Harry’s not glued to her side, he’s gotten dragged off by one of his friends. She’s not sure where he went or how long he’s been gone but she is having a much better time than she usually is. She thinks drinking a little bit before she goes helps, being in the comforting embrace of just her and Harry as they take a couple of shots helps her loosen up.

So she stands in the kitchen, her eyes roaming over the crowd as she attempts to find Harry and her body swaying the music. She nurses a red solo cup filled with some alcohol that tastes better than whatever she had the last time, it doesn’t burn her throat whenever she takes a sip of it and it flows down quite nicely if you ask her. Her body feels loose and overall she feels happy, she doesn’t find herself worrying about anything or overthinking.

A few people bump into her while she stands but she doesn’t mind that much, simply apologizing to them as she steps out of the way. The music is something pleasant and she thinks she maybe knows this song as it plays through the speakers, she finds herself mouthing along to the words as she makes her way through the crowd. She’s sure Harry couldn’t have gotten too far, she just wants to tell him about whatever drink she has and tell him how much she likes it. She just wants to see him. She stumbles as she walks hinting at the fact that she might have had a little too much to drink, bumping into a few people as she passes through. It’s nice to not have to be the one that’s sober like she usually is, although she hopes Harry kept his promise and stayed sober in his role as the designated driver. It’s nice to be able to let loose and honestly, she understands a little why Harry likes to go to these things.

As she passes through the crowd with a content smile on her face, she makes sure to ask a few people if they’ve seen her best friend. Some tell her the last place they’ve seen him while others haven’t seen him, she thanks them all the same with a smile on her face. She continues passing through the crowd until she finds a little glimpse of an opening in the crowd, the people slowly beginning to thin out and the music grows softer. When she makes it all the way through she sees Harry leaning against a wall, one hand nervously fidgeting with his hair and the other wrapped around his phone tightly.

He bites at his bottom lip nervously and she just wants to coo at him, kiss him and hug him forever.

“What’s a matter?” She asks as she steps closer to the boy, and his face immediately lights up and all of the tension seems to melt away.

“Couldn’t find you, honey. I went to the kitchen and you weren’t there, I tried to call you and you didn’t answer. I thought you… I was scared.” He says as he wraps her tight in his arms. She doesn’t try to say anything, she knows how he gets whenever he’s nervous and assuming the worst happened, allows him to take in the moment and to calm him down. They rock gently, his face pressed into her hair as he breathes her scent in.

He pulls away a couple minutes later and they stare at each other, his brow furrowed and lips slicked with spit, jade irises shining under the lights and filled with relief and care. Y/N doesn’t know what came over her, what led her to do what she’s about to do but her in the future better be prepared and absolutely angry at herself for drinking so much. She slowly begins to lean forward, tilt her head and pucker her lips subtly. Of course, Harry doesn’t think much of it or doesn’t care when their lips meet.

Slow and tender, she doesn’t bother to move her lips. She’s content with a peck, doesn't need to be greedy. He just looked so pretty that she couldn’t help herself. Harry’s arms are tight around her, keeping her close to him as if she planned on walking away again. She pulls away with a soft click and she licks her own lips, a goofy smile on her face as she stares at him.

“‘M so lucky.” She says, her words kinda slowed and all Harry can do is stare in shock at the girl.

He’s unsure what to do now although he knows the responsible thing to do is to take her home, get her changed and tucked into bed where there definitely won’t be anymore kisses and she’ll be safe and sound. He just stares at her, her eyes unfocused and her eyelashes wet as she stares back. The music blares but to them it’s simply background music, the two of them seemingly secluded away in their own personal bubble. It’s usually how it always is though, wherever they go but it always happens at these parties Harry drags her to, they’ll isolate themselves somewhere in a corner and just chat away until Harry decides to mingle with the other party goers. Harry thinks she’s pretty like this, well he usually always thinks she’s pretty. He likes to see her dress up though, which is why he invites her to so many of these parties, likes knowing all of the girls there envy Y/N because she’s his best friend.

A couple minutes go by, hours maybe but Harry doubts it, and Harry decides to take a couple steps back and rubs his hands down her arms to interlace their fingers together.

“Hey, love bug. You ready to go home?” He asks gently, wary of the fact that she could be more emotional and isn’t thinking straight in the first place for her to kiss him. The girl simply nods her head and allows the boy to lead her through the party crowd and outside, while Harry makes sure she doesn’t bump into any cars on the way to his own car. The breeze is soft and warm, gently caressing their cheeks as it passes through. The sun is filtering through the clouds, landing on Y/N’s face as they walk.

It doesn’t take very long to reach his car because he almost always parks as close to the entrance to make it easier for the other to escort them to the car when they’re drunk. It usually always ends up being Harry, so it feels weird in a way to have the roles reversed, to have him being the one taking care of her. He unlocks the car when they get close enough, his arm wrapped securely around the drunken girl just in case she stumbles. He listens as she rambles about something he can’t make out, her words slurring together due to excitement and her being drunk. A quality of hers that he’s always found endearing, so he lets her ramble of course, humming along to show he’s listening and only occasionally adding his own input when asked and he’s able to make out what she’s doing.

He opens the door for her, getting her all settled in and closing the door behind him, walking around to the driver’s side and starting the car. Once he starts driving, the radio stays off and the windows down to let in the breeze, Harry tries his best to ignore the feeling of her eyes on him.

— — —

Two weeks have passed since the drunken kiss incident and neither of them have really said much about it. Harry brought it up to her a couple days later and she only laughed and said it’s okay, everyone does stupid stuff when they’re drunk. Nothing has changed between the two necessarily, maybe Harry’s been going out of his way to walk her to her class and yeah maybe they have to be touching in any way. Whether it be holding hands like how they used to do, kisses on the forehead and cheeks, or their arms slung across the other waist or shoulders.

So he assumes that there’s nothing else to make of it, it’s not a big deal and honestly if it hasn’t affected their friendship, then he doesn’t mind ignoring it. He has noticed that she’s been the one to initiate the physical touch now, more open about it whereas before she shied away from it in hopes to not upset any of the girls in school. She doesn’t swat at his chest whenever he calls her the exaggerated pet names he used purposely to annoy her, she even said a few of them back. Sure, sometimes he’ll catch her looking at him with eyes all gooey late at night but that must be because she hasn’t had enough sleep.

They’re still the same two best friends like before, just a smidge different but it’s not a bad difference. Y/N thinks she could be okay with the way they are now, living in her own little imagination where they’re more than friends.

Which is why Y/N’s confused whenever Harry knocks on her door early in the morning. Ten in the morning isn’t super early but it’s definitely earlier than she’d like to be awake on a day where she has absolutely nothing else to do. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she gets out of bed and throws on some clothes as she makes her way to the door of her dorm. When she opens it, she sees Harry and a beautiful brunette by his side. She looks familiar to the girl, maybe they’ve shared a class before but all in all Y/N’s confused. Harry usually doesn’t stop by without letting her know (not that it mattered, he was over all the time it seemed) and definitely never brought another girl by.

“Harry? What’s going on?” Y/N asks, a yawn escaping her mouth afterwards and the other girl just smiles at Harry.

“Y/N, this is my girlfriend Liv. Liv, this is my best friend Y/N.” Harry says as he points at the girls, introducing them.

Y/N knows the respectful and proper thing to do is to greet her and welcome them into her to get to know one another, but she can’t wrap her brain around it all. She stares at them, more at the girl than Harry. She can’t bring herself to look at him without wanting to cry, she watches as Liv leans forward to give her a hug and tells her how it’s so great to finally meet her and then Y/N’s slamming the door in their face. She stares at the now closed door and hurries to lock it, she’s sure Harry will just open the door even though deep down she knows he won’t do that unless told otherwise that he can.

Usually, he talks to her about the girls he’s interested in, asks her if it’s okay to bring them over and gives her plenty of time to have her - unknown to him - breakdowns and prepare herself for this moment. She’s not sure when this happened or why he didn’t talk to her about it first, the only thing she’s sure of is the absolute heartache she feels right now. The painful jab in her heart with every beat, the feeling of her stomach falling. The pain that’s beginning to bloom in her head and the feeling of her knees hitting the floor, hard enough to leave a bruise but she can’t bring herself to care about that at the moment.

The immediate sting in her eyes as tears well up and fall from her eyes, the betrayal, the jealousy tearing its way up. The heartache overall is one she’s felt in smaller amounts as she listens to Harry talk about whichever girl he’s interested in asking out, but this.. this is something completely different. It’s intense, it burns and she can’t breathe. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, beating faster than normal.

She lets out loud sobs, cries she should be embarrassed of but at this moment she can’t bring herself to care. She’s grateful her roommates aren’t here, they kept telling her it’s not worth it to stay best friends with Harry due to how much she liked him. She constantly argued that she knew what she was doing, she could handle her own if something like this happened. She should’ve listened to them, would she have stopped being friends with Harry? She doesn’t think so, might’ve been distant to allow her feelings to dwindle back down.

She’s not sure how long she stayed on the floor as tears streamed down her face when her phone rings. She grabs it and stares at the screen, Harry’s name flashing across the screen and she just sighs as she turns the ringer off and sets the phone on the couch. She can’t talk to him right now. She stares at the floor, memories of their friendship flicking in and out, the memory of their kiss haunts her, she feels stupid. She hoped they were moving towards a relationship, how silly of her to think they could ever be more than just friends.

