#all falls down by lizzy mcalpine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ma1dita · 1 month

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now that we're older

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.5k

summary: (established relationship) The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: its really something about me always posting at 4am.... listened to three songs on a loop while writing and they were all called ‘older’. 5sos-> gracie abrams-> lizzy mcalpine—this works for the trajectory of trouble & luke if you give it a listen; anyways you guys deserve the fluff. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS HAPPY (ignore the...tinge of angst) BUT THIS IS HAPPY RIGHT? RIGHT? scream at me in the comments & enjoy <3

(posted 3/26/24, semi-edited)

—

Luke lets you love him in the nighttime.

It’s not to say that you don’t love him every second of the day and then some, but he’s much softer at night, weathered down and stripped of the many roles he carries. Maybe it’s the weight from the responsibility of being an all-star cabin counselor or the bone-deep ache of being camp’s best swordsman, perhaps even the ailment of being Hermes’ favorite forgotten son—but he endures until the night where he can lay it all down and be nothing but yours.

And you let him.

The mask usually starts to fall apart during dinner when he comes to sit at your table— besides the extra space, Luke likes intentionally knocking his knees against yours, the hand not holding his fork squeezing the inside of your thigh. He’s more open and receptive to your doting by the time the sun sets, fiddling with the hem of your camp shirt on the walks to the bonfire, letting you hang off his arm as you sidestep each other’s feet, hip to hip in hushed giggles. Whether it be chatty campers running through attempts at kisses, Chiron and Mr. D accidentally interrupting your loving glances, or occasional interference from the gods above, there’s only so many ways to be together in the in-between.

Tonight he’s yawning as he places his head on yours from behind, the both of you watching all your campers file out towards the amphitheater. A gentle smile graces your face and he’s warm all over, arms caging around your chest as you lightly sway against the summer breeze.

“You okay, angelface?”

Humming in response, he lowers his cheek to yours and whispers a proposition.

“Wanna skip the bonfire? Like how we used to…”

Turning to face him, your nose bumps against the scar on his cheek, and he feels the teeth of your smile on his skin as you mumble, “That was before cabin 7 needed an understudy for special requests, babe.”

“You could still sing for me. I’ll even clap if you want,” he muses before warbling out a few off-key notes to your favorite song until you’re a mess of giggles under him, fingers reaching up to cover his lips.

“That’s terrible,” you say between fits of laughter, until your eyes meet Percy and Grover’s wandering ones, “Hey! You two ready for your quest tomorrow?” Luke’s hold on you falters into an afterthought, fingers playing with your belt loops as the boys walk to the center of the clearing to meet you two.

He thinks about his little sister going on a quest to prove herself to her mother, even if it’s not her own cross to bear. He thinks about the satyr risking his life to protect another demigod who follows in his footsteps, and finally his dark eyes land on the sandy-haired boy destined to get caught in the crossfire. Luke’s feet feel heavy as if they’re cemented to the ground, and when you step away to greet the boys, he stays where he is. You misinterpret it for his fatigue, which is only part of what’s weighing on his mind.

“Luke? Go on ahead, I’ll cover for you. Get some rest.” But he can’t sleep without you; the times he’s tried are met with a touch of darkness only you can will away. He wants to hold on to you for as long as he can— Luke’s always been more vulnerable in the nighttime, with or without you.

Later he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his cabin, thrashing in the twin bed against the back wall as he rests his eyes and tries to get comfortable. There are reminders of you wherever he looks, gauzy white curtains strung up around his bed like swirling clouds, pictures of the both of you pinned to the worn walls of Hermes’ refuge for the unclaimed, and though he’s always known his heritage—the way he can pick out your voice through the sound of all the others that file in reminds him who his heart belongs to. Luke shuts his eyes until he feels your lips on his forehead, balmy from your berry chapstick with a hint of your smile. He murmurs your name sleepily, but your hands tickle his torso as you lift the hem of his shirt up.

“Woah there, keep it PG. There are children here!” Travis says mockingly, and the sound of giggles and shuffling sheets fills the room as everyone gets ready for bed. There’s a resounding thud that follows and that makes him open his eyes.

“Mind out of the gutter, Stoll! You know your brother overheats at night,” you mutter, and his hands are already ghosting your hip in silent confirmation. Tearing your lavender gaze from Travis who’s spitting out feathers from across the way, you look down at him and mumble, “Sleepy, angelface? They’ll do cabin checks soon and then it’s lights out.”

“Don’t wanna sleep without you. I can wait,” he slurs, saying your name slowly like he’s writing it out. Luke looks at you blearily when he sits up, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes as he pulls his shirt off from the nape of his neck. When the orange fibers lift from his vision, he sees you in sleepwear (all stolen from his closet, just the way he likes it) and your face shiny with skincare.

“Was gonna get you ready for bed, babe. Got Lee to cover for me tonight and Beck and Katie are on morning shift. Wanna go to mine?”

He knows he should. The both of you never play hooky, not since taking up your counselor positions 3 years ago. Luke doesn’t remember the last time either of you were in bed before midnight and up before 6 the next morning. Never on purpose at least—the surprise jolts him awake a little as he cocks his head at you curiously.

“Got off the hook, trouble?”

The question makes you bite your lip, “You’re acting surprised. Something told me you needed it.” He flops back down on the worn mattress, far too soft with age that his back tweaks a little when he moves over for you and pats the space you’ll take up. It’s his though—even if it doesn’t have his name on it, and for once he just wants to sleep in here with his girl like everything is right in the world (and ignore that he’s about to tear it all up). He thinks he might actually miss this cabin, the sound of his scuffling siblings, the way things quickly disappear and reappear at the change of hands in this community of outcasts, but most of all, he’s going to miss you and how you can settle them down with a single hush.

“Can we stay here tonight? Too comfy. Never get to admire the little setup you made for me here since we’re in 12 so often.”

“M’not going anywhere, my love,” you whisper as you push back the curtains, climbing into his bed to cuddle against him, but he shifts so that his head is on your chest. Luke’s hugging you like he’s a weighted blanket, and he strings a garland of kisses along your collarbone leading up to the space over your heart. Running your hands through his hair, you sing to him quietly until lights out, not even noticing the change while you’re looking at each other eye to eye. No one laughs at your lullaby, the sound of your voice tucking the rest of the cabin to sleep.

Almost losing consciousness again, his cheek shakes with the giggle that rises from your chest as you whisper, “Didn’t know you put our camp prom photo up on your wall. We look like we hate each other.”

“You were so mad because I kept stepping on the bottom of your dress. Had to get your attention somehow,” he chuckles, before tightening his hold on you, “I knew I liked you already by then, too. Wasted too much time trying to get Chiron in a prom dress with the boys that I didn’t get the chance to ask you to dance.”

“Ended up on a bead though. Is that what that memory tells you, angelface?”

“You’re my favorite memory, trouble,” he sighs, muscles relaxing at the feeling of your fingertips tracing stars into the planes of his back. Then hearts. A squiggle of something you tell him is obviously a centaur, which makes his brows furrow, before he kisses your chin when you spell out your name. Slowly, like you want him to remember it. He does.

“I’m still here, silly—pretty sure to be a memory, time has to take me away first. Not letting that happen. Me and you forever if I can help it,” you say breathily, voice tinged with sleep and so much love for him that feels like it chokes you, but that might just be the angle of your neck as you try to look down at him again. Dopamine lines your system at his words, and you let out a strained sigh—lovesick and heady with the feeling.

“I know but you’re in all my favorite ones too. When I think of you, everything’s better. Like I didn’t eternally fuck up my fate before I even turned 20,” he jokes, and like a lot of them, they fall flat. You hope that by wrapping your legs around him Luke will know how much you want to crawl into his skin and hold his heart to protect it. That with you, he won’t ever have to be alone. Words are never enough, after all. Even if you have nothing you need to prove, it won’t stop you from trying to show him.

“Still a few weeks off, so don’t try your luck. There are worse fates than falling in love with you, Luke Castellan.”

He turns from the wall at the sound of that, wanting to disagree, but you kiss him before he can protest.

“I’m the lucky one. Sometimes I think loving you was the only thing I did right,” he murmurs, before drifting off. You’re the last thing he looks at before he goes to sleep, the way he likes it—like a longstanding memory he gets to keep before he’s vulnerable again in his dreamstate. He’s the strongest when you’re with him, and his brain goes quiet. No one dares to break him when he’s with you like this.

Not a dream, nor a titan.

You can't imagine sleeping another night without this crick in your neck with his name on it, the shape of him pressed into your body. With only the moon as your witness, you whisper words of devotion, sneak featherlight kisses wherever you can reach, and hope that they get to your love, wherever his mind is right now.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

—

You let him love you in the mornings.

Even unknowingly, it seems. On a normal day, your alarm would ring and you’d sleepily pat Luke (his face, chest, whatever part of him you could reach with your eyes closed) so he could shut it off. He’d let you sleep in a couple extra minutes (somewhere between 5-10) before pulling you from unconsciousness with a hug.

This morning, with no alarms ringing in his ears Luke finds that he wakes up a little before you anyway. Down to his circadian rhythm, you’ve affected him, and he takes it with an upwards quirk of his lip as he squints at the sunlight through the sheer curtains that brush against your arms. He watches you delicately, even with the sounds of a lively morning filling the cabin—everyone up and ready for the day while you two are wrapped in your little bubble. It’s a stupid thought that crosses his mind, but a coherent one nonetheless; jealousy fills his chest at the sight of sunlight kissing every inch of your skin that he can only try to reach. He runs his hands from where they’re tucked underneath your waistband to the expanse of your back, and over your shoulders until you’re humming under your breath, midway out of a dream.

Luke takes an extra moment to admire the way you latch onto him and he finds it almost frustrating how everyone from the gods above to the demigods at Camp Half-Blood down to the powers that damn him to Tartarus know you’re his biggest weakness. It’s almost unfair how you’re his strength too— the sheath that reminds him not to cut, the control behind his unbridled rage that heats up the back of his neck like a brand but instead of feeling fire, he feels sunlight.

You search for him in every sunrise, light refracting through your irises until a smile settles on your cheeks like you want to say, “Yes, I’m here with you. ”

“Good morning, pretty girl.”

The both of you shifted during the night, almost as if in a dance of limbs and dreams, and somehow you’re nestled against his side and using his bicep as a pillow. It flexes as Luke raises his arm to brush the hair away from your face, when you kiss his scar and mumble, “Did we miss breakfast?”

“Almost over, but we can just grab something from the kitchens. Surprised everyone left us alone, actually,” he says thoughtfully, “the kids might’ve already left for their quest.” He likes watching you reorient yourself into the land of the living, before you step into your boots of being head counselor, before you put on the facade of being the perfect demigod—the protector and glue of Camp Half-Blood.

“Mmhm… was gonna offer my lighter to Percy and them last night for protection, but he was wearing your shoes. You gave them to him?”

Luke wipes drool from the side of your lip, watching you kiss his thumb in thanks with no thought as it was as easy as breathing. A half smile splits through the scar on his face as he says, “He’s gonna need them. For luck.” You lift your upper body up and look at him, hair forming a halo around your face and you sniff, “But you loved those shoes. Gift from your dad aside, I know they’re one of your prized possessions.”

He coaxes you back into his arms as he shifts up and leans against the wall. Prying eyes would think you’re hugging, sitting heart to heart on the small mattress.

“Annie didn’t take your lighter?”

He knows you’re rolling your eyes against his shoulder, feeling your fingers clutch at his curls to pull him away to look at you. You look at him knowingly and say, “Stop trying to change the subject. Anyways, Annie said if we help them anymore she’ll think we don’t trust them enough to come back alive.”

“I mean it when I say you’re all I care about. Shoes…None of it matters.”

“What I care about is how you used to love flying around in those things. Even if you pissed me off a lot with them too,” you say, and the both of you laugh. They were a consolation from his dad after his quest, probably the closest thing to an apology (or even a “hello, glad you’re alive!”) he’d ever gotten from Hermes. Though the scar on his cheek was more than enough of a reminder of that—he didn’t touch the shoes until a few months after, when you taught him how to drive. Luke propositioned you promising to take you out on a spin once, and you thought he meant the car…

“You loved them more than I did,” he grins, and you recoil and slap his chest.

“You flung me onto the roof of the dining pavilion, Luke.”

“It was an accident! Plus it did make cabin checks go faster…Once I got the hang of them,” he snorts, deciding to pull you to stand. Batting away the curtain, he’s sliding into his slippers and Luke helps you step onto his feet and you groan into his chest, “What are you doing? M’gonna break your toes, Lu—”

“Shhh…I’m the strongest guy you know. Can handle anything for ya.”

He backs the both of you up to the center of the cabin, spinning you in slow circles to an imaginary beat. One hand around your waist and the other interlaced with yours as your smile feels like sun beaming through a window as you ask, “How did I ever get so lucky to fall in love with you, Luke Castellan?”

You’ll never tell him, but that’s the only thing you’ll be ever grateful to Hermes for.

He shakes his head in astonishment as he whispers, “I love you, you know that?” It hurts his head if he thinks too hard—how does a love so intoxicating manifest as something so gentle? How can he be powered by your love but still fueled by hate? How can he be both damned and saved by you? Luke wonders if his thoughts even break the surface of how busy the mind of a daughter of Dionysus is—to know insanity in love, and still be able to welcome it with open arms.

“Beats prom, huh? Am I a good dance partner?”

You tilt your head, tongue in cheek as you gaze at your boy like he’s said something stupid, and though it’s been a year and change, you hope the fluttery feeling Luke gives you will never go away. With him, you never have to pretend—never needing to mince your words or soften the blow. You’ve never felt more yourself than how you feel hand in hand with him.

“We’ve always been good partners, me and you.”

He sways you in the momentary quiet of cabin 11 as you step away and hold the bottom of your (his) shirt out like the frills of a skirt, and Luke raises your arm overhead and then you’re spinning, spinning, spinning…

The front door swivels open, and Chris peeks his head in.

“Hey lovebirds, sorry to interrupt but Sword and Shield is starting soon, and Clarisse still has your names on the roster…”

You both sigh.

“You signed up for offense?”

“And you signed up for defense, so don’t look at me like that, trouble…”

Instantly the two of you harden your stances, parrying at each other’s torsos with hands as your swords until you try to make a run for it and drag Chris behind you to use him as a human shield.

“Hey! Oof—”

Moving as quick as a bullet, Luke accidentally knocks the wind out of his brother who’s now hunched over as you laugh at him like a madwoman.

“You two are going to have weirdly violent children one day,” Chris huffs, before stepping back towards the door, “See ya in 30!”

Cheeks reddening at his brother’s comment, Luke crosses his arms and takes a good look at you, bathing in the light of the open doorway and looking like the rest of his life.

“Well, back to work. Bit too good to be true, huh babe?”

“For now,” he says thoughtfully, “Summer will be over soon though. Gonna get quieter around here for sure…”

You’re already stepping off the front porch walking backwards as you grin, throwing your arms up in the air as you make your way across the path to your cabin to get ready for the day. You’d hate to leave camp—it's as true as your love for performing, caring for others, and most especially, him. He knows it because he knows you, and unlike most things, that’s never going to change.

Not if he can help it.

“Summer doesn’t last forever. But we’ll still have the fall, the winter, and whatever’s next…me and you.”

You’re yelling to him over the railing of your porch and he nods his head at you, turning away before you speak again, “Maybe one day when we’re older!”

“What was that baby?”

Looking at Luke like you already have it all planned out in your head, you say softer, “Kids. If that’s what’s in the cards for us. Though I do like practicing…”

Instantly he cracks up but nods, because there’s no future he can conceive without you being in it. There’s a serious turn in his response and it makes your heart beat out of your chest.

“Anything you want. You know I don’t leave anything up to fate. Not glory, not you.”

Everything you touch turns into gold, and he hopes somehow he would too. Two sides of the same coin, striving for a good ending, one worth remembering—one to last forever.

You get to love each other in the in-between, when time can’t get in the way. The clock is always ticking though, rattling against his brain as a reminder.

Luke just wants to make sure there’ll come a day where there’ll be no more interruptions.

