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asahicore · 1 year

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we’ll always have this summer - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader synopsis. Your mom ruins your summer plans by sending you to the equestrian center your grandmother owns in the south of France, wanting you to spend some time away from the city and take a break from your med studies. Although you’d been determined to spend the worst time ever there, you soon find out that maybe the cold but cute horse nerd next door who doesn’t want to talk to you might actually turn this summer into the best one of your life. genre. summer au, strangers to mutual dislike to friends to lovers ig, city girl x country boy type beat, mainly fluff and smut but also angst cause i love pain word count. 25.9k a/n. hi sisters i'm super excited to repost this, it was really fun rereading and editing it, and i hope that all of you who had enjoyed reading it last summer will still like it this time around and that those of you who hadn't read it will enjoy it now <3 i had also posted an sfw version, so if anyone would like that too, pls lmk! ok thats it let me know what u think love you bye

Sunghoon was going to have a very normal, uneventful summer. He would take a very much needed break from his studies and take care of the equestrian center he lives in, letting his parents take a breather and enjoy their summer. He’d wake up early and do everything he needed to, then spend the afternoon on horseback or sleeping in a random field. It’d be a routine his body is used to and likes, and he’d be able to let his worries go for a while. But then, you came along.

You, who’d had big plans for the summer. You, who should’ve been going on a two-week vacation with your friends to Mallorca as a treat for having aced your second-year medical school final exams and as a celebration for getting an internship in the hospital of your choice. You, who would’ve done nothing for those two weeks but sunbathe, read trashy romance novels, and get margarita-drunk at 2pm, and would’ve spent the rest of the summer hanging out with your friends in Paris, your home, and taking day trips to random French cities. This summer would be your last fun, carefree summer before you were thrown into real semi-adult life, and you were going to make the best of it. That’s what you had planned; to your utmost despair, your mom seemed to have other ideas in mind.

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times now, sweetie. You’re going. It’ll be good for you.”

“You know what will be good for me?” you say, close on her tail as you descend the stairs. “Relaxing and having fun with my friends for two weeks. Not cleaning horse manure and having to walk ten kilometers to get service.”

“It’ll be one or two kilometers at most, dear, not ten.”

“Ugh!” you groan ostentatiously. Your mother only shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. You glare back at her.

“It’ll be good for you,” she repeats, turning back to whatever was occupying her in the kitchen before you started arguing with her as you plop down on one of the stools at the center island. “You’ve seen neither your grandmother nor the countryside in ages, so it’ll be a nice change. What’s more, they say the best doctors are the ones who’ve done different jobs, you know.”

“Who’s ever said that…” you mutter under your breath, a clear look of distaste on your face. “But anyway, I see Mamie every Christmas at Auntie’s in Perpignan, and even if I didn’t, whose fault is it I never go to the countryside? You never bring me there.”

Your mother lifts her head and looks at you. “I’m too busy to make the journey all the way there. You’ve seen it, there’s two trains and two buses, I can’t do all that. Which is why we settle for Marseille. Direct train, easy. You, on the other hand,” she says, pointing to you with her wooden spoon, “will have plenty of time this summer.”

“Yeah, time I could’ve spent on a beach in Spain or with my friends here!” You know you’re being annoying, but you can’t help it. You really want to go to Mallorca.

She sighs. “I just need you to trust me on this one, honey. You’ll have tons of other summers to do all that. Your grandmother is getting old, so I want you to have at least some memories with her before… you know. I know it’s our fault you didn’t see her more often, so this is our way of making up for it!”

Your father walks in the kitchen, materializing out of nowhere as he often does. “Your mother’s right, you know.” They both peer down at you, and you know then you really don’t get a say in this. “I had an amazing bond with my grandfather, and I want for you to have something similar with your grandmother. She’s the only grandparent you’ve got left, and I promise you, you don’t want to let that go to waste.” You still don’t look fully convinced, so he adds, “Plus, you already get along well, right? You always talk lots when you see each other at Christmas.”

Your father does have a point. You know the problem isn’t being with your grandmother, anyway. Truth be told, you were quite looking forward to spending more time with her. She had a great sense of fashion, and you were sure she had many stories to tell you. It was the fact that you had to spend your summer in a godforsaken town of Southern France where the nearest town was seven kilometers away and the nearest city almost a forty-minute drive. Where you lived in Paris, you had everything you needed in a five-minute walk radius, and you just needed to hop on the Metro or the train to go anywhere else. And it was an equestrian center, of all places. You didn’t even like horses.

“Also,” your mother starts, dragging out the vowel, “the family that lives in the house next door has a boy your age. I heard he’s cute.” She wiggles her eyebrows and you groan at her, which just makes your parents laugh more. You don’t want to stereotype, but you highly doubt a boy who lives in an equestrian center in the middle of God-knows-where is anywhere as handsome as the boys you see everywhere in the capital city. Hot people live in cities; to you, that’s always been a fact.

And as if a stupid boy could make this any better anyway.

Your mother wasn’t lying when she said the journey was long. You took the Metro from your apartment to the train station, then a rapid train to Perpignan, a regional train to Argelès, and a bus to the town of Laroque-des-Albères. And that wasn’t even it - there could’ve been a second bus, but your grandmother had arranged for the neighbors’ son to come and pick you up and drive you to the small commune named La Pierrerie where the equestrian center was.

To your dismay, there was another thing your mother had been right about; the neighbors’ son being cute. When you get off the bus, you look around the almost empty parking spot with no idea of who you’re supposed to look for. But he must see your lost expression and all your luggage and assume you’re the one he had come to pick up, so he calls out your name. Your head snaps towards the direction of the voice, and the moment your eyes settle on him, you have to hold yourself from gaping at him like a dead fish. For someone who supposedly spends his weekends and vacations outside, taking care of horses, cleaning stalls and doing handiwork, his features are… delicate. The perfect blend of sharp and soft - a round face contrasted by a knifelike jaw, plump lips, his eyebrows forming a straight line over his almond-shaped eyes. But you find roughness on his face is in the crease of his eyebrows as he peers down at you. You haven’t done anything yet, but he already clearly disapproves of you.

There’s a scowl on his face - he may be pretty, but he’s definitely not welcoming. You walk towards him, dragging your luggage behind you, and he doesn’t move to help you until you reach the car, and finally he opens the trunk and hauls one of your suitcase in.

“Thank you,” you breathe, looking up at him, “um?”

A beat passes as your eyes lock, and he looks so bored you think he might not even bother to give you his name, but thank God he does. “Sunghoon.”

You decide not to let his rudeness get to you and put on a bright smile, but by the time you’re done saying “nice to meet you,” he’s already gotten in the driver’s seat. He starts the car without another word, and your efforts at any sort of conversation are so fruitless that you give up after two minutes of asking questions that are only met with two-word sentences. You can only hope that his family isn’t as unfriendly as he is, otherwise you’d be in for one hell of a summer.

When you arrive in La Pierrerie, it’s almost nine p.m., and you’re exhausted from your long journey and from carrying around such heavy suitcases. Still in complete silence, Sunghoon takes two of your bags and heads towards what you can only assume is your grandmother’s house. You go to follow him, but you soon notice your grandmother and another woman, who you guess is Sunghoon’s mother, sitting at a table, sipping on some lemonade. As soon as they see you arrive, they rush towards you (well, the woman does - your grandmother walks as fast as she can), helping you with the rest of your baggage. They kiss you on both cheeks as a greeting, starting from the right but you’re used to starting from the left, which almost makes your lips bump into each other. Thankfully, they laugh it off, and you make sure to remember the local custom to avoid future potentially awkward encounters.

The woman introduces herself as Mrs Park and tells you she lived next-door to your grandmother, just like you’d guessed. She says that she’s happy to meet you and hopes that you had a nice trip and that you weren’t too tired for the meal she and your grandmother had prepared for tonight. You like her instantly - her kind eyes and warm smile make you feel at home right away.

Your grandmother hugs you too, and you had to admit it felt nice seeing her after such a long time. Such a sweet welcome revives you a bit, and a nagging voice in your head tells you, see, this isn’t that bad, this summer might be good after all, but you quickly shut it down. Your stubborn nature wants you to hate this for at least a little bit, especially after the excruciating car ride you just had to sit through. You won’t show it to your hosts, obviously, because you want to be respectful, but you can at least scowl and curse your parents when nobody’s looking.

There’s no time for awkward silence and looking back and forth between the two women because as soon as the greetings are over, Mrs Park announces she’ll go heat up the food and get the last things ready while your grandmother shows you around her home, which would be yours for the next two months and a half, and lets you unpack for a bit.

Your grandmother’s house is on two floors. The ground floor is basically one big room, which the front door leads directly into. There’s the kitchen, the dining room and the living room. It’s all very open and bright, and you can tell it must be very warm when the sunlight poured directly through the large windows into the room at the right time of day. It’s simply decorated, with furniture that probably hasn’t been updated in a while but that is well maintained and looks cozy enough. Black-and-whites and photographs of fuzzy quality are hung on the wall of the dining room and you’re eager to take a closer look at them later on.

Upstairs are two bedrooms and the bathroom, as well as a mezzanine that’s a few steps lower than the rest of the floor and that looks over the living room. This is where your grandmother keeps her books and her trophies from her past very successful horse riding career. There are a couple armchairs in the corner and a window to bring more light in, and you’re sure this would make an amazing reading nook for late evenings or stormy afternoons.

Your room is not much more than a double bed, a chest of drawers, a cupboard to hang your clothes in and a few empty shelves. Your grandmother had told you you were welcome to bring any kind of decoration you wanted to make this room yours for the summer, so you’d taken with you a few posters and framed pictures as well as some babbles you liked looking at. She’d picked out some daisies from her garden and made a bouquet out of them, livening up the vase on your bedside table.

She sits on your bed as you put your clothes away (which you had brought so many of, you weren’t sure there’d be enough room to put them all in) and tells you how she’d come to live here with the Parks. This is something you like about her - she has many stories to tell, each more fascinating than the other, and she’s always willing to tell them.

Your grandmother had actually grown up not too far from here, on the other side of town. Her parents had signed her up for lessons every Wednesday afternoon for a few years, until her instructor recognised her potential and told her she could ride professionally if she wanted. So, she started having two-hour lessons four times a week. When she started winning local, then regional, then national championships, she moved to Perpignan to be taught by more qualified instructors in a more renowned riding club.

Years forward, she got pregnant and her career as a rider was over. When her kids were old enough, she got a job as an instructor and even managed a few athletes of the club in Perpignan, but she continued to visit her old club in Laroque once in a while, as she always did throughout her career. She’d seen it wear down and lose customers over the years to the point that at the end of the nineties, it was under threat of closing down. Her old teacher had long passed and her son and his wife had taken over. This son, who was a bit older than your grandmother, had worked there his whole life, but it wasn’t what he wanted to do - as the only son, he’d had no choice but to stay and take care of the club. However, he hadn’t wanted it to close that way, and he was still desperate to keep the club alive, especially because his own son truly loved it and wanted to take over and manage it once he was done with high school.

Your grandmother, with more money than she needed from her successful career and the inheritance she got from her husband’s passing, offered to buy the club from the Parks and manage its finances while they took care of the horses and of lessons. Her only condition was that she could move in in the other house on the property that wasn’t inhabited and needed a few renovations. They agreed immediately.

Mr Park graduated from high school in 1998, got married to the now Mrs Park in 2000, and they had their first child, Sunghoon, in 2002 - the same year as you. His parents moved out to the city and got new jobs that they liked a lot more while the club, thanks to your grandmother’s donations and Mr and Mrs Park’s hard work, prospered once again. It did help that an Olympic rider sometimes helped out with lessons and gave out advice for aspiring athletes.

And now, here you are, twenty years later, visiting her for the first time since you were probably six. You don’t have many memories from those few times you’d been here, so it was all new to you. Especially that Sunghoon boy, whom your grandmother was sure you would get along with based on how chummy you were back in 2008. When you were both six. You didn’t have the heart to tell her how he had been with you in the car.

“Sunghoon’s a bit shy, but once you get to know him, he’s a really good kid. Very passionate and hardworking. So is his sister Yeji, but she’s got different ambitions,” your grandmother muses.

“Oh yeah? What does she want to do?” you ask, genuinely interested, as you try to somehow fit another t-shirt into one of the drawers. You’d started out by folding them nicely but you’d soon given up and started stashing them into the corners.

“She wants to become a professional rider. Says she wants to become like me,” she explains with a small chuckle. “Well, she’s definitely got what it takes. I got her a spot in that bigger club in Perpignan I told you about, so she goes there after school twice a week, but she still trains here with me every weekend.”

“You give her lessons?” you ask, some surprise in your voice, which makes your grandmother laugh.

“What, you think I’m too old?” she jokes and you shake your head rapidly, but she doesn’t take any offense to it. “I can’t stand for hours and shout like I used to, but I can sit in the center of the riding hall and watch, then tell her what she needs to work on and what she’s doing well. She says it helps her, so I’m happy to do it,” she adds with a shrug. You nod as you open another drawer and decide this one will be for your underwear.

“What about Sunghoon?” You can’t help but ask, a bit curious about him. You doubted you could really chalk up his impoliteness to shyness, but you could still listen to what your grandmother had to say about him.

“He’s more like his dad, wants to take after the club. But he’s a very decent rider, too. If his sister hadn’t said she wanted to go pro so early on, I’m sure he would’ve. You know one thing that’s great about getting old?” she asks suddenly.

“No?”

“You observe people a lot more, and you understand them a lot more too. Well, now that I think about it, it might be just me,” she says, making you chuckle. “I don’t have a lot going on in my life, so I have more time to be nosy and see what others are up to. He’d never admit it, I don’t think, that he gave up on a potential riding career for his sister. He’s the type to make quiet sacrifices, and he loves his sister to death. He’d rather take over the club and watch her be happy than the opposite.”

You nod, an approving expression on your face. “Sounds like a good guy,” you say honestly, surprised that someone supposedly so kind could also be so rude.

“He is. Handsome, as well, by the way, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” she adds, a knowing smile playing on her lips, but you just roll your eyes playfully.

“That’s what mom said,” you reply, not wanting to admit that they are both right on the matter of Sunghoon’s handsomeness.

Sunghoon’s the one who opens the door when you and your grandmother knock. His expression when he sees you is the same as earlier, but you don’t have the time to ponder over his behavior, because quickly enough, two figures appear behind him. He steps to the side, letting enough space for you to come in, his harsh gaze never once leaving your face. You turn your attention to the figures, namely his father and a young girl who you guess is Yeji, and, thank God, they’re looking at you with wide smiles.

“You must be Y/N!” his father beams, and you nod, returning his smile and saying hi. He kisses you on both cheeks, and this time you remember to start from the right. “Welcome. We’re very happy to have you here, aren’t we, Sunghoon?”