After a couple hours, she manages to pull herself from the floor and begins to make her way to her bed. Her safe haven, she can wrap herself in her softest blanket and read her silly little romance books or watch her favorite movie, where she can wallow in her own self pity. There’s a knock on the door, whoever’s on the other side knocks one, two, three times before it goes silent. She hopes they’ll go away, her roommates have a key so it can’t be someone she has to open the door for.

“Y/N. It’s me, Harry. I don’t know what I did that upset you so much, she’s gone. It’s just me. Please open the door, let’s talk about this.” He says, somewhat muffled but she can still hear how his voice is watery and shaky, can hear the pain in his voice and she just sniffles as she walks towards the door.

“There’s… nothing to talk about. Go home.” Her voice is just a reflection on how she feels right now, she’s sure he can hear it from the other side.

“Yes there is, Y/N. You slammed the door, the look on your face… I don’t know what all that was about but you looked so hurt. I want to know what happened.” He says and she just frowns.

He’s never paid attention to how her face looked before so why does it matter, she opens the door and stares at him. Fresh tears welling up in the girls’ eyes and she swears she can feel her heart breaking even more. He looks just about how she thinks she looks. His eyes full of tears and eyelashes all clumped together, red cheeks stained with tears and his skin flushed. His lips are wet and he can’t stop pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You happened, Harry. I tried, God I tried so hard to get over it. But I can’t. I’m so in love with you it hurts. It hurts to hear you talk about the girls you like knowing it’s not me, hurts hearing all the girls gossip about you and the things you do for them. It hurts when you’re drunk and treating me like I’m yours, calling me all these sweet fucking pet names and holding me close to you. It hurts that we act like we’re together and we just aren’t, we’ll never be. I love you so much that I’m just hurting myself in the process. I’m so scared to lose you that I tell myself that just being your friend is okay. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you” A sob interrupts her, a wet choking sound and she sighs.

“I can’t just keep hoping and praying that something will happen and we’ll finally be together, it hurts too much. I’m so lucky to have you in my life and be your friend, but I don’t know if I can handle just being your friend. I can’t handle hoping that I’ll get my chance. I’m tired of waiting for something that’ll never happen. I’m not cutting you out because I don’t want to lose you, I just need some time alone. I need to get over you and learn how to be okay with just being your friend and nothing more.” She says through her tears and immediately she’s wrapped in a strong hug, his scent filling her nose and she cries even harder.

“I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you and didn’t see it. Take as much time as you need honey, I’ll be waiting for you always.”

“Okay, thank you.” She says as she pulls away and he nods, a sad smile on his face that she wishes wasn’t because of her.

“I love you.” He says before she shuts the door once more, the wall of their friendship being built slowly.

‘I love you’ she thinks is just the worst thing she’s ever heard, just a painful reminder that the love they share has never been on the same page, just another shatter of her already broken heart.

You can’t have love without the pain, and she’s the definition of just how much love can truly hurt you.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harrystyles #harry edward styles #harry styles angst #best friend!harry #my writing

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slut4msby · 3 months

Text

first kiss. miya osamu x reader

+ tags & warnings; not proofread & v rushed </3 also like quiet a lot of swearing (mainly just the use of the word 'shit')

+ a/n; day 6/7!! one more day to go before i go take a LONGGGG nap (i wish :<) but yeah this isn't the best written but here u go bc im on my osamu shit atm <3

“So you’re seriously telling me, THE Miya Osamu has never kissed anyone?” You teased the now embarrassed dark harder boy. “Like THE Miya Osamu, like brother to like the schools biggest flirt Miya Atsumu? What’s next your brother hasn’t either? I always knew the Miya twins were FULL of surprises but this, THIS is new.”

“Ew, I don’t wanna know who my brother is kissing and shit.” He said defensively.

“Why?” You questioned.

“Whaddya mean why? Because it’s weird he is like my brother I don’t wanna know what girls he’s snogging and sh-”

“No, I mean like why haven’t ya kissed anyone ‘Samu?” You cut his ramble off, “like I’m sure there's plenty of girls willing to, you have just as many fangirls as Atsumu, just his are louder and more annoying. And apart from that there’s no denying you're an attractive man. I mean you take care of yourself as well.”

“I-I don’t know, Y/N. What I do know is I don’t wanna kiss some fangirl or some shit, I want it to be with someone I care about I guess.”

“Awww 'Samu, that's so cute.” You gushed at his response.

“Shut it, Y/N.”

As the conversation comes to halt the school bell rings, ending your first break of the day. “I’ll see ya later, ‘Samu. You smile walking down the hall to your class. You sit in your seat next to Osamu’s twin brother, Atsumu.

“Hey, Y/N-chan~” He says as you sit down.

“Hey ‘Tsumu? Ya know ‘Samu has never kissed anyone, like isn’t that just kinda bizarre. Like he’s funny, a good cook, handsome, good at sport ya know what more could a girl want? Like I know he’s seen women and shit but I dunno it’s just weird, I kinda feel bad.” You say towards Atsumu.

“If ya care so much Y/N, why don’t you just kiss him or something? I’m sure that’d shut him up. Ya both never shut up about each other, it’s kinda annoying.”

“He talks about me?!” You say with a pink stain spreading across your face.

“Did ya hear what Y/N-chan said earlier, did you see Y/N-chan today, I think I’m gonna bring Y/N-chan some food tomorrow, Y/N-chan this, Y/N- chan that and every time I tell him to shut his trap.” Atsumu sighed, placing his head in his hands, “and yer not any better Y/N.”

“I don’t talk about him that much.” You say crossing your arms, frowning at Atsumu. Atsumu just rolled his eyes in response. Not long after your teacher began teaching her lesson, you couldn’t stop thinking about the twins' words. “If ya care so much Y/N, why don’t you just kiss him” “to be with someone I care about I guess” “Ya both never shut up about each other”. There was certainly no denying your attraction to the silver haired twin. But in your years of knowing him, neither of you showed any romantic interest in each other. You had both seen a range of people, every breakup the same. Ending with one comforting the other, “they were such a dick anyway” or “I never really liked them to begin with.”

As the school day concluded, you decided to watch the volleyball teams practice. A common occurrence at this point.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Suna said as he entered the gym, Osamu behind him. Osamu looked up to give you a smile, which you returned. No hey or hug like you were used to. There was something different about Osamu this time.

As you watched the boys practice, you would have some casual conversation with the team. Giggling and smiling, but never Osamu. It was always Osamu, but not since your conversation earlier.

Eventually Osamu was alone for the first time the whole practice, so you decided to confront him on his weird behaviour. “‘Samu?” You ask softly, his head poking up to look at you, “you’re acting weird, is everything okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Y/N. Just a little stressed, school and all that,” He mumbled softly before returning back to practise leaving you dumbfounded.

“You know that’s not the reason right, Y/N?” Suna said from behind you. Causing you to look behind you, giving him a look of curiosity. “Apparently Atsumu sent him a message earlier, I dunno what it was exactly about but it was something about you that’s for sure.” After Suna finished speaking he grabbed his water bottle and walked away.

You couldn’t focus on the last part of their practices, instead you were left wondering from Suna’s words. As practice concluded, you could hear the Miya’s bickering as you began leaving before Osamu called out to you, “Y/N-chan!” You stop in your tracks turning to face the twin jogging towards you, “can we talk for a second, please?”

“Oh sure.”

You and Osamu walked in silence, an awkward silence in drastic contrast to the usual comfortable silence before reaching a private area.

“I uhm- about earlier I’m sorry for like acting weird…” he said fiddling with his fingers, “it’s just ‘Tsumu sent me a stupid text and It’s just like bothering me and-”

“Osamu.” You cut him off, looking at him in the face, “can I kiss you? I know you said you wanted it to be someone you care about-”

Your words were cut off as Osamu placed his hand on your chin, pulling you closer before your lips collided. The world seemed to fade away as your lips met, a fusion of unspoken emotions and shared history. As you both pulled away, heat rising on both of your faces. Before Osamu let out a chuckle, “did ‘Tsumu get you too?”

“Mhm. Glad he did though.” You say wrapping your arms around, Osamu.

“Fucking finally. You owe me some puddin’.” Atsumu said towards Suna, who just rolled his eyes in response.

©slut4msby.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #lea's stories :3 #slut4msby #osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya #miya twins #onigiri miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu fluff #miya osamu fic #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu drabbles

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seneon · 24 days

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have you kissed before? ─── sae itoshi x fem! reader.

about. college roommate! au. ooc sae (just a bit), minor toxicity. fluff? romance? idk. wc of 700+

notes. for @hyoismbbg here's your sae fic ugh

two months of sharing, sleeping, and breathing in the same room as itoshi sae, star student of the college. and still, you have not gotten quite comfortable with him yet. i mean. who would?

a student with a different gender is doing all of that daily activities with you. how does he feel about it? does he care? is he comfortable? does he ever complain about it to the dorm prefects to beg for a change of rooms?

no. simply because, he has no other choice but to share, sleep, and breathe the same air as you, student of another course, and student of the opposite gender. all the itoshi could do was bare with until the end of the semester until the dorm rooms changed again.

however, it is quite uncomfortable to have someone with him always if he isn't in class, just sitting there either studying or on your laptop. in the purest of silence, you never spoke a word to him. not even if there is a bug or two that needs to be settled. all you ever did was point at it and expect him to flush it down the toilet.

so when you finally decided to speak to him, it was an odd question. out of everything you could have asked to get to know your roommate of two months. you simply asked the most ridiculous question ever and expect him to coolly reply.