—

“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.” Caitlyn Siehl

½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01@poppysrin@ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #trouble!verse #made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan fluff

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seventies-arcana · 9 months

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PAC: you're someone's muse; this is how they'd describe you

good evening lovies, i hope tonights super moon is treating you well. in this pac reading, you will find out how someone would describe you if you were their muse. this reading is purely for entertainment and enjoyment purposes.

ask upon your guides/higher self to help guide you to whichever pile/photo you should pick, then read the corresponding message. images are not mine

pick a picture to begin✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

pile one (the field): pleasing + give way

you are such a pleasing and enjoyable person to spend time with. the things you are able to do, no matter how minuscule you might find them to be, are awe-striking. there's a passion behind your eyes that adds to the radiance that surrounds you. with this, you are very attentive. you remember things people say which makes others feel seen in a way they've never felt before. you're down for whatever in the best way possible and it makes you someone that could only ever be described as fun to be around. you're adventurous at heart and consider home to be wherever your loved ones are. this makes people feel safe around you. the smell of late summer, campfires and sunflowers is something to be associated with you. you're a breath of fresh air.

pile two (the clementine): care + apple of the eye

oh, you are just so sweet. so kindhearted. you care for people so deeply and love so wholeheartedly. you make people see their insecurities as something to find beautiful. your hugs make people feel protected, it is easy to fall asleep when wrapped up in your arms. your eyes are mesmerizing, so easy to get lost in. one moment, they are doe-like, the next, the exact opposite. it's the way you flirt with your eyes that makes others feel so weak in the knees. but this doesn't make you cheeky. in fact, you are loyal and committed to the one you love. because when you love, you love intensely. you are a romantic at heart. your energy is reminiscent of candle lit homemade dinners that begin a night of endless cuddles. of fresh florals and luscious baths. you are a place of comfort.

pile three (the cat): challenge + puppy energy

you will never lower your standards or settle for someone who isn't what you want, and that is just so attractive. you know what type of relationships you want and that adds to your appeal. not just anyone can be the reciprocator of your divine affection. you speak to people once and they cant help but want to learn more about you. you're siren-like without even intending to be. once you truly let someone into your heart, you become such a lovable softie. you are so sweet and wholesome when you love, no one would ever guess it. your reminiscent of fresh linen blankets in perfectly cool rooms. your touch is soft and soothing. when you smile, genuinely smile, it brightens the mood of anyone around to see it. to be able to receive the love you give is one in a million. you are unlike anyone else.

pile four (the beach): no judgements + new perspectives

you are the model example of how everyone should be. you are accepting of people, no matter their status, and care deeply for those who may have been overlooked by others. you treat people however they treat you. you know your worth and will never let someone tarnish it. you are unapologetically yourself and that is something so rare to find, it makes others captivated by you. nonetheless, you are mysterious. you savor some aspects of yourself and only show them to the people you love. these aspects of you are the most rewarding thing to experience. every now and then, you can be mischievous. but it is all in good fun. you are filled with surprises and each one of them adds to your allure. you remind others of violets and nights spent walking along the coastline. you are utterly captivating.

please like, follow, and reblog! i appreciate it a lot :)

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bruisedboys · 1 year

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underneath kitchen lights — james potter x reader

summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)

or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!

contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!

notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.

fem!reader 8k words

James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.

He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.

“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”

James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.

He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.

“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”

Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”

For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.

“Mate,” he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”

It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.

Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”

James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.

His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.

James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.

He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.

You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.

“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”

James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.

You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.

“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”

You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.

“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”

James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”

He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.

“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”

You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.

He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.

“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”

You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.

“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.

James shrugs. “Why not?”

You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”

James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.

“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”

James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.

The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.

“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.

You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”

“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”

You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”

James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.

The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.

First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.

He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.

You’re late James!!!!

We started without u. Where r u????

Sirius is gonna wring ur neck

James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.

He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.

“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”

Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.

“James!” You gasp, stopping short.

James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.

You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.

“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“

Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.

“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.

“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.

“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”

James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”

He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.

“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.

James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”

You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.

James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.

It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.

James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.

James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.

It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.

“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.

You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.

“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.

James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.

He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.

“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”

He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.

“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”

“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”

You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.

“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around, angel.”

It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.

James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.

He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.

It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.

You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.

“Y/N?”

There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.

“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”

He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.

“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.

“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.

You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.

There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.

“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”

“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.

James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”

You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”

James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.

Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.

You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.

Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.

“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.

Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.

You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.

You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.

It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.

“James,” you say.

He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”

His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”

You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.

James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)

“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”

You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.

“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”

James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”

He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”

“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”

You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.

“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”

James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”

You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.

James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.

You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.

Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”

You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.

“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”

You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.

Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.

You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.

“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”

You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.

“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.

“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.

“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”

You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.

By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.

You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.

“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”

You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.

James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.

So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.

He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.

He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.

“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”

James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.

“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”

James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”

Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”

And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.

Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.

For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.

You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.

The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.

“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.

You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.

“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.

James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.

“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”

You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”

He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.

“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.

James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”

You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”

“You should. You look lovely.”

You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.

“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”

James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.

James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.

“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.

“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”

“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”

James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”

He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.

“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”

Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.

“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”

Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.

“I’ll hug you, Sirius,” you’re saying sweetly. “C’mere.”

And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.

James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.

“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.

His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.

“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.

“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”

The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.

James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.

He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.

“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.

“What? What’s that mean?”

James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”

It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.

“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”

James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”

You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.

“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.

You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”

“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”

Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”

James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”

He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.

The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.

When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.

You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.

“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”

“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”

You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.

James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.

You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”

James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“

But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.

“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.

“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.

James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.

You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”

You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.

“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”

James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”

Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.

You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.

“So? There’s no one in here but us.”

He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.

“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.

“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.

He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.

Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.

James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.

feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx

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hengqarae · 1 year

Text

reckless driver

PAIRING ❄ kim mingyu x afab!reader WORD COUNT ❄ 10k words GENRE ❄ street racer au, angst, romance, smut (minors dni), the teeniest tiniest smidge of humor WARNINGS ❄ swearing, illegal activity (drag/street racing), making out, extreme pining, whirlwind romance, smut (fingering, protected sex), not proofread, brief hospital scene

you hate racing and you don't date racers. kim mingyu loves racing, and he finds out that he loves you, too, from the moment that he first lays eyes on you.

PLAYLIST ❄ reckless driving by lizzy mcalpine (ft. ben kessler) / yards / gardens by kate bollinger / btbt by b.i. & souljia boy tell 'em (ft. devita) / notice me by sza / nothing but the love by wrabel / with my eyes closed by cults / anyone by seventeen / angel eyes by abba FROM THE AUTHOR ❄ mingyu, crawling up my bias list because of my own fic that i wrote about him... i am a lizzy stan before i am a human, and the first time that i heard reckless driving, i knew that she was singing about mingyu (or, at least, the mingyu that i would one day write about). i hope that you enjoy reading this, and i hope that you are having a wonderful new year <3

You didn’t know what you were getting into when you visited the track that very first time.

To your credit, you did not visit with the intention of falling in love. Your roommate, Lee Chan, had begged and pleaded for you to accompany him, to indulge, even just once, in this newfound passion of his. He had started racing to pay his bills, but quickly figured out that he enjoyed it. The rush of adrenaline made him feel alive, he’d tell you. You would always follow that up by telling him that he was chasing a high that could kill him one day.

You didn’t support his racing. You hated saying goodbye to him when he left for races. You always found yourself anxiously awaiting news, tossing and turning whenever you tried to sleep, forced to occupy yourself with something to distract you while you waited for a call, a text, anything to assure you that he had finished the race safely and that he would be coming home at the end of the night. The possibility of getting arrested didn’t really scare either of you; you were mostly afraid that you would lose your best friend, and because of your own stubbornness, you weren’t going to be present if, and when, that happened. That’s the only reason that you started attending races with him. You’ve made sure that you’re abundantly clear about that, too.

“It’s s'posed to be a really good race tonight!” Chan was practically bouncing in his seat. You hummed quietly in response, eyes trained on his speedometer. He was prone to driving fast when he was excited, and you were nervous enough at the prospect of him racing at all – your nerves didn’t need to be exacerbated by speeding down the interstate en route to the track. “All of the circuits are having their championships tonight, so if I place, I’ll get to move up to C! All the S racers will be there, too. Choi Seungcheol, Joshua Hong, Kim Mingyu – they're, like, gods in the downtown racing circuit.”

“And which one do I have to thank for bringing you into racing?”

Chan groans quietly, hands shifting their positions on the steering wheel. “Don’t talk to anyone. Even though I love and adore you, and your opinions are very important to me... I don’t know if your anti-racing agenda will be met very favorably tonight.”

“What? I said I was going to thank them.”

“Right.” Chan forces a smile. “Please do not talk to anyone tonight.”

You huff quietly in response, shifting in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. You hope that your phone has enough battery to get you through the night. You were definitely not going to watch Chan race, and you doubted that you were going to meet anyone at the track that could offer titillating conversation; that is, you weren’t interested in talking about racing or cars, and it was unlikely that you’d find anyone that could offer much beyond that. You’d likely spend your time in Chan’s car, scrolling through Tik Tok while you waited for him or until your battery died and you were forced to be alone with your own thoughts.

At least, that had been your intention. When you and Chan arrive at the track, you’re quickly reminded of that saying about best laid plans.

“Mingyu! What’s up, man?” Chan barely bothers to turn off his ignition before he’s bounding out of his car, greeting another man. One look tells you that this guy – Kim Mingyu, you’re assuming, as Chan had already mentioned him – is a racer, too, and you’re spurred out of the car to give him a piece of your mind. Chan only realizes that you’ve come up behind him once Mingyu’s gaze travels to you, and he’s quick to try and jump on offense. “M-Mingyu, this is my roommate. They... don’t race.”

“They don’t like racing, either.” You offer, crossing your arms again, leaning against the hood of Chan’s car. You’re uncomfortable with the way that Mingyu is sizing you up, and you don’t miss the smug countenance plastered on his, admittedly handsome, face. Still, you find it difficult to peel your eyes away from his. He’s... hot. You had made it easier to villainize the sport by picturing all other racers to be stout, middle-aged men with receding hairlines. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Mingyu doesn’t fit that picture.

“Roommates. Is that code for something, or is this actually platonic?” Mingyu keeps his eyes locked with you as he asks, even though you get the sense that his question is directed at Chan. You feel warm under his gaze, unsure if it’s because you’re uncomfortable, or if it’s because you’re finding yourself more and more attracted to Mingyu as you stare at him. Every few seconds, you have to remind yourself that he’s another stupid racer, and for that reason alone, it’s out of the question.

“N-No, we’re just friends. Nothing like that. Why do you— oh, shit, hold on. Hoshi!” Chan pulls away before he can finish his own question, chasing after another man, leaving you and Mingyu still locked in on each other. His smirk seems to grow even wider, and you shift your weight. You wish Chan had stayed and finished his question. You, too, would like to know why Mingyu had asked.

As nice as he is to look at, though, if you don’t speak to anyone else tonight, you’ll at least have told Kim Mingyu how you feel about his and Chan’s stupid racing. You won’t back down, even under the warmth that’s blooming across your skin. “Are you the one that brought Chan into this shit?”

“Dirty words comin’ from such a pretty mouth.”

“A-Answer the question.”

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his jackets, Mingyu offers a shrug. “He was already into it when I met him. It was probably...” He looks around after he trails off before focusing back on you. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He only mimics your expression, raising his own eyebrows back at you.

“Well? Who was it? Is he here?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

You scoff. “I-I’m not going to hurt them. I just want to yell at them.”

“Yeah, that’s why.” You knit your eyebrows together and Mingyu’s smirk grows even wider, turning into a full grin now. “I’d rather you yell at me instead. You seem like you’d be hot when you’re mad.”

You’re at a loss. It’s been a while, if ever, since you’ve been flirted with so shamelessly, and as badly as you want to stay mad about your current situation – your best friend refusing to quit racing despite your constant protests and you, inevitably, getting dragged to the track with him – you're finding it hard to keep it together when Mingyu is looking at you like he wants to devour you. “I don’t fuck with racers.”

“I think I could persuade you.”

“I don’t want to be persuaded.”

“I like a challenge.” Mingyu bends at the waist, meeting you at eye level from where you’re leaning on Chan’s car. You scrunch your nose when you catch a whiff of his cologne, telling yourself that no, you do not like how he smells. “God, you’re so pretty.”

“Stop flirting with me.” You snap.

There’s that smirk again. “Okay, angel.”

You groan, rolling your eyes and throwing your head back. When you lift your head back, Mingyu seems to have gotten closer. If you reach out, you could grab the collar of his jacket and pull him even closer. Your fingertips tingle at the prospect, but you refrain. Instead, you take the opportunity to study his face up close, his smooth, tanned skin and his deep brown eyes and his plump lips. You must have been looking for a while, because Mingyu feels compelled to finally break you out of your trace.

“You can look and touch, y’know.”

“Pass.” You scowl, snapping out of it and leaning back, attempting to create some distance between the two of you. “Don’t you need to warm up or something?”

“I don’t race for another few hours.”

You set your jaw. What is this guy doing? Why is he wasting his time on you? You’re sure that, somewhere else within the track, he could find plenty of other people willing to swoon over him, ready to fall to their knees and offer him some pre-race stress relief. You weren’t one of those people. You hate racing. You hate that Chan fell into it, and you hate how you become too worried to function sometimes. You had met him in college, and for him to forsake the degree that he earned for the quick, easy money that he was getting now made your emotions flare. His business degree wasn’t going to kill him. Racing, eventually, will.

The scent of Mingyu’s cologne is making you feel dizzy, enveloped in the scent of him, and under other circumstances, you’d already have him pressed against you. This was one of Chan’s races, though. You get enough of this shit at home from him; you aren’t going to bring any pieces back with you, too, even though you can imagine it would feel really good to touch Mingyu, and to have him touch you.

Mingyu is perfectly content in standing and looking at you. He thinks you’re the second most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on, only behind his mother, and if today is the only day he’ll ever be able to see you, he wants to burn the image of you onto the back of his eyelids.

You finally reach out a hand, pressing your palm against his chest and pushing him back. Nevermind how firm his chest is and how strongly you’re urged to grip his black t-shirt and pull him forward instead of pushing him back. He smiles even as you widen the gap between the two of you. “Is this what you want? You want me to go?”

You open your mouth to respond to him, to tell him that yes, he needs to leave, but the words won’t come out. Maybe you don’t want him to go. Not yet, anyway. Maybe you like the way that you feel when he’s looking at you, feverish, skin prickling with a sense of urgency that doesn’t make sense to you. Your insides twist uncomfortably when you look into his eyes, and yet, you don’t want to look away.

Fuck, you wish that he didn’t race.

“Just tell me to go away and I will, angel.”

You can’t. You don’t want to. There’s some kind of magnetic pole within Mingyu’s body, compelling you toward him even though you wish that you could get away. You’re stuck in his orbit, and it’s a little scary.

“You should stop racing.” You respond, finally remembering yourself. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Duly noted. How ‘bout a kiss, just in case I do get myself killed tonight?”

“In your dreams.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu laughs, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back at the forehead. “I’ll definitely be dreamin’ about you.”

Your body moves faster than your brain, finally giving into the desire to have him closer. Instead of pulling him toward you, you’re stepping forward. You like the feeling of having your body pressed against his, but more than that, you like the feeling of your lips pressed against Mingyu’s. He smiles that same insufferable, self-satisfied grin against your lips, but even that doesn’t make you pull away. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, fingers twirling in his hair.

He puts his hands, big and warm, on your hips, holding you against him as you sink your teeth into his bottom lip. Mingyu groans in response and you take the opportunity to swipe your tongue against his top row of teeth. His grip becomes impossibly tighter, and he slides his tongue fully into your mouth, alternating between licking the inside of your mouth and massaging your tongue with his. Only when your lungs feel tight and burn from the lack of oxygen do you finally detach yourself from him, chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath. Mingyu flutters his eyes open, and the look in his eyes makes butterflies erupt in your chest.

You untangle yourself from him immediately, running your hands through your own hair this time. “I--we—that--”

“Was that you givin’ me material for my dreams?”

“W-We shouldn’t have done that.”

“We didn’t do anything. You kissed me.”