He seems oblivious to his son’s clear distaste of you as he loops an arm over his shoulders, happily shaking one of them under his grasp. “Right,” Sunghoon says, voice monotone. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply with a slightly confused tone - what the hell was his deal? Usually, whatever energy someone gave you, you’d give it back to them. You’d have no problem being as rude to Sunghoon as he was to you if only his family didn’t seem so nice.

“I’ll go help Mom in the kitchen,” he announces and walks away. His father turns back to you and gives you an apologetic smile.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just shy. He’ll warm up to you eventually.” You nod, saying it’s okay.

Yeji then takes a step towards you, introducing herself as she goes in for the usual two kisses on the cheeks. “Hi, I’m Yeji!”

“Hi, so nice to meet you!”

“Me too, I’m really happy you’re here! It’ll be nice being with another girl,” she says, gesturing towards her oblivious brother with a tilt of her head. It takes a lot more effort to be nice than to be rude, you think, side-eyeing Sunghoon in your head.

“Are there not a lot of girls that come here for lessons?” you ask as she leads you inside the house, showing you where to take off your shoes and jumper.

“There are, but they only come here once a week and stay for a few hours, so it’s not the same. I’m stuck with my anthropoid of a brother most of the time,” she says, lowering her voice to make sure only you can hear what she says. You both laugh at her diss; nothing like bonding over hating boys with another girl. You can already tell you’re going to like her.

You ask if there’s anything you can do to help, but the Parks tell you to not worry about anything and sit down. You and Yeji join your grandmother who’s already sitting at the dinner table, and the three of you chat, or rather, you and Yeji chat while your grandmother listens. Or maybe she isn’t listening, you’re not sure.

Yeji is in her first year of high school. The prestigious riding club she is being taught at doubles as a school, so that’s where she’s been studying for the past few years, and she boards there as well, coming home every weekend unless she’s got important competitions coming up, in which case she stays there for a few weeks. Competition season is about to start, so she’ll be spending most of her time there this summer.

“And do you like it there?”

She looks slightly taken aback by your question, as if she’s not quite used to being asked about that. “I mean, yeah, yeah, I do. It’s nice being able to ride so often, and not having the stress of needing to figure out what I want to do next. But it is… you know,” her voice gets quieter, “a lot of pressure sometimes.”

Sunghoon walks in then, plates and cutlery in hand, and starts setting the table. Yeji’s face lights up at her brother’s arrival, using it to change the topic. “Sunghoon is studying to become a vet. He’s finished his two years of preparatory classes, so now he’s going to a vet school in Toulouse.”

He glares at his sister, but she doesn’t pay him any mind. “He graduated top of his class, you know.”

“Why are you telling her about me?” he interrupts.

Yeji just shrugs. “I’m telling her about us.”

“Well,” he says, putting down a plate in front of you and a fork and knife on each side of the plate, “she doesn’t need to know about me.” You can’t see his face but the cold tone of his voice and his presence right behind you are enough to send shivers down your spine. What the hell is his deal?, you wonder.

You look at Yeji, a confused look on your face, and she rolls her eyes as a dismissal of her older brother’s behavior. “Don’t ask me, cause I don’t know what his problem is, either,” she says, and you can’t help but chuckle.

Mrs and Mr Park walk in then, bringing in the main dish of duck confit as well as roast potatoes, vegetables and some bread. Mrs Park gives you the biggest chunk of meat and a load of sides, saying you must be famished after such a long trip even though you tell her you’d brought things to snack on. She says she’d hesitated between cooking Korean food or a typical French Southwestern dish but had opted for the latter, wanting to welcome you properly in the region. You thanked her and told her it looked amazing.

When everyone is served, you wish each other ‘bon appétit’ and start eating. You’re chewing on your first mouthful of duck and potatoes when Mrs Park asks you what you study. “Your grandmother said you were a med student?” she asks with a smile. Everyone looks at you except for Sunghoon, who only has eyes for his food.

You nod, waiting to swallow before answering, and Mr Park tuts his wife for not letting you eat. “I am. I passed my second year,” you say, earning yourself some congratulations, “and I’m starting my residency in a hospital in Paris next semester.”

“Do you know what part of the hospital you’ll be in?” Mr Park asks.

“We get to do turns, so we can see what we like. We give our school our top five choices, and then they put us in three departments for three months each, and then choose our favorite one based on the offers we get for the summer. I’m in the children’s ward first, then cardiology, then reeducation. We’ll also get to watch over surgeries.”

He nods, humming at your words. “And is that what you want to do later? I mean, work in one of those departments?”

“I’ve got time to change my mind, so I guess it depends how much I like being at the hospital, but I think I’d rather have my own cabinet after some time. I feel like overtime, you build more of a relationship with people, and it’s a lot less stressful, too,” you add with a chuckle.

Mr Park smiles and nods again. “Ah, I see. That’s nice. And would that be in Paris?,” he asks, and this time, it’s his wife that tells him to leave you alone, but you say it’s okay.

“Probably. It’s the city I know best, but nothing is set in stone.”

“You should come here!” Mrs Park perks. “Most people who live here are quite old - no offense, Nadine - ” (“None taken,” your grandmother says with a smile), but we’ve only got two doctors, and one is probably retiring in the next six to ten years.”

“You tell me to leave her alone, and then you tell her to move here,” Mr Park mutters, earning himself a small slap on the arm. They start bickering, and your grandmother just sighs and shakes her head.

“Young love,” she says, making everyone laugh. Even Sunghoon cracks a smile, and you get a glimpse of his dimples. As soon as he catches your gaze, his smile drops, and you turn your eyes away, your cheeks heating up. Yeji starts a new topic and soon enough you’re all chatting again. If it wasn’t for Sunghoon making it very clear he didn’t want you here, you’d already feel at home, just sitting at this dinner table.

When dinner is over, you insist on clearing the table and doing the dishes, saying you felt bad not doing anything. “I need to earn my keep,” you tell Mrs Park with a smile.

She laughs and says, “Oh, no need to worry about that, with Sunghoon showing you the ropes the next few days, you definitely will.”

Sunghoon perks up at the mention of his name. “What’s this about?” he asks, that crease still in his eyebrows. You find yourself wanting to stroke them with your thumbs and brush that frown away, but you quickly snap out of it. He may have a pretty face, but from what you’ve seen, that’s about all there is.

Mrs Park lets out a small puff of air through her nose. “We’ve talked about this, dear. You’re showing Y/N around the club tomorrow and Monday. It’s so you know how everything works before summer lessons start,” she explains, turning towards you.

“Why does it have to be me, though?” Sunghoon almost whines, and you want to scoff at him.

“Because your father and I said so,” his mother says, ending the conversation there, and you’re reminded of your own parents.

Sunghoon looks at you and frowns, so you raise your eyebrows back at him. It wasn’t your fault you were here or that his parents had designated him to show you around, so there was no reason you should make yourself small or apologetic for him. He scoffs and looks away. “Just be outside by eight a.m. tomorrow morning, okay?”

He doesn’t let you answer, just gives you one last hard look and walks away.

“Why are you wearing a dress?” Sunghoon asks as soon as you step outside the next morning.

“Good morning to you too, Sunghoon,” you reply sarcastically. You roll your eyes when he doesn’t say anything, just stands there, arms crossed over his chest, so you add, “Because it’s going to be hot today. And because it’s pretty.”

“This is an equestrian center, not a fashion show. You won’t be comfortable. Go put on a t-shirt and some shorts or some leggings. And wear sneakers, not sandals, Christ.”

You scoff and mirror his posture. “You don’t get to tell me what to wear, you know.”

He lets out a dry chuckle and rolls his eyes, a disbelieving smile on his face. “This might be a holiday for you, because it’s sunny and there’s nature everywhere, but this is work we’re gonna be doing. So, for your own sake, wear the right kind of clothes. But if you want to get horse saliva on your dress or step in horse shit wearing those shoes, be my guest.”

You glare at him for a few seconds, realizing that he’s right, and huff out an annoyed “fine,” stomping back into your grandmother’s house. “Be quick!” he calls after you.

You come back out five minutes later, wearing a tank top you usually use for sleeping, a pair of denim shorts and old sneakers your mother had told you to pack. “Took you long enough,” Sunghoon says, a true ray of sunshine, but you decide it’s better to ignore him. He barely talked to you yesterday, but now that it’s just the two of you and he has to, his words are somehow more annoying than his silence.

You stare at him unfazed and ask, “So, what’s first?”

He raises his eyebrows, seemingly surprised, but answers anyway. “Right. Follow me.” He heads towards a part of the farm that is attached to the riding hall and that your grandmother had pointed out yesterday evening as the reception and office area.

Sunghoon fishes a keyholder out of his jean pocket and slides open the door using one of the many keys he has. He goes to stand in front of a postboard and points to it. “This has the daily and weekly schedule on it. It’s a routine, so things don’t change much, but when they do, we add a post-it to the board. For example, the blacksmith is coming next Thursday to check horseshoes. That’s a post-it. Today, we’re cleaning out all the stalls and adding fresh straw. We do that every Monday, so it’s on the schedule. No post-it.”

“Right. That makes sense,” you nod. “Is that all we do today?”

“We do rounds first, but basically, yeah, because cleaning takes a long time. And Monday is technically our day off. No one comes in for lessons so we use that free time to clean out the stalls.”

You nod and Sunghoon chuckles at you, but you don’t have time to question him about it because he’s already off and you have no choice but to follow him. He leads you to a part of the farm on the other side of the courtyard and pulls out another key, pushing the door open to a wide three-and-a-half-wall room with rings attached to the walls every few meters. Three and a half because behind that space on each side are stalls, as Sunghoon points out.

“This is the prep room, where we get the horses ready before a lesson.”

“What do you do to get them ready?” you ask, looking around the room.

“You clean their coat and their hooves, brush out any tangles in their manes and tails, then saddle and bridle them. The club saddlery is over there,” he says, pointing to a door on your right. “Horse owners have their own stuff in lockers in another room.”

Apparently, you’re not checking out the saddlery today, because Sunghoon is already walking over to the stalls.

“Hi everyone,” he greets softly. You follow him closely as he walks on one side of the stables, petting each horse as he walks past them or peering over the door to see how the sleeping ones are doing, and then does the same thing on the other side. He greets each horse by name, and even though it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he remembers each and every one of them, it still does. You tell him exactly that, and he chuckles.

“What would you think of a teacher that doesn’t know their students’ names? This is kind of the same,” he explains. He shows you the stacks of hay and straw at the end of the stables, and explains that they bring it here from the fields every once in a while because it’s more convenient, and that this is what you’ll be using later.

When he’s checked that everything is okay, he opens the door on the other side of the room leading outside. On your right stands a huge pile of manure, and you can’t help but make a stank face at the odor hitting you right in the nostrils. Sunghoon chuckles again (can he please stop chuckling at you for no reason?) and reassures you by saying they’re emptying it soon. “The farmers use it for their crops,” he explains.

On your left, there’s another barn that you guess hosts more horses. He gets out yet another key and pushes the door wide open. Light fills the barn instantly, making the dust particles in the air visible, and you hear a few grunts and huffs from the horses - of annoyance at Sunghoon waking them up or of happiness at seeing him, you’re not yet qualified enough to say.

There are two other smaller, one-sided stables next to the riding hall where he takes you and does his rounds again. When he’s all done, you follow him to the riding hall where he opens two doors on each side, that way you can walk through it to get to the pastures in the back rather than walk around the whole center, and takes down the electric cables that serve as an entrance to the pastures. He doesn’t explain any of this, however, so you sort of have to guess. Wordlessly, you head back to the last stables you were in and there, he throws a bunch of what you think are harnesses at you.

“What are these?” you ask dumbly, looking at the thing in your hand.

“They’re halters,” he says, and when you just stare wordlessly, he adds, talking as if it were obvious, “you put them around the horse’s head so you can take them places?”

“Right. Can you show me how to put one on?”

He sighs but obliges; he doesn’t have much of a choice anyway. Not your fault that he’s lived here all his life whereas you’ve encountered a horse maybe three times in your twenty years of life.

He demonstrates how to put a halter on and watches over you as you practice it on an old and tired-looking white horse. When you manage to do it somehow quickly, he says, “there you go,” and you’re surprised to not hear any sarcasm in his voice. However, when he pats the horse’s forehead, you have a feeling the praise was more directed towards her than you.

You walk side-by-side to the pastures, you with the white horse, whose garrot reaches your shoulder, and Sunghoon leading a small pony in each hand. They have to walk quickly to keep up with his strides and you can’t help but laugh at their cute swaying hips.

“How old is she?” you ask Sunghoon, head tilting towards the horse you’re walking with.

A soft smile cracks on Sunghoon’s lips, perhaps the first smile you’ve seen on him today. “That’s Nellie,” he answers quietly, looking at the horse in question. “She’s turning 20 this December. We were only born a few days apart.”

“Wow, so you grew up together, that’s pretty cool,” you say honestly, and Sunghoon’s eyes settle on you for a few seconds, eyebrows raising a bit as if surprised by your words.

“Yeah, it is,” he says, looking back in front of him. “My parents taught me how to horse ride with her. And she’s the only horse that belongs to the club whose papers actually state that I’m her owner. All the others have my parents’ name or the club’s on theirs.”

“Ah, so she’s your horse,” you say, looking at Nellie and smiling. You’d have imagined a much taller, handsome and dark-haired horse for him, but this somehow matches as well. It makes Sunghoon appear sweeter, for some reason.

“Yeah,” he says simply, but you don’t miss the small smile on his lips. So maybe there is a way to get to know Park Sunghoon, you think.

Once in the pastures, he shows you how to release a horse safely in case they get excited about being outside and hurt you accidentally or run away. Thankfully, these horses know better than to do that sort of stuff, so it’s very unlikely that anything will happen, he explains, but you’re always better safe than sorry. You head back to the stables in a silence a bit less awkward than before and do the same things with the three other horses in those stables. Not much is said, but you don’t want to force the conversation. He just explains to you that these few horses work well together in the pastures, but that it’s not always this easy.

“Horses have a herd instinct, so they need to be with each other, but also not with anyone. You know how wolf packs have alphas and betas and stuff?” he asks, and you nod. Your friends and you had an obsessive Teen Wolf phase when you were in middle school. “Well, horses kind of have that too, because there’s a hierarchy in their herds. So there’s usually one leader, a mare, and some others that just get along.”

“How do you know which horses get along, though?”

“You just have to observe. You can tell pretty quickly which horses are going to have a leader or a follower type personality. Just put two leaders together, and they’ll clash instantly. It can get pretty bad pretty quick, so the first few times you put certain horses together outside, you really have to watch over them and be careful.”

“That’s so interesting,” you say after a few moments. “I never knew horses to have such complex relationships,” you say, and he smiles.

“Horses are really cool,” he says, and immediately grunts. “That was such a loser thing to say.”