“have you ever kissed before?”

itoshi sae tore his gaze away from the book of physics theory and locked his gaze on you. you who laid like a lifeless ragdoll with your sleepy gaze stuck on the ceiling with the dim lights.

it was always around this time where you would go to bed. there is no specific time to sleep, it ranges. but so far as sae knows, it was between 12-12:30am. his teal eyes then glanced at the digital clock beside the desk of his room side and it was already 12:38am. way past the time where you would already be silently sound asleep.

he looks back at you and raises a brow. “i haven't, to answer your question.”

you mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise. “woah, i overheard someone saying you've kissed quite an amount of girls.”

sae’s face twisted into a grimace. “do you just.. believe in random rumours around town?”

an unsure hum you let out, as you say up straight, kicking your blanket away. “i wanted to prove them wrong,” you said as the itoshi scoffed. “well then. have you ever kissed before?”

you shook your head and let out a sigh. “a shame, i know. i’ve gotta keep my lips pure and untouched until the man of my dreams kisses it and stains it dirty.”

“oh? and who's this man of your dreams?”

“you.”

the young redhead lets out a little laugh. a little mocking laugh at your answer. before he ceases the little entertainment and figures you are actually quite serious about it. “guess i’ll stop studying and grant you your wishes, yeah?”

your eyes watch as he comes closer than you and without a single thought or other words, ace student itoshi sae already has his lips locked onto yours.

how weird. the two of you barely talked. and now he's sitting on the edge of your bed, fingers gently holding your cheek, and his lips locking with yours. his lips taste like coffee for some odd reason. perhaps for the sole factor of staying up all night studying theories on physics.

for a fact that you've never had your first kiss before and it was so simply taken away by your roommate, you honestly have no idea how to react to it. you didn't know it'd worked so well, even if it was a little prank or a silly dare given to you by your friends to kiss the college's most popular boy.

you were unsure of it, but even if you've never had any feelings ever for this man, now you do. and oh dear, you wish this isn't another of itoshi sae's tricks to entice a woman.

only itoshi sae himself knew how much he wanted to put his lips on yours and discover all of your secrets and the story of your life through your lips. how selfish of the both of you. to be kissing without knowing each other's true motives.

#⋆ ❨ writing ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟#sae #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x you #blue lock #bllk #blue lock sae #bllk sae #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #sae imagines #sae fluff

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minhosimthings · 4 months

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Girl Dad!Skz headcannons

Pairings: husband!Skz × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mentions of pregnancy, reader wears a dress, mentions of food, teensy swearing

A/N: GUESS WHO HAS BABY FEVER AYY ITS THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE. I am so DONE with watching my fav idols play with babies and not expect me to die. WHERE IS MY CHAN WHO'LL GIVE MR A BABY HUH? anyways enjoy my very drunken headcannons

Bang Christopher Chan

DID I JUST HEAR BEST DAD IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

This man was born to be a dad istg

He'd be so amazing when you're pregnant, like he'd ask his mom for advice, give you belly rubs if your ask and will willingly lend his entire closet to you.

Would be so supportive through the birth process, is not disgusted or anything because he is him.

"She looks just like you."

Would be just a teensy bit overprotective, just a teensy bit.

"And you will bring her back by 7 yes? Oh and what's your address for unrelated purposes?"

*sends the address to Minho incase he needs to murder anyone*

Would be so comforting when she gets her period

"you know I used to do this to your mother.", While massaging her back.

The baby would grow up multilingual and Chan would be so smug about it

"my daughter is my second producer

Lee Minho/Lee Know

Would have such mixed emotions when you tell him you're pregnant

On the one hand A PERSON MADE UP OF BOTH OF YOU? WOAH

On the other hand OH SHIT A PERSON WHO HAS BOTH OUR GENES

Cooks all your weird ass cravings for you but not before giving you a side eye

"Alright y'all are gonna get a sibling." *Is talking to the cats*

Buys everything cat themed

"baby what if the baby is a dog person?"

Y'all have twins, a boy and a girl (manifesting my twin dad Minho fantasies)

Would dance for them when they're babies and would get elated when they try to copy him

Pouts when their first word is mama

Brags so much about them

"I mean they are MY spawn, obviously they're better at dance than your kid, Susan"

Seo Changbin

GIRL DAD GIRL DAD GIRL DAD

So elated when you tell him you're pregnant

PREGNANT CUDDLES KZKSNSNJ

Would be a 100% on board with lifting your belly to save your back

When you find out it's a girl, he straight on sobs.

"I CAN'T HANDLE ANOTHER PAIR OF ADORABLE YN EYES LOOKING AT ME"

Holds the baby extra carefully in his buff ass arms

She looks like you part 2

Tea parties with her are serious buisness for him

"jagi can't you see im currently discussing with the princess about her magical dragon I'll do the dishes later."

Would probably ask her if she wants to go to the gym with her dad and when she says yes he'd be so happy

"you're better than your mother she can't even lift her ass up and go to the gym"

Hwang Hyunjin

When I say this man would paint you a portrait when you tell him you're pregnant-

HE'LL PAINT YOU A FUCKING PORTRAIT

So sweet with you all throughout but also a nervous wreck

Much like me

Would love to paint your belly if you allow him to

Would try your weird cravings with you

And actually like them

Let's not pretend like Hyun doesn't do the pregnant woman pose everyday

Cries so hard when your baby is born

He doesn't mind the gender or anything, but when he found out it's a girl-

"GUYS ITS A MINI Y/N"

She looks like you part 3

Such a clumsy mess when it comes to taking care of her

ART CLASSES ART CLASSES ART CLASSES

"Darling, we painted this for you."

Han Jisung

Immediately freezes when you tell him

Jisung.exe has stopped working

"wait so the protection didn't.... Protect?"

Now Y/N.exe has stopped working trying to figure out whether you actually used protection or not

Talks to your belly all day

Treats the baby like a gossip partner

"girl you won't believe what Hyunjin did today."

"what did he do?"

"yn shush I'm talking to our baby girl."

Is your personal high school cheerleader during the birth

"jagi you are slaying right now you can do this."

Cries when baby is born part 3

Calls her a co-producer part 2

Spoils her shitless

She has him wrapped around her finger, much like her mother :)

Making playlists with her is his love language

Lee Felix Yongbok

Did I just hear breeding kink

Cries when you tell him

Bakes so many brownies when you tell him like one time that you're craving his brownies

Makes your weird cravings part 3

Idk what it is with me and DanceRacha making all your weird cravings

Runs you baths, with bath salts, bath bombs, scented candles and massages your aching muscles I WILL DIE RIGHT NOW

Is the best during the birth, holds your hand allowing you to squeeze it as hard as you want

Dresses baby up like the fashionista she is

Is so amazed and ecstatic when the baby gets an Aussie accent

"JAGI SHE JUST SAID BREKKIE"

Kim Seungmin

Tsundere daddy meow

Will literally melt like his face will be like 🥺

Buys all the cute stuff on day one

I'm talking cradles, blinkies, toys, bonnets for some reason

"of course she needs a ponyo outfit darling come on"

Tones down his teasing a bit

Still makes fun of your penguin walk tho

And if you cry, he will comfort you and never forgive himself for it

Is kinda disgusted by the birth process but he's a strong soldier

Cries when baby is born part 4

Like Kim Seungmin crying is a real thing chat

Singing lessons are free for her, and she has her dad's angel voice!!

Also inherits her dad's roasting style, and she's the only one who can roast him back hehe

He kinda died inside when she told him he was old (he's never been prouder)

Yang Jeongin/ I.N

Bruh this guy istg

Mixed emotions part 2

"IM TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A CHILD"

Calms down eventually (after a slap on the head)

BELLY RUBS

Spoils the shit out of you because obviously

Asks his mum for advice part 2

Sings to your belly at night when he thinks you're asleep

Secretly hopes baby will have his dimple

He loves kids, so parenting is a natural thing that comes to him

Probably more experienced at holding a baby than you are

Feeds her for the first few days when you're tired

Perfect husband honestly he should marry me

Loves braiding her hair and giving her fashion advice

Mini fashion shows!!!

Dances with her a lot

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clairewritesjjkxreader · 5 months

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Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) scenario

Request/Inquiry from @aikothingdream:

“It would be funny to see Yuuji also not like his teacher hitting on Onee-chan”

Life as a cursed spirit’s “bride” was hilariously boring.

Gojo described your cursed energy as below average, you had zero martial arts training or talent, and Sukuna threatened Gojo and Yuuji not to put you in danger.

Yuuji was often busy training, studying, or hanging out with his new classmates. You were happy that he had people to look after him in your place, but without a job or a class to attend, you were a parasite.