“I-I know.” You’re still breathing heavily, your mind jumbled with thoughts of how you kissed Mingyu, how you should not have kissed Mingyu, and how much you liked kissing Mingyu. “That w-was a mistake. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Mingyu juts out his bottom lip, red and puffy and tantalizing enough that you almost disregard your hesitation and dive in again. “You’re breakin’ up with me already? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Stop making jokes!” You snap at him. “I-It isn’t funny! That—we--”

“All we did was kiss. There will be plenty of opportunities to do it again.” You’re grasping at straws, trying to navigate through the fog that’s collected in your brain for a retort, when Mingyu’s phone goes off. He pulls it out of his pocket and, for the first time, you see him without a smile. “Call me, okay? Promise?”

He backs away without waiting for a response, holding out his pinky finger toward you. You watch him retreat with a scowl on your face that only deepens once he blows a kiss at you, turning his back to you and taking off in a jog toward the racetrack. Once he’s been out of sight for long enough to ensure that he’s actually gone, you groan loudly, covering your hands with your face. Your face is hot, and your hands are clammy, and you keep thinking about how good it felt to kiss Mingyu, soft lips slotting between and sliding against yours, his fingers leaving your skin feeling scorched wherever they touched.

You don’t know why you kissed him. You had been doing so well, holding yourself back and exhibiting some enviable self-restraint. Still, something in you had snapped, and you don’t know how you’ll be able to recover. On the bright side, you might never see Mingyu again. On the other hand, though, he’d shown a determination that makes you doubt he would let you go so easily. You can only hope that he’s just some playboy; that you’re the latest target of his conquest, that he’ll find somebody else and forget all about you.

He told you that he liked a challenge, and unfortunately, you like being chased.

+ + +

Mingyu can’t stop thinking about you. He knew that this was going to be a problem when he first laid eyes on you and, lo and behold, he was lying in bed for the fourth night in a row, staring up into the dark, consumed with thoughts of you.

He doesn’t know when he’ll see you again. He doesn’t know if he’ll see you again. What he does know is that he’s seriously lovesick, and you’re the only thing that’ll be able to cure him. This is not the type of person that Kim Mingyu is, though. Usually, he’s suave and charming, and he gets exactly what he wants... and then some. He’s so good at flirting because he does it so often, and yet, he wasn’t able to charm you completely. You’d kissed him – yes, you kissed him – and then, after his race, disappeared without another word.

He is not a bad kisser. That’s a fact. And, yet, when you had kissed him, you had reacted like you’d committed some kind of grave sin. Mingyu has been with people that think he’s bad news, but that’s never served as an actual obstacle before. This is uncharted territory. He wants you. He wanted you before he even spoke to you; he wanted you as soon as he got his first glimpse of you.

Your actions say that you want him, too, but your words have contradicted that, and Mingyu doesn’t know what he’s supposed to trust. He’s on the hook either way.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he reaches for his phone on his nightstand. He doesn’t even know if this will work, but he’s got to try something. His sanity, and sleep cycle, depends on this.

“Hey Siri, call Lee Chan.”

The call gets picked up on the second ring, and Mingyu’s heart rate picks up, too. He releases a breath that he doesn’t even realize he’s been holding when he identifies the voice on the other end of the line. “Chan isn’t here right now. What do you want?”

“I was calling to ask for you, actually, angel.” Mingyu sits up in bed, grinning into the phone.

The silence on the other end of the line drives up his heart rate ever more, but when he hears shuffling, he’s able to relax a little. You haven’t hung up. “I’ll ask again. What do you want, Mingyu?”

“Say my name again.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“N-No!” His face burns at how eager he must sound, but he doesn’t care to play it cool. Maybe with somebody else, but not with you. He has too much to lose to try and impress you. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to ask you to remove the spell you put on me.”

His words cause your stomach to somersault. Truthfully, you’ve had a hard time since meeting, and kissing, Mingyu, too. You know that chalking it up to love at first sight would only exacerbate things. You don’t think it’s merely lust, though, either – you've always been able to restrain yourself. You’re careful with your feelings and your emotions, and there’s something there between you and Mingyu. You don’t know what, exactly, but you know that it can’t be there. You have enough on your plate, constantly worrying about Chan. You can’t add someone else, someone that does the exact same stupid stuff, into the mix. You need this to stop, for his sake and for yours.

“I-It’s late and you’re probably just horny. Call someone else.”

“What?” Mingyu’s incredulousness comes through clearly over the phone, and you nearly cringe at how harsh your words were. Still, you can’t indulge this. You shouldn’t.

You want to.

“N-No, I... I’m sorry.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair, frustrated. “Mingyu, I don’t fuck with racers. I told you that.”

“Your roommate races.”

“Yeah, and I hate that he does that, okay? I worry myself sick over him when he’s off racing. The only thing that I can be thankful about is that he does drag and not streets. But you do streets, too, don’t you?” Mingyu doesn’t respond, and you scoff quietly. “Yeah, I already know that you do. I-I can’t get involved with someone that risks their life all the time for money.”

‘It’d be different if I were a cop, though, right? Or a firefighter? That’d make me a hero, right? This--” You hear him pause to take a breath. “I'm in love with you, okay? Completely and utterly smitten with you, to the point that it’s takin’ over my life.” Your breath hitches quietly at his confession, but Mingyu makes no indication that he heard you. “This isn’t my career. We can’t all tolerate cushy bureaucracy jobs. This is what I do now, for money, so that I can stop racin’ one day and retire, then and there. I want to enjoy my life. It’ll be more enjoyable if you’re in it. There is nothing else that I can say except for I’m sorry, and I love you.”

“W-We just met, Mingyu. It hasn’t even been a week.”

“I like to go fast.”

You don’t know what else you can say. You can’t proclaim that you love him, not right now, but you’re sure that in a few weeks’ time, that’s where you’d be, too. Still, you know better. Mingyu is here today, but he could be gone the very next time that he has a race. That terrifies you.

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Mingyu’s at the end of his short rope. He had called in the first place so that he could hear your voice, thinking that maybe it could help him get to sleep. Now, though, he wishes he hadn’t called. He should’ve just suffered through his insomnia and continued suffering through it. It was better than the rejection he was facing. “Nevermind. Just forget it.”

“Mingyu--”

“No, angel, I—you kiss me, and then you push me away. You tell me to fuck off, then you tell me that under different circumstances, you’d be interested. I’ve shown you all of my cards, and you’re not interested in anteing up, so just forget it, okay?”

You end the call before Mingyu can hear you cry. It’s all too fast, and you’re overwhelmed. You want him, but there’s one part of him that you just can’t accept. You aren’t reckless. You like to think things through, and you don’t do things on a whim. Kissing Mingyu had catalyzed a panic within you that you had lost control, and if you lose control once, you’re bound to do it again. It feels like you’re being backed into a corner with two options to get out: take Mingyu completely as he is or swallow your obvious feelings and leave him as he is. You clutch Chan’s phone tightly against your chest as you sob quietly, hot tears rolling down your cheeks even despite your attempts to stifle them.

Mingyu, similarly, can’t believe what just happened. He’s too reckless. He bared himself to you too early, and the consequences that he’ll reap will not be good ones. He can’t help how he feels about you, and nobody feels more intensely than Kim Mingyu. He knows that he fucked up. He knows that he can’t come back from this, and he needs to cut his losses and find a way to get rid of his feelings for you. He doesn’t know how he’ll accomplish it, but if he never sees you again, that’ll probably be the fastest way he’ll be able to heal. He’s never cared for someone so deeply before he met you. He’s never known so immediately that he’s been in love. You’re it for him, and he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s already lost you.

+ + +

You shouldn’t have come. You knew that before you got into Chan's car, but now, with Mingyu’s gaze practically burning a hole into the side of your head, it’s been made abundantly clear.

“Why is he looking at you like that?” Chan whispers while you shift your weight. “You never told me what happened between the two of you.”

“I don’t want to get into it.” You mutter, willing yourself to look forward and not over at Mingyu, watching you from a distance like a predator observing its prey. It’s been weeks since your phone conversation. You were no less convinced that you were going to be able to forget about him, and a small part of you had hoped that you would come tonight and see somebody else draped around his arm, shocking you back into a state of rationality.

That isn’t the case though, obviously, and you had to beg Chan to keep to you so that you aren’t vulnerable. You don’t know what you should expect from Mingyu. He’s reckless and volatile, and the way that you feel when you’re around him is... scary. As brief as your first interaction had been, you left with the sense that, if enough time had passed with you in his proximity, he would have replaced the necessity of air with himself; he would’ve become your air, and you would’ve suffocated without him.

There’s something fantastic about the way that Mingyu has made you feel like you’re breathing and drowning at the same time, with just one little kiss and a simple love confession.

“He's looking at you like you murdered his dog. Now he’s-- okay, now he’s looking at his phone... he’s looking at you again.”

“I don’t need the play by play, Chan, thanks.”

“Tell me what happened!”

You shake your head. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, then I’m leaving.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to grab Chan, to pull him back and to keep him as your wall against Mingyu, but he’s out of reach before you’re able to react. In a matter of seconds, Mingyu has crossed the way and is standing in front of you, arms crossed tightly over his chest. You stare at him, horrified.

He just scoffs. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I-I’m not here--”

“Yeah, whatever, you’re not here for me.” His hostility takes you aback, even though you know it’s deserved. You can tell from body language alone that Mingyu is still hurting. His words and tone of voice merely confirm that for you. “I-I don’t know how I’m supposed to get over you when you continue to show up to my races.”

“It’s been weeks already, Mingyu.”

“Yeah? And has the passage of time made you feel any better?” You don’t respond, turning away so that he can’t notice the tears brimming at your waterline. You’re biting your cheek to keep them from spilling. Mingyu knows better, though, and softens. Just a little. “I told you that I loved you, and I still do. I’m willin’ to do anything for you – anything except quit.”

That’s the only thing that you need from him, though. “We barely know each other. You don’t love me.”

“You don't know how I feel. You haven’t bothered to ask.”

“B-Because you tell me even if I don’t ask! You don’t know me well enough to say that you love me.”

“I can say whatever I damn well please.” He scoffs, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “There is somethin’ between us, you can’t deny that, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to foster this spark that we have. That’s love, isn’t it?”

“That’s--” You cut yourself off, groaning in frustration. His words make your knees feel weak, but you’re not ready to let up the fight. “You’re too nonchalant about this for it to be love. It’s supposed to be something bigger. You can’t just look at someone for the first time and decide that they’re it for you!”

“I can, and I did.”

You shake your head, wiping away a stray tear with the heel of your hand. “I-I don’t love you.”

“You don’t, or you won’t?”

“You’re a danger to yourself! If you loved me, truly, then you wouldn’t put me through the risk of losing you every time you get behind the wheel.”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to shake his head. “That’s all I am, then, yeah? I’m just a stupid guy that drives fast for money, and that’s all I’ll ever be?” Even when you open your money to respond, he ignores you and continues talking. “You’re doin’ this on purpose. You don’t want to admit to yourself that I’m more than what you’ve chosen to see. You won’t even give me a chance to be anything else.”

The conversation is starting to make you dizzy. You press your middle finger to one of your temples, rubbing small circles against your skin. “It was just one kiss, Mingyu.”

“Then kiss me again and show me that I got worked up over somethin’ that I shouldn’t have.”

You can’t. You shouldn’t. You know exactly what needs to happen in order to prove to him that you aren’t the one, that he should back off and keep searching for the true love of his life, and you also know that you aren’t going to be able to fake it. You don’t feel your emotions as intensely as Mingyu does, but you’re never going to be able to escape this whirlwind if you kiss him now.

You kiss him anyway.

Your hands are trembling as you hold his face, pulling him in and pressing your lips against his. He lets you take the lead, slowly slotting his lips between yours only after you’ve initiated movement. Your actions are impossibly calculated as you try to exercise restraint, but, once again, you forget yourself. Your hands work their way into Mingyu’s hair – it's gotten longer since the last time that you did this – and you grip the strands tightly as you pull him closer. He, on the other hand, remembers his manners. He smiles against your lips before he pulls away, and the soft whimper that he hears from you nearly makes him dive right back in.

“You’re so full of shit.” He whispers, eyes still closed, his lips ghosting against yours. “You love me.”

“I-I don’t.” You respond, breathless.

“Yeah?” He presses his lips against yours again, pulling away when you try to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He’s taunting you, and you hate that you like it. You hate that he knows exactly what he needs to do to keep you wanting more. “Then we’re done here, I guess.”

“No, we’re not.” Whispering against his lips draws a shiver up your spine. “Don’t go.”

“You don’t love me, remember?”

“Come home with me.” Mingyu stills against you, swallowing thickly. He hopes that you can’t hear his heart thumping loudly against his ribcage. “Skip your race and fuck me instead.”

His chest tightens, as does his grip on your hip. “You’re---that’s not fair.”

“I’m in love with a guy that does everything that I stand against. Life isn’t fair.”

“R-Right.” Mingyu presses his forehead against yours, his eyes shut as he resumes his ministrations against your skin. He can’t believe how the tides have turned, but he’s not going to ruin it. Not again. Both of you are quiet as you even out your breathing, but finally, Mingyu cuts through the silence. “Counteroffer. I fuck you after my race when I’m ten grand richer.”

“Get a real job, and then I’ll be impressed by you making money.”

“Like a cop, right?” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss. “Or a firefighter?” Another kiss. “Aren’t men more attractive when they have money?”

You exhale deeply as you pull yourself away from Mingyu. “Look, I—we—there need to be rules if we’re going to... be something. T-Together.” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in anticipation, and you sigh again. “Sex is a reward that you get when you skip races.”

“That’s a punishment for both of us.”

You ignore him and move on. “I don’t want to know details after the fact. Let me know as soon as possible if you’re alive or not.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Okay, I promise I will let you know as soon as I can if I die.”

“That’s... all. For now.” You clasp your hands together, tilting your head as you look at him. “So? Are you skipping tonight.”

“Baby, it’s ten grand.” Mingyu whines, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his. Your heart skips a few beats while he laces your fingers with his. “I’ll skip the one I have tomorrow. Promise.”

“Maybe I won’t want to have sex with you tomorrow.” You lilt your words, looking to the side.

Mingyu sighs loudly, swinging your hands gently. “I’d be content to sit and stare at you, too.”

+ + +

As expected, Mingyu wins his race and the ten grand. As promised, he skipped his race on the following day and came to see you instead. That’s why you’re in his lap, and why his shirt is already off, and why you’re sure that he can feel how wet you are through your shorts. You opted to forego underwear in favor of easier access, and you made sure to encourage Chan to go out for dinner after his own race, too.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease.” Mingyu rasps, sliding a hand under your shirt. His hand travels against the expanse of your abdomen before cupping your breast, settling there to squeeze and knead your flesh as he continues sucking bruises against your collarbone. “Playin’ hard to get but wantin’ me just as bad.”

“D-Dirty words coming from a p-pretty mouth.” You gasp, paying homage to something he’d said to you the first time that you met.

Mingyu smiles against you, the feeling of his teeth grazing against the tender spots of your skin making you shiver. “It gets dirtier, angel, don’t worry.”

You roll your hips against his, eliciting a groan. That spurs you on to do it again, pausing to gyrate against his erection, whimpering quietly at its contact with your core. There are layers of clothes in the way, but you know they’ll be gone soon enough. For now, the sweat collecting on Mingyu’s forehead, the parting of his lips, and the grunts and groans spilling from them are enough to keep you occupied. He squeezes your breast in response to the friction, using his other hand to cup your neck and pull your face down for a kiss.

You sigh against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, languid movements that correspond well with the rhythm that you’re using to grind on his lap. He pulls away after only a few minutes, eyes following the trail of saliva connecting the two of you until it breaks, and then he looks at you. His pupils are blown out – probably just like yours – and your stomach flips at the wicked grin that blooms on his face.

“Can I fuck you with my fingers first?”

The words ignite a fire that quickly spreads across the expanse of your skin. You grip Mingyu’s shoulders and lift yourself off of him, hovering above his lap so that he can pull your shorts off. He groans when he sees that you aren’t wearing underwear, and his mouth waters at the prospect of tasting you. Today, he’ll go easy and prep you with his fingers. Next time, though, he wants his tongue buried in your folds until you’re begging him to stop.

“Such a tease.” He says again, laughing to himself. “Turn around.”