You can’t help but laugh at his self-realization, but quickly reassure him. “No, it’s not. It’s something you’re passionate about, of course you’re gonna find them cool,” you say, and the smile he gives you as an answer shouldn’t make your heart beat that much faster, but it does, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You’re just glad he’s being nice to you - bare minimum, but still, a small victory.

“Time for the hard part, now,” he says when all five horses are happy in the pasture. You follow him to a toolshed where they keep tools, of course, but also two empty wheelbarrows and snacks for the horses like grains, carrots and salt blocks. He tells you to grab a shovel as he rolls out a wheelbarrow and you head back to the stalls together.

There’s nothing complex about shoveling dirty hay and horse shit into a wheelbarrow, but by God is it a draining task. The shovel itself is heavy, so having to pick all that stuff up, heave it back into the cart, and then repeat for who knows how many times is a real burden on your poor back and arms. You definitely let Sunghoon know how hard this is for you, what with all the sighs and loud breaths and grunts you’re letting out. You’ve barely finished cleaning one stall out when Sunghoon is starting his third, and you can tell he’s not happy about it.

“If you complained less, you’d work faster, you know,” he says, that scowl back on his face.

“I can’t help that I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” you chide back, out-of-breath and wiping some sweat from your forehead.

“Yeah? All the hard tasks usually done for you, princess?”

His scowl turns into a small smirk as he looks at you, and you curse your heart for doing a flip when he chuckles at your dumbfoundedness. It’s just a stupid nickname, you tell yourself, no need to get so worked up over it.

“I’ve never had any hard tasks like this in the first place,” you say, moving on to the second stall. “My body isn’t made for it.”

“Well, it’ll have to get used to it.” Yesterday, his mother had also told you you’d get used to it, as a way of reassuring you; but Sunghoon’s words are a far cry from his mother’s, and are more of a threat than anything.

Another few minutes and you’re done, Sunghoon watching you as you finish cleaning your designated stall. You dump everything at the manure pile, then head to the straw pile and fill the wheelbarrow to replace the dirty straw with fresh one in the stalls. And then, you only have to do that four more times. Easy enough, right?

No. Not easy.

The only semi-easy part is taking the horses out of their stalls and tying the rope that are attached to their halter to a ring in the prep room, except some horses are less compliant than others and you end up having to call Sunghoon a couple times so he can take care of them for you.

The whole time you’re heaving manure into the wheelbarrow, you’re complaining. At first, it was the stank that had really gotten to you - as one can imagine, hay infused with horse piss and shit doesn’t smell like fresh linen. But somehow, you got used to it - maybe the physical exertion forced you to forget about the smell and focus on the pain taking over your whole body.

You huff and puff as you feel the heavy weight of the shovel in your arms and shoulders every time you need to lift it up and bring it back down. The pain in your upper back from years of carrying your backpack on one shoulder makes itself known, and after half an hour you’re whining that you can feel muscle scores coming in your whole body.

“They’ll probably stay for a whole week too,” you mumble to yourself, but still loud enough for Sunghoon to hear.

“You’ll get used to it, I told you. In a few weeks this will feel like nothing.” When you only grunt in response, he adds: “I usually do this on my own, you know. You’re lucky you’re only doing half of the work. Or more like one fourth, with the speed you’re going at.”

“Why don’t your parents or sister help you out?” you ask as you lean against the stall wall, using the distraction of a conversation to take a break.

“My parents already work all week when I’m not there, giving lessons and taking care of the club, so it’s the least I can do to help out on weekends and during my breaks. And my sister already works hard enough at her school so I want her to relax when she’s here,” he replies, never stopping his shoveling.

“But you work hard too, don’t you? I mean, your sister said you were top of your class. You should get a break too.”

His movements halt for a split second only. If your words have any sort of impact on Sunghoon, he doesn’t want to let you know.

“I just study hunched over my desk all week. It’s nice to do something physical, and I don’t mind the time alone.” You’re not sure whether this is an excuse he’s come up with for himself or if he’s telling the truth, but his tone is so final and you understand that he’s done with the conversation, so you pick up your shovel and get back to work. You don’t complain for the rest of the morning.

When you’re finally done with the stalls, you bring back the horses you had walked to the pastures so that others can enjoy the free space and green grass. That’s when you run into an obstacle.

No matter how much you pull, coax, or stare impatiently, this horse won’t budge. Sunghoon rests his back and one foot against the plastic half-wall of the riding hall, chuckling at how awfully you and Dona are getting on. He’s already brought back the other five horses to their stalls and has nothing better to do than be useless, apparently.

After a few minutes of you trying to negotiate with Dona, to no avail, Sunghoon finally speaks up, just loud enough for you to hear. “Stop staring at her. Horses get nervous when you stare too much.”

You scoff. “But she won’t move! I’m trying to show her the desperation in my eyes!” you shout back, and turn to the horse who only peers at you with empty black eyes.

“Don’t shout. Horses don’t like it when you shout,” Sunghoon simply answers, propping himself off of the wall and taking his sweet time walking towards you. When he reaches you and Dona, he takes the tether from your hands and says, “C’mon, Dona,” without even looking at the horse, who immediately follows, no questions asked.

You stand there dumbfounded and mouth O-shaped as you watch the two of them stride away calmly, running after Sunghoon when your shock dissipates. “Don’t run,” he says when he hears your quickly approaching footsteps, “horses don’t like it when you run.”

“My God,” you say, already out of breath, “how many things do horses not like?”

“Quite a few,” he answers matter-of-factly, although you meant your question more rhetorically than anything.

“How did you do that, anyways?” you ask when your breathing returns to normal.

“Well, mainly, it’s just because she knows me and knows to listen to me,” he explains, turning his head just a bit to look at you as you walk back to the main stables, the sun making itself shy behind the tall trees even though it’s nearing midday. A warm breeze blows, sweeping your ponytail to the side and rustling the leaves on the trees. “But also, horses need to be told what to do, not asked. Your attitude needs to be, ‘we’re going back now,’ not, ‘hey, wanna go back?’” You nod slowly at first, then faster when the words start making sense in your head. Sunghoon wants to make fun of you but finds it sweet that you’re at least trying to understand.

“Right,” you say after a few moments. “It’s not very nice, though,” you add, causing Sunghoon to tilt his head and frown his brows, silently asking you to go on. “Well, I’m sure Dona would like a say in the matter.”

He once again contains his laughter because you look so serious and he doesn’t want to make you feel bad, but ultimately fails and snorts at your comment, making you look up at him, bewilderment written all over your face. “What? I’m being serious!”

“I know you are,” he chuckles, “but don’t worry, Dona doesn’t mind having to go home. And if it was up to her, she’d stay out all night.”

Sunghoon tells you some anecdotes about the club and its occupiers on your way back, making you giggle at some of the mischievous things the horses have gotten up to. He’s more talkative than this morning which takes you slightly aback, but you’re not going to complain about the change. You were dreading having to spend your summer annoyed at a cute boy you’d have to see every day, so you’re glad his first impression is drastically different from what he’s actually like.

You and Sunghoon part ways a bit before noon, and you plop down on the couch as soon as you get to your grandmother’s house. “Tough morning, huh?,” she calls from the kitchen. You only have enough energy left to hum a small “yes” back. She chuckles at you, then tells you to take a shower before having lunch. You spend the rest of your day sunbathing on a deckchair in the backyard, taking some time to relax before what you’re sure will be a tiring week.

One thing you learn during that week and the weeks after that is that Sunghoon has his fair share of fangirls. As a female-dominated hobby, most of the club members are teenage girls who love horses and cute boys.

Tuesday morning before lessons start, he shows you basic things like how to properly groom a horse and how to put their saddles and bridles (which is actually a lot harder than it looks - putting your thumb in a horse’s mouth seems a bit counterintuitive), just in case you ever need to get a horse ready for whatever reason. You’re going to be here for two months, so might as well learn things like these.

While you help him walk some horses to the pastures, he explains that summer lessons are different in that instead of learners coming once or twice a week, they come all day from Tuesday to Friday and then pass an exam on Saturday morning if they want to. Since both his mother and father teach, they’re able to have two separate groups, one for riders who come for more laidback lessons with games and walks in the fields nearby, and one for those who want to improve their skills in an intense week of both practical and theoretical lessons.

There isn’t much you can do on your own, so after you’ve gone around the stables giving grains to the horses that need them, you join Sunghoon outside in the courtyard as he cleans and greases some saddles and bridles that are starting to wear out. It’s fairly easy to do and he lets you help out, so you sit outside together in silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. That is, until you start noticing the girls.

You don’t want to pay them any attention, but what with the way they wave shyly at Sunghoon and giggle when he waves back, a smile you can’t describe as anything but dazzling adorning his lips, it’s impossible not to. Some of them even call out his name, saying “hi” in the sweetest way they can. You don’t blame them: had you been fifteen and seen a boy as pretty as Sunghoon, you probably would’ve acted similarly, especially if you got to see him on a regular basis.

What gets on your nerves, however, is how much Sunghoon enjoys it: you can tell by the smirk that won’t leave his face the whole time or the way he makes them all swoon by remembering their names. Bare minimum, you think to yourself once again, but you don’t say anything. Even if slightly infuriating, it’s also entertaining, seeing Sunghoon enjoy himself this way. You would’ve thought he was the type to want to be by himself at all times, unbothered by anyone, yet here he was, blushing at all the attention he was receiving.

After a girl who had come up to him (sparing you a confused “hi” when she saw your unfamiliar face but quickly turning her attention back to Sunghoon), wanting to know how his year at school had gone, skips giddily away, you can’t help but tease him.

“I can’t believe you’re liking this so much,” you say with a smile, keeping your attention on greasing the leather parts of the bridle.

Sunghoon looks up at you, a semi-offended look on his face. “I’m just being nice.”

“I didn’t know ‘just being nice’ entailed letting yourself be showered in compliments and winking at fifteen year-old girls. Aren’t you turning twenty?”

“I’m not- I didn’t- Whatever,” he gives up, a pout on his face as he returns to work. You nudge his shoulder, making him crack a smile, and you feel like you won the Grand Prix of something.

Another thing you learn that week is that there’s a lot of going back and forth with Sunghoon. One minute he’s laughing at your jokes and acting like a normal human being, and the other he’s giving you the cold shoulder as if he suddenly doesn’t want you around anymore. Sometimes, these changes in his attitude are so quick, they give you whiplash.

You learn to not pay too much attention to these mood swings, not wanting to create any problems for yourself. He seems to be happy when you ask him about horses, so you often come up with the most random things you can think to ask, and he always patiently answers even the dumbest of questions. However, his patience is much quicker to run out when you complain about any task you’re given, so you settle on glaring at the back of his head.

Thankfully, you’re actually a lot less busy than you thought you would be. Your tasks consist mainly of cleaning the stalls, feeding the horses, and taking care of the ones who are too old or have some kind of illness and can’t be mounted. You bring them to the pastures, where they spend a lot of their time, then brush out the dirt and dust embedded in their fur after rolling around on the ground. These horses are often the most affectionate, gently nuzzling your hands when you try to clean their face and huffing happily when they see you arrive.

You do this a couple times a week and Sunghoon often joins you, bringing Nellie out and attaching the rope of her halter next to the horse you’re taking care of so he can groom her as well. These are the moments when he’s in his best mood and he lets you blabber away, talking about random things and concerns in your life as he listens and nods, sometimes sharing some of his as well, letting you take a peek into his closed-off world. You find that you have actually quite a lot in common, with you being in med school and him in vet school, which are both intense and high-pressure. Yet, there’s always something that’s quite surface-level about these conversations; students will always easily bond about the stress of deadlines and horrible professors. You want to dig deeper, but something tells you that Sunghoon will quickly shut you down, and you’re okay with waiting for a bit. You’re just glad he hasn’t been the way he was with you that first day the whole time and that he’s actually talking to you and even sending a smile your way once every now and then.

You also hang out with Yeji quite a lot. Even though she’s on her summer break, competition season means she spends four days a week at her boarding school to train and the other three days at the club, trying to enjoy her summer like any other normal high schooler as best as she can. She doesn’t say much more on how she feels about training so much, only slightly hinting at her level of stress and fatigue like she had done at the dinner table, and you can tell it’s a touchy subject, so you don’t pry.

It does take your body a few days to get used to being outside in the sun and walking around all day, so your first week at the club, you head home as soon as you’re done with your tasks and take a shower then help your grandmother with dinner, spending your evenings reading or playing Scrabble with her (she’s an impressive player, by the way, and has taught you many words). Every Sunday night, you have dinner with the Parks, although Mrs Park also sometimes urges you into her house at one p.m. with the promise of delicious food.

On your second Wednesday there, however, you feel like going out in the evening. After a really hot week, it had stormed during the night that made Tuesday turn into Wednesday which had made the air feel less heavy and more refreshing, so doing anything was a lot less energy-consuming than it had been before. It’s nine p.m. and the sun is low in the sky when you tell your grandmother you’re going to explore the property some more. You know there’s a path that goes behind the pastures to a forest and that is used for horse rides and walks, so you make your way there and follow it.

The mud is still a bit soft from all the rain of the night and morning and you can tell apart footsteps as well as hoof and dog paw prints. The trees on each side on the path are so full of leaves that they make a sort of arch overhead, barring any of the remaining sunlight from entering and casting a shadow all over, and you wish you’d have brought a thin jumper with you. It feels nice to be outside when the sun isn’t making you feel like your skin will melt right off of your body, though.

You’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes, stopping here and there to look at a flower or snap a shot of the clouds you can see through the trees when you reach a clearing. It’s completely empty, the trees making way for a vast patch of just grass and small daisies, so of course you see him immediately.

A couple hundred meters away from where you’re standing is Sunghoon on a tall, ginger horse, galloping in circles. You don’t know much about horse riding, but you can tell that he knows what he's doing from the way he holds himself and directs the horse. His back is straight and his legs are pressed against the horse’s flanks, his hips moving in perfect synchronization with the horse’s strides so that he stays seated on its back rather than bounces like you’ve seen many less advanced riders do. The horse’s neck rounds and its head stays down, making its steps light and refined, and Sunghoon holds the reins long and low on each side of the horse’s garrot so he can gallop in a continuous circle.

The sight is breathtaking.

You’d always thought that horses had a certain grace to them, especially such tall and slim horses like the one right in front of you, and Sunghoon, with his perfect stance and control, somehow brought even more of that grace out. It was clear that it took a lot of work and talent to reach such elegance.

Although he seemed highly concentrated on what he was doing, Sunghoon noticed you after a minute of you standing there, all but gawking at him. You see him chuckle as he subtly changes his position on the horse and slows to a trot, heading towards you.