To alleviate your guilt, you did everyone’s laundry (minus their unmentionables, even Yuuji who furiously insisted he was old enough to wash his own underwear–kids, they grow up so fast *sigh*), mopped the hallways, wiped the windows, and other chores.

You just finished rearranging the clothes in your cabinet for the second time today.

You sprawled yourself on the floor like a starfish.

Free food, no rent. Everything was paid for here. This should’ve been the ideal life, but you were so booooored.

Spurned by the desire to fill the void, you went to the kitchen. No one was around. Of course.

You searched the cupboard, but only found a half-eaten package of cookies. The fridge had a can of whipped cream on the verge of emptiness and some strawberries..

Shutting the fridge close with your hip, you chomped on a cookie and a medium-sized strawberry then sprayed a swirl of cream in your mouth.

“Guess who’s back with treats! I–ah.” Gojo Satoru stopped at the kitchen doorway, a plastic bag full of sweets hanging from his hand.

A silence fell over as you saw each other.

He stood there, quietly as you stared, frozen with a mouth stuffed with sugar.

You: (⊙ｏ⊙)

Gojo: ( ._. )

Gojo: …

Gojo: …pft.

You: …!

You forced yourself to chew faster, but expectedly, the thing that was supposed to be in charge of you and your brother burst into maniacal laughter.

“PWAHAHAHAHA!”

“Mm…mf!”

“Oh, man. I gotta take a picture.” He pulled out his phone.

You wanted to say something, but there was too much stuff in your mouth!

Gojo continued laughing between clicks and flashes until you started choking like a pelican who swallowed too big a fish.

In an instant, he was behind you, arms wound tightly around your abdomen. “Please don’t die. It would be too pathetic!”

“Aurgh..!!!??” Translation: You think I wanna go like this, you a&%****!?

With one, strong squeeze, Gojo forced the food out of you.

“That was close! Good thing I was here or who knows what would’ve happened.”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...”

“Not going to say anything? What’s wrong, nee-san?”

Feeling a vein near popping, you coughed out, “I believe I asked you not to call me that.”

“You’re so cold. Megumi and Kugisaki call you that. Even the second years!”

You had a couple of things to say, but considering that he technically saved your life, you opted to keep them to yourself. “Thank you for the help, now please let go. I’m going to clean this up.”

But as you said this, your knees buckled and his arms shifted to stop you from falling.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

Whoosh

A giant knife flew towards Gojo, stopped only by his infinity.

You both turned to find Yuuji standing by the door, panic and shock on his face as he gripped hard on his right arm responsible for throwing the blade.

“I-I didn’t know how that happened, I swear!”

Sukuna spoke from his cheek. “You damn blue-eyed bastard. How dare you touch my wife so shamelessly?”

“Excuse me?! I just saved her from cho–”

“Yuuji!” Embarrassed, you pushed yourself out of Gojo’s embrace and walked towards your brother. “Welcome home. Do you have any requests for dinner?”

“I’ve been craving curry rice since this morning.”

“I think we just ran out. I’llgocheckthestorageroom!” Flustered, you rushed out of the kitchen, forgetting your own mess.

Yuuji quietly went to mop the food you choked out.

Gojo sighed. “Yuuji, what should I do, I don’t think your sister likes me.”

“Gojo-sensei.”

When Gojo met his student’s gaze, it held a surprising sharpness. “???”

“Thank you for taking care of us,” Yuuji’s normally cheery tone was flat as he spoke, “but please don’t bother my sister too much.”

“???????”

Later that evening, in Fushiguro’s room…

Gojo: Megumi, why is everybody so mean to me?

Gojo: (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

Megumi: Please leave.

A/N: I tried to have more fun with this one so I was more liberal with my style. Anyway, I got a few more requests, the products are coming soon!

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @marvelsgirl4ever @alastorhazbin @satosuguswife @lumaniii @leahlovesreading @blackstaw @nineooooo @boba--12

Other snippets of this au are found here.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna x y/n #sukuna #yandere #husband #sukuna x reader #reincarnation au #married #married au #request

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1d1195 · 8 months

Text

Right Here

Hi, idk if you all know this about me, but I love tropes. ALL of them. All. of. them. So here they all are: one bed, nightmares, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, childhood "friendship," coworker Harry, grumpy/sunshine (I'll let you guess who's who), etc. etc. etc. (Don't look too close this is Zipper but reveresed)

Other warnings: angst

9.2k+ words

“Business or pleasure?” The driver asked.

She stated “business,” immediately. Whereas Harry said, “a bit of both,” with that devilish smirk of his and looked at her with delight in his eyes. He seemed to get more enjoyment out of his comment as she glared at him.

In Year 2, Harry was playing with a few of his friends by the slide. He wasn’t really aware of what was happening but there was a girl in his class playing with a couple of her friends when the screaming started. There was a huge to-do; parents were called, the principal was involved, and the girl that seemed to be at the center of all the drama would not stop glaring at Harry.

But Harry didn’t like girls. He was six. He wanted to hang out with his friends at recess and maybe learn about the shapes and the planets if he had time. So, he didn’t really care that she glared at him. Or that he had to write an apology letter (that his mum told him how to write in his six-year-old scrawl). It was just another day in the life of a Year 2 student. He didn’t even know why he was writing the little note to her. He didn’t know what happened or why he did something wrong.

Year 2 turned to Year 3 and soon Harry was kissing and hugging his mum and sister goodbye as he went off to university. He was studying English Literature and Communications. He wanted to be a book publisher—mainly because he wanted an excuse to read all kinds of books. Moreover, he could read really good books before everyone else did. Eventually, he hoped to open his own publishing company, but he would need a business partner for that.

That was still a long way down the road. For the time being, he would enjoy university: friends, girlfriends, classes, his part time job, and everything in between. His only downfall was listening to his professor who suggested he get a minor in business—especially if he planned on own his own company. Even if he didn’t fully run the business side of things, it was good to have a general idea. Some key words and concepts would be helpful. More so, if the business partner wasn’t someone he trusted.

But Harry was awful with his business classes. The very first one he took was the bane of his existence. He strongly considered never opening his own company, he would just get the other person to handle it. Needless to say, he was recommended for tutoring two weeks into the class.

That’s where he found the glaring girl. Obviously, no longer seven. She was twenty, like Harry. And she was lovely looking. Except for the scowl on her face directed at Harry. Surely, she hadn’t harbored a grudge toward Harry since she was seven?

Oh, but she was. She was curt while she tutored. Everything Harry did was wrong. She managed to correct his mistakes kindly, but he could tell it pained her. There was a lot of sighing and eye-rolling involved. But she was good, he’d give her that.

Harry tried to be friendly, but she clearly wanted no part of it. “I am not here for small talk with you, Harry,” her voice was flat. She didn’t want to talk about the weather, or parties, or anything that wasn’t part of Harry’s class. When she came to help him at the designated time in the library with tears in her eyes, she sat down, took a deep breath, sniffled, and started her help with his homework.

“Hey, we don’t have t’do this now, beautiful. You’re obviously upset—”

“What do you care?” She interrupted.

“Jesus,” Harry shook his head in disbelief. “What is your problem?” She rolled her eyes, tearfully. “Y’can’t seriously still be mad about Year 2.”

She shook her head. “Just...shut it,” she snapped and turned her attention to Harry’s assignment. He sighed, looking at her like she was on the verge of a breakdown but did as she wished. Listening intently to her lesson, Harry felt this pull of how sad he was by her anguish, and he didn’t even know what it was. He kept watching her expressions, judging her tone, in between her explanations. He was worried there was something seriously wrong.

Despite her anger towards him, he didn’t want her to be upset. He worried someone had hurt her or upset her in some way—in a way that he could fix. It didn’t occur to him why he wanted to help her until well after three other classes she tutored him in for his minor over the last two years of university.

He got very little information out of her about anything that didn’t pertain to his classes. He knew she was grumpy in the afternoon and much preferred to tutor in the morning when her mind was fresh. That was when he got a glimpse of her gentler side—for only a second. She liked coffee a lot, she smelled fresh of her shampoo, and her eyes were brighter. She would ask if he had a good weekend or if he had any fun plans. It was the only time she offered up anything to him.

If it was any time past two in the afternoon, she wanted nothing to do with pleasantries or Harry, it seemed. But she was paid to tutor him, and she did it well. Harry never would have made it through his business classes without her. He was forever thankful for her help, even if she didn’t want to be thanked.

“Harry, would you like to go to this conference?”

He looked up from his desk where he was reading a riveting historical fiction novel that was passed up the chain to him. Harry thought it would be a NYT bestseller for sure. “Me?” He asked, clearing his throat and putting his pencil down. One thing he hated was marking up people’s hard work in any color pen—but especially red. It felt very secondary school of his coworkers to do it that way. Someone pored over this writing and of course no one expected it to be perfect, not even the author. But there was something so ugly about red ink marking up something that your blood, sweat, and tears went into.

Harry would quit writing if he saw even one smidge of red ink on his work.

Which is why he edited and didn’t publish his own work.

Harry had been a senior editor for four years, now. He loved his job. It was everything he hoped for: he read so many good stories and felt he was still learning so much. He was promoted from junior editor to senior editor after two years. He still hoped to own his own company one day.