You do as he says, and he eases you against him with gentle hands on your shoulders. Your back is pressed against his chest, your heartbeat can be felt so strongly that someone could take your pulse by pressing just about another, and when Mingyu hooks his legs under yours to keep them wedged open, you know that you’re done for.

He drops his chin and lets it rest on your shoulder, watching as best as he can as he slides his index finger up and down against your entrance, collecting your arousal. “I can’t believe you tried to keep this pretty little pussy from me. It’s mine now, though, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes,” You stutter out, gasping once Mingyu inserts his finger. He’s only partially inside, only to the second knuckle, but his fingers are so much longer than yours, and every other time you’ve fingered yourself doesn’t compare to how good it feels to have him inside instead. “It’s yours.”

“Yeah, it is.” He coos, sliding his finger out and then back in. His rhythm is slow, and his movements are shallow, but as soon as he feels you relax, he’ll give you more. Normally impatient, Mingyu has all the time in the world to fuck you properly. He presses kisses against the side of your neck while he builds up a faster tempo, strands of hair falling over his eyes and tickling the underside of your jaw. You exhale quietly, and once he feels your shoulders drop, he inserts his finger completely on the next thrust.

You whimper against him, back arching, and he uses the opportunity to wrap an arm across you diagonally, cupping your other breast through your shirt. “Don’t run away from me. I want you to be all stretched out and ready for my cock. You want my cock today, don’t you?”

“Fuck.” You groan, tilting your head back to rest against Mingyu. He’s gradually picking up speed, and the way that you clench at his words only encourages him to do more; to say more, and to add another finger. So that’s what he does, slow as he brings in his middle finger, starting at just the second knuckle so that you can adjust to the feeling. “I want your c-cock.”

“I know you do.” He presses his cheek against the side of your head, his lips positioned right against your ear. “You’re gonna get my cock. You’re gonna take it, all of it, everything that I give you tonight.” He punctuates his words by sliding both of his fingers into you fully, and the curl of his fingers makes you cry out involuntarily. He grins to himself and goes again, reaching for that same spot inside of you, grinning even wider when you cry again. “There we go. That’s where my baby likes to get fucked, yeah? Wish my tongue could go that far.”

“Y-Your cock can reach.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, stilling his fingers inside of you to stroke your g-spot again and again. “That’s true. I’ll make you cum with my cock next. Sound good?” You’re trembling in his arms, your legs having tried to clamp shut several times. He falls into a rhythm of cramming his fingers inside, hooking them and nudging your g-spot with them, and sliding them back out, and he gets so focused on making you cum that he furrows his brow, lips parted in the concentration.

You’re panting loudly now, thrashing as best as you can in his hold, unable to run from the pleasure that’s edging closer and closer. “M-Mingyu--”

“Fuck, say my name again, baby.”

“K-Keep—fuck—M-Min--”

“You’re doin’ so good. My pretty baby, such an angel.”

It’s the praise that finally sends you toppling over the cliff; that, and his thumb kneading your clit, which you hadn’t even noticed until he stills his movements. You clench around Mingyu as you orgasm, and his ego grows three sizes at the ironclad grip that your pussy has on his fingers. He brings his free hand up to stroke the side of your face as you come, still pinning you against him with his forearm to keep you from slumping forward. “You don’t wanna let me go, huh? Want to stay like this forever?”

“N-No.” You sigh, the stars in your vision finally subsiding. Your chest heaves up and down as you work to catch your breath, leaning back against Mingyu and turning your head to place a kiss against his cheek. “You promised to fuck me properly. Unless you’re too tired...”

“Angel, if you’re implyin’ that I’m all speed and no stamina--”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m wondering why your dick is still in your pants and not inside of me.”

Mingyu stares at you, then blinks, and then smiles. It’s a real, genuine smile, not his signature smirk or crooked, self-satisfied grin. He tilts your chin up to place a proper kiss on your lips and then reaches behind him, blindly feeling the top of your nightstand until he finds the condom he’d brought. He eases you off his lap and fully rolls off the bed, offering you reprieve while he brings his cock out of his shorts. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he pumps himself, rolling on the condom with haste you haven’t seen from any of your previous sexual partners before.

“We’re gonna go slow, okay?” He asks, slotting himself between your legs. He’s careful as he maneuvers himself around your limbs, groaning to himself once you wrap your legs around him and cross your ankles. You’re so eager now, but just yesterday, you almost rejected him for the second time. “Th-- y-you’re not going slow, angel.”

“I thought you liked to go fast.” You draw out your words, lilting your voice. Mingyu ignores your comment, just this once, and grips you by one of your hips. He’s concentrated as he lines himself up at your entrance before letting go of his cock and swiping a finger against your folds again. You furrow your brows, sitting up as best as you can to look at him.

He has the finger in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. He only notices you staring at him once he pulls it out of his mouth. He grins, a little bashful, as he looks back down and grabs his dick again. “I forgot to taste you.”

You clench around nothing at his words, groaning softly, but when he finally presses the tip of his cock against your slit, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You do your best to lay still as he inches inside of you, stopping every time that he feels resistance against him, but the tip of his cock nudges against your g-spot when he finally bottoms out and your back arches. Your hands flail around, looking for something to hold, something to keep you anchored, but you just have to settle for gripping the sheets on either side of you. You crumble the fabric in your hands, eyes squeezed shut, letting yourself adjust the feeling of Mingyu inside of you.

Maybe today will be fine, but you can easily foresee having an insanely hot boyfriend with a big dick as being a problem in the future.

“Let me know when I can move, baby.”

“Can’t we just stay like this forever?” You sigh, lolling your head to the side and looking up at Mingyu. The sight makes your heart flutter; his hair is sweaty, pushed back at the forehead but with strands still obscuring parts of his vision; the different scratches, bruises, and bites that you’d given him while making out were finally starting to bloom red on his skin. He’s looking back at you, and the look in his eyes makes you think that he’d be content with that, too. “You can quit... y’know, your job... and just become my trophy husband. Keep the house clean and fuck me through my Zoom meetings.”

“Sounds like a dream. Did we really go this far just so you could cockwarm me, though?”

“No.” You laugh, reaching out for Mingyu. He meets you halfway, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You can move now.”

You don’t hear it clearly, but you swear that Mingyu whispers Thank God to himself before he slides his hands just above your ass, hoisting up your hips for the best angle. His initial pace is slow, painstakingly slow, but the string of moans that falls from your lips spurs him to speed up. At first, he sheaths himself completely inside of you before pulling almost completely out, leaving just the head of dick inside before thrusting back up into you. As he continues, though, he’s more urgent. He wants to minimize the amount of time he spends not inside of you, so his thrusts become shallower. He’s soon thrusting into you at breakneck speed, slowing every so often to make sure his angle is right and that you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.

“How we doin’, angel?”

“I want to ride you next time.”

“Fuck.” Mingyu groans, sliding a hand up to caress your calf. The room is quiet, save for the squeaking of your bedframe and the sound of Mingyu’s balls slapping against you with every thrust. Every so often, he thrusts perfectly, and you’re brought up from the bed again. Mingyu curses himself that he didn’t ask you to take your shirt off – this would all be even better if your tits were bouncing in his face. “A-Are you close? What do you need from me?”

You hold out your hand, and he grabs it. You’ll be able to show him better than tell him. You lead his hand down, pressing his thumb against your clit again. He immediately gets to work, rolling the nub between his thumb and index finger, and you hold onto his wrist as you gasp for air. His touch is cool against your feverish skin, and you tell yourself that you’re royally fucked just as Mingyu’s thrusts become staccato.

“I--I’m--”

“Inside, Mingyu, p-please.” You sigh, using your free hand to caress his bicep. “Cum inside of m-me.”

“A-Are you s-s--”

You draw him in closer to you, and the squeeze his body against yours, and the squeeze of your pussy around him, does exactly what it should. He’s loud as he cums, his body spasming as he shoots inside of you. You’re disappointed at the lack of warmth, warmth you would’ve felt if he hadn’t worn a condom, but there will be time for unprotected. For now, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself to orgasm while Mingyu rides out his own.

You’re afraid that you’ve lost it, but Mingyu recovers quickly enough to resume his ministrations against your clit. For good measure, he leans down and kisses you, and all of the sensations – his cock still inside of you, his fingers on your clit, his tongue shoved down your throat – are enough to bring you back up and back over the cliff. Your whimpers are drowned out by Mingyu’s grunts as you squeeze around him. He lowers himself onto you completely as you ride out your orgasm, trembling and spasming underneath him until you’re finally able to go still. He finds enough energy to lift his head and look at your face, laughing when he notices the tear that’d rolled down your cheek.

“Cute.” He reaches up and brushes it away with his finger, letting his arm drape across you. You don’t know how long the two of you lay like that; Mingyu, pressed on top of you, his cock still nestled inside of you, one arm draped across your body with his face nuzzled into your neck and you, pinned against the mattress, one hand caressing his back while the other cards through his hair. It feels like it’s been mere seconds, but an eternity could pass, and you’d still feel like it wasn’t enough time.

+ + +

It’s the call that you always expected, but simultaneously, always hoped you’d never get.

You’re numb as you rise from your bed, rifling through your drawers in the dark for clothes to change into. It doesn’t feel like you’re responsible for moving through your bedroom, getting dressed as best one can when they can’t feel anything. Chan is already waiting for you at the front door, unwilling to look at your face as he leads you out, locking the door behind the two of you and following you into the elevator just as the doors start to close. He must’ve gotten a call, too.

It feels right to drive in complete silence. You’re unable to convince yourself to bring your eyes into focus. Maybe, if you don’t look, then this won’t be real: you aren’t actually en route to the hospital’s emergency room, and you didn’t actually get a call from an unknown number, telling you that Mingyu had crashed during his race and that he was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. Chan isn’t actually driving you, speechless and quiet for the first time since you’d met him. You aren’t actually being led through the tiled corridor of the hospital, harsh fluorescent lights guiding your venture down the endless hallway toward your boyfriend’s room.

Mingyu is drinking from a juice box when you finally set eyes on him. That little fucker.

All things considered, he looks fine. His left arm is in a sling, and there’s a deep horizontal gash underneath one of his eyes, and there are bruises starting to bloom along the crook of his neck. Otherwise, though, he’s fine. He isn’t intubated, and actually, the only other things attached to him are an IV and the heart rate monitor clipped onto his finger.

Chan enters the room a few seconds after you, letting out a huge sigh of relief at the sigh. He holds a hand to his forehead before swinging back around and stepping outside. He knows that he doesn’t want to hear the words you’ll choose to say to Mingyu.

“I love you. I love you so, so, so much.”

“Fuck you.” You spit, drawing in your arms and crossing them over your chest. He knows that he deserves this, but he still winces at the venom dripping from your words and the daggers that you’re shooting at him with your eyes. “I thought that you died, you fucking asshole! You—I am so fucking mad right now, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry. I-I was careful, I promise.”

“You’re a fucking liar! You’re in the hospital, Mingyu. Careful people don’t go to the hospital!”

You sit on the chair in the corner, purposefully away from your boyfriend, even though you didn’t miss the way that he scooted to the side in his bed to make room for you. You’re able to see his face better from this angle. He looks... tired. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced, and for the first time since you’ve met him, he doesn’t look happy following one of his races. Figures, since he’d crashed his car. Still, there’s something different about him today.

“You must’ve been worried. I’m sorry, my angel.”

You sigh loudly, shaking your head. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be my boyfriend that works a shitty job. Hell, you don’t even need to work. We can survive on my income, and I can come home to you every day and that’ll be enough, because I’ll be happy, and you’ll be alive.” You take a breath after your monologue, exhaling slowly. “Because that’s the bar that you’ve set. I’m just happy that you’re still breathing.”

“I have somethin’ to say, too.” You look up at him, raising your eyebrows and clasping your hands together. Mingyu chews on his bottom lip for a few moments before he sighs, too. “I’m a racer. I’ve been racin’ for... God, I don’t know. I’ve been racin’ for a long time.” You let your head fall, anticipating what he’s going to say. “All that I’ve ever cared about is going fast and makin’ money. And then I met you, and my priorities... shifted. A little.” You squeeze your hands together, willing yourself to calm down. Mingyu was proving your assumptions wrong with his words, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“You... I think I’d rather die than lose you. I-I guess, if I died, that I would lose you, but th—that's not the point. I started fallin’ in love with you the very moment that I first saw you, and since then, I haven’t wanted to take my eyes off you. You’re everythin’ to me now. Racin’ is... I’ll quit. I’m sorry, and I love you, and I’ll quit if it means that we’ll stay together.”

Hot tears are already rolling down your cheeks, and as hard as you try to keep that from Mingyu, your sniffling gives you away. He coos from his place in bed and starts to throw his blankets off to approach you, but you hold your hand up and he stills. Offering another sniffle, you rise from your chair, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed. He looks at you, expectantly, and you, begrudgingly, reach out a hand. You weren’t expecting to forgive him so quickly.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

“Not right now.”

“Angel, please.” Mingyu takes your hand, trying to tug you closer to him. “Look at me. I just... you’re doin’ that thing again, where you let me bare my soul and then don’t really respond.”

You shake your head, tears flying from your eyes and landing on the hospital blanket covering Mingyu’s legs. He scoffs, using his other hand to reach forward and tilt your chin up. Seeing you cry makes his heart split and shatter, and tears start to form in his own eyes.

“I’m so fucking mad at you, Mingyu.”

He bites his tongue to refrain from cracking a joke, as he normally would. Instead, he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “And I want to stick around, so that I can keep makin’ you mad.”

“You promise?” You ask, searching his eyes for any hint of dishonesty. “You’re really done racing?”

“I don’t break my promises. Not the ones that I make to you. I promise, I swear, that I’m done.”

+ + +

“Baby, it’s late. Can we just go to sleep? Please?”

“I’m making room in your closet for my clothes, Gyu.” You scoff, pulling out another jacket. You glance over it before flipping it around, showing it to your boyfriend. “Do you wear this?”

He furrows his brows, thinking it over before dismissing you with a wave. “Not really.”

“Okay.” You toss the jacket into the box you’d designated for donating, dropping the hanger on the closet floor. Mingyu yawns loudly, stretching out in the middle of his bed. You know what he’s doing; he’s trying to entice you into joining him. He wants to persuade you to stop doing the task that he’d already put off for weeks in favor of crawling into his lap, maybe going to sleep or maybe not. Still, you’re not ready to quit yet. You pull out another jacket and repeat your actions, holding it in front of you for Mingyu to inspect it.

“Donate.”

You nod, silently agreeing with his decision. You reach back into the closet, reaching for the next jacket to pull out, but your fingers freeze when you realize what you’re touching. You pull out the leather jacket slowly – Mingyu's racing jacket. It’s the one that he was wearing the first time that you kissed him, and the second time. He wore it for your first date, claiming that it was ‘good luck,’ and he even wore it that one time that you let him fuck you against the hood of his racecar. You hold your breath as you turn around, and Mingyu’s expression darkens when he realizes what you’re holding.

He doesn’t know how to play this. It’s been months since his accident, which means it’s been months since he quit racing. He misses it sometimes, but you’re more important to him. He lets each day drag on so long as they promise, that at sundown, he’ll be able to come back to his apartment and you’ll be waiting, smiling, happy, healthy. That jacket means a lot to him.

“Donate.”

You mean more to him.

“Aw, really?” You whine, looking back down at the jacket. Mingyu scoffs and pushes himself further up on the bed, watching closely as you run your fingertips along the leather. “You looked so good when you used to wear this. I think my mouth was watering the first time we met.”

“Fuck off.” Mingyu laughs, waving you away again. “You keep it then, angel. I looked good in the jacket because I’m good looking. Please don’t attribute my good looks to my jackets.”

You put the jacket back into the closet regardless, finally shuffling across the room to the bed. You sigh as you let yourself fall onto the mattress, groaning as Mingyu rolls you onto your stomach and then tugs you closer to him. You let him do all the work, only shifting once he’s positioned underneath you. You let one of your hands snake underneath his shirt, resting on his abdomen and applying pressure, just for good measure.

“Do you miss it?” You whisper, cheek smushed against his cheek.

“Sometimes.” Mingyu whispers back, tracing shapes against your back. “I think it suited me. I was good at makin’ split-second decisions, and it worked because the only person affected by those decisions was me. And then...” He trails off, considering his next words carefully. “Then I met the love of my life, and they tried so hard to hate me and push me a—hey!”