“Hey,” he calls out when you’re within hearing distance of each other. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just… taking a walk,” you say, pointing to the path behind you with your thumb but your gaze not leaving Sunghoon, still wearing an expression of astonishment on your face. “Sunghoon, that was- I mean, just, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. You looked amazing,” you say, unable to keep your honesty at bay. If the girls from the club had seen him ride like this, then you were definitely starting to understand why they were so smitten over him - you felt almost starstruck.

He chuckles again and looks down bashfully, hoping the dim light hides his growing blush from you. “Thanks. I wasn’t really doing anything special.”

“Not anything special, are you kidding? I’m serious, that was awesome. It was like- like a figure skater gliding, or like a ballet dancer doing turns or something,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

Your grin gets even wider when he lets out a giggle at your words, immediately covering his mouth with his palm when he hears the sound he’s made. He really does have a thing for being paid attention to and praised, you note.

“So you were just on a walk?” he asks awkwardly as a way of changing the subject, scratching the back of his head.

“I needed some fresh air, I guess. Plus, I’ve only been staying in the club, so I thought I’d take a walk around.”

“I can show you around when I’ve got time this week, if you want.” His offer seems to come as a surprise to the both of you, but you nod anyway, grateful for the extended hand.

“That’d be nice,” you say. You’re not sure what’s happening when you two stay there for a few seconds, just smiling shyly at each other, but you don’t hate it.

“Have you ever been on a horse?” he asks, breaking the silence first.

“Well, just a couple times, but it wasn’t lessons or anything, so I don’t know if it counts- wait, wait, what are you doing?”

A sudden mischievous smile has made its way to Sunghoon’s features as he dismounts, bringing the horse next to you. “Wanna try, then?”

“No,” you say with a pointed look. “No way. That horse is taller than me, Sunghoon, I’m not getting on him.”

“Oh c’mon, I promise you it’s not scary, and I’ll be holding onto the reins the whole time. We can just walk back to the club like this.” His eyes are working hard to convince you, and his small pout makes what little resolve you had crumble.

“Fine. But you better not let go of that horse.”

“I won’t,” he says, and something about his tone makes your qualms dissipate.

You walk over to where he’s standing on the left hand side of the horse and hook your left foot in the stirrup. Sunghoon instructs you to place your hands on each end of the saddle and hoist yourself up. It requires a lot more arm strength than you’d have imagined after seeing so many riders do it effortlessly, but Sunghoon is there to help you up as soon as he sees you struggling, two strong hands coming up to hold you at the waist and lift you onto the horse. You tell yourself it’s the physical exertion and not his touch that renders you breathless.

“Wow,” you say when you look around you, almost two meters above ground.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

A small giggle escapes your lips. “Yeah. Pretty cool.”

“How does it feel? Are you sitting okay? Here, I’ll change the stirrup length so they fit you. Or we can just cross them over the saddle, since you won’t really need them, anyway.”

“No, I’d rather wear them, please,” you say, and your slight anxious tone makes Sunghoon chuckle.

When he’s done adjusting the stirrups for you and made sure you’re comfortable, he shows you how to hold the reins properly and tells you how to get the horse to start walking. “We usually teach beginners that you knock your heels against their flanks, but because Flame has only been mounted by more advanced riders, he might not like that. Don’t panic,” he reassures as soon as he sees your eyes go wide, “just press your calves against him instead of using your heels. Here, see? I’m holding him by the front of the reins, so he won’t run off.”

“Right, right,” you breathe out. Sunghoon’s right there, so there’s no reason to stress about this.

“Good. Just a small pressure from your calves, and we’re good to go.”

Flame is very reactive, already started walking when you’ve barely squeezed your legs against him. With Sunghoon practically directing the horse for you, you realize there’s nothing for you to do but enjoy the ride.

“This feels nice,” you say as you try to get used to Flame’s quick but steady rhythm. Sunghoon’s smile is better than any other spoken answer he could’ve given you. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you decide to speak up.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Sunghoon replies, looking up at you.

“Why were you so mean to me the first night I got here?”

He seems slightly taken aback by your question, but you get a glimpse of a guilty expression before he looks back down. “Right, sorry about that. I’ve kind of been feeling bad about it all week, but I was scared to bring it up.”

“It’s okay, I’m just curious about the sudden change is all,” you say.

“I just-” he starts, but then seems to think for a bit. “I’m not the best with strangers, for one. Plus, you were going to stay for the whole summer. I’ve built a routine for myself every summer here, and I don’t like it when something, or someone, disturbs my peace. Also, no offense, but I’m not a huge fan of you city folk. So many people at school have this weird prejudice against me for being from the middle of nowhere, so I’ve kind of got a low tolerance for them. So before I even met you, I didn’t really like you. Sorry, that’s harsh.”

You tell him not to worry about it. His words make you understand him a bit more, and you’re glad it doesn’t seem to be anything too personal against you. You tell him to go on and he sighs. “And you know, I talked with my parents and they told me it’ll be nice to have someone else around to help, and that your grandmother always talks highly of you, and that it was stupid to have decided in advance I wouldn’t like you, and I sort of agreed, but I couldn’t bring myself to be okay with it all. It’s like, we’ve been fine all this time, so why bring in someone new? My parents told me that technically this whole property belongs to your grandmother, and that she could bring anyone she wanted, and I couldn’t really say anything against that. But anyway, I told myself that if I just was cold and pretended you weren’t here, that it’d be fine. But then I- I saw you, and…” his words trail off here and he looks down as if embarrassed to say what comes next.

“And?” you pry, too curious not to.

You really have to focus to hear his words because of how low he mumbles them. “And you were really pretty…”

This confession that seemingly comes out of the blue makes your heart swell with satisfaction and you can’t help but tease him about it. “What was that? I didn’t hear you clearly.”

“Oh c’mon, you heard me. Don’t make me say it again.”

“I want you to say it again, though.”

He sighs and gives in. “Fine. I said you were pretty.”

You laugh, way happier than you should be at his words, and he whines at you to not make fun of him. “So you were mean to me because I was pretty? Doesn’t make much sense,” you taunt.

He sighs again, shaking his head a bit as if in disbelief he’s actually talking about this. “It’s just that… I wanted to be nice, I promise you I did, but I just… I’m not even sure myself. I think it just pissed me off even more, because it wasn’t like having to ignore some rando, it was having to ignore a really pretty girl, which obviously I don’t really want to do,” he says, and you laugh again. “But then you ended up being really nice as well and even funny, and I felt like an asshole for being mean. Which I should never have been in the first place, I know. I’m just… bad with strangers, like I said. Not used to them. It’s not an excuse for my behavior, though, so I’m sorry.”

You look at him with a smile and thank him for apologizing. Sadly, it’s a lot more than most nineteen-year-old boys would do, so you appreciate it. You spend the rest of the ride teasing him about how he thinks you’re pretty and how he was really acting like a tsundere, earning a few embarrassed chuckles from him. Something about getting him flustered just gets you going: his shy smile that reveals a pair of dimples and another of fangs, the blush creeping on his cheeks as he looks down at his feet. Too adorable.

When you reach the entrance to the club, he helps you get off the horse, holding you when your knees almost buckle at the impact of your feet against the ground. For some reason, you weren’t expecting to be so high up, even though you had been on a nearly two-meter horse for the past fifteen minutes.

“You know, I could teach you how to mount, if you’re interested,” he says as you brush some horse hair from your leggings.

That’s the second offer Sunghoon makes you tonight; he’s really showing you his nice side now, you realize with a flip of your stomach. You could just say yes, that sounds fun, but instead, you decide to annoy him some more. “Didn’t know I was so pretty that the Park Sunghoon would offer to give me lessons!”

He rolls his eyes playfully and starts to walk away with Flame. “Forget it then.”

You giggle as you catch up to him and nudge his shoulder with yours. “I’d love to.”

From that day on, it’s a lot easier to be around Sunghoon. He still doesn’t let you complain, and you can tell the walls he’s built around himself have only shrunk by a few bricks, but at least his attitude doesn’t flip around anymore. He reveals a side of himself that’s goofier than you’d have imagined, cracking random dad jokes and making side comments that never fail to make you laugh. He’s also quite sensitive to your teasing, always looking away with a blush, mumbling a small whatever at your words, but his shy smile lets you know that he doesn’t actually mind it.

The riding lessons usually happen in between work breaks or at the end of the day, and after a few of them, you know how to get a horse to start, turn, and stop, and you don’t like a complete fool when the horse’s pace goes up to a trot, having mastered the art of sitting and standing at the right time. Sunghoon had shown you a few horses you could practice on and you’d gone for a piebald horse named Picasso whose garrot reached your chin, because the agglomeration of white hairs at the top of his otherwise black head formed a small heart.

Although you’d noticed from the get-go that Sunghoon was nothing less than gorgeous, it hadn’t hit you in the face until now that you could call him a friend, and every time he smiled or that the light hit his eyes a certain way, your heart skipped a few beats. At first, you told yourself that that was it - you found him pretty. That didn’t mean much more than you being able to recognise beauty, and it certainly didn’t mean you actually liked him as anything else than a friend.

That was until this one day, when he was giving you a lesson after everyone had left the club. In the south of France where temperatures often rise to the high thirties in the summer, heavy storms are bound to break out. This was one of those days - it had been raining the entire day, but it had calmed out a bit at the end of the afternoon which was why you had gone ahead with the lesson. However, twenty minutes into it, the rain got heavier again and thunder suddenly rang, loud and resonating in the emptiness of the fields. Horses are generally skittish creatures, and Picasso was no exception, the sound frightening him so much that he took off in a rapid gallop. In less than a fortnight of lessons you hadn’t developed the strong legs and quick reflexes of an advanced rider, and you were unable to keep up with him, falling off of him with a yelp, everything happening in the fraction of a second.

You fell right on your butt, the pain shooting off from there and spreading to your whole body and taking away your breath for three long seconds. You had barely the time to register what had happened that Sunghoon was already next to you, frantically asking if you were okay and telling you to stay still. He pulled his phone out and called Yeji, telling her to come to the riding hall quickly.

From your peripheral vision you could see Picasso pacing back and forth at the other side of the hall, as if to calm himself down. Sunghoon held you up with one firm hand planted on your back, his other hand resting on your arm as his thumb brushed your skin comfortingly. He helped you regain a normal heart rate by making you mirror his long and controlled breaths, worried eyes never once leaving your face.

Yeji got to the riding hall in no time and immediately spotted you sitting on the floor and Sunghoon crouching over you, but her brother asked her to please take Picasso back to his stall before she could walk over to the two of you. She nevertheless asked if you were okay and you nodded, trying to give her a faint smile that reassured both her and Sunghoon.

“You feeling better?” Sunghoon asked when your tears had finally stopped falling, wiping away the ones that had rained down your cheeks and reached your jawline.

You nodded, taking a deep breath through your nose that turned out to be useless when you opened your eyes and realized how close Sunghoon was, face merely inches away from yours and arms wrapped around you, taking your breath away more than the pain had. “Y-yeah, I’m fine, more shocked than anything.”

He let out a chuckle of relief and brushed the hair away from your face, fully putting your heart and lungs out of order. “I’m glad. Falls always happen when you first start out riding, but they’re still really scary. I was worried you got badly hurt for a second there,” he says simply, and before you can even process his words, he asks, “Are you feeling ready to get up?”

You can only nod, looking up at Sunghoon like he saved you from a near-death experience as he helps you up. If he notices your gawking, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re thankful for it. In your three weeks of knowing each other, you’ve been the one to tease Sunghoon and make him unable to say anything. Even just in general, you’re used to being the flirt that makes boys blush - very rarely were they able to do the same to you, even though they all tried their hardest. Yet Sunghoon, without even realizing it or doing it on purpose, had just made your heart flutter and your brain draw a blank. You wished you could blame it on the shock you just had and the pain still making your legs weak, but you’re reminded of all the times a simple smile or passing touch had put you in the same state, and you know you’d be a fool to continue on ignoring them.

It takes you literally falling flat on your ass to realize you have feelings for Park Sunghoon.

Unsure what to do with this newfound information, you decide to keep things between you and Sunghoon as they were. You’ll be leaving at the end of August anyway, no need to make things awkward for the remainder of your stay. Although some moments make you wonder if he might feel some kind of way for you too, you try not to think too much of them and enjoy your friendship as is.

When you’ve reached a level where you being on a horse isn’t a danger to yourself or those around you, Sunghoon keeps his promise of showing you more of the premises and you go on horse rides together, allowing you to discover random creeks and benches that were placed in the middle of nowhere. You go on these a few times a week when you’re all done with your tasks of the day and the raging heat of the sun has somewhat calmed, and to your surprise, you actually really enjoy being out in nature, even though bugs are still a very much unwelcome part of it.

One day he mentions vet school and you’re reminded of your grandmother’s words on your first night here about how it wasn’t particularly what he wanted to do, so you ask him about it. He turns to you with a stunned look on his face. “I didn’t know she knew about that.”

“She told me she noticed a lot of things like that.”

He turns his head again and gazes up at the sky. “Well, she’s not wrong. It’s my parents that wanted me to go to vet school. I’d be happy just taking care of the club and making a living that way, but they say they don’t need my help year round and that it’s better for me to take up a better job.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to do it, it’s very impressive that you’re top of your class.”

He chuckles shyly and a blush appears on his cheeks. “Did Yeji say that? I only got the top grade for a couple of subjects, not all of them,” he says, making you scoff as if to say ‘still, very impressive.’ “And you know, I still like it and find it interesting, and if I’m doing it, might as well give it my best and make my parents proud.”

“Yeah, I get that. My parents are both doctors so there was never any doubt in either their or my mind that I’d become one too, until I started my first year and realized that maybe I could’ve done something else.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

You turn your head to look at him and he mirrors you. “Cause if I’m doing it, might as well give it my best and make my parents proud.”

You both look away with a chuckle. “Guess we’re more similar than I thought we were,” he says, taking you aback, but you’re very glad he thinks that way. You turn to your side, leaning against your elbow as you peer down at him.

“What about a riding career? Had you ever thought about that?”

“God, yeah,” he answers without any hesitation. “My parents signed me up for a few competitions when I was younger, and I won a couple. It made them happy, so I was happy, but I also actually really liked it. My parents never really asked how seriously I wanted to take it, though, and I didn’t say anything, so when Yeji started showing a lot of interest in competitions and becoming a professional rider they focused their attention on her and assumed I didn’t really mind, I guess. I never tried to prove them wrong. As I said, I’d be fine just taking care of the club.” He sighs and pauses for a second. “She was really young when she said she wanted to have a horse riding career, and my parents just ran with it. Now that she’s older and it takes up basically ninety percent of her life, I can tell it’s a lot of pressure on her. But it’s too late to switch places and she’s the same as me, doesn’t want to let down our parents. I just hope she won’t push herself too much, you know.”

You nod, listening intently to his words. “I’m sure you’ll be there to watch over her if she ever does. You seem like a good older brother.”