“Yeah,” his boss rolled his eyes. “Who else would I send? Someone from the business administration team will attend as well,” he explained.

Harry smiled; he knew the second the title left his mouth exactly who would be attending the conference with him. She was going to hate it. “I would love to go,” Harry nodded excitedly. “But between you and me, I don’t want anyone t’get jealous that m’going. D’you think y’can keep it a secret?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged. Harry loved this office. It was so carefree. When he had his own company, he would want it to be exactly like this. If he could own this one, he would. He liked all of his coworkers and would want to keep them alongside him.

Including the girl from the admin team that constantly glared at him during work parties, meetings, and office breakroom run ins. If she wasn’t there, then it wouldn’t be worth it.

When Harry saw her interact with their coworkers, he couldn’t help but fall more in love with her. She was so utterly beautiful, funny, and of course, absolutely brilliant. There wasn’t a question she didn’t know how to answer. There wasn’t any advice she couldn’t give. She was never condescending and was extremely helpful. Even when Harry needed her help—which was so rare he only recalled it three times in the entire seven years they worked together. She didn’t sigh, didn’t roll her eyes although he was sure she wanted to.

So, nothing made him happier than annoying her to pieces.

He told everyone he had known her since Year 2. Left notes for her on her cute little lunch box in the fridge, would constantly send random items to her office (his favorite was the look on her face when he sent her a bouquet of balloons. It didn’t do anything, but people said Happy Birthday to her all day, and she had to say it wasn’t). He would tell people they were best friends and watch her blush bright red trying to get out of it. There were so many fake secrets he told the person he was near making direct eye contact with her, just to piss her off.

It worked every time.

He worshipped her, honestly. How could he not? She was brilliant and beautiful. The whole package. Even when she was a bit crabby, he thought she was simply the cutest and went on adoring her from afar.

Harry couldn’t imagine how fun a work trip would be with her.

She hated flying. It was necessary but she hated it. The space was almost too small. It was stuffy and gross in a lot of ways. The seats were cramped, and it was just awful. She had her headphones in place, a relaxing, quiet playlist, a good book, and her travel pillow around her neck. She was more than ready to begin the flight. The conference was a treat, it was shorter hours than her regular workday and then she could meander the town as much as she pleased. It was going to be a great trip and she had been looking forward to it for the last two weeks.

But then Harry sat right beside her. “Hey beautiful,” he smiled sweetly. She stared at him. This had to be a joke.

“You’re kidding?”

“What?” He smirked impishly stowing his bag beneath the seat in front of him. “Excited t’see me?” She flushed that beautiful shade of red that he loved so much on her cheeks. “Ready for our vacation?” He asked. “Bring a good book?”

The plane was suddenly even smaller. She thought she was going to be sick. A whole five days with Harry. Five. She was going to lose her mind. She closed her eyes as the plane jolted forward. Harry was doing all the things he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Fidgeting with the tray table and the like. She wanted to scream.

How could she possibly get stuck with him?

Harry didn’t say much to her throughout the flight. At least not after asking if she was comfortable, which was objectively nice if she couldn’t stand him so much. He grabbed her bag from the bin overhead, made sure she didn’t get lost on her way to baggage claim, and held the door open for her when they reached their Uber. “Business or pleasure?” The driver asked.

She really wished Harry wasn’t so goddamn hot. It should have been a sin to make someone so alarmingly attractive. Soft brown curls that looked like they were made to slip between her fingers. He had green eyes—how was that even fair? Those dimples made her stomach flip. He was incredibly tall and so fit; she thought about falling at his feet every day she saw him at work and just ending her silly grudge.

But she never forgave him for that day in Year 2. Call her stubborn, call her stupid. She didn’t care. It ruined a huge chunk of her young life and made her miserable.

Four days and twenty-two hours. She could survive.

“Me and the missus need a place t’eat, do y’have any suggestions?” he asked, reaching for her hand like they really were a couple. She yanked it out of his grip. She wanted to kill him. More so because she hated the way her heart took off when he touched her and the idea of being “the missus” was...ugh.

She was worried Harry wouldn’t survive the next four days, twenty-one hours, and fifty-eight minutes.

They arrived at the hotel and Harry was once more a gentleman, even though she didn’t want him to be. He grabbed her suitcase and sweetly pushed it through the lobby to the front desk. “Hi,” Harry said cheerfully. She wanted to shower, get out of her plane clothes, and get away from Harry. His chipper attitude was making her grumpier than normal. “I have a reservation under Styles,” he explained. “Here for the convention,” he added.

The man behind the desk nodded, smiling pleasantly as he tapped away on his computer. “It says two guests for your name,” he informed him. Her heart dropped to her feet.

“No, it doesn’t,” she murmured, but she knew it was right.

Harry was smiling like an idiot. This was too good to be true for him and his endless bouts of annoying her. “That’s correct,” Harry nodded.

“Are there any other rooms?” She asked. She already knew the answer, but she would kick herself if she didn’t at least check.

“No, I’m afraid we’re really booked with the convention.”

She didn’t dare ask if there were two beds because she already knew that answer too.

“It’ll be fine, lovie, don’t worry,” he promised. Part of her thought he really meant it too, sensing how upset she was. She was so overcome with frustration; she almost didn’t notice the new name he gave her. That it wouldn’t be torture for her to be in the same little space as Harry for the entire five days. Her heart started erratically beating at the thought. It felt like the sides of her brain were caving in like the walls surely would be when they got to the room.

She would lay ground rules. She would go buy a roll of tape and cut the room in half. Harry wasn’t going to ruin her little reprieve from work. He continued to be kind and pulled her bag to their room. “I would like to shower,” she told him as she eyed the single, king-sized bed in the middle of the room, mocking her. He settled the bags on opposite sides of the room. He chose the side closer to the window for her.

“I’ll be right in,” he winked at her.

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, which she knew was exactly what he wanted. “What if I don’t want the window side?” She asked instead.

“Well, that I don’t really care, lovie. M’taking closer t’the door in case someone breaks in. Wouldn’t want you t’get hurt.”

She just wanted to annoy him the way he always annoyed her. Maybe make him move the bags around and then move them again which she informed him she did want the window side. But she didn’t expect him to be so nice. Didn’t think he would give a reason that was kind enough to care about her well-being. Even when she was grumpy toward him.

If her cheeks were going to be red the whole week, she was going to lose it. “Don’t come in the bathroom or I’ll murder you,” she rolled her eyes.

“I would never do that,” he rolled his eyes right back at her. “I was jus’ kidding.”

Unfortunately, she believed him. He seemed genuine, as much as she wanted to kill him.

The shower helped her relax marginally. At the very least she got the feeling of the plane off her. “I ordered some pizza. Y’like peppers and onions on yours, right?” Harry, knowing exactly what she liked, furthered her agitation.

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

“I’d like t’shower too. D’you think y’can get the pizza when it arrives and actually get mine too?” He smiled at her knowingly; like he thought she might not take his pizza from the delivery guy in protest of the whole situation.

She rolled her eyes but had to hand it to him because it did sound like her. “Yes, Harry.”

“Hey beautiful?” he said softly. She hated that she looked up, answering to his pretty pink lips calling her ‘beautiful.’ She shouldn’t have. First and foremost, she thought he was wrong. Maybe it was because of all the drama of Year 2 but she never had boys of any age fawning over her after the slide-incident. Not the way they ogled and adored her friends. It did a number on her self-esteem. While she tried to put up this front that she didn’t care about whether she was beautiful or not, it was hard to believe someone like Harry would recognize her as even pretty.

Secondly, it made her stomach flip when he said it and she hated that. It was unfair he was pretty and unfair he could make her crazy with just a word. “M’not so bad,” his face looked apologetic—like he felt bad for existing. “I promise, it won’t be that bad this week with me.” She nodded sullenly, ran her brush through her hair. “’Ve left some notes on the table there for the pizza,” he tilted his chin toward it.

“You don’t need to pay for me.”

He smiled. “Course I do, lovie. S’my treat.”

She hated the way she answered to ‘lovie’too.

She sat in comfortable silence while she ate her pizza. While eating, she looked at the itinerary on her phone. Made plans in her mind and thought about some of the things she wanted to do during her free time.

“Oh good, m’starving. Smelled it while I was showering.”

She did a double take, her jaw falling open instinctively. She nearly dropped her pizza on her lap and then her phone right after it. Harry was hurrying across the room to get to his pizza. A towel low on his hips showing off glistening, taut muscles. Her heart hammered against her chest. “Jesus,” she whispered to herself looking away.

“Did y’say something, beautiful?” He asked, taking a bite of his pizza. She shook her head. Once more, angry she answered with the word ‘beautiful’. His hair was dripping, and she followed the little droplets as they slid down his broad shoulders and across his defined pectorals. It wasn’t fair. She wanted to hate him easily. But his pretty tattoos and his gorgeous body were making it so difficult.

“I’m think I’m going to sleep on the floor,” she told him. He frowned around a bite of his pizza. When he finished chewing, he had a bit of grease on each corner of his mouth. She wanted to reach out with a napkin and wipe it away.

Or lick it away, along with the rest of his body.