He whines as you pinch him, prying your hand off him. He tsks at you, shaking his head before continuing his story. “As I was saying, the love of my life wanted to push me away ‘cause they didn’t want to be attached to someone with so little regard for their own life. And I couldn’t blame them, y’know? I wasn’t happy about it, though, so I kept tryin’ and, somehow, it worked.”

“I already know the story, Gyu.” You grumble. Still, you’ll never get tired of hearing him refer to you as the love of his life. You still have no idea how he knew, from that very first moment, that it had to be you, though. “I love you too. I don’t think I say it enough.”

“I didn’t want this to become sappy.” He sneers, pinching your cheek. “I was actually hopin’ that you’d ride my face.”

“I’m tired.” You yawn, replacing your hand on his chest, over his shirt, and rubbing up and down along his abdomen. “I could give you a hand job, though.”

“Don’t want that.” Mingyu groans.

You lift your eyebrows in surprise. Your boyfriend, turning down a hand job? You lift your hand up and press the back of it against his forehead. “You don’t have a fever, though.”

“You’re annoying.” He scowls. “You just told me that you don’t want me to eat you out, and I’m not makin’ a big deal of it.”

You let your hand drop from Mingyu’s forehead, tracing your fingertips along his jaw. “If we’re both tired, we can just fuck in the morning.”

“We don’t fuck in the morning.” You offer him a quizzical look. He wraps both of his arms around you, squeezing you and rolling both of you until you’re on your back and his cheek is pressed against your stomach. “In the morning, we make love.”

“Didn’t you call me a slut the last time that we made love?”

He lifts his head up, narrowing his eyes at you. “You liked it.”

“Yeah, I did.” You sigh, easing your fingers through Mingyu’s hair and forcing his head back down, onto your stomach. “Where do you think you’d be if we hadn’t met?”

“Wildly unhappy.” He scoffs. “Dead. What about you?”

You hum quietly, scratching against his scalp. “Probably... also unhappy. Well, I don’t think that I wasn’t happy before I met you, but I think, right now, I’m the happiest that I’ve ever been.”

The two of you lapse into silence. The sounds of the neighborhood – dogs barking, cars honking – seep through every so often, but you hardly noticed, aware, instead, of your boyfriend’s presence. When you first met Mingyu, you knew that he would find a way to infiltrate your life, to become the oxygen that you needed to breathe. When you first met Mingyu, you felt like you were breathing and drowning at the same time. Nowadays, you don’t feel like you’re drowning, but you aren’t breathing normally, either. It’s the same for him, you’re sure; it’s all about him, even when it isn’t. You could be focused on something else, but you’ll never be able to fully attend to anything else.

It’s for this reason that you’ve had to scold him, on so many occasions, to keep his eyes on the road when driving. He just can’t seem to focus on anything but you, and somehow, his recklessness has worn off and you find yourself in the same predicament.

Just as you finally shut your eyes, you feel Mingyu twitching against you.

He’s laughing. “It’s a good thing that you decided to fuck with a racer, huh?”

#mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #svt x reader #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #hengqarae #1k #1.5k

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cosmal · 1 year

Note

hiii babe 🍰

spacey jane: james potter + i knew by lizzy mcalpine.

i knew that you loved me when i saw that my shoes was untied you bent down to tie it in the middle of the street

shoelaces

summary — james potter ties your shoes up in the middle of the street. you love him.

content — james potter x fem!reader, she/her, fluff

note — thank you this was such a cute request

The faster you walk, the more you get hit by the snow. The wind picks it up and blows it in your face. It’s so cold it feels like needles against your numb cheeks.

James has your hand inside his pocket because you’d forgotten your gloves and you wouldn’t take his.

“Y/N, sweetheart, take these.”

“No, because then you’ll be cold.”

“Right, then give me your hands.”

You’re both half trudging down the sludge against the pavement, James’s hand tightens too hard when he thinks you might slip.

“Why has Sirius invited us to his place on one of the coldest days of the year?” James grumbles. Half an hour ago he was giddy with excitement to see Sirius’s new flat.

“And why did you park three blocks away?” you ask.

James ignores you. You both know it’s because there wasn’t a single park, you just like to tease.

You’re almost there but every step you take feels heavy, like his flat just won’t get any closer. You go to cross the road right outside where you’re supposed to be and can feel your shoelaces hitting your ankle.

“Shit, my lace,” you mumble. You’re too close to slipping, you can’t imagine tripping over.

James stops right in the middle of the street when he looks down at your feet. “Stop,” he says softly. You stop with him when your arms snags against his.

He bends down onto one knee right into the snow and you gawp. “James!”

He swats your foot. “Stand still, angel.”

You do as he says. Mostly because you want him to hurry. “What are you bloody doing?”

“Babe, I don’t want to be a smartass right in the middle of the road,” he snorts, tightening your laces a little too hard, “but I’m tying your shoelaces up.”

“Yes, James,” you chide. “In the middle of the road.”

He makes two loops and if you weren’t too busy watching the corner to your left, you’d laugh at his bunny-ear method. With love, of course. He’s adorable. But right now, you’re a little peeved.

James looks up at you with soft eyes and a bright smile. You melt faster than the falling snow. You’re half annoyed because he’s being reckless, but also half adored because he’s being reckless on behalf of you. “I didn’t want you tripping.”

You want to put your hands in his hair. You also don’t want to encourage him. “Thank you, James, truly baby,” you hurry, words a little jammed, still genuine, “but please hurry up. I don’t want to get flattened.”

“I’d never let that happen,” he says, a little offended, a lot loving.

“I know.”

James grins. “Double knots?”

You roll your eyes, still annoyed. Shaking your foot you say, “C’mon, up.”

James gets up, letting you pull him into your side to cross the rest of street. Standing under a street lamp you stop still. James stops too, though hesitant.

“What’s up? Your other shoelace undone?” he frowns.

“No, it’s good.”

You needle your arms under his, pushing through the fleece of his parka jacket, angling your head up to look at him. James looks confused, still, he wraps his arms around your back with a ruffle of synthetic materials.

“I know it’s cold, baby,” he starts, squeezing you close, “but don’t you want to get inside? I’ll hug you all over Sirius’s new couch if y’want.”

His head blocks the the street lamp, curls haloed by warm yellow light and a falling of snow. You watch it decorate his hair and scatter in his too-long lashes, landing on the lenses of his glasses, and for the hundredth time since you met him, you think he’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. It’s always just as startling as the first time.

“Did you just tie my laces in the middle of the street?”

James might think you’re scolding him. Though your features are soft and little too lovesick. You seem quite dizzied.

James grins boyishly. “Yeah…”

“We could’ve been hit by a lorry,” you laugh, half smothered by a chattering of your teeth.

“We could also freeze to death out here,” he says back.

“James…” you mumble, hiding your face in his chest. He smells like damp fleece and dwindling cologne that the wind keeps picking up.

“What?” he lets out a startled laugh, shielding your cold head with his big hand. Your hair is already half-damp. He’s starting to regret not letting you out at the front of Sirius’s building and finding a park himself.

“You love me,” you say suddenly, voice tainted with girlish laughter.

“Of course, I do,” he says. He smooths a kiss into your hair for good measure.

“Only boys who love you tie your laces up in the middle of the street.” You pull back your head from his chest and catch his gaze. He looks a mixture of confused and a little fond.

“How do you know that?” he feigns shock, “Who else has been tying up your shoes, huh?”

You shake your head, giggling, “No one.”

He dips you back, arms tight around your torso. Mouth hovering over yours, he says, “Who else?”

“No one,” you repeat, huffing a high pitched laugh. “Just you.”

He kisses you. Soft and quick and all things cold. You can’t help the smile that presses up against his lips. “Good,” he murmurs quickly.

You try to kiss him back. He grins all smug when he has you chasing his mouth. He stops when you huff, letting you too willingly kiss him.

“Should only be me tying up your shoes,” he says.

“Yeah,” you hum back.

And obviously he is. He doesn’t let you tie your own laces ever again when you’re around him.

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axel-skz · 10 months

Note

hey!! I have a request🤭;

Ok what about chan w a vv sleepy s/o like their always falling alseep everywhere or they can fall alseep rlly easily not like narcoleptic but just sleepy🤷‍♀️

Chan had always been very accepting of the fact that you were always sleepy. You had a talent of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, he was actually a little jealous. He struggled to sleep. It made him feel good to look after you though. Randomly feeling you fall asleep on his shoulder or somehow leaning on him or holding his hand.

It made him happy. He felt like you trusted him. To be able to fall asleep without worries around him. He slowly started to keep items in all the spaces he was in regularly. Things that would help keep you comfortable. He had a special drawer in his office with a nice pillow and there was always a blanket on the back of the sofa.

People noticed it in his live and he chalked it up to him taking naps in the office. But no, it was for you. He kept snacks for when you woke up and felt hungry. He would turn his music down as to not wake you as well as shushing anyone who came in.

You never realised just how strict he was about his shushing when one day, you were half asleep and jisung came in. He said something, fairly quietly. But there was Chan. This man, fully jumped like it was jumpscare in a movie. Then turned and so dramatically shushed Han that you would think he was Hyunjin.

He really loved you and made you feel so comfortable in your own skin. He never let you feel nervous or self conscious about it. He’d always say, ‘I get to hold you while you sleep. How could I be upset? I’m winning here.’

A/N: I’M CRYING RN! OMFG DO NOT LISTEN TO SAD SONGS WHILE READING THIS! I was listening to same boat by Lizzie Mcalpine and I’m just breaking down. The thought of someone so loving and accepting- my soul is dead.

Listen to cielings if you really wanna cry cus Istg that would hit so hard.

I hope this was better then the other stuff I’ve been posting lately :’) my brain is just not on my side lately and I’m so tired and sad. It’s hard to be anything rn.

I said this in my other post, todays song is Muddy water.

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delicatefalice · 18 days

Text

I CANT STOP TIME AND I CAN NEVER GET IT BACK CAUSE ALL FALLS DOWN ON YOUUUU

#lizzy mcalpine you get me #all falls down #lizzy mcalpine #older #m

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

Text

A Movie I've Seen Before

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Pogue!Reader

Summary: Every time JJ and Y/n have had any feelings for each other, it's never been reciprocated. Until it is.

Warnings: Heartbreaking angst, unrequited love, happy ending tho.

Word Count: 2.3k

Song: "Ceilings" by Lizzy McAlpine

A/n: I love this fic, it's based off of a dream I had and it really just stuck with me.

Lying to my best friend has to be up there on the top ten list of things that I don't like doing.

He's the moth to my flame, my other half, the person who I text first thing in the morning and the last person I text at night, the person I call when something good or bad happens. He was everything I thought about for a long time but in a way that spans outside of the box of our relationship and it's my out of box thinking that led me to inevitable heart break.

When I first realized I had feelings for him, I knew he didn't share the same feelings back, chasing after Kie like she was his flame now, attention shifting from me to her in the blink of an eye, like I didn't even matter. She became his phone call, the person he waited to see for days, the one he smiled for- he didn't smile for me much anymore.

She was beautiful, soft, dark, smooth skin, beautiful eyes, a smile that lights up a dark room, dark like JJ's mind. She was perfect for him if you think about it, they grew up together, they loved one another like lovers, protected each other like siblings and cared for one another like best friends.

I told him, one night when we were having a bonfire and the rest of them had gone to sleep. I remember leaning over to him, asking him if I could tell him something and he said that I could tell him anything.

He wasn't surprised- I mean, his brows lifted a bit and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but for a moment he just looked at me softly and then he turned to Kie who was sleeping soundly on his lap. That's when he muttered one sentence that I don't think my dignity will ever recover from.

"I can't love you back just because you want me to."

Our friendship and relationship slowly became their relationship and I stayed behind, floating in the wake of their laughter, still hanging onto every glance JJ threw my way and every time my name escaped his lips.

I dated people here and there, distracted myself and kept myself busy with bodies in my bed- bodies that weren't JJ, the person I actually wanted. They were fill-in's and they knew it, they knew that all they meant to me was just to be taken advantage of and disregarded like I was.

I thought there was no one out there that would make me feel what JJ made me feel for him, even if my feelings for JJ were unpredictable and unplanned.

Until I met Nathan.

He was nice enough, kind, dark eyes, subtle with his attraction. He got all of my attention of of JJ in the ways that I needed but almost in a healthy way. I wanted to be with him, I wanted to stop pining after JJ and I didn't worry so much about what JJ thought of me anymore.

But it still wasn't right.

"You guys are awfully cozy." JJ mutters, bobbing up and down with the waves as I stare up at stars that are slowly coming into view as the sun sets along the horizon of the water.

"Yeah, he's great." I smile softly, looking out at the beach to see Nathan and Pope running around, chasing crabs. I giggle to myself before craning my neck to look over at JJ, his sad eyes trained on me as I float on top of the water.

A silence falls over the water, nothing but gentle splashing as waves hits us, but it's not completely comfortable. There's a tension in the air around us, like JJ wants to desperately say something, lips parted and eyes trained on me but before I can ask him to say anything, he speaks.

"Do you remember a few moths ago when you told me that you were in love with me?" His question makes me freeze, the air in my lungs sucked from my chest as I tilt my head to look over at him, a puppy-love, sad look on his face.

"Oh you mean when my pride was mortally wounded?" I ask with a nervous laugh, trying to loosen the tension but based on the look on his face, he's being completely and utterly serious. He's typically so playful, so high and loving life, I rarely see him like this.

It's scary.

"Yeah that." He swims towards me, moving to float beside me, hand brushing against my own as I freeze, looking over at him with wide eyes.

"What about it?" I ask.

"I've just been thinking since Kie and I have broken up-" He starts but I scoff almost immediately, eyes turning to slits as I begin to grasp where this conversation is turning.

"Oh, so I'm your second choice?" I ask, moving so I'm no longer floating on my back, immediately swimming a bit away from him to put some distance between us and he mirrors me, treading water from about three feet away.

"What- Christ, no." He sighs painfully, brows tugging together in a confused look but for the life of me I can't understand why he's the one who's hurting. He hurt me.

"JJ, I'm in a relationship." I spit but don't argue when he swims closer to me and I look up at the beach to find no one there. They must've gone up to the house when I wasn't looking, leaving JJ and I behind in the ocean, all alone.

"I know, I can't fucking stand it." His voice has this painful pleading tone to it and I can feel my chest squeezing my lungs, my eyes filling with tears at his heartbroken expression.

"How do you think I felt when you were with Kie?" I ask as if this is the most ridiculous question to have ever been asked and it is. He knows how much pain I was in following that night, I refused to look at him for weeks out of pure embarrassment.

"Heartbroken, disgusted, pathetically in love?" He asks, reaching out to me, taking my hands in his as I allow him to pull me flush against him, lifting my arms over his shoulders and I do what he wants me to, consumed with guilt.

"JJ..." I whisper, shivering at the feeling of his body pressed so firmly against mine, the water can't slip between us, he tucks his face into the crook of my neck, hugging me tightly, fingers gripping into my waist as I feel tears rise to my eyes.

"I can't look at you anymore. I just want to be with you. I'm so sorry I did this to you but I can't let it go. I haven't let it go since you told me." He admits with a heavy heart, strong arms only tightening around me and my own arms slack around his neck, the feeling of needing him close to me for so many months slipping away from me as reality sets it.

"I'm happy." I whine, salty tears streaming down my cheeks to mix with the waves splashing up onto my neck as he leans away from me, nose only inches away from mine as his eyes flicker down to my lips.

"You're not. I know you're not." He shakes his head in denial and it only makes me cry harder, chest rumbling in sobs against his body. He frees one of his hands, reaching up to cup my cheek to soothe me but it only makes it worse.

"I am." I nod, reaching up to push his hand away from my cheek as his nose brushes against mine, lips only centimeters away from mine. I can practically taste him as his tongue sweeps out to wet his lips. "I have to be."

"I want you." He begs but I'm pushing him away from me before I do something I regret, something my deep subconscious has been waiting for since I was 15 years old.

"JJ please don't do this to me right now. I won't survive it."

No matter how I tried to escape him, he's the end of every road I turn down. He's always there, supporting me, loving me from the behind the scenes, not caring that I continued to date Nathan for nearly seven months after that day in the ocean.