He smiles and looks up at you. “I try to be.” He reaches a hand up to your face and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The sudden, unfamiliar and intimate gesture takes you by surprise and as soon as he registers your wide eyes and agape lips he retracts his hand, apologizing. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird, I just- I don’t- I’m sorry,” he stammers, looking away with a blush.

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, too stunned by what just happened, and he looks back at you, calling out your name in a small voice. His worried expression immediately crumbles when you start laughing. “It’s fine,” you say between giggles. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and smiles again. “Sorry, I just did it without thinking. My friends and family are always super touchy so I’m just used to that sort of thing.”

“I’m the opposite,” you say, and Sunghoon raises his eyebrows. “My parents aren’t very affectionate. I mean, they tell me they’re proud of me, and buy me gifts and stuff like that, but we never hug, or say we love each other. You’ve seen my grandma, right? The only time she’s hugged me in the almost three weeks I’ve been here was the very first day, and that’s because we hadn’t seen each other in six months.”

Sunghoon nods and hums at your words. “Yeah, now that you say that, your grandma isn’t the type to hug, or, I don’t know, pet your hair or anything, even though I’ve known her basically my whole life. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, and you shake your head.

“No, don’t worry, you didn’t. It was actually… kinda nice,” you admit, looking away from him quickly.

“Really?” he asks with one of the widest grins you’ve ever seen on him, and you can’t believe this is the same boy that glared at you as he opened the door just a few weeks ago. You look at him from the corner of your eyes for a few seconds, trying to hide your smile, but give in and nod.

He opens his arms wide and says, “Come here,” and you look at him in disbelief.

“As in…” you say, pointing with your index finger to his chest, and he nods, blinking slowly. You scoff but do it anyway, resting your head on his chest, and a weird but warm bubble envelops your insides as he circles your waist with an arm and caresses your hair with his other hand.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “This is okay.”

One Friday morning when he’s grooming Nellie and you’re braiding Picasso’s mane, he tells you he’s driving to the city tonight to meet up with his friends. “We’re just going to McDonald’s and then the cinema… and they’re kinda losers, you know, but it’d be fun if you came too. If you want to, I mean,” he offers, his shyness preventing him from looking you in the eyes. When you say you’d love to, his whole face lights up.

The day passes and when the clock strikes six p.m., you walk out of your grandmother’s house and find Sunghoon who’s waiting for you, back resting against his parents’ car. Hands in his pockets and sunglasses on, you can tell he’s trying to look cool and it makes him all that much more endearing to you. He fixes his posture and takes his sunglasses off when he sees you approaching, as if trying to get a better look; he’s seen you wear cuter outfits than tank tops and denim shorts for the dinners with his family but you’ve never worn such a pretty dress, and his heart speeds up at the mere sight of you.

“Like what you see?,” you say when you’re closer to him, twirling around in your dress.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and the look on his face must not be far from the one you wore when you saw him with Flame in that clearing a couple weeks ago.

His honesty makes you a bit shy, and you thank him as you ruffle his hair on your way to the passenger seat of the car. He stands there dumbfounded for a second until you call out his name, getting him back down to reality.

On your way to Perpignan, he tells you about his friends Heeseung, Jay and Jake, and how they all met two years ago. He shared a dorm with Jay and Jake in their first year of preparatory classes, and Heeseung, in the year above, was assigned as his mentor. They all clicked instantly and have been practically inseparable ever since, although they all live quite far away from each other, which is why it’s easiest to meet up in Perpignan when they’re on break from their studies.

“Heeseung’s girlfriend will also be there. Her name is Yunjin, she’s really nice, so if the guys get annoying you two can just talk together.”

“Why, do you guys have a tendency to get annoying when you’re together?,” you ask lightheartedly, making Sunghoon chuckle.

“Not always, but it’s a possibility. They’re nice though, so don’t worry. Jay and Jake especially are outgoing, even though Jay kinda ruins the mood sometimes cause his jokes are just awful. Heeseung is a bit shy though, just don’t take it personal if he like, doesn’t really talk to you or anything.”

“That’s funny, that reminds me of someone,” you say with a smile, unable to stop yourself. Sunghoon just replies with one of his famous whatevers.

It takes you about an hour to get to Perpignan. When you arrive, his friends are waiting outside of the McDonald’s, the boys waving with their whole arms in your direction while Yunjin watches them cross-armed, a smile on her face. “Oh, God,” Sunghoon murmurs, already embarrassed by his friends. “They’re not always like that, I promise,” he says as you walk over to them.

“Really,” you deadpan when they’ve started chanting Sunghoon’s name, watching as his face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Hi guys,” he greets them, bro-hugging Heeseung, Jay and Jake and kissing Yunjin on each cheek. You remind yourself once again to start from the right and not the left, and greet the boys first. They all say “hi, Y/N” and give you their names, and you’re quite flustered that you don’t need to tell them your name.

“Sunghoon’s told us a lot about you,” Jake says with a knowing expression, and you all chuckle when Sunghoon mutters “shut up, Jake.”

You go to greet Yunjin next and you’re surprised when, rather than simply pressing the corner of her lips against your cheek like most people do when they greet someone they’re not particularly close to, she actually kisses your cheek, an extra-friendly gesture. “I was so relieved when Sunghoon said he was bringing a girl,” she confesses, reminding you of Yeji, “I can’t deal with having to babysit these four all the time. Look at them,” she says, gesturing towards the quartet with a nudge of her head. They’re sizing Sunghoon up, ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks and brushing away invisible creases in his t-shirt as he tries to swat their hands away, to no avail, and you can’t help but laugh at them along with Yunjin.

You all head inside the McDonald’s, getting into pairs of two to pick your order on the giant touch screens. You choose a McChicken, potato wedges and ice tea, and Sunghoon chides you for getting wedges instead of fries.

“People who get those think they’re better than everyone else,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Because we are,” you say with a smile. You touch the screen to get to the payment page but Sunghoon goes back, saying he’ll order too.

“But I need to pay?” you say, looking up at him questioningly.

“I can pay for the two of us,” he says nonchalantly, and you tease him with an ‘ooh.’ “Shut up,” he mutters, already blushing, “just let me do something nice for you.”

“Fine,” you smile, nudging his shoulder with yours a bit. “Thanks. I’ll get the cinema tickets then.”

He turns to you abruptly, his eyebrows drawn in together. “But then that cancels out me paying for this…” he whines, and you give him a look as if to say, “yeah, exactly.”

“I don’t mind getting the tickets,” he says. “I get paid for my work at the club but I never spend any money, so, you know, I can get this for you. It makes me happy,” he mumbles, avoiding your teasing gaze.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you say, the nickname escaping your lips before you can stop it. He doesn’t seem to mind it; if anything, his blush gets deeper. You think he might end up eternally red at this rate.

“Of course.” He orders a double Big Mac, fries and a coke, and you tease him for getting such a boring meal. “They’re classics for a reason,” he defends himself.

You swear you’ve never seen him so red and so stuttery as when you get on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek as a thank you for paying, and you think there’s no way he could get any cuter than this. His friends don’t miss it and Jake punches him very obnoxiously in the shoulder as what you can only assume is a weird congratulatory gesture.

His friends are a bit annoying, but in a funny way, so it’s okay. You’re so unaccustomed to their very unique sense of humor that everything they say and do makes you laugh, whereas they’re used to behaving like that and don’t even question their weirdness anymore. Contrary to what Sunghoon told you, Jay’s jokes land with you every time, even when the whole table grunts.

Most of the conversation, to Sunghoon’s dismay, is spent telling embarrassing stories about him, which his friends have a lot of after having seen him drunk so many times. Heeseung asks you about how it’s been being with Sunghoon at the club, and you don’t really notice the sly smirk on his and Jake’s faces until you’re done answering. You tell them about all the things he’s made you do, but when you notice him about to complain, you add that it’s also been nice, learning how to ride a horse and spending time in the countryside.

“So you’ve seen Sunghoon ride, then?” Jake asks, and Heeseung’s snort tells you it’s not an innocent question.

“Yeah, I have,” you say, but it comes out more a question because their behavior confuses you.

Jake gives you a pointed look. “And, what did you think? I mean, it’s not the coolest sport out there, is it?” he asks, and the way Sunghoon looks down at his half-eaten burger is enough for you to put the puzzle pieces together.

You frown slightly. “Well, I think it’s a lot cooler than running after a ball and pretending like you’re gonna die when you twist your ankle,” you reply, remembering Jake’s mention of him playing soccer. Jay is quick to diffuse the tension when he sees Jake about to bite something back, saying to just talk about something else. You back off and look at Sunghoon, who seems to have completely spaced out and left the conversation. You rest your hand at the top of his knee, his attention snapping back towards you and he gives you a small smile, then turns to his friends and the conversation starts again as if nothing had happened. You’re thankful for it, because you don’t wanna create trouble the first time you meet them and make it awkward, but you really don’t appreciate his friends making him feel like he’s not “cool” because he’s a horse rider; there’s already enough stigma about it being a girls’ sport, he doesn’t need any added pressure from them.

The rest of the meal goes well, Heeseung and Yunjin throwing fries at each other, and the table making fun of Jay for eating his McFlurry so messily. Apart from the horse riding comment and the fact that they love teasing him (which you do too, to be fair), Sunghoon’s friends are nice and make him laugh, so you relax around them once again, although you and Jake exchange a few tense eye contacts. You won’t feel sorry for defending Sunghoon, even if you’ve known him for three weeks and Jake has for two years.

When you’re done eating, you walk to the movie theater that’s just two minutes away, the boys ahead and you and Yunjin in tow. “I’m really glad you spoke up for Sunghoon earlier, and I’m sure he appreciated it too,” she says, just loud enough for you to hear. “I’ve tried speaking about it with Heeseung, but he and Jake just don’t seem to get that it actually annoys Sunghoon and they say it’s just for fun. I did horse riding when I was a kid, so I know how hard it actually is, and Jay is just a bit more mature than them, so we try to get them to stop, but they still do it a bit. Their humor is basically just making fun of everyone in their group, so sometimes they don’t know when to stop.”

You nod at her words, the situation a bit clearer now. “He should bring them to the club and show them how good he is,” you say. “Or better yet, make them get on a horse so they can see firsthand that it’s not the horse doing all the work like everyone says.” Yunjin laughs and agrees, saying she’d pay to see those boys on a horse.

You reach the cinema as you make a note to talk to Sunghoon about this later before you can forget. You ask Yunjin what movie you’re seeing, realizing you had no idea, and she rolls her eyes. “I wanted to go see the new Marion Cotillard movie, but the boys said it looked boring, so we’re going to watch some horror movie. I don’t even know the name, but I’m sure it’s just a rehash of the same tired haunted house plot.”

While Sunghoon gets the tickets, you sneak to the food counter and get two bottles of coke and a large popcorn to share with him. He complains that he could’ve gotten that but you shut him up with a tut.

“Are you good at watching horror movies?” you lean in and whisper when you’re seated and waiting for the movie to start while ads play, and you see him shiver slightly, but that might just be because of the aircon in the theater and not your proximity.

“What do you mean, am I good at watching them? Do you mean if I like them?” he asks, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he looks at you.

“No, I mean if you get scared easily. You can like them and watch them a lot but still get scared. I feel like you’d scream at all the jumpscares,” you add that later part just to tease him, and you know you hit bullseye when he looks away with a scoff, straightening in his seat.

“I guess they’re fun to watch, but no, I don’t get scared. And I’m definitely not going to scream.” He looks down at you with a smirk, his confidence hitting him out of nowhere as it sometimes does. “But I know you will, so feel free to hold onto my arm when you get scared,” he says, and it’s your turn to scoff and look away.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be alright,” you say just as the lights start to dim and the movie starts playing.

It takes a while for the movie to pick up, so the first half hour, you’re not really into it, paying more attention to the way your hand brushes against Sunghoon’s whenever you reach for the popcorn at the same time rather than to what is happening on screen. However, when a ghost with a very unpleasant face suddenly pops out, you can’t keep yourself from jumping in your seat and letting out a small gasp which Sunghoon would’ve made fun of, had he not been twice spooked as you were, the pieces of popcorn he was about to eat discarded somewhere at his feet because of the jumpscare.

You share a look with Sunghoon and when the both of you realize the other was completely bluffing, you burst into quiet giggles. He offers you his arm to hold onto again and you roll your eyes but take it anyway, glad for the reassurance his warmth brings you. You wrap one hand around his bicep and place the other in his hand, interlacing your fingers together, and for once you’re the shy one and can’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze on the screen when you feel his eyes on you, surprised but pleased by your cute action.

You spend the rest of the movie like this, bodies turning towards each other every time something scary happens on screen as if instinctively going to the other to find comfort. If you weren’t in a public place, you probably would’ve ended up in his lap. Or he in yours, perhaps.

The loss of his warmth when the movie ends and the lights turn back on makes your heart a bit sad, and you already find yourself waiting for the time you’ll get to feel him next to you again. When you walk out of the theater, the sun’s finally set and the sky is starting to get dark. You all walk back to the parking lot, Heeseung, Jay, Jake and Yunjin ahead, talking about the movie excitedly and recalling their favorite scenes, but you and Sunghoon hang back a bit. He’s silent and for a second you’re worried all the hand-holding has made him awkward but when you look up at him, he gives you a smile that calms all your nerves in an instant.

Jake suddenly turns around to face you, walking backwards. “What did you two lovebirds think?” he asks.

“It was alright,” Sunghoon answers. “It had some scary scenes but I couldn’t really get into it.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause you two were too busy being all- ow!” Jake starts but is interrupted by a kick in the shins, courtesy of Jay.

“Can you read the room, just once in your life, bro?” he says, and Jake rolls his eyes but turns back around anyway, leaving you and Sunghoon to laugh at his friends’ antics.

When you reach the parking lot, you say goodbye to everyone, saying it was nice meeting them and you hoped to see them again soon. “If you can, you should try and visit the club at some point, it’d be nice seeing you there,” you tell Yunjin as you hug her goodbye.

The car ride home is silent at first, betraying both your and Sunghoon’s shyness. “Tonight was nice,” you start, wanting to start a conversation after a few minutes of just looking out the window.

Sunghoon responds immediately as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. “Yeah? I’m glad. I was scared you weren’t going to like my friends or something…” he says, glancing at you with a worried expression on his face.

“Well, I really liked Yunjin and Jay…” you trail.

“But?”

“But…” you sigh, too late to turn back, but unsure whether it’s your place to bring this up. “Heeseung and Jake were nice, you know, but that comment they made about you horse riding really brushed me the wrong way.”

“Aww,” Sunghoon coos, and you roll your eyes at his fake saccharine tone. “Did it make you upset for me?”