“I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he promised. “M’not gonna let y’sleep on the floor, lovie,” he rolled his eyes. “If you’re that uncomfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

She couldn’t help but feel bad that her awkwardness, her annoyance for Harry, would have him sleep on the floor. He didn’t truly deserve that. This was a work trip for him as well, after all.

Maybe if he was fully clothed, she would have taken him up on his offer. Accepted him sleeping on the floor in her place. But her modern-woman, intelligent brain that she had spent years cultivating so she was independent, and worked so hard to make sure she didn’t go ga-ga over a man was malfunctioning from travel...and knowing she was stuck with Harry in such close quarters for almost a week.

Plus, Harry had the prettiest stomach she had ever seen on a man.

Her primal brain, the one that seemed to be screaming from between her legs, couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

“It’s…fine,” she mumbled focusing on her pizza and phone again.

“Are y’sure, beautiful? I don’t want t’make y’uncomfortable.”

She believed him. He seemed so eager to please her and ease her worries. She nodded. “It’ll be fine,” she was telling herself in hopes it would be true. “But I’m making a pillow wall.”

He smiled around his pizza.

“Would y’prefer I sleep with or without a shirt?” He asked. Harry went to use the hotel gym and then took another shower. She used the time to read her book and sit on the balcony while the sun was setting. It wasn’t a picturesque view or anything, but the sky was a bunch of beautiful hues of pink, blue, and orange.

When Harry exited the shower, it was awkwardly silent for a bit. Harry tended to his after shower-care. She was looking at her book but not reading. She yawned, and that was when Harry asked his question. The inquiry felt like a double-edged sword. If she said with a shirt, it might imply she wanted to hide him from her view because she couldn’t help but look at him. If she said no, it would make it seem like she wanted to see him. “Whatever makes you comfortable,” she decided on.

He smirked and pulled his T-shirt off. “‘Fraid you’re not privy t’that sleeping habit, lovie.” She wondered if anyone had ever been murdered with a hotel phone cord. She felt extremely self-conscious about her t-shirt and leggings combo. “Feel free t’do the same, beautiful,” he grinned wickedly at her as he slipped into his side of the bed. She had two pillows under the blankets and two on top. She was certain that even if she had her own room, it wouldn’t be enough distance between them. “What if I want another pillow?” He asked mischievously.

“Go fuck yourself, Harry,” she grumbled.

He frowned. “C’mon, lovie. S’not so bad.” She didn’t say anything in response and turned to her side facing away from him. She scrolled mindlessly on her phone. “D’you want t’watch something together?” He asked.

“No, thank you,” she murmured quietly. “You can though,” she shrugged. “I’ll sleep through most anything.”

He nodded. “Okay...well...good night, beautiful. Sleep well,” he said sweetly.

She didn’t fall asleep right away. Instead, she imagined the nice museum she saw online. The picturesque street about a mile away with cute little shops. There was the coffee shop she wanted to go to. All the things that Harry couldn’t ruin with his annoying little remarks.

Or his stupid hot body.

Other than some gentle laughter, she didn’t hear or worry about Harry sleeping less than six inches from her own body. The pillows provided the perfect barrier between them so that she could sleep easily knowing that he wouldn’t bug her.

Only four days until it was over. She could do this.

Harry heard her phone drop from her hands to the floor about an hour later. He hurried to her side of the room and made sure her alarm was set, locked her phone, and placed it on her nightstand. He saw the way she seemed to shiver in her sleep. Probably because she was right under the vent. The space between her brows puckered due to her discomfort. He draped the blanket that was at the end of the bed over her. Almost immediately, the skin between her eyebrows smoothed back out. He wanted to kiss her in the very same spot but of course would never do that without her permission.

The movie Harry was playing was funny and he enjoyed it immensely. True to her word, she slept through his laughter and the sound of the movie itself. She was wiggly when she slept. The pillows and blankets balled all around her and Harry wondered how she slept like that each night. It looked nearly painful at times.

Of course, the movie came to an end, and she was still sound asleep when Harry finally turned the TV off and hunkered down into his side of the mattress. He tried not to disturb her pillow wall, but she had managed to throw all of them every which way. He smirked to himself, shaking his head at her.

Harry must have gotten only an hour of sleep under his belt when he woke up to her kicking and mumbling under her breath. The light coming through the window allowed for his eyes to adjust a bit to the darkness against her figure sprawled in the sheets. He shook his head glancing over at her in complete disarray. Her body was still twisted around the pillows and blankets. Harry was left with just the sheet. He smirked at her.

He threw his arm over his eyes and ignored her fitful movements. But they kept going and going. The mumbling too. He felt bad about whatever she was dreaming about, but he didn’t dare touch her. If she woke up to him touching her, even if it was for comfort, he was certain she would kill him.

Harry was a pretty heavy sleeper himself, so her fussy movements didn’t bother him in the slightest. Whatever she was dreaming about had to be a kick for sure and for that he felt bad.

But then Harry heard small whimpers coming from her and he felt his stomach knot. It felt like he was dying at the mere sound of her discomfort. The anguish he felt coming from her was brutal and he wanted nothing more than to hold her and fix it. “Oh, hey,” he hummed, sitting up against the headboard. He looked her over and thought incurring her wrath would be well worth it if he could stop her from whimpering miserably. “Lovie? Y’okay?” He gently shook her by the shoulder. She seemed to be fighting whatever she was dreaming about, and the blankets were keeping her trapped. Harry grabbed the pillows that were on top of her. Her arms were nearly swaddled against her body with the blanket wrapped around her and pulled up to her neck tightly.

Harry flicked the light on his nightstand so he could get a better look at her.

The poor thing was glistening with sweat around her hairline, tears were leaking from her closed eyes, and that space between her brows was cinched together like she was in pain. “Oh, no,” he murmured and crawled out of his side and came around to her side. “Hey,” he cooed. He crouched in front of her and began tossing the pillows to the floor. He unraveled the blankets from around her. “Lovie,” he murmured. He called her lovie at the start of the evening and he couldn’t stop. He loved to call her beautiful and enjoyed how readily she answer to it. But something about her sweet face just made the word ‘lovie’ roll right off his tongue. It was effortless; like it was the only thing he should call her. Once she was without the swaddle of blankets, and the pillows attacking her, she was practically gasping for air in her sleep. “Lovie, you’re having a bad dream,” he gave her a good shake causing her eyes to flash open. Harry gazed at her in alarm. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to hide from Harry. But it was far too late for that. “Are y’okay, beautiful?”

She ignored him. Her breathing evening out. She turned away from him. “Lovie...”

“Would you stop calling me cute names?” She asked, the exasperation thick in her voice. But she was still distraught. He could tell. He was quiet for a minute letting her work through whatever just happened. “Please don’t tell anyone about this,” she whispered.

He blinked. He felt so sad she believed so little of him. “I would never tell anyone anything ‘bout you—”

“You whisper about me all the time,” she snipped.

His mouth fell open in disbelief. “Lovie, you have t’know I don’t whisper anything ‘bout you. M’telling them how pretty I think y’are and how you’ll get all flustered that m’whispering nothing ‘bout you. They know I adore you and think nothing short of wonderful things ‘bout you. Y’seriously don’t get it do you?” He felt so utterly annoyed by her, himself. He thought she was lovely and yes; she was fun to annoy but he would never say anything about her that hurt her reputation. He was sad she thought he would. It never made sense for her to dislike him so intently. He never really cared and turned it into a joke. But knowing she truly didn’t like him made his heart heavy.

She refused to look at him. It was silent for several beats. Harry stared at the back of her t-shirt, her shoulders trying to find an easy rhythm. He wanted her to explain it. Right now. In the middle of the night when they were stuck in a small hotel room together. “Why did you trap me in the slide?” She whispered.

Of all the things he expected her to say, that was not one of them. “What?” He shook his head.

“In Year 2? You and your friends trapped me in the slide, now I’m embarrassingly claustrophobic. If I have anything covering my face, I have a meltdown. It feels like I can’t breathe. If someone...holds me the wrong way for too long, I get overwhelmed. It’s ruined so many relationships and it’s...” she sniffled, her shoulders staggering a bit at the effort.

He frowned. “Is that why you hate me?” He whispered. She didn’t answer him. “Lovie, I had nothing to do with that.”

“Well, they blamed you.”

He sighed. “So, all this time you’ve hated me, and it wasn’t even my doing?” He asked.

It seemed to appeal to the logical part of her brain. She was still for a moment longer, her breathing evening out. But then she rolled to her other side and stared at Harry. He hated the tears that stained her cheeks. That little crease between her eyebrows. He reached out and pressed his fingers there to smooth it out and she let him. It didn’t even bother him that she hadn’t liked him for so long.

Her lips rolled into her mouth as she thought over the last twenty-something years of their lives. It may not have bothered Harry but now it bothered her. “Why have you liked me even though I’m so...crabby toward you?”

He smiled excitedly. Like he was getting a Christmas present or told he won a raffle. “What isn’t there t’like ‘bout you, beautiful?” His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb gently rubbed at the stain of salt on her cheek. The back of her head was warm with sweat and if it wasn’t so late at night, she would feel more self-conscious.

“You’re a glutton for punishment.”

It was progress though because she didn’t push his hand away from her face. “Can I get back on the bed? I won’t touch you, but I don’t want you t’have the pillows and blankets attack you.”