Until I couldn't deal with it anymore. So today, I made the decision to break up with him, on our one year, which also happens to be JJ's birthday.

"What're you doing here?" JJ asks from his door, leaning against the doorframe as rain beats down on my hood, his eyes dark and hooded in the midnight light.

"Happy birthday?" I ask with a small hesitant smile, lifting my hands to hand him the gift that I worked hours on today, crying over the pictures in the photo album that I put together, the photo's spanning over our eighteen years together, from toddlers to teens.

"Thanks." He whispers, stepping back into his house, holding the door open for me and I gulp, brushing by him as I step into the smoke filled, alcohol smelling home. "You didn't have to get me anything." I smile softly but it turns sour when I see his dad passed out on the couch and JJ just leads me back into his room with a protective hand on my back.

"I did anyways, juvie." I tease, watching a small smile stretch across his tired expression at the nickname, his shoulders shrugging in simple acknowledgment.

He opens the gift slowly, pulling the wrapping paper off of the small scrapbook before he pulls the book open, eyes flickering across the pages as he flips through it. There's a sad smile on his lips, sniffles escaping him as he stops at a particular picture of us from summers ago when I first confessed my feelings to him, his fingers brushing across the page before looking up at me with desperate eyes.

"It was easier for me to run, JJ." I sigh, reaching up to rub my hands down my face, feet moving so I can sit beside him, thighs pressed against each other.

"What do you mean?" He asks, still not looking up from the photos as he laughs at a particular picture of us when we were children, tucked in a pool together, arms wrapped around each other.

"You told me that you wouldn't love me just because I wanted you to." My voice cracks and it takes the noise for JJ to put the book to the side, turning his whole body as his hand reaches out to rest on my back, his gaze trying desperately to meet mine.

"Fuck, I know." He whimpers, leaning towards me to tuck his face in the crook of my neck and I allow him to curl into me, my fingers weaving through his hair in an attempt to cover him. "I think about it on the daily, dude- okay?"

"And then I hurt you." I breathe slowly, trying to calm my heart rate, knowing that this conversation could possible end with me breaking my own heart or JJ's.

"Yeah, it fucking sucked." He laughs tearily, drops of salty tears dropping onto my shoulder as I lean back, reaching up to wipe his tears with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and he leans into my touch, blue eyes gazing up at me softly. "I hate watching you with that asshole." He confesses honestly, his voice barely over a whisper.

"Yeah well, it's done now." I scoff, rubbing a hand over my jaw as JJ's eyes flicker back and forth between the ground and my eyes, almost triple checking that I said what I did.

"What?"

"I dumped him an hour ago." I check my watch dramatically and JJ smiles brightly, unable to be sorry for me or Nathan, his own feelings, though selfish, shine through.

"You dumped 'Noble Nathan'?" He scoffs, scooting a bit closer to me and it doesn't go unnoticed by me, a soft blush brushing across my upper cheeks.

"Yes, I told him I couldn't be with him anymore. Goddamn, he was so boring."

"You are way too interesting for him." JJ laughs heartily and leans back on his elbows, head tilting cutely as he gazes up at my though long lashes. "Why'd you do it?" He asks after a few moments, eyes flashing with a hint of worry behind his beautiful blue hues and I feel the pit in my stomach return.

"After everything you've done to me, after everything I've done- you were good to me." I explain with a drawn out sigh, almost as if I'm chasing my breath with every word that leaves me. "I'm sick of wanting more. I'm sick of wanting you."

"You want me?" His face drops but not in disappointment but instead in a look of realization and his spine is straight in a moment, wide eyes flickering back and forth between mine, desperation hidden behind his blue hues.

"I need you, stupid." I giggle, reaching up to cup his cheeks in my hands, seeing the tears line his eyes. "I'm yours."

"I've been yours, dude!" He shoves me playfully before tugging me back into his arms with a loud whoop, pressing playful kisses to my cheeks and forehead. "Well I've just been waiting for you like a fucking idiot, trying to sabotage your relationship, but apparently the Lord was on my side this time." He cheers, cupping my cheeks in his hands, his happy, beaming face causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach. "Is this my awakening? Should I start going to church?" I roll my eyes with a loud laugh, head tipping back.

"Shut up and kiss me."

#jj #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #the outerbanks #the outerbanks fic

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aflame4goinghome · 12 days

Text

Come Down Soon

j.m.k x reader

(part two to Head First)

a/n: Hey everyone! It's been a while. Inspiration for the closure of this short story came to me recently, so I've finally been able to write it and get it to you all! I'm really proud of how their little story turned out. I hope you like it.

word count: 10.5k

warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT! MINORS DNI!!! swearing, drinking, smoking, angst, arguing, fluff; SMUT: kissing, sexually explicit language, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, slight biting, tiny bit of breeding kink if you squint, soft dom josh <3

part one

“ Something here

I’m biding time ‘til it disappears

Oh, it’ll come down soon ”

*:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:*༺˚ ⊹♫⊹ ˚༻*:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:*

APRIL 2024 – 5 YEARS LATER

You wake up to your alarm wailing in your ear, shaking you awake. Fuck, you think to yourself. I really need to stop going out on weeknights. You roll out of bed and quickly get ready in the bathroom, coming to terms with the fact that you’ll be late for work. Luckily for you, your boss is your father, so you don’t have anything to worry about.

You’re still in Frankenmuth, working for your dad at the music store, your life staying as consistent as ever. But it was comfortable, and comfortable is exactly what you need. A few years back, you got a business degree with hopes of taking over the business for your dad after he retires. Your younger brother wasn’t as into music as the two of you are, only playing guitar every once in a while. He moved to Chicago three years ago to go to Northwestern to study economics, leaving you here to take over the family business one day. That’s still a solid five or ten years away, but you’re prepared. You already practically run the place, working from open to close every single day.

This didn’t bother you. You were perfectly content with that being your life. You loved music and you loved teaching it, so you were happy, truly. But every once in a while, your mind would wander to the ideas of what could have been, and you get stuck there. You hated when your mind would wander there, to him. It sent a sickening feeling throughout your entire body and you would be stuck, frozen in time. Frozen in the past.

Sitting back in your chair behind the counter in the empty music store, you start to doze off. On a random Tuesday morning like this, hardly anyone ever comes in. It’s way busier in the early evenings and on the weekends, but someone had to be here. You usually have another worker come in around 3 pm, but it’s only you until then on weekdays.

You feel your head start to fall heavily to the side and you’re so lost in your exhaustion that you don’t hear the chime of the bells on the door jingle. You don’t hear the silent figure approaching the counter, watching you curiously as you breathe slow, long breaths through your slightly open mouth. But you’re suddenly jolted awake when the mystery figure taps the little bell on the counter and your head swiftly rushes upright, making you hit it harshly against the wall behind you.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, raising your hand to rub soft circles against the back of your head where you hit it against the hard plaster. As you start to recalibrate yourself, your eyes finally fall onto the figure in front of you who was responsible for the bell. “Sam? Is that you?” The tall man in front of you smiles widely, his dimples appearing at the ends of his mustache.

“In the flesh,” Sam smiles confidently, leaning his long arms onto the counter. “Hi, Smalls. Long time, no see.” You roll your eyes at the old nickname, standing up from your chair to round the counter and greet him.

“You really don’t have to call me that anymore, Sam. We’re grown now, you know,” you joke, bringing him in for a tight hug. He chuckles above you, patting your back lightly.

“You’ll always be Smalls to me, no matter how old we are,” he teases, rustling your hair on the top of your head playfully.

“You’re an idiot. What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you guys a little too big now for this town?” you ask, releasing him from the hug and leaning your back against the counter. He slots his hands in his front pockets with a laugh as he starts to answer.

“We’re really not all that,” he says modestly, looking down at his feet before looking back up to your gaze.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. You guys are selling out arenas left and right… you’ve big-timed us for sure,” you answer with a playful scoff. He just shrugs, avoiding talking too much about their success.

“Whatever. We’re just here to visit Mom and Dad for a while before this next leg of the tour, that’s all. It’s a long one, so they wanted to see us.” You nod, fiddling with your fingers.

“So, you’re all here? All three of you?” you ask apprehensively, slightly afraid of what you know the answer will be. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck nervously, then nods.

“Yeah, we’re all here. Jake and Josh are back at home, they sent me out to go to the grocery store for a few things. Clearly, I got sidetracked…” he says, chuckling at the end. You smile and laugh with him– Sam could never complete an errand without getting distracted somehow.

“I see… well, it’s good to see you. You’ve really grown up, I’m proud of you,” you say with a smile, crossing your arms as you lean back against the counter.

“Thanks, Smalls… It’s really nice to see you, I’ve missed you,” he says earnestly, walking a bit closer to you. “We all have.” That sentence cut straight through to the heart. God, you didn’t think this would be so hard.

You’d successfully managed to evade interaction with them each time they’ve come into town over the years, but now you couldn’t avoid it. It’s been four years since you’d last spoken to Sam Kiszka, or any of them for that matter. You didn’t cut them all off intentionally, but it just happened in the aftermath.

“Right, I… I’ve missed you too,” you say hesitantly, backing away to go back behind the counter.

“Y/N, I think my parents would really like it if you came by for dinner tonight. It would be nice, just like old times,” he says, looking down at you hopefully. Great, exactly what you’ve been dreading.

“Oh, I really don’t know, Sam. I don’t think Josh would…” you trail off, looking down at your feet.

“Look, I’m not entirely sure about what happened between you two, but please. Please come to dinner. It’s been years, I’m sure he’s over it,” he pleads. You’re not too sure about that, but they don’t know the full story. “I promise, Smalls. Just think about it. My number is still the same as before, just send me a text after your shift ends and let me know what you decide, okay?”

Shit. He never makes it easy to say no to him. The puppy-dog eyes still work on his 25-year-old face, the same as they did when he was 18. You were no match for it, and he knew it, too.

“Okay. Okay, fine, I’ll think about it,” you concede, exhaustion coating your voice. “But no promises, alright?” His face lights up with an eager nod. He reaches over the counter and pokes your nose with his pointer finger, eliciting a giggle out of you as he smiles then turns around toward the door.

“Okay, Smalls, I’ve got some shopping to do. See you later!” he yells opening the door and walking out of the store.

God, this was going to be a long day. It wasn’t at all like how you expected it to be. You went through the rest of your shift worrying about the worst-case scenario of how dinner could go down tonight. Before you know it, it’s already 3 o’clock, and your dad walks through the doors.

“Dad? What are you doing here? I thought Parker was supposed to be coming in tonight,” you ask as he approaches the counter. He shrugs, heading to the office behind the counter and setting his stuff down on his desk.

“He called out sick, so I just decided to come in for him,” he says casually, slipping a sweatshirt on over his head. You nod, your mind trailing back to your current predicament.

“Did you know that the Kiszkas were in town?” you ask, looking over at him. His eyes shift guiltily as he approaches you.

“Yeah… I caught Kelly outside on the porch the other day and he told me about it. I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you about it. Didn’t want to upset you,” he admits, rubbing your shoulder softly.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m fine,” you say, lying through your teeth. If anyone understood how you felt about your fallout with Josh, it was your dad. He was there for you through it all, as you tried to bury your feelings by working endless shifts at the shop. He says it never gave him any bias, but you know that secretly, he felt differently about Josh since that day. No matter what, he was always on your side.

“Sam came in here this morning. Asked me to come to dinner at their house after work,” you admit, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Oh. Are you going to go?” he asks apprehensively. You look up at him and see the concern in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah. I think I will. Sam really wants me to and… it’s been four years. We’ll have to get over it some time. Might as well be now,” you say, trying to seem as sure as possible, despite how unsure you actually felt. Your dad raised you to be strong, and you wanted to be that person for him.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” he says, offering a reassuring smile. You nod with a smile.

“Why don’t you just head out now, hon? I can handle the rest of the night. You just go home and get ready for dinner,” he offers, not giving you any time to protest before he walks off to do inventory in the back of the store. You shrug to yourself and decide to just go home, grabbing your tote from the office and heading out to the front of the store to your car parked in the front space.

The store is only a ten-minute drive from home, so you’re back before you know it. You pull into the driveway then gather your things, heading inside. You walk in to find your mother in the kitchen, cooking some dinner.

“Hi baby, how was work?” she asks, turning around to face you.

“It was alright, pretty slow,” you say, stopping in the kitchen to talk for a moment.

“I talked to your brother today, he should be coming home in a few weeks after finals are over,” she says, stirring the food in the pot as she talks.

“Oh, that’s cool. That should be nice,” you remark, your mind wandering, making you unable to entertain the conversation much more, so she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry? I’m making some pasta with vodka sauce right now if you want some,” she asks. You weren’t sure how you’d explain this situation to her, but you have to.

“Actually… I’m going to the Kiszkas for dinner,” you answer quietly. She stops stirring in her pot and looks at you, her eyes drooping just like your dad’s did not long ago.

“Oh! That’s quite a surprise,” she answers honestly, her face feigning excitement but her eyes give her away.

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m fine. Seriously, it’s no big deal,” you answer, trying to convince yourself as well as her. She gives you a small smile and nods, and you take your leave up the stairs to your bedroom. Over the years, you’ve renovated the large attic in your parent’s house so that you had more of your own space away from them in your adulthood, while still living at home. It’s been nice and quite private, you’ve really made it your own.

As you set your bag down on the floor and sit down on your bed, your mind travels back in time to the last time you saw Josh Kiszka. You still wonder where it all went wrong. It was perfect, truly perfect– until it wasn’t. The worst part about it is that it was nobody’s fault, there was no one to blame. You wondered for years if it was just the right person but the wrong time, but those delusions soon faded away as the years progressed and you still never heard from him. He’d moved on, and so had you.

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JUNE 2020

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just come with us! You’d be perfect there– I need you there!” Josh shouted, slamming his hands down on the counter in frustration as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, keeping your head low.

“Josh, it isn’t that fucking easy! I can’t just pick up and leave! I have responsibilities here! My job, my family!” you yelled with your head in your hands.

The band made plans to move to Nashville, Tennessee by the end of the month, hoping to record their music there instead. Their success had shot up significantly since the two of you got together, with money pouring in and new music being recorded left and right. You knew they’d outgrow you and this town, but you didn’t think it would happen this soon.

He begged you to come with him, insisting that you could find a job down there and live with him and Jake, but that wasn’t what you wanted. You made a commitment to your father, having started online business classes with UMich in January with hopes to someday run the shop yourself. Josh knew that, but he insisted that you come with him.

“Don’t you think I’m making sacrifices here, too? I don’t want to have to leave my parents, but it’s our destiny, Saph! This is what I’m meant to do, I thought you’d understand that,” he groaned, shaking his head angrily. Tears start to fill your waterline as you struggle to get your words out.

“Of course I understand! I’ve always believed in you, you know that! Since day one, I’ve supported you!” you yelled as the tears started to escape from your eyes. “You know we’ve always had different goals, this town has always been my whole life. And you’ve always been destined for more. I knew that from the start.”

“If you know that this is what I’m destined to do, then why can’t you just come with me?” he asked with a sigh, rubbing his temples.

“Josh, I love you. I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my entire life,” you said, tears spilling down your face. “But this is your dream, not mine.” You watch as his eyes start to water, mirroring yours. His face drops as the realization kicks in.

“So, that’s it then? You’re just giving up? You’re giving up on us?” Josh asked accusingly, stepping closer to you, but you backed away.

“I’m not giving up, Josh. But we want different things,” you answered honestly, your voice shaky.

“All I want is you, Saph. I love you so much. Please,” he said, his eyes pooling with tears. He stepped forward once more, reaching his arms to your waist and attempting to pull you closer. “Please just come with us.” You shook your head, backing up more.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” you said, looking into his eyes as they filled with despair.

“You’re breaking my heart, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. Your heart sank.

“And you’re breaking mine,” you answered, taking one last look at him before turning around and heading toward the back door in the kitchen, yanking it open and rushing out. As you rushed home, you wiped the tears from your eyes, not wanting your parents to see you that way. And that was it. That was the last time you saw Josh Kiszka.

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CURRENT DAY

Deep breaths, Y/N, you tell yourself as you look at yourself in your bathroom mirror. You pull your hair back half-up, putting the small section of hair into a little bun that sits on the back of your head. You pull a few front pieces out to frame your face and then pull a brush through the rest of your long, wavy hair. You’ve got this.