“It did!” you say, wanting Sunghoon to know you were serious. “Friends shouldn’t make fun of your passions. Plus you’re really good at it, and I’m sure they’d be impressed by you. I talked about it with Yunjin, you know,” you add before he can cut in. “She said it happens all the time and you’re used to it, but it’s not something you should have to put up with. You should have them over at the club some day.”

Sunghoon hums, pouting his lips a bit. “I don’t know… It’s not that big of a deal. It’s how we mess with each other.”

“You looked really down when they were saying those things, Hoon. You’re allowed to say when something bothers you. And if they don’t listen, then they’re assholes. I know you’ve been friends for a while now, and I’m not trying to make you cut them off by any means, but I think you should talk to them. If they’re good friends, they’ll understand and not want to say something that hurts you. At least I hope so,” you say, looking out the window again to hide how upset this truly makes you. Sunghoon’s next words come as a surprise to you.

“Thanks, Y/N.” You look back at him with a questioning look, wordlessly asking him to go on, and he sighs. “I’m sort of used to keeping everything for myself. Taking a step back so I don’t take things personally, not complaining and just doing what I’m told even if it’s not what I want to do, stuff like that, I’m used to it. I just- I don’t wanna bother anyone, you know. I think you’re the first person who’s ever told me I’m allowed to voice things out.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds, shocked by this revelation. It’s very fitting of him - sacrificing his potential career for his sister, going to vet school to please his parents but taking care of the center whenever he’s on break. You didn’t know this behavior went deeper than that, and it was ingrained in him to just take it all and never put up a fight.

You say, “You’re allowed to put yourself first, you know. Sometimes, you even need to,” and it’s an unfamiliar breath of fresh air that blows away some of the weight on his shoulders, hearing those words. He chuckles a bit, hoping that the tears pooling in his eyes don’t accidentally overflow.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that, but it’s nice knowing I have the option. Thank you, Y/N,” he repeats, and you smile at him, relieved when he smiles back.

The rest of the car ride goes by in a flash as you make fun of each other for being so scared of the film and jump from topic to topic like frogs bouncing around lily pads, somehow neither of you ever losing track of the conversation. You tell him someone with such a boring McDonald’s order doesn’t deserve to have opinions and he says that of course you’d think that since you chose potato wedges instead of french fries.

Without noticing it, you soon reach the center, and Sunghoon walks you to your doorstep after parking the car. You stand in front of each other at the door, and you seriously feel like the main lead in a teen rom-com, butterflies in your stomach and all the works as you look up at him, expecting a little something.

“So…” he starts, pressing his lips into a flat line to hide his smile.

“So…” you repeat, nudging your foot with his as you both look down.

“Tonight was nice,” he says sheepishly and you can’t help but laugh, him soon imitating you.

“It was. But we’ve already established that, I think.”

“Right.” His gaze finds yours, and the look in his eyes makes your heart feel like it’s on an acid trip. You stare at each other for a few seconds, unable to look away, and you’re about to run off into the house, the tension too much to handle, when his eyes finally drop to your lips. Knowing him, he probably won’t do much more, so you take a small step towards him and raise your lips towards his, closing the distance between the two of you inch by inch, getting closer, closer, closer, until-

“Sunghoon!” Yeji’s voice rings out in the night, taking you aback as you gasp and stumble a few steps back, not wanting her to see you almost devour her brother’s face. Sunghoon closes his eyes and shakes his head, then lets out an exasperated “what.”

“I can’t believe you went to see that new movie without me. I saw it in Jay's story. I told you I wanted to go see it!”

He sighs and looks at you, mouthing a “sorry” before walking towards her, hooking his arm over her shoulders as he walks her back to their house.

“Sorry, lil sis. We can go watch it together, I don’t mind seeing it again. Also, why do you follow Jay? Unfollow him,” he commands, and after that you can’t hear anything because they’re too far away. You watch them walk with a smile on your face, appreciating their little moment together, and your heart does a little somersault of joy when Sunghoon turns around to wave at you from his door.

After that night, you’re more determined than ever to turn that almost-kiss into a actually-happened-kiss. However, your resolve soon seems to have been for nothing when Sunghoon tells you about how he wishes he didn’t have to leave with his parents, but they won’t let him stay, and you’re reminded of the Parks yearly vacation that starts the next day, exactly three days after the night out.

It’s a late Sunday afternoon and you’ve done everything you needed to for that day, so you and Sunghoon went off on a horse ride as you often do, deciding to take a break when you reach a field in which a bunch of haystacks rest. You only had to exchange a look to understand the other immediately, so you tied your horses to a tree and raced over to the closest stack, helping each other get to the top and laying there.

“I wish you didn’t have to go either,” you say, playing with a loose strand of hay peeking out from the stack in the small space between you and Sunghoon.

“You gonna miss me?” Sunghoon teases, grinning as he lightly nudges your shoulder.

“As surprising as it sounds, I think I might,” you say, and from the corner of your eye you see his grin get wider.

“I think I will too,” he replies, and he giggles when he sees you try and fail to suppress a smile. “Actually, I definitely will,” he adds just to see you smile bigger, and it works.

“When are you leaving again exactly?” you ask to change the subject.

“Early tomorrow morning. I still haven’t packed,” he says and sighs.

“We should head back so you can pack,” you say even though you don’t want to do that at all.

“Yeah, we should, but I don’t want to,” he replies, practically reading your mind. “I wanna stay here for a while.”

A small silence settles between the two of you, but it says more than a thousand words. The tension that has been hanging over your heads for a while now but only thickened after Friday night is almost palpable now. You’re laying so close that your arms are almost touching, occasionally brushing when one of you shifts, and if you turned your head, his face would be right there, which means his lips would be right there. Well, one of you is going to have to do something about this tension, you think, and it’s definitely not going to be him.

“Sunghoon?” you call out, turning your head towards the boy next to you. He does the same and your eyes meet. In this late afternoon hour, the sun is right behind you and he has to squint a little bit and use his hand as a shield to look at you properly. He looks a bit stupid like that, but you think he’s cute.

“Yeah?”

The warm feeling that spreads over your whole body at the sound of his voice is what gives you the confirmation that you want to say what you say next, and the courage to do it.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyebrows raise slightly but he’s quick to hide his surprise and starts grinning instead, revealing those fangs of his you love so much. You have a feeling they’d leave the cutest marks on your skin. “Sure,” he says, letting his eyes drift down to your lips just like that other night.

So you do.

You lean in close enough to press your lips onto his, letting them touch for a brief second before leaning back again. A small pout forms on his lips at the fleeting contact. “That’s it?”

You could just eat him whole, you think. A kiss will have to do. “What did you want?” you ask, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

“That wasn’t a proper kiss.”

“Yeah? What’s a proper kiss then?”

He looks away with a huff. “I’m sure you know what a proper kiss is. Why would you ask to kiss me if you’re not even gonna do it properly…”

“How about you show me then?”

This makes him look promptly back at you, his eyes a bit wider. When he just gulps without saying anything, you add: “Or should I try again? Properly this time?”

He nods, eyes set on your lips. He’d always found them pretty and inviting, and he’d caught himself daydreaming about this exact moment a few times, but now that it was right in front of him, his brain was short-circuiting. All he could do was close his eyes and wait for you.

You find it cute how he screws his eyes shut before you’re even kissing him, making him look like a k-drama female lead during the first kiss scene. You can’t help but smile a little even as you bring your lips to his once again, this time a bit firmer, a bit deeper. He waits for you to move your lips against his before he does so too, but once he’s started, he’s unstoppable.

In fleeting conversations and off-hand comments, you’d learned that Sunghoon had had a couple girlfriends but that it always ended after a few months. When you’d accused him of “virgin behavior” after he did something embarrassing for an almost twenty-year-old, he’d fervently defended himself of very much not being virgin and very much having had sex before, which you’d said was what a virgin would say, but you knew he was saying the truth because he wasn’t the type to lie, especially about this sort of thing.

What was sure was that he kissed you like he knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well. His shy demeanor from a minute ago is completely gone as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, holding you tight against him. His hands were shy at first, but when yours made their way to his hair so you could gently tug at the strands there, he understood he didn’t need to be so polite. One of his hands found your waist while the other cupped your cheek, his thumb coming under your chin to tilt it up towards him.

Your lips move against the others’ like you’d done this your whole life, and you’re unable to keep it Disney-friendly for long as your feelings and the fact that you were finally touching each other like you’d been wanting to take over any reason you had left. The kiss turns hungrier, needier, hotter, as if catching up on all that time you lost to dilly-dallying around each other. It’s easy to slip your tongue inside his mouth and you swear you hear him moan when your tongues come into contact, the small sound making your brain turn into mush and giving you one goal, and one goal only: hear him again.

You pull away and press a palm to his shoulder, and he lets you push him down on his back as you straddle his lips, positioning your core right over his growing erection and watching with a smirk as he bites his lips and furrows his eyebrows, humming at the feeling of you against him. You press your lips back against his and note with satisfaction that his movements are messier than before, kissing you mouth open and letting you take full control of the kiss, almost unable to focus on kissing you and on feeling you grind very lightly, almost teasingly against him. Slick pools in your underwear at the angelic sounds he’s making, and you’re very happy he doesn’t seem to be shy about being vocal because his moans are the prettiest sound you've ever heard.

You move away from his lips and trail wet kisses on his cheeks and jawline, moving down to his neck and his Adam’s apple, gently biting and sucking the skin at the base of his throat, enough to make him squirm underneath you but not enough to leave a mark, even though you’d love to, the thought of other girls seeing him all marked up because of you filling you with a sense of pride you didn’t know you could have.

You find his sweet spot at the juncture of his neck and his shoulder, so you kiss him more there, tracing the other side of his neck with your fingernails. He’s so sensitive and those actions alone are enough to have him whine a small “fuck, Y/N, that feels so good,” and you think you might actually go insane with lust for him.

You’ve just started kissing him on the lips again, his hands holding your hips so tightly you think they might almost bruise your skin and his kisses desperate and needy, when his phone buzzes. Taken aback, you pull away quickly, and he whines at the loss of contact. He goes in to kiss you again but you tut and tell him to check his phone in case it’s important. You note that he does what you say, and you wonder whether that’ll hold up for other situations. You observe him as he unlocks his phone and reads the text, and you curse yourself for waiting until he leaves to do this. You could’ve had him heaving, cheeks rosy, lips slightly swollen and eyes blown out for some weeks now, but your hesitation prevented you from doing anything, and now you’ll have to wait ten more days to see him like this again - that is, if he wants to do it again.

“It’s my mom,” he says with a sigh, snapping you out of your reverie. “She says I need to come home and pack my bag and have dinner.”

You pout at each other and he sits up, wrapping his arms around your middle and nuzzling his face in your neck. The rather intimate action surprises you a bit, but mostly you find it endearing, and it was pretty obvious Sunghoon would be the clingy type. You’re happy he feels comfortable enough around you to show this side of him - plus, it makes him ten times more adorable than he already was in your eyes.

“I want to go even less now,” he murmurs, voice muffled and you giggle at him as you caress his head.

“Same. But ten days will go by quickly, right? And I’ll be right here when you come back,” you say, leaning back so you can cup his face in your palms and look at him, his cheeks a bit squished. “You’re so cute,” you whisper with a smile, and the compliment makes his cheeks heat up but for once he doesn’t look away and keeps your gaze locked in his.

You peck his lips quickly and get off of his lap. “Right, we should go then,” and when he whines in protest, you add, “your mom will be mad, Hoon,” which is enough to convince him.

You head slowly back to the center and walk the horses to their stalls, talking about this and that as you often do, but you grow silent as you near his house, dreading having to say goodbye. The only difference with Friday night is that you’re standing at his door and not yours; the tension and heart-fluttering awkwardness are the same. Well, maybe not exactly the same, because you had your tongue down his throat just fifteen minutes ago.

“You’ll be alright when I’m gone, right?” he asks, taking your hands in his and letting them hang between you two.

“Yeah, I will. Plus, your parents’ friend is coming to take care of the club, right? I’ll help her, and I’ll hang out with my grandma while you’re on vacation and the ten days will be over before we know it,” you say, more trying to reassure yourself than him.

Sunghoon sighs but nods as if trying to convince himself too. “Right.”

“Right,” you repeat, and look up at him with a smile. The thought that this might look completely dramatic to any outsider crosses your mind, but you ignore it because you’re really not looking forward to spending ten days without Sunghoon here. When he comes back, you’ll only have three weeks left, and that simple fact already makes your heart ache.

He takes you in his arms and holds you close to him for a few moments. “Okay. I’ll see you soon, Y/N,” he whispers in your hair. “Don’t miss me too much. But not too little either. Just the right amount,” he jokes, and usually you’d have punched his chest or something but right now all you can do is chuckle. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips, and when you take a step back, he opens the door and waves at you goodbye, then disappears inside the house.

Not to be dramatic, but those ten days are probably the longest of your life. The Parks’ friend, Madame Rasson, is nice enough, and you enjoy helping her out and having dinner with her and your grandmother every night, but she’s no Park Sunghoon. You don’t really have the urge to gallop away with her and kiss at the top of a haystack as the sun sets behind you, nor do you feel like a small part of your heart stays with her when you’re not together.

Sunghoon calls you every night under the pretext of wanting to know how the horses are doing, but you know Mrs Park and Mme Rasson are keeping in touch and that he just wants to talk to you. You don’t call him out on it though and let him tell you about his day when he’s done pretending he cares about who did what and who went where. After a few days, as you’re nearing the end of a call, he tells you he misses you then hangs up right after as if he hadn’t been basically crying into your shirt about how much he didn’t want to leave and how much he’d miss you just a few days prior, but you just giggle and text him that you miss him too, which he texts a heart back to.

Yunjin also comes around one day, saying she missed horse riding and wanted to hang out again, so you show her around the club and go on a horse ride together, taking her to all the spots Sunghoon took you to, pointing with a giggle to the spot where you made out. She gasps when she hears that and lightly slaps your shoulder. “You two made out?” she says, surprise and excitement all over her face. You only giggle some more and nod, face heating up.

“I mean, it was obvious it would happen at some point. You guys were giving each other major heart eyes the other day.” You roll your eyes and say you weren’t even though you know you very much were. “Plus, the guys send a lot of voice messages on their group chat and I sometimes listen to them with Heeseung. The way Sunghoon talks about you is so cute it makes me want to throw up sometimes.”

The thought of Sunghoon talking about you to his friends makes your heart jump and swell with pride a bit. “Really? What does he say?” you ask, not looking at Yunjin to hide the stupid smile you’re wearing.

“He just talks about your day and what you guys did, but he’ll focus on a random thing like the way you said hi to the horses or how you ate your food and he’ll be like, it was the cutest thing ever. He doesn’t go into too much detail cause he knows the guys will make fun of him but it’s still really sweet. Heeseung told me he’s never talked about any other girl like that, you know,” she says, looking at you pointedly. “And you probably also know Sunghoon isn’t the easiest to get to know. But he’s clearly let you in, and he really wanted you to meet the boys, so I think he really, really likes you.”