“You can touch me,” she mumbled.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Oh yeah?” He rose from the floor to head back to his side of the bed.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I hate you.”

“I don’t think y’do, actually,” he said smugly.

“Are you going to annoy me the entire time?”

Harry turned off his bedside lamp and crawled under the sheet. “Probably.”

She sighed; he imagined her pretty eye roll the way she always did. Harry put his arm behind his head, closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep. “You really didn’t trap me in there?” She asked.

Harry turned to his side and looked at the shadow outline of her staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to reach out and trace the shape of her profile, follow it down her arm and hold her hand. “Even as a six-year-old, lovie, I couldn’t hurt you. If...I knew...I would have gotten y’out of there so fast,” he promised. “Poor baby,” he murmured and bravely reached out and grabbed her hand. She didn’t pull from him. She let his fingers fit between the spaces of hers, gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know why you were mad,” he shrugged.

“You were really just going to let me hate you for the rest of our life?”

“Hate and love are very close together in the brain,” he said knowingly. “Given y’said the rest of our life,” he smiled excitedly, “I had a feeling y’couldn’t keep it up forever. And I’d wait forever for you, beautiful.” He sounded so arrogant she wanted to hate him just to spite him. But she couldn’t argue with him. It was exhausting hating him. Being in the hotel room with him—especially when he was in a towel—was ruining her grumpy front. Even with sleep still on her brain, she couldn’t help but think about how gentle he was with her and her anxious mind. He was so utterly accommodating and kind to her. He would have slept on the floor if she asked. But she rather enjoyed the feel of his fingers holding hers. “Do you have nightmares a lot?” He asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She shook her head. “Not anymore...Only when I get all twisted like that. I usually sleep better with a weighted blanket to help my anxiety about it. It also keeps me in place, mostly. I’ve had a lot of therapy to help cope with it and the blanket usually helps but obviously y’can’t really travel with a fifteen-pound blanket.”

“Can you snuggle?” He asked.

She blinked at the darkness in front of her. “Can I what?”

“Can you snuggle with someone?” He repeated.

She bit the inside of her lip. “As long as my face isn’t covered,” she muttered. “But it’s definitely been a problem in past relationships if that’s what you’re asking me ab—”

Harry had his arms looping around her and he pulled her toward him so quickly, she barely had time to process. His body spooned behind her, one arm snug beneath her neck and the other draped around the front of her hips. Her heart rate had to be approaching a hundred and fifty. “Is this alright, beautiful?” He murmured into the back of her hair. She was speechless, truly. Harry holding her like...like she didn’t just have a major meltdown. Like he adored her still. “Lovie?” He said, nearly releasing her when she didn’t answer. Worried that her heart rate was too high—he could practically feel it through her back pressed to him. Maybe this was too much.

But right as he started to pull away, her arm pressed against Harry’s. She sighed softly. “No...m’fine,” her voice was quiet.

“Are y’sure? I don’t want t’upset you,” he promised. “Been dreaming ‘bout snuggling with you... but not at the expense of your comfort or anxiety,” he assured her.

“You dream about cuddling with me?”

“Among other things,” he spoke to the back of her hair, his lips smiling against her head.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“I really didn’t think y’could hate me forever, lovie.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. It was the first time she ever apologized to him. His heart skipped a beat.

“I know, beautiful. How would y’have known, though? I wish y’told me, but I know why y’didn’t.”

More silence. Harry’s bare stomach was touching her t-shirt, his legs were crooked up against the back of hers. They fit like puzzle pieces. She bit the inside of her lip feeling exhaustion pull over her mind. How was she supposed to sleep knowing Harry was sleeping right next to her?

“Good night, lovie,” he murmured.

She sighed, relaxing, and drifting to sleep almost immediately.

The first day of the conference went by quickly with not much to really show for it. Harry enjoyed it immensely and had a thousand new ideas that he suggested to her over their lunch together. She enjoyed it as well but after her night snuggled up to Harry nothing else seemed remotely important.

“Hey, lovie?” Harry said, trying to retrieve her attention. “Did y’have plans this afternoon? M’gonna catch up with a friend,” he nodded toward another table. The idea of Harry leaving her alone actually saddened her, but of course...they’d have the night.

Unless the friend was a girl. In which case he very well could not come back to their shared room. She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Have fun,” she encouraged.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Keep the bed warm for me, yeah?” He winked at her as he pulled away.

She thought maybe killing him would still be an option.

She perused the little picturesque street taking a whole bunch of pictures and stopping in nearly every shop on the street and making a purchase in almost every single one. It was actually really nice. Not too hot, not too cold. She even sort of wished Harry had gone with her on her little adventure. She thought he would have liked some of the shops as much as she did.

It was precisely when she wished Harry had gone with her that she realized she really liked him. All this time.

Maybe he was right, and her brain mistook her affection for him as hatred. She wasn’t ready to say love yet. Even if her subconscious was screaming about how lovely he was.

Even last night when Harry was comforting and gentle about her phobia. He didn’t make her feel bad...in fact he made her feel normal and wonderful. The new information about the slide was a revelation. She had spent so many years with ill-harbored feelings toward Harry. It seemed wasteful after last night. He was kind, understanding, attractive—

She was not in love with him.

She couldn’t be, right?

He was annoying. Even if he wasn’t whispering about her, he was still making her feel grumpy. The constant gag gifts and deliveries were vexing beyond compare.

But those dimples when he smiled? They could undo all those negative emotions she felt. She was certain that there was some pheromone or chemical released in the air when he smiled. One that made her mind momentarily forget that he had been the cause of the slide thing.

However, that wasn’t true anymore.

So...

No. It’s like meeting someone for the first time. You don’t love him.

Not when he called her beautiful or lovie. Not when he openly flirted with her or held her against his warm body in the middle of the night and kept the nightmares away. She did not love him.

But maybe she just really, really, really, really, liked him and wanted to spend all her extra time with him now and show him the little shop she found because she smelled three different kinds of soap that she thought he would enjoy.

Obviously, that wasn’t love.

She looked more like some shopping bag monster than girl, when she made her way into the hotel elevator. Harry was already in the room when she got back. “Have fun?” He asked, putting the new file he brought with him and his pencil aside. His smile was so bright she really wondered how she could have ignored him for so long.

“Did…you catch up with your friend?” She asked. She was gone for almost three hours, she worried that she would come back to find Harry with someone, or someone in the shower...

Or in our bed. One part of her mind was grumpy at the thought. Not our bed. The one brain cell left on the rational side of her mind shouted back.

Harry began untangling her wrists and fingers from the bags she held while her brain had its own conversation. The bags left angry red marks on her skin. He nodded, placing the bags on the floor. “Yeah, jus’ had a quick stop at the pub for a drink,” he gently massaged the inside of her wrists. “I missed you,” he said cutely. She stared at him almost suspiciously. Like maybe all of this was a trick. Her distrust seemed palpable because he frowned. “I did, beautiful. Really missed you,” he brought her wrist to his lips and pressed a kiss on the soft inside skin. She missed him too. Even before she went to the shops, she was dreading leaving his side, but she wouldn’t tell him that. Her face must have softened a bit because the left side of his face turned up in a gorgeous half smile. It made her wonder how Harry had decided on editing and publishing and not modeling. “Would y’like t’get dinner with me?” He asked.

“Like a date?” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

“Yes, lovie. Like a date,” he rolled his eyes.

She frowned. “I don’t really have anything...date-worthy to wear.”

“Well, y’could go naked, but they might throw y’out.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Y’look beautiful now. I’d take y’out in the sexy pajamas y’wore last night.”

She wondered briefly if Harry had ever been hit in the head over the years and suffered irrevocable brain damage. “Sexy?”

“Your leggings?” He smiled mischievously. “M’almost jealous of ‘em touching all of your legs.”

Definitely hit in the head.

“Can I just...have a few minutes to touch up?” She asked, ignoring his comment.

“Course, beautiful. Not that y’need it.” He was good. She would give him that. He was very good at making her feel gooey and pretty. Harry said all the right flirty things. Dinner would be fun, and she was quite hungry.

She exited the bathroom after touching up her makeup and switching out her casual business blouse for a tank top with a cardigan. She swapped her slacks for a pair of jeans. The flats she wore stayed to complete her outfit.

“Will you marry me?” He sighed dreamily as she exited the bathroom.

He was going to give her an aneurysm.

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Ve’been waiting for this date for...” he smiled. “Oh, I don’t know, lovie. Least since university.”

Harry had to have a death wish. “You’ve...liked me? Even though I was mean to you?”

“A glutton for punishment, as it were,” he winked bringing her words back.

She grabbed her little cross body bag and Harry followed her out their hotel room door. Since the slide incident, she had been to at least four different therapists to help alleviate the worry and fear she had. In all honesty, she was much better than she used to be. The airplane was a little daunting during takeoff but that could have been due to a fear of flying, not claustrophobia. Her small attic or the cramped closet in the hall of her place didn’t bother her any longer. Being on a train in public transport rush hour—even when the train came to a standstill in the middle of the dark tunnel—didn’t really bother her anymore. It was only when her face was covered for too long without her ability to get out quickly, sleeping, plagued with nightmares, or swaddled in her blankets too tightly that she felt the waves of anxiety suffocating her like that day on the slide.