You throw on a grey flannel over the cropped tee you were wearing, which contrasts well with your distressed dark grey jeans. You slide on your Converse and then sit down on your bed to check your phone.

Sammy: Hey, Smalls. Did you think about gracing up with your presence at dinner tonight?

You breathe out a quiet laugh and shake your head at his sarcasm as you type your reply.

You: Don’t get your panties in a twist, Samuel. I’ll be there.

It doesn’t even take a minute for him to respond.

Sammy: Knew you’d come around. Come over around six?

You slide down on your screen to check the time — 5:28 pm. Okay, you still have some time.

You: See you then.

You fiddle with your fingers as you sit on your bed, waiting for the appropriate time to go downstairs and walk next door. The entire situation stressed you out beyond belief. You’re not sure how you managed to get yourself into this mess in the first place, you had done such a good job at avoiding them when they’d come to town for the past four years. But now, it was unavoidable.

How is Josh going to react? After you left that day, he left you dozens upon dozens of voicemails and text messages, all of which you ignored. After a week of trying to get you to talk to him, he eventually relented. He gave up. At the time, it stung somehow. You didn’t understand it, you wanted him to leave you alone and let you both move on, so why did it hurt so bad when he finally did? It was all so complicated and screwed up. You just hope that he isn’t still upset with you after all this time.

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JOSH POV

“Josh, honey,” your mom says from the kitchen, making you turn your head to look at her. “Could you turn that movie off? It’s almost time for dinner.” You nod and take your feet off of the coffee table, reaching for the remote, and reluctantly turning the TV off. No matter how old you got, you still always helped your mom with dinner. It was a tradition at this point, as silly as it sounded.

“Boys, it’s almost dinner time!” she yells, trying to get your bothers’ attention from the garage, which had a door connecting to the kitchen. You hear muffled ‘okay’s from behind the door and soon enough, your brothers emerge from the garage and storm the kitchen.

You get up from the couch and watch as Sam walks over to the dining room to set the table and Jake opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of white wine to drink with dinner. You decide to enter the kitchen and help her transfer the food to the serving dishes.

“Oh, Mom,” Sam starts from the dining room as he gathers the folded napkins from the pantry. “I forgot to tell you earlier, I stopped into the music store today on my way to get groceries. Y/N was there.”

Your movements come to a halt as you hear the words fall from his mouth. How could he just bring her up so casually? You quickly try to shake it off. It’s been four years, it’s nothing. You probably won’t even have to see her, anyway. You’ve gone this long without running into her, anyway, probably by her own doing.

“That’s nice, sweetie. How is she doing?” your mom asks kindly as she hands you an empty dish to transfer the pierogis into. You take the dish into your hands and walk over to an empty counter space to set it down.

“She’s good! I actually invited her to come to dinner tonight,” Sam said nonchalantly with a shrug.

“What?” you exclaim instinctually, your mouth agape as you stare daggers into your little brother. Before you even realize what’s happening, you’re startled by the sound of the dish you were holding falling onto the ground and shattering into pieces. You didn’t even feel yourself drop it. “Oh God, Ma I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ll go get the broom, don’t go anywhere.”

You shake your head and curse under your breath as you rush down the basement steps to grab the broom and quickly run back up to the kitchen. As you clean up your mess, you listen silently to the conversation, too embarrassed by your behavior to say anything else.

“I feel like I haven’t seen Y/N in ages,” you hear your twin remark from behind you, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. He needs to wipe that smug look off of his face before you do something drastic.

“I know, it has been a long time. It’ll be nice to catch up, won’t it, honey?” your mom asks sweetly, turning over her shoulder to look at you with an encouraging smile.

She knows every single detail about what went down between you and Y/N four years ago. She was here to pick up the pieces. Jake, not so much. While she was there comforting you, your twin was just blinded by his ambition. All he cared about was how great Nashville was going to be, for the both of you.

“You don’t need Y/N, Josh. You have us. We’re your family,” Jake said apathetically as the two of you packed up your things. You just scoffed, shaking your head as you folded your clothes and placed them into your bags.

“That’s not the point, Jake. I really wanted her there, and now I don’t know who I am without her,” you admitted, not looking up from your bags in hopes of not catching Jake’s sharp glare.

“You’re Josh fucking Kiszka, lead singer of a band that’s going to make it BIG, that’s who you are,” Jake said confidently, patting your back. “We’re only just getting started, brother. Mark my words. Years from now, you’re not even going to remember her name.”

He just didn’t get it. Your other half always had an easier time with everything: getting girls, getting over girls, and everything in between. Nothing fazed him. It wasn’t that easy for you. You’re a writer, for God’s sake. An artist. You were nothing without a muse.

“Just make your own muse then,” your brother had said.

And that’s just what you did. Once the four of you got to Nashville, all you cared about was the music. You didn’t let yourself get distracted– no girls, no guys, nobody. Just you and your notebook and your dream. And it’s worked like magic ever since, you didn’t need anybody else besides your brothers and this band. The news of her coming back into your life has now set you back to four years ago, like nothing has changed. But everything has.

“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t think she’s gonna want to talk to me, after everything…” you trail off, turning your back against your family as you try to focus on the task at hand.

“I still don’t understand what even happened, Josh,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. Of course, he didn’t get it either. He was always fond of her, you assumed he had a small crush on her for most of his childhood. Whatever that was has surely passed on by now, but Sam was always protective over her. He was your brother, at the end of the day, so of course he was on your side. But you always knew that he was sad over her absence, deep down.

“We were just different people, Sam. It wasn’t meant to be, that’s all. It doesn’t matter now,” you mutter, not looking up from the floor as you finish sweeping.

“If it doesn’t matter now, then why would she still be upset with you?” Sam asks, frustration coating his voice. “When I talked to her earlier, she seemed to think that you wouldn’t want to talk to her.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not sure what else to say. Why on Earth would she possibly think you could still be upset with her after all these years? You couldn't admit it then, blinded by young love and all the firsts you shared. But you knew it was for the best, in the end. She didn’t want to leave, and you couldn’t make her.

You were glad that she let you go when she did, rather than moving with you and growing to resent you. She wanted to stay, and you needed to go. You’ve come to terms with it. Do you still think about her every now and then? Sure. The what-ifs do tend to creep in at night sometimes, but you always quickly shove them down. You have no room for what-ifs in your life right now. Things are really starting to pick up with the band, with your world tour and impending new music that you’ll be teasing any month now. The last thing you needed right now was to worry about the one that got away.

“Just try and talk to her, okay? It can’t hurt,” Sam says, walking past you to go sit on the couch now that he’s finished setting the dinner table. Yes, it can, you think to yourself, knowing better than to actually say it out loud. You just simply nod, grabbing a new dish and transferring the food over.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her,” you concede, covering the food with aluminum foil and then walking over to the dining table to place it down in the center. You run your fingers through your hair nervously as you walk back to the kitchen and finish helping your mom plate the rest of the food.

You hear your dad walk in through the front door and he enters the kitchen, kissing your mom on the cheek before going to sit on the couch with Sam. You watch as he reaches for the remote and turns the TV on, switching the channel to put on what seems like the hockey game.

“Hey, I was watching something there! Now I’m going to lose my place!” you scold, walking toward the living room and leaning against the wall.

“Josh, you were watching Silence of the Lambs for the millionth time, I don’t think you need to worry about losing your place,” Jake teases, walking into the living room to sit on the armchair and recline.

“Yeah, Josh. C’mon, the Red Wings are on, it’s almost playoffs,” Sam says matter-of-factly. You hear your dad chuckle at the banter, turning the volume up. Traitor.

“No! No more TV, Y/N will be here any minute now. You four are unbelievable,” your mom scoffs from the kitchen, shaking her head as she finishes preparing the food. Your brothers groan loudly and your dad reaches to turn the TV off. You swallow deeply as you wait nervously for Y/N to arrive. You don’t know what to expect, and that scares you. Maybe it’s because you were the oldest, or maybe it’s because you have a Cancer Moon, but you like being able to predict what will happen next. Now, all of that was completely out of your hands.

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YOUR POV

5:56 pm. Time to go, you suppose. You really don’t know what to expect, but Sam reassured you that everything will be fine. In all honesty, it wasn’t the possibility of Josh being upset with you that worried you. You were worried that, the second you saw him, your entire world would cave in. You were worried that you would just want to fall into his arms and apologize for everything you said.

But you knew that you couldn’t do that, you can’t. He’s come too far now to be pulled down by you. He seemed truly happy and successful, who were you to come waltzing back into his life and tear it all up? No. You had to be strong. For Josh, and for yourself.

As you approach the Kiszka’s porch, you take one last deep breath before laying a few soft knocks on the front door. You hear jostling behind the door and a distant “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” before the door finally swings open with Sam’s wide grin greeting you.

“Honored guest! Welcome!” he exclaims, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you inside, shutting the door behind you. Your eyes scan the room as you enter, smiling at Sam’s antics before the inevitable happens. First, you see Kelly and Jake sitting in the living room, turning over their shoulders to look at you. But as your eyes drift to the kitchen ahead of you, you see him.

You knew it was too late to turn back now, despite the strong urge to leave now while you still can. But you can’t run away, not this time. You watch as his posture shifts when he feels your eyes on him, straightening his back as he leans against the wall. Your eyes soften as you take it in, almost unsure of where to start.

He looked so different. Yet somehow, as you looked at him, it still felt familiar. You thought that you would feel uncomfortable or unwelcome, but no. You feel safe.

His hair was styled much differently now, his fluffy, curly hair now shaved short on the sides of his head. His cheeks were still as rosy as ever, adorned with little white dots along the cheekbones. You like it, you decide. He always knew how to stand out.

His once bare face was now decorated with a dark mustache and goatee, much like Sam had, but not nearly as long. Josh’s was more clean and precise. Just like him.

He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly. You can see that his arms have gotten bigger since the last time you saw him, which didn’t surprise you. The boy you once knew truly grew into a man, standing in front of you.

They all had. Jake looked so different, with his hair sitting right on his shoulder, sporting some facial hair of his own. He looked more serious now, which wasn’t a bad thing. You should feel proud, but all you feel is regret that you weren’t there to see it.

“Hi,” you say shyly, already beating yourself up on the inside for it. Just hi, seriously? That’s how you want to start? Jake gets up from the armchair on your right to approach you, reaching out to pat your arm supportively.

“It’s great to see you again, Y/N,” he says with a closed-lip smile. “Do you want a drink? I was just about to open this bottle of Chardonnay that I picked out for dinner, if you’re interested.” You nod and follow him to the kitchen, passing Josh on your way there.

His eyes follow you as you walk into the kitchen. You don’t say anything at first, but as Jake works to open the bottle of wine, you decide to work up the courage.

“Hey…” you start, walking over to him as he shifts his body, turning to face you with his back against the wall.

“Hey, Y/N,” he answers, slipping his hands into his front pockets nervously. Ouch. You weren’t necessarily expecting him to use your nickname, it’s been years since you saw each other and the nickname itself was rooted in his feelings for you. But hearing your real name fall from his mouth still cut like a knife. You suppose that if you wanted him to use your nickname, you’d have to earn it.

“You look good,” you say, fiddling with your fingers in front of you as you look behind you to see if Jake has opened that wine bottle yet. God knows you’ll need it. Josh’s eyes drop suddenly at your words, almost as though he didn’t expect it. Fuck, why did you say that? Making him upset certainly wasn’t your intention when you gave the compliment, you just didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that– stupid…” you start apologizing, but he stops you.

“No, no, it’s okay. I was just taken aback, that’s all,” he says honestly, concern covering his face. He’s still as empathetic as he always was. You knew he would be, you don’t know why you’d expected anything else. “So do you. You look… radiant.” Before you can let him see your cheeks flush, you turn around as Jake extends his arm to hand you a very full glass of wine.

“Jeez, that’s one heavy poor, Kiszka,” you joke, taking a short sip of the wine before leaning your back against the wall opposite of Josh. The younger twin chuckles at your words, taking a sip out of his own glass before answering.

“Hey, I figured you could use a little extra. What’s the harm?” he says with a shrug, leaning against the kitchen counter. You smile at him, looking at him as the two of you exchange a silent look. It’s clear that he knows how tense this might be for you, and you feel grateful for that. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Karen descends the stairs and walks into the kitchen, calling everyone to the dinner table. She greets you, of course, expressing how glad she is to see you after so long. You really did feel guilty over abandoning the rest of the Kiszkas when you and Josh had your falling out. They were like a second family to you throughout your entire childhood, so you missed them so much.

The boys rushed to the dinner table, clearly starving from the looks of it. Obviously, they all had their own “assigned” seats around the table, with Josh and Jake sitting next to each other, with Sam sitting across from Jake. The seat across from Josh was probably reserved for their sister, Ronnie, but she wasn’t here, so you suppose that seat’s for you. Timidly, you approach the seat and sit down, looking at Josh quickly before averting your eyes and watching as their parents take their own seats.

Dinner itself actually went really well. Karen asked you questions about your life recently, and you talked about your brother going to college, as well as your own business degree and your plans to run the shop. Josh kept mostly to himself, eating his dinner silently while sneaking glances every now and then when he thought you weren’t looking.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, though, and that made you feel uneasy. Was he uncomfortable with you being there? Did he want you to leave? Or was it possible that he wanted to talk things out? You hoped for the latter, wanting to at least give both of you some closure. You were hopeful that he wanted that, too.

Before long, Karen was coming around the table to gather the dirty dishes. As she approached your seat, you pushed your chair back and stood up.

“Here, Karen, let me help,” you say, picking up your own plate, along with Sam’s. She thanks you, and the two of you walk to the kitchen together to put the dishes in the sink.

“Do you want to dry them once I’m done washing them?” she asks, and you nod eagerly. You get into a rhythm soon enough, finishing the dishes in only a little over five minutes. “I like having a helper around here. These boys always get so lazy after they’re done eating.”

“Tell me about it,” you answer with a laugh. “I used to have to drag Josh up off the couch to go anywhere after we’d had a meal.” The memory was fond but fleeting as you gaze into the dining room to see Josh’s eyes locked on you. Shit, you probably shouldn’t have brought it up. His attention was soon drawn back to his brothers as Jake snapped his fingers at him, trying to get him back into whatever conversation they were having.

“It really is nice to have you back here, Y/N,” Karen admits with a soft smile. You return it with a gentle nod and she retreats to the living room to sit and watch the rest of the hockey game with Kelly. You stand there for a moment alone before you look over to see the boys getting up from the table.

“We’re gonna go jam in the garage for a bit. Might be good to get our creative juices flowing in the place where it all started,” Jake says, nodding his head to his brothers as he walks over to the door to the garage.

Sam quickly follows with Josh behind him, who stops at the door and turns to you both. Your eyes lock for a moment before he looks behind him at the garage, then back at you, seeming a bit conflicted.

“Hey, I’ll be in a little later. You guys start without me,” Josh says to them, with his eyes still on you. They were searching for something on your face, some sort of sign. You caught on rather quickly, walking toward him to reach for the door to the back porch, opening it apprehensively. You step out onto the porch and he follows, shutting the door softly behind him.

You walk to the porch swing on the far side of the porch, patting the cushion next to you to tell Josh to sit next to you. You sit in silence for a few moments, unsure where to begin. You open your mouth to start to speak, but Josh beats you to it.

“So, you come here often?” he jokes, looking down at you with a smirk. You giggle and look down at your feet, the cliche successfully breaking the ice.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I live right over there, you see,” you say smartly, pointing to your house behind you. A laugh erupts deep from Josh’s chest as he looks over at you with a genuine smile– something that you haven’t seen in so long. It almost felt normal, all of this, in that moment. Almost.

“You don’t say,” Josh answers with a grin as he reaches into the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a red lighter, pulling one out of the pack.

“Cigarette?” he offers, stretching his hand out to you with it between his fingers. Your eyes travel from his hand to his face, looking back at him with an awkward smile.

“Oh, I don’t smoke,” you say honestly, your cheeks flushing with a bit of embarrassment as he smiles at you awkwardly, sucking air between his teeth.