You give yourself a few moments to process Yunjin’s words, but all you can say in the end is “Well, I really, really like him too,” and Yunjin laughs at you.

She stays over for dinner, charming your grandmother with her jokes and willingness to help, and spends the night as well. You two stay up until late talking about your families, school, how she met Heeseung and how cute you and Sunghoon are, and the fact that you have to stay quiet so as not to wake your grandma up makes you want to laugh even harder. When she leaves the next morning, she mentions that she saw the sea was really nearby and asked if you’d been.

“I haven’t yet, but Sunghoon did say he knew a spot and would take me sometime… I’ll ask him about it again,” you say, and she nods fervently, saying she hasn’t been to the beach forever. You hug each other goodbye and you wave at her until you can’t see her car anymore, and you get that empty feeling of being alone again, so you go find your grandmother and bother her with tons of questions which she answers patiently. Five days to go until Sunghoon comes back.

And then these five days are over, and Sunghoon finds you in the middle of the afternoon, taking a nap in your grandmother’s backyard and oblivious to the fact that the boy you like the most is back. He wakes you up by taking your sunglasses delicately off of your eyes and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You frown and open your eyes bit by bit until you recognise the boy hunching over you and then open your eyes all at once, sitting up in your lounge chair and wrapping your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, pulling him down towards you.

“Hi,” he giggles, chin hooked over your shoulder.

“You’re back!”

“I am.” He pulls away to peck your lips, and it’s like he hasn’t even left a day. “I’ll go get changed and check on Nellie and then we can go for a horse ride, if you want?”

You nod excitedly. “Sure. I’ll go get the horses ready.” You both rush to your respective destinations and meet again fifteen minutes later in the grooming hall just as you finish buckling Picasso’s saddle. Sunghoon pecks your lips once more just because he can, and then you’re off.

Sunghoon’s prepared a blanket so you could lie in the grass in the clearing. On your way there, you ask him about his vacation and he admits it was actually really fun. They drove down to Spain, spending a couple days in Barcelona and then a week in a smaller seaside town. In terms of weather and landscape, it wasn’t very different from their hometown, but the food was amazing and the people very welcoming, and Sunghoon and Yeji could finally put their years of learning Spanish in school to the test.

“I took a lot of pictures because there were so many things that reminded me of you or that I thought you’d like,” he admits bashfully, taking out his phone from his bag once you’re settled on the blanket. You rest your head on his chest and rest your hand on the side of his stomach, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your ear and commenting on the pictures he shows you, giggling when he starts rapidly scrolling through fifteen consecutive selfies.

You try to keep up a conversation but it’s a bit hard to do when his neck is right there, close enough for you to press kisses on or to nuzzle your face in if you just lifted your head a bit, and his skin is soft and warm and you want to feel all of it under your palms. Even Sunghoon, who usually never shuts up when he’s with someone he’s comfortable around, is quiet. His sigh when you trail your hand up from his waist to his shoulder tells you he’s probably thinking the same as you, and as soon as you graze your fingers through his hair, he’s rolled you onto your back and his lips are on yours, kissing you with all the need that’s built up over the past ten days. You have a feeling just kissing won’t be enough to satisfy either of you today.

There’s a sense of urgency to all of your movements, the way all four hands are restless and travel each other’s body tirelessly, pulling on the other’s hair, kneading the skin here, caressing it here. Sunghoon bites down on your lower lip and the action makes you moan, so he takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your kisses are open-mouthed and wet and messy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way because they translate all the desire you have for him and you want him to know exactly just how he’s making you feel.

You remember how much Sunghoon likes it when you compliment him, or tease him using your words, so you decide to do just that. When he starts trailing kisses your jaw, then sucking and biting at your neck, leaving tiny marks there, you whisper his name, making him hum.

“Hoon. I want you so fucking bad.”

You feel him trembling at your words and he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, whining as he continues pressing wet kisses there. He ruts his hips into yours, seemingly more by reaction than deliberately. “Want you too,” he murmurs, and slips his hands underneath your t-shirt, the flesh on your stomach burning everywhere his hands touch it. You lift your arms so he can take the piece of fabric off, and he’s quick to find the back of your bra as well, unclasping it and revealing your breasts to him.

In no time he’s already delving into your body, pretty pink lips circling and sucking on one of your nipples and deft fingers playing with the other, warmth spreading all over you at the intense pleasure he’s finally giving you, wetness already starting to make your underwear stick to your core.

Your fingers find purchase in his hair, pulling whenever it feels particularly good, and he seems to like the pain that comes with it because it’s enough to have him moaning around your nipple. “Fuck, Hoon, that feels so good,” you breathe out. Despite your praise and to your confusion, he pulls away, trailing kisses down your stomach until he reaches your shorts and looks up at you when his fingers are around the button, asking for confirmation to go further. He whispers “thank God” when you nod your head yes.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he says as he drags your shorts and underwear down at the same time, eyes fixated on your glistening folds.

You hold yourself up on your elbows, admiring him and his blown-out pupils and disheveled hair - he’s never looked hotter. “You already were, baby.”

“Wanna make you feel even better,” he says before diving right into your pussy, giving you no time to get used to the feeling as his tongue licks up a long stripe up your folds before finding your clit, alternating between giving it kitty-licks and sucking it. You’re a moaning mess in an instant, pulling even harder at his hair and sometimes holding onto his shoulders as if your body might start levitating at any moment. As if that didn’t already feel good enough, he then adds a finger, and quickly a second one into your hole, his thin and long digits feeling better than yours ever have. He must be some kind of fingering expert because he finds your g-spot in thirty seconds, pressing the sensitive spot again and again until you come apart for him in an embarrassingly quick orgasm, moaning his name and how good it feels like a broken record.

That doesn’t seem to be enough for Sunghoon, however, who doesn’t relent and sends your body into overstimulation until you find the energy to tell him to stop. “Was that good?” he asks innocently when his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was it good?” you repeat, almost scoffing. “Baby, it was amazing.”

“Really?” he asks, a childlike grin on his face that is worlds away from the things he just did to your body.

“Really. Let me show you how good it felt,” you say with a mischievous smile, pushing his shoulder down so you switch positions and he’s the one laying, back against the blanket. “Let’s get this all off, yeah?” you say, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and when that’s gone, with the band of his sweatpants and underwear. He gulps when he’s fully naked under your curious gaze, but he’s brave and his eyes don't leave your face, patiently waiting for what you’ll say or do next.

“So pretty, Hoon,” you purr as your hands trail from his thighs up to his neck, applying some pressure there, not enough to cut off any oxygen but enough for him to feel it. “And all for me,” you add as you mark his neck just like he did yours, before pushing yourself down his body until your face is level with his now fully hard cock. You press wet kisses to his thighs and hear his breaths get shakier when your kisses get dangerously close to his crotch. “Haven’t even touched you, and you’re already this hard, baby?” you tease, and chuckle when his cock twitches at your words.

“Please,” he implores, voice small.

“Just a second, baby. Be good for me, yeah?” you ask and he nods, eyes screwed shut as if in pain. You had a feeling that Sunghoon might like to give control rather than have it, but you hadn’t thought he’d let you have full power over him like that. You can’t say you dislike it, though.

You don’t want to make him wait for too long, and the sigh of relief he lets out when you finally place your tongue on the base of his shaft and lick a stripe up is worth it. Your baby is loud and lets you know exactly what he likes, and what he likes is when you pay attention to his tip and his sensitive balls at the same time. You alternate between having your lips around his tip, hands massaging him, and your palm circling his tip, taking his balls in your mouth and letting them out with a pop. In just a few minutes, his whole body is shaking under your touch and his moans are getting louder and louder, almost shout-like. He calls out your name and pleads with you to stop, and you look up at him with a worried expression. Before you can ask if he’s okay, he says, “Wanna cum inside you,” and how can you refuse him when his blush has spread to his whole face and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and pleasure, trying his best not to cum?

“Of course, baby.”

He sits up and you straddle his lap, telling him you’re on the pill when he’s about to pull out a condom he’d sneakily brought from his bag. “Fuck, okay,” he says, voice shaky at the idea of feeling your bare walls around him.

You raise yourself over him, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck and his around your waist, you line your entrance up with his dick and then sit back down onto his lap, his cock stretching you out in the best way possible as it slips right in, your wetness serving as natural lube. You waste no time before moving your hips against his, first rocking them back and forth and then raising them up and down, the both of you letting out loud moans and breaths at the pleasure taking over your bodies.

“Y/N, feels so good, gonna cum quick,” he breathes out into the crook of your neck, biting the flesh there which feels surprisingly good.

“That’s okay baby, you’ve done so well, cum whenever you want.”

“Want you to cum too, though,” he whines, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You already made me- fuck!” you scream out of surprise when Sunghoon’s hands suddenly grip your thighs tightly and he holds you steady like this as he ruts his hips up into yours, the angle hitting right where it needs to. Your brain can’t form sentences that make any sort of sense so you’re left blabbering praises and curses at the same time, feeling your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, fuck- so close, Hoon…”

The feeling of your walls clenching as your high washes over you is enough for Sunghoon to tip over the edge as well, your releases mixing together in a loud and sticky mess. You’ve never felt closer to heaven as you do now.

The seriousness of it all soon starts to fade as you and Sunghoon lock eyes and burst into giggles, breathing still heavy and irregular. You help clean each other up and put your clothes back on, but you don’t head home until the sun has long set, feasting on the snacks and water he’d brought along.

You check the time before you go to bed that night. 00:57, Thursday 11th August 2022. Twenty days left with Sunghoon.

Eighteen days left with Sunghoon. Your last days together feel like a montage, like you’re watching a movie in which you play the lead role and you know the ending credits will have to start rolling at some point. You hate to be thinking that way, but the first thing you do when you wake up every morning is check the date and tell yourself how many days you’ve got left with your summer love. 19 days, 18 days. If Sunghoon feels a change in your attitude, how your gaze lingers more, how your touch softens, he doesn’t say anything.

You mentioned how you and Yunjin would like to go to the beach, so he called up his friends and got them to drive all the way over here. He said another time when you told him this is the perfect opportunity to show them his horse riding, and you didn’t push it.

He drives you all to what he calls ‘his’ beach spot, and indeed, it feels like it’s yours and yours only. It’s a bit of a trek getting there, having to walk up a dirt road and climbing some rocks before heading down to a small sandy beach where the sand is so hot it burns and the water only feels refreshing for two minutes, but you love it. He side-eyes Jake and Jay when you take off your dress and reveal your bikini-clad body, and barks at them to stop salivating even though they weren’t looking at you.

Yunjin on Heeseung’s shoulders, Jake on Jay’s and you on Sunghoon’s, the six of you play a tournament of who can make the others fall faster. Your boy has amazing balance, robust legs, a strong core, and decent (surprisingly impressive) arm muscles, so you win, a victory peck turning into a makeout session that everybody groans at, except for Jake who whoops.

You apply sunscreen on each other’s backs and complain that evening when you’ve got weirdly-shaped sunburns anyway, you along the lines of your swimsuit and him on the back of his knees. You eat the watermelon Jay brought and the boys spit black seeds at each other, not daring to do it to you or Yunjin after the stank look you gave them.

When you get home and everyone has driven off, neither of you is quite ready to call it a night yet. Sunghoon eyes the backseat of his car and you understand what he wants immediately. His skin smells like sun, sweat, sunscreen and sea water, and it’s all so him. It smells so good, it’s almost intoxicating, and you think you’ll never be able to get enough of his scent, of him. You won’t be able to look up at the bright star in the day sky or at an orange bottle of sticky sunscreen the same way ever again.

You’ve had many things in your life. You’ve had dolls, and you’ve had books and CDs. You’ve also had and still have friends, sometimes even boyfriends. You’ve had fun, and times that were not as fun. You’ve had sex. But you’ve not had anything like what you have with Sunghoon. He’s the one who gave you the intense feeling of truly loving and being loved, the insatiable craving of wanting more, the overwhelming need to see and talk to and feel and smell.

He’s the one who gave you the best summer of your life, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever had. It overpowers everything you’ve ever had to the point that it feels like it’s the first thing you’ve ever had; it might be the only thing you ever have, because you don’t understand how you could want anything else now that you’ve had him. He’s all you need.

Seventeen days left with Sunghoon. You’re having your joyful weekly dinner with your grandmother and the Parks when you feel something hit your foot gently. You feel it again, and when you look up at the boy sitting right across the table from you he’s trying to hide a small smile, but you know him too well to miss it. His clothed foot caresses the ridge of your own and you suppress a giggle at the ticklish feelings. You tease him back, and you realize you’re playing footsies at the ripe age of twenty years old, but it doesn’t bother you. You both end up failing at not laughing and when innocently, his mother asks, “what are you two laughing at?”, he coughs and says it’s an inside joke.

Fourteen days left with Sunghoon. The last two weeks of summer lessons have started again and Sunghoon and you can’t run around and lay in random fields at any time of the day anymore, but you still try your best to spend every waking second of the day together, to the despair of his fangirls. However, you still find moments where it’s the two of you in an empty stall and one exchanged look is enough for you to push him against the walls, your lips finding his in the fraction of a second. Sadly, before it can get too heated, a nearby horse always neighs or huffs as if telling you to get a room.

Twelve days left with Sunghoon. Conveniently, Sunghoon’s sister and their parents are out for the night at a party in celebration of the competition season that’s about to end, so you finally get to spend the night in his room. You technically could’ve done it before, but the house is old and the walls are thin, and you didn’t need that kind of humiliation.

Maybe Sunghoon feels that your time is slowly running to its end too, because as the days pass, he melts under your touch like a candle to a flame even more than before, he kisses your lips with more desperation and he holds your hips tighter as if you were going to disappear from between his hands at any moment. He always asks to please, please let’s cum at the same time and please, please say my name and you do it because you’d do anything for him.

You do it three times in a row, both of your bodies weak and sensitive with overstimulation yet unending desire, and you feel tears pouring down your cheeks as your third orgasm of the night hits you. There’s no way anything will ever feel as good as this. You tell him this, and he says, “I know.”

Seven days left with Sunghoon. He asks you what you’ll do when you go home, and you reply that you don’t know, because even though you’ve been thinking about what little time you have left together, you haven’t been thinking about the time after that, simply because it puts a bland feeling in your mouth whenever it crosses your mind. “I’ll start studying again and I’ll start my internship. I’ll get black out drunk at least once a month to forget all the stress and pressure of being a med student. I’ll think about you. That’s probably about it. What about you?”

“I’ll study too and I’ll have an assistantship at some point too. I’ll get drunk on Thursday nights and take care of the club during the weekends. I’ll think about you, too. More than you, I’m sure.”

“That’s not possible. You won’t ever leave my mind.”

“You won’t either,” he whispers.

Two days left with Sunghoon. He tells you you’re going camping for your last night together, not wanting to leave your side for even a second. “We’ve only got so much time left, we need to make the most of it,” he says, and you wished he knew that that had been your exact thought for the past twenty days.

That night, everything goes much slower than it usually does. You take your sweet time taking the clothes off of each other, reveling in discovering the smooth skin underneath the fabric as if you hadn’t seen it dozens of times by now. You find all of his moles and kiss them one by one, and he takes a full minute kissing down from your lips to your core. His thrusts are slow but deep, and your lips don’t leave the other’s the whole time.

Ten hours left with Sunghoon. You wake up the next morning when the sunlight the thin walls of the tent are unable to keep away gets too bright for your eyes’ liking. The warmth of this late August night has made you two drift apart while you slept, but you quickly find his body again and you wrap your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. He smells like sleep and like himself, which is comforting.

He calls out your name and you lift your head to look at him. When he doesn’t turn his head as well and only gives you his chin and jawline to look at, you know he’s about to say something important. Something he doesn’t dare to say while looking in your eyes.

Your mind goes back to all the times you’ve laid down next to each other and you hope that those will be what you see whenever you think of Sunghoon in the future. The sun not quite ready to call it a day, a slight breeze picking up, the hay a semi-comfortable mattress that sometimes poked you at the back of your neck and arms. Sunghoon right next to you. You were always happy then, hoping you wouldn’t regret anything later. You wouldn’t have known what to do to prevent that anyway.

All you know is you don't want your memory of Sunghoon to be tainted by this moment right now, this moment in which he avoids your gaze and your heart feels heavy because you’re leaving soon and you won’t get to have him in your embrace like this. You want to be happy when you think of him; you don’t want to feel his absence.

“Yeah?” you answer. He still doesn’t look at you, and you get a bit nervous.

He sighs a deep breath like you’ve never seen him do before. “Is it okay if I say something a bit selfish?”

You love him so much. You realize that maybe that’s what you’ll end up regretting. “Go ahead.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” he says, and you almost laugh out of relief.

“That’s not selfish, Hoon. I don’t want to leave, either.” You reach for his hand and he lets you take it, your fingers intertwining immediately as if made to hold each other. To hold onto each other. He still doesn’t look at you, and you know there’s something more there.

“It’s selfish because I’m scared I’ll resent you for leaving,” he says, voice a whisper.

Ah. There it is.

You squeeze his hand, wordlessly asking him to go on. He takes another breath, a shakier one this time, and he chuckles at the tears he feels pooling in his eyes. “You showed up here out of nowhere and you made me so, so happy. You listened to me and got me to open up, which I usually hate doing. You told me that I was good, that you were proud of me. And now you’re leaving and no one will tell me those things anymore.” The first crack in your heart happens when you hear his voice quiver at the end of his sentence.

“You don’t need me to tell you those things. You know them now, and you have yourself,” you try to reassure him.

The second crack happens when he finally turns to look at you, lips trembling and eyes full of tears. “But I want you to tell me those things.” It takes everything in you to not burst into tears, but you want to be strong for him. For the both of you.

“I can still tell you those things. Phones exist, you know.” A small smile appears on your lips as you try to alleviate the tension. Sunghoon’s eyebrows crease and he pouts his lips; you can tell he doesn’t want to laugh in this moment, but the nudge you give him and your smile make his facade break.

You laugh as he whines, telling you this is a serious moment and to not make him laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say between chuckles and you wrap your arms around him, bringing him to lay his head on your chest. You kiss the top of his head and graze your fingers through his hair. “Laughing is all I can do to stop myself from crying, baby,” you whisper. When you feel a tear roll down your cheek, you add, “And it’s not even working that well.”

Sunghoon buries his face deeper between your breasts and sobs. No more, no less, he sobs, loud, choked sobs that make his whole body shake against yours, and you hold him as tight as you can so that they don’t break him in two. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” he manages to say, and that’s when the third and final crack happens and your heart shatters. It breaks into a million tiny pieces that fall all over your body; some of them make their way to your throat while others travel to the tips of your fingers and others lodge themselves behind your knees or in the pits of your stomach. Your heart breaks into sharp pieces and you feel them piercing under your skin everywhere. You feel like you’re gonna throw up.

You and Sunghoon aren’t even technically dating. You’ve known each for two months. You live far, but not halfway across the world; you can see each other again. You will see each other again. It’s not supposed to hurt that much, yet it hurts even more than that.

“I know, baby, I know,” you whisper into his hair. “I’ll miss you so much too. But we’ll see each other again, right? Paris isn’t that far away.”

His sobs calm down and you hear him sniffle as he catches his breath. “Paris isn’t far away, but we’ll be worlds apart. You’re going to study and become a doctor, and I’ll stay here. You know what medical school is like, you’re going to be flooded with work for at least four more years. I can’t expect you to stay in touch all the time.”

“Well, it doesn’t need to be all the time, does it? I’d annoy you if it was.”

“You could never annoy me,” he says, and it makes you laugh. He’d never have said this two months ago.

“Plus, I’ll still get time off. I can come back next summer.”

He raises his head to look at you and you can see all the hope and sadness in his puffy eyes. You want to kiss away the tear stains on his cheeks. You want to right everything wrong just to see him smile again. “Next summer?” he echoes in a small voice.

“Next summer,” you promise, a smile you hope is comforting on your lips.

Next summer doesn’t work out. The one after that either. Your internship is going swimmingly, and so is his assistantship, and you simply don’t have the time to make a trip all the way down there. A part of you is also worried that if you see him again, you won’t have the force to leave.

Those years you don’t see him, you’re reminded of the ten days you were apart during that summer, and how you’d felt like he’d kept a small piece of your heart with him, because it still feels that way. There’s something that’s keeping you tethered to that summer, something that the strongest scissors or the sharpest knife in the world couldn’t break.

For a short period of time, he was all you needed. But reality quickly seeped back in, and now you needed good grades and then a good job, a decent flat, a decent income. You didn’t need anyone like you needed him, but you still wanted them because even if they weren’t as pretty, or as patient, or as kind as your Sunghoon, they were still good, and sometimes that was all you could ask for. You were always sorry that you couldn’t give them your whole heart, because a piece of it had stayed in the south of France and you didn’t have the courage to march down there and demand it back. Selfishly, you hoped you also kept a piece of Sunghoon’s heart in yours.

You did call once in a while, but those calls made both of you more sad than happy, and after a couple years the calls were so spaced out that they only happened on birthdays and special events. The next time you see him, it’s five years later, at your grandmother’s funeral. You can only stay for three nights and you spend most of your time there with relatives, celebrating your grandmother’s life, so you don’t see him much. When you do, you get to catch up for a few hours. He’s almost done with vet school and he’s specialized in equine studies. He’s an intern at the horse vet in Laroque which means he gets to stay in the center and help his parents out. Yeji is on her way to becoming one of the best in the country, he adds with a proud smile. You’re finishing up your last years as an intern in a Paris hospital, but you haven’t changed your mind about becoming a general practitioner, which you need just a few more years of experience for. You don’t miss how his face falls slightly when you tell him you have a boyfriend and that you’re thinking of getting engaged to him. He tells you he’s happy for you with the saddest eyes. The hug he gives you when you have to leave brings back so many feelings and memories, and even after all these years there’s nothing more that you want to do than stay in his arms and never move again.

You break up with your boyfriend as soon as you get home.

On a random Thursday, you’re done with your decade-long studies, and you’re free to go out into the world, a medical diploma in hand. You get a job in a cabinet owned by a friend of your parents, and you like the job, but you know you’re just passing the time until the opportunity you’ve been waiting for comes around.

Every week, you check whether a spot opens up for a general practitioner in the small town of Laroque-des-Albères. It doesn’t for about eighteen months, until suddenly it does, and in a week you’re packing your bags and taking that trip you took twelve years ago.

Sunghoon doesn’t even know. He could be married with a wife and three kids, for all you know, and it’s foolish but you hope he’s been waiting for you. He’s just finishing up a health check on some of the older horses when you get out of your car, eyes finding him immediately. From the other side of the courtyard, he smiles at you, and it’s like the summer you first fell in love all over again.

permanent taglist: @ozymandia-s @bbujiikseu @sd211 @lalalalawon @sunghoonmybeloved @w3bqrl

#sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon au #enhypen au #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen fanfiction

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plutoccult · 6 months

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BRINGING THEM TO THANKSGIVING (PART TWO)

characters: reiner braun, bertholdt hoover, levi ackerman, erwin smith, and hange zoe (gender neutral pronouns for hange!)

description: headcanons on taking your favorite aot characters home to your family for thanksgiving.

read part one here

author’s note: hello! thank you for all the love on the first part of these headcanons. from my love all mine blowing up to also part one of the thanksgiving headcanons, i’m over the moon. i hope these headcanons are just as good, and happy (early) thanksgiving to those who celebrate! maybe i’ll do something christmas related in the future? in the meantime, i’m working on the next part of my haikyuu x the office au, and i hope more people will check it out! <3

REINER BRAUN:

— listen, i love this man, but he’s a mess. he wants to impress your family so bad! it’s so bad that he’s so in his head that he can’t even focus on having a good time. it’s not until you have a little talk with him in private and insist he let loose and try to have fun that he evades his overthinking head.

— despite his mess of a brain, he’s a total catch in the eyes of your grandmother and aunties. they think he’s a total HOTTIE! they can’t believe you bagged him, but at the same time are so impressed. you can’t help but roll your eyes at such comments while reiner has a hard time believing he’s that attractive.

— even if he’s not as tall as bertholdt, he’s still so tall, but has a better time navigating his stature as compared to his much taller best friend. your little cousins are quite amazed by his build, and he basically puts all the men in your family to shame in terms of muscle. good for you, honestly.

— at dinnertime, he feels more at ease and not as nervous when it came to making a good impression. he already left a positive mark on thanksgiving, and that mark continued throughout the rest of the night. everyone sure had no problem making sure that big boy was fed and was thrilled how much he loved everything. all in all, a success.

BERTHOLDT HOOVER:

— bertholdt is such a shy man!! my god!! he’s worse than reiner in terms of nervousness! no wonder they make such a great pair, they’re both wrecks. but bertholdt is sweaty, beet red mess when he walks through the door, and he can only pray no one notices and you don’t scold him for it (which you never would, but he can’t help but think you’ll do it anyway).

— he’s immediately overwhelmed by everyone greeting him all at once, a million words overlapping on another, and you have to tell everybody to call down and not scare him off right off the bat. bertholdt wouldn’t know what he’d do without you, really.

— honestly, take a shot every time someone mentions how tall bertholdt is. you’d be dead from alcohol poisoning before dinnertime, so don’t even try it. but seriously, everyone is so in awe of his height, it’s insane. you’re sometimes tempted to joke he’s not done yet growing just to make everyone sweat a little, but you don’t want to make your man even more flustered than he already is.

— unfortunately, bertholdt is too ridden with anxiety to properly eat his dinner, even if the small bites he ate were absolutely delicious. luckily for both of you, you get to take leftover plates home! the next day, he devoured his leftovers and ended up eating your plate too, but you weren’t mad. at least he enjoyed your family’s cooking in a place where he felt comfortable; at home with you.

LEVI ACKERMAN:

— you almost didn’t want to bring levi to thanksgiving. not because you didn’t want him to meet your family, but because he seemed so iffy on the subject of thanksgiving in the past. but, when you decided to take a chance and ask him about it, he was—much to your surprise—far more than willing to come along with you and even suggested the two of you bring a dish for the occasion (secretly because it was the one thing he could trust to eat).

— the two of you arrive, and you swore levi’s resting serial killer face would be the ultimate death of the holiday. your mother almost jumped when she opened the door and met levi’s piercing gaze, but was thankfully put at ease when he politely handed her the casserole he made with a soft smile. he was even nice enough to give her reheating instructions too. what a king.

— levi shockingly has a soft spot for children. you didn’t know that about him until now when you saw him cradling your baby niece in his arms with ease while she napped peacefully. the sight almost brought you to tears, seriously.

— even if levi didn’t have much of a family growing up, he could find solace in yours, secretly in his mind hoping he could always have things be this way. you were happy to see him happy, even if he had his own quirky ways of showing it, and you were so glad to have taken the leap to invite him to thanksgiving this year.

ERWIN SMITH:

— YOUR HONOR. i’m about to get oddly passionate about this for some reason, but hear me OUT. erwin is literally THEE man you want to bring home to meet your family. so serious. he’s every parent’s dream son-in-law. a father can only hope their child brings home someone like him, and luckily, you did!

— he’s such a charmer, oh my god. he just exudes bde, i’m not sorry (this is crazy coming from me, who was never a huge fan of erwin). he instantly wins over your family. you can’t even be shocked because he does this with every single person he meets, even you, who was swooned upon first meeting.

— he’s good with all the kids, just showing how more perfect he truly is, if that’s even humanly possible. everyone can’t stop talking about how awesome your man is, and you actually are proud of yourself for that. it’s about time you bagged an absolute 10 out of 10.

— when all is said and done, nobody wants him to go, they want him to stay forever! but don’t worry, he’ll come around for christmas, new year’s, and every other holiday after that.

HANGE ZOE:

— ah, my precious hange. they have their quirks, but that’s what makes them so wonderful, and that’s also why you fell for them in the first place. you can only hope your family falls for hange just like you did.

— honestly, hange just lights up the room. their presence has an instant effect on everyone, and some would argue the holiday for better once you two walked in together.

— i imagine hange talks about their inventions to your parents, showing examples of their previous work. it’s all impressive, really. you’ve got a real smarty pants on your hands, and your parents sure are happy about it! they’re just glad you’re not with someone who’s boring.

— they’re a total child at heart, not in a bad way. hange will play with the little ones as if they’re a kid themselves. they’ll even give out piggyback rides but with a little twist. the twist? bouncing around whilst a child is on their shoulders. thankfully, no one throws up.

— during dinner, hange probably thinks of good thanksgiving themed inventions and politely asks to write their ideas down on their phone since there’s a strict no phone rule at the dinner table. thankfully, your family can make an exception… as long as they’re mentioned in hange’s success story.

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ltbarnes · 5 months

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‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

#stark u #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes angst #sam wilson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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kissitbttr · 6 months

Note

hello! i read you miss having asks and i don't know if you maybe miss having some requests (in case you aren't taking any you can ignore this and i hope you'll have a good day <3)

but what about some domestic Miguel and spending your first Christmas together? just imagine sitting on the couch in front of the TV, with a blanket covering both of you, watching some way too romantic soap opera, while drinking some hot chocolate and just enjoy the moment <3

(i know this is so early and we are still in November, but I swear, I can already feel the nostalgic feeling of Christmas </3)

xmas with miggy? say no more baby!!

it is absolutely one