Or when the elevator clanged to a stop and jolted her so hard, she nearly fell into Harry.

It was three seconds of pure silence before she realized what happened. Before Harry realized.

“Shit.” Harry whispered.

“Oh no,” her pulse quickened. Her head started to ache, and it felt like the elevator was suddenly the size of an Amazon box and she was crammed inside. It took her a moment to realize the wheezing was coming from her.

“Hey, hey,” Harry quickly grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes welled with tears, and she was heaving on her breath. One of his hands reached for the emergency button causing a monotone ring to take over all sounds in the small space; the volume was louder than her heavy breathing. “Lovie, tell me what t’do,” he begged. “M’sorry,” he whispered. She felt lightheaded and scared. So scared she obviously was having trouble breathing. She worried that she would pass out right into Harry’s arms.

“M’scared,” she croaked.

“I know, beautiful,” he squeezed her shoulders. He held her away at arm’s length afraid to bring her closer in case it would make matters worse. All he wanted to do was wrap her close and console her. “But...s’okay,” he promised. “Really, s’okay.” It wasn’t; he wasn’t trying to make light of her fear either. He knew how bad it was because he had spent the last twenty years waiting for this moment. For her to say she didn’t hate him. For the last ten, he longed for a date. One measly dinner to change her mind. But the broken elevator was going to ruin it all. Honestly, that didn’t even matter to him. All of it didn’t matter. He had to try something to ease her worry. Something to help her scared mind. “I would never let anything happen t’you. Would never let anything hurt you,” he was gazing right into her eyes. He definitely didn’t cure her, but she could feel how devastated Harry felt. He meant it; he wouldn’t let anything harm her as much as he could possibly control. “Deep breaths? Does that help?” He asked. She nodded. She tried but it was hard, the air she sucked in and released was shaky and not very deep. It was hard to think about breathing deeply when all she could think about was dying in this tin box. “Easy, lovie. S’okay,” he squeezed her shoulders again.

The alarm was plain on his face, and she wondered if he wanted to hold her. She wanted to be held but wasn’t sure it would work. Her stomach felt so knotted. Thought maybe she would throw up and she couldn’t imagine a worse first date with Harry than throwing up in an enclosed space. She sank to the floor, her legs scrunched up so she could rest her forehead against her knees. Harry crouched in front of her, clearly still nervous and unsure of what to do. The one part of her brain that still had some rational thought left thought it was a travesty that she would lose Harry from this. She thought if she made it out, she would have to just go home. She couldn’t share a bed with him.

“They’re probably getting someone t’help right now, beautiful. S’okay,” he placed his hands on her ankles. It seemed like the safest option. He was so mortified this happened. To her of all people. The ringing of the elevator seemed to die down with the ringing in her ears. “Lovie?” He asked; he felt anxious that she was breathing so hard. She looked at him, her vision blurred by the tears. “Tell me what t’do,” he begged. He felt so useless. So worried that she was going to pass out or have a meltdown that she would inextricably link to him and never forgive him. After he just made some progress.

He thought about her six-year-old self. Trapped in that slide, her little brain all terrified. He wondered if that little version of herself still existed inside her. It hurt him to think about that poor little girl scared to pieces. He leaned forward and pressed his lips on her forehead and kept pressed there for a moment. That moment in time seemed to stretch on for eternity. But, as he kept his lips on her skin, he noticed her breathing slowly calmed. Her muscles seemed to relax.

“That feels nice,” she murmured almost serenely. He smirked against her skin. Slowly, he pulled away. Her eyes watched Harry with worry, but he slid beside her before he moved too far away. The shaky breathing picked up just a little. Her heart still fluttered with anxiety. She rested her cheek on her knee facing him.

“I...I could...do it again if y’want. If y’think it would help,” he suggested, turning toward her a little more head on. She lifted her head, it felt so achy and heavy. Harry cupped her face and pressed his lips on her skin again. She sighed softly. The ache seemed to ease at his touch.

Ugh. Harry was medicine that she didn’t know she needed. He dragged his lips across her skin, peppering her hairline with soft little presses. She wondered if he would always be this gentle with her.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about her mind thinking about things like always with Harry. She was fairly certain she would die of humiliation the moment her brain returned to normal once they got off the elevator. There wouldn’t be an always after this. Harry would think she was nuts or ridiculous. There wouldn’t even be a sometimes.

“Are y’okay, lovie?” He hummed against her skin. “As y’can be right now?”

She nodded, feeling utterly safe with Harry beside her. She enjoyed the way his hands felt on her skin. His lips on her face. It was too bad she didn’t know all these years he had nothing to do with her childhood trauma. She thought she really could be in love with him.

It took an hour, but they were finally freed of the metal tin. The moment she had fresh air, she felt infinitely better. Harry could see it on her face and in her body language. She was entirely at ease. Back to normal. After a flurry of questions and the hotel offering a few extra nights, they left for a nearby restaurant. Harry held her hand, fingers twisted together. He didn’t say much, because he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say after that. He knew she had to have felt so exposed and vulnerable.

“We...don’t have to go out, if you don’t want,” she mumbled.

Harry frowned and stopped the pair of them in the middle of the sidewalk. “Do y’want t’go back?” He asked.

She bit the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked in surprise. “For what, beautiful?”

“For being crazy?” Did he forget what just happened?

“Crazy?” He repeated in surprise. “Lovie, s’not your fault. M’glad you’re okay.”

“You’re not...you don’t think I’m...weird?”

His heart felt such sadness for her. “No, lovie. Course not. Think you’re lovely. I was so scared y’were going to hurt yourself in all the worry. M’so glad you’re okay. M’sorry y’had to—why are y’crying, beautiful? Are you alright?” He asked, her eyes spilling with tears. He thought he might cry right with her. Harry had a good six or seven inches on her and he bent his knees a bit so he could be eyelevel with her teary gaze. His hands cupped her face just like on the elevator and he looked pained that she was crying.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t know why she was apologizing. But he let her and pulled her toward him, careful not to cover her face with his embrace. She sobbed into his chest. Harry kissed the top of her head. “S’okay, beautiful. Don’t know why you’re apologizing. But s’okay.”

It felt so embarrassingly awful that she and Harry would never be.

They ordered takeout, had a drink while they waited—barely speaking as they did, and headed back to the hotel. Of course, they took the stairs. She didn’t even feel like eating as she sat across from Harry on the balcony. He ate his veggie stir fry quietly while she poked at the pasta in her takeout box. “That’s pasta, you remember?” He smirked at her. “You’re supposed t’eat it,” he encouraged. Trying to joke so she would feel a little better.

She couldn’t even muster an eye roll for him. Ending before they started...after a whirlwind of one night and day of the convention seemed utterly unfair.

“Lovie?” He asked quietly. She didn’t respond. She was worried she would cry. “Beautiful,” he murmured setting his food aside, crouched beside her seat and pushed her food to the side as well.

“I...I think I really like you,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Well finally, lovie. But y’don’t have t’cry ‘bout it, m’right here,” he gave her knee a gentle squeeze. Like he was consoling her.

She shook her head. “S’not fair to you or all that time I wasted. And I’m so weird.”

“You’re not weird, lovie,” he promised.

“Yes, I am, Harry.”

He shook his head. “Y’seriously going t’continue pushing me away when m’literally on my knees in front of you, beautiful? I don’t care if y’weird or not. I don’t care if y’cry on elevators or if y’sing in the shower. You’re m’favorite person t’annoy and I want t’do it, knowing I can kiss you after every joke,” he looked up at her eyes from his crouched position. “Y’don’t have t’waste any more time, lovie. M’right here.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, worried she was going to say no or something just because she was so nervous about all of it. It was twenty years of disliking Harry (well, not really, but yes really). That was twenty years of hating small spaces of getting nervous in crowds and explaining to boyfriends that she couldn’t attend some events even when she wanted to.

But Harry didn’t care.

And she believed him.

She should have begged him to leave her alone because it wasn’t fair to him, and she truly believed that. Harry was so much kinder than she ever, ever imagined. Now he was right, of course. He was right here. Right in front of her. Literally on his knees telling her he wanted her. Despite everything. So instead of opening her mouth where she might say no, she nodded slowly.

He sighed with relief and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her toward him. He carefully squeezed her rubbing his hand up and down her back so soothingly she wanted to cry some more. Harry had the gentlest touch, and it was melting her—inside and out. She sighed into his chest, arms wrapping back around him. She even pressed her face right into his T-shirt and didn’t feel the creeping sensation of doom surrounding her. Instead, all she could smell was the scent of Harry’s laundry detergent and the very essence of Harry.

“Thank you, beautiful,” he sighed into the top of her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. He pushed her away from his body but kept her in between his arms. He really loved touching her face. “Can’t wait t’join you in the shower, now,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. He wasn’t going to quit, that much was certain. “You should be better than that detachable shower head,” she murmured.

He stared at her fully for at least half a minute, unable to speak. He cleared his throat after what seemed like a lifetime and then kissed the center of her forehead followed by the tip of her nose. Right before he kissed her lips for the first time in their lives, he whispered, “that I have t’see, lovie.”

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