“I knew that,” he says, retracting his hand and placing the cigarette between his lips. You laugh, the idea of knowing each other so well but also not at all feeling terribly ironic. He knew you, once. He knew what you used to be. But the girl you were at 22 was very different than you are now at 27, in more ways than one. For better or for worse, you’ve changed, and so has he.

Was it possible to get to know the new version of him? Did he want you to know him? Do you want him to know you? At this moment, sitting on the back porch in the same spot that you sat in for most of your youth, you believe that you did want to know him, and him you. Did he want that too?

Josh lights his cigarette quickly and then slides the pack and lighter back into his pocket, taking a drag before resting his hand on his knee and looking back at you. Why were you so intimidated to say anything? It was just Josh, the same Josh you once loved. Once. What were you so afraid of?

“I almost didn’t come tonight,” you finally admit, leaning your arm onto the back of the swing as you shift your body toward him. He raises his eyebrows at your honesty, shifting his body toward you in return.

“Why did you?” he asks honestly, searching your face for an answer. You weren’t sure what the answer even was, but you tried nonetheless.

“Honestly? I’m not quite sure,” you say, fidgeting with your hair. “I think part of me hoped to get some closure. Another part just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.” You didn’t expect yourself to put it all out in the open like that, but you realize that the large glass of wine loosened your lips more than you thought it would.

“Things can’t go back to the way they used to be,” Josh says quietly, taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing it the other way. Your eyes shifted to your lap nervously.

“I know. You’re right,” you whisper, now avoiding his gaze. You sit silently for a moment before he finally speaks up.

“You’re happy here?” he asks, giving you time to respond. You finally look up at him and his eyes soften as your eyes meet, the same soft eyes you’ve always known. A dark brown color in the darkness of the spring night, only catching the light every once in a while when he turned toward the porch light.

“I am, I think…” you answer, almost hesitantly. He nods silently. “Are you? Happy there? Is it everything you hoped it would be?” He pauses for a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts.

“Yes, I’m happy there,” he admits, biting his lip slightly as he ponders his next thought. “But is it everything I hoped it would be? Not so much.” Your eyes fall sadly at his words, inching a bit closer.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Josh,” you say, rubbing his arm softly. He flinches slightly at your touch, making you retreat entirely, scooching back to the other side of the bench. He takes another drag of his cigarette and shakes his head.

“It’s just a bit lonely. It’s only work there, no play,” he says softly. “I love the music, don’t get me wrong. I’m making the kind of art I always wanted to make. I just hate doing it alone.”

Oh. He isn’t over it. That much was clear. You can’t help but feel responsible for his suffering. But you knew you weren’t, this wasn’t your fault. You were never meant to move down there, it wasn’t right.

“You’re not alone. You have your brothers, you have friends,” you say supportively, hoping to steer the subject further from the harsh truth. He shakes his head again, taking an extra long drag from his cigarette.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he says, a bit of frustration hanging on his tone. When he catches it, he shakes it off. “Look, it doesn’t matter really. Forget I said anything.” You nod, looking over at him to find that his eyes are already on you.

Music starts to pour out of the open windows of the garage behind you, startling you a bit. You could hear Sam’s keyboard and Jake’s guitar playing a song that sounded familiar to you, but you weren’t sure why. It must be one of theirs. Surely you heard it in one of their practices all those years ago.

“What’s this one called?’ you ask, referencing the song coming from the garage. Josh’s lips tweak into a small smile as he answers you.

“It’s Heat Above. It’s from our second record,” he says. You nod slowly, recognizing the name.

“I think I know that one,” you say with a timid smile.

“You listened to the album?” he asks with slight surprise. You nod again, inching a bit closer once more.

“Of course I did. Listened to the new one, too,” you admit, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. When you look back up at Josh, he’s smiling widely.

“You listen to our music,” he says proudly. You return the smile and look back down at your lap, hoping to avoid him seeing the blush that’s started to cover your cheeks.

“Sometimes, yeah…” you mumble, “You know I always loved hearing you guys play. That never changed.”

“I just thought you might’ve avoided it… like you have us,” he says, which forces you to look back up at him. Here we are again, back to this topic.

“I wasn’t avoiding you…” you start, but he gives you a stern look. “Okay, fine. Maybe I was. But I just wanted to give you some space, you were really upset with me when you left. I didn’t want to rehash it all.” The closed-lip smile on his face as his dimples caved in was enough to catch your breath in your throat.

“You didn't have to avoid me, Saph… I was fine. I was handling it on my own,” he says softly. There it was. The nickname– finally. You still don’t feel like you’d earned it, but it was clear that he was growing soft on you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t spark up the butterflies in your stomach that you thought were long gone.

Comfortable silence fills the air as you look over at him, only inches away from you. As you sit together on the porch swing, the same one that you used to sit on together every summer, you can’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest.

His eyes drift downward every once and a while as he takes drags from his cigarette every minute or so. You know he’s looking at your lips, he has to be. For a moment, you wonder if he wants to kiss you. Do you want to kiss him? It feels like you do, but you know you shouldn’t. It’ll throw you right back to where you started, two people with different goals in life. But despite the glaring truth, your conscience starts to fly out the window as you let your gaze drift to his lips as well.

He takes one last hit of his cigarette and then puts it out in the ashtray on the table next to the swing. Music still flows loudly from the garage as the two of you sit there together in the quiet night. He turns back toward you, his eyes drifting to your lips again before you decide you can’t take anymore. Your hand leaves your lap and moves to rest on his waist, rubbing his side lightly with your thumb.

“Josh?” you start, unsure if you want to continue the way you intend to.

“Yes, Sapphire?” he answers, making your heart jump inside your chest. The nickname was effective before, but now it felt like something different entirely. How he had so much of an effect on you with so few words baffled you. It was something that you’d never experienced before and likely never will again.

“Are any of those songs about me?” you finally ask, keeping your eyes on his in an effort to feign confidence. You watch as his gaze softens and he nods slowly.

“Yes, some of them are,” he admits earnestly, his eyes darting to your lips as your proximity becomes even more apparent.

“Are some of them about someone else?” you ask, already knowing the answer. But you wanted to hear him say it–no, needed to. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath against your face, sending your mind reeling.

“There is no one else,” he says, his voice deep and low. You breathe out a slow breath, trying not to look relieved. The corner of his mouth tweaks up into a smirk as his eyes burn through yours. After a few more moments of silence, where the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, your eyes soften as the gap between you gets even smaller.

“Please,” you whisper, a quiet plea for him to close the gap and give in to all of the desire that was looming over you. And that was all he needed to hear before his soft lips encompassed yours.

The breath is stolen from your throat as Josh’s lips crash against yours, his hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. You almost have a double-take for a moment, wondering if this was really happening, before you’re snapped out of it by the feeling of Josh’s tongue gliding against your bottom lip. You give him access and his tongue slips past your lips and dances with your own, making you sigh quietly against his lips.

The feeling of his hands on your body and his mouth finally on yours is almost too good to be true. Were you dreaming? Surely not. His touch brings you back to reality, his hand grazing your ass and grabbing it tightly. God, you missed this. You missed him. You cursed yourself for even having doubts, but you do. Before it goes any further, you pull away, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pause to think straight.

“Josh…” you whisper, resting your forehead against his softly.

“Don’t think so much,” he says, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. “We can talk later. This feels too right to stop now.” After he speaks those words, it all feels reminiscent of a distant memory. Your first time, five years ago.

“Josh…” you start, rubbing your thumb along his cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispers, bringing his finger to your lips. “We can discuss it later. Right now, I just need to feel you… gotta make sure that this isn’t some sort of dream.”

Some things never change… Without ‘thinking too much,’ you just simply nod and stand up from the swing, taking his hand in yours.

“Come home with me?” you ask, lacing your fingers with his. A smile creeps across his face as he nods.

“I’m offended that you even felt like you had to ask,” he jokes, letting his arm be dragged by you as you exit the backyard and enter your own, entering the house through the backdoor. Your parents are in bed by now, so the two of you move swiftly up the steep steps into your attic bedroom. Once you enter your bedroom, you shut the door behind you and lock it.

The room is lit only by the string of lights along the back window, giving you a limited view of the man in front of you. You approach him, placing your hands on the back of his neck as he wraps his arms around your waist softly. Up close, you can see the clear smile across his face. It brought you joy, to see him happy, and to know that you were the reason for it.

Your lips finally find his again, backing him up quickly until the back of his legs hit the bed. He turns you around, laying your back against the bed as he hovers over you. His hands move to slide your flannel down your arms slowly, tossing it on the floor before leaning down to kiss hot, wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

His hands find the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling up on it lightly as his lips pepper kisses down your neck. You nod feverishly and he leans back to pull your t-shirt up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. Josh’s hand strokes your cheek softly and then travels down your neck to your chest, grasping your breast over your bra, making it spill out slightly.

He pulls his own shirt off, throwing it on the floor behind him before leaning back down to kiss down your collarbone, stopping at your bra strap. His finger slips underneath the strap and pulls it up, snapping it against your skin. You let out a light moan at the sensation and you watch him laugh at you before lowering his face to yours.

“God, you’re desperate for it, huh?” he asks, his nose brushing against yours as his eyes darken. “So needy.”

A quiet whimper leaves your throat involuntarily as one of his hands glides down your side to hold you still at your waist, while the other reaches behind your back and undoes the clasps of your bra in one swift movement. He pulls it off, tossing it to the side before lowering his mouth to your bare chest and taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

You throw your head back as his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud relentlessly. It was almost like he was starving, unable to stop himself as he pleasured you. The thought itself turned you on even more, almost becoming too much to handle.

One of his hands starts to work on the button of your jeans, undoing it before slowly sliding down the zipper. Without even bothering to pull the jeans down, his fingers slip underneath the waistband of your panties and immediately dip into your folds, eliciting a whine from you. A smirk grows across his lips as he dips his fingers through your folds a few more times, teasing your entrance before sliding his pointer finger inside of you with ease. His pace is relentless, curling his finger deep inside you before inserting a second finger, making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Josh, I–” you start, struggling to get your words out. He flashes you a smile as he quickens his pace, bringing you closer to the edge. “Josh, enough. I want to feel you, please.” He smirks as you beg for him, his ego growing even bigger knowing the effect he had on you. He removes his fingers from you and then grips the hem of your jeans, yanking them down and pushing them to the floor. He stands up off the bed and unbuttons his own pants, dropping them to the floor along with his boxers.

God, he was just as beautiful as you remembered. You’ve relived this moment dozens of times before, on nights when you were lonely and longing for him. It happened more than you’d like to admit. His chest was even more sculpted than the last time you’d seen him this way, bare in front of you. He had grown into this strong, sexy man that you almost didn’t recognize. But he was someone that you were desperate to have.

“I’ve pictured this moment so many times, but it’s still even better than I ever could have imagined,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him on top of you. His lips attack your neck, sucking dark marks along it as you writhe underneath him.

“You’ve pictured this, baby?” he asks, his eyes dark as his strong arms hold you still on the bed.

“Yes,” you nod, melting into his kiss as his lips press against yours. His hand aligns himself with you, rubbing your sensitive clit as he talks to you before slipping inside.

“Tell me what you thought about,” he says, his eyes burning through yours, dark with lust. Before you have time to answer, he pushes himself inside you to the hilt, making a stifled moan erupt from your throat. Your nails dig into his back as he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back into you harshly. “I said tell me,” he repeats, his voice low and hoarse. His hips start a brutal pace as you try to collect your thoughts, unable to think straight.

“I– fuck,” you start, quickly interrupted by a harsh slam of his hips as the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix. “I thought about how badly I wanted to feel you inside me again. Just like this,” you finally answer, throwing your head back against your headboard.

“Yeah? Did you touch yourself while thinking about feeling me deep inside you?” he says, his right hand resting on the back of your neck as his thumb strokes the front of your neck softly. You nod swiftly, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

“Yes, so many times,” you mutter, your eyes still shut tightly.

“What else?” he asks as you whine underneath him, struggling to keep going. “Open your eyes, look at me,” he asserts sternly. Fuck, he was so hot when he was in charge, you never wanted it any other way.

“I thought about when you’d be rough with me… so fucking hot,” you spit out, your eyes half-lidded as they lock on his. He curses under his breath and slams his hips extra hard against yours.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling his hips back and pulling out of you before swiftly flipping you over onto your knees. Without warning, he pushes back into you and sets a steady pace, his hand gliding from your hip down your back to the back of your neck. He pushes you down by your back as he slams into you, his tip hitting that special spot inside you repeatedly. You whine underneath him as the pressure inside you starts to build.

You wince as you feel Josh’s hand crack down on the swell of your ass, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from your mouth. As he fucks you deep into the mattress, his hand comes down on you a few more times, smoothing out the spot softly after each flow to your soft skin. You hear him panting behind you, muttering a slur of curses each time his hand cracks down on you, the sound of you whimpering underneath him almost enough to make him cum right there.

Josh’s hand wraps around your throat, holding tightly as he pulls you up, his warm chest pressing against your back. The new angle is almost excruciating and your mind is numb, you’re unable to speak. He brushes your hair to the side, planting harsh kisses on your shoulder blade as his neck holds firmly on your neck, squeezing ever so slightly.

The roughness was partially thanks to how much the tension built up, yearning to break free. But you knew that it was out of frustration too. Frustration over you not leaving with him all those years ago, and you deserved it. At this moment, if this was punishment for your decision, you wanted nothing else.

“Is this rough enough for you, baby?” he mutters against your skin, his other hand moving from your waist to rub tight circles around your clit. You whine under your touch, knowing that your climax is near. “Is this just what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes, feels so good,” you breathe, desperate for your release.

“Perfect,” he whispers, moving his hand from your throat to grasp one of your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipple harshly. God, you were so close. “I’d do anything to make you feel good, Saph. Anything.”

Your orgasm crashes over you at that moment, the burning, white-hot sensation washing over you more intensely than you’ve experienced in God knows how long. Your mind goes foggy and you grow stiff against his touch as he kisses your cheek softly and helps you through it.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, baby,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck as his thrusts speed up. “Where should I…” You lean your head back against his shoulder as he gets even closer, overstimulation almost taking over you.

“Inside. Fuck, please,” you plead, and he moans in your ear as he slams his hips into you harshly, chasing his own high.

“Shit, Saph, that’s so fucking hot,” he mutters from behind you, his arm holding your tightly against him as he grows closer. “Gonna fill you up, just like you want. Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your mind is so cloudy from the feeling of Josh inside of you and his lips on your neck that you almsot don’t register it at first. Before you have time to respond, he slams his hips into you one last time before you feel his release shoot deep inside of you. Your eyes roll back just from the feeling of it: warm, perfect. You knew in this moment that you were his. You always have been, and you always will be. It didn’t matter if you were together or apart, you were his.

He thrusts a few more times, pushing his cum deep inside you before pulling out slowly, laying you down on the bed softly. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, stroking your bare back softly before getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom behind you. Moments later, he returns with a towel, soaked in warm water to clean you off with. Once he’s convinced you’re clean, he wipes himself down quickly before tossing the towel back into the bathroom and then lying down next to you on the bed.

As he lays down on his back next to you, you scooch over on the bed, placing your head next to his on the pillow and putting your hand on his warm, soft chest. He leans over, placing a kiss on your forehead with a quiet sigh. As his fingers start to ghost over your arm sweetly, you finally break the silence.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, nuzzling into his neck as you shut your eyes, knowing that sleep will soon take over you. You don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling.

“What does this mean for us?” he whispers, the cogs turning slowly. “I have to go back to Nashville on Sunday…” You think for a moment, not wanting to jump the gun or say the wrong thing.

“I… I’ll talk to my dad in the morning, and I’ll tell him that I need to move to Nashville. With you. He’ll just have to find somebody else to take over.”

The silence is deafening. At first, you wonder if you’ve scared him away, but he speaks again.

“I thought that running the store was your dream, Saph,” he says apprehensively.

“It was. But everything is different now,” you answer, looking up at him with a soft smile. “You’re my dream, Josh Kiszka. Only you. Everything else can come after. I didn’t know it four years ago, but I know it now. It’s always been you.”

His lips crash into yours and you can feel him smiling against yours. Everything was falling into place.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers.

“I love you, Josh.”

The End.

*:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:*༺˚ ⊹♫⊹ ˚༻*:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:**:·.·:*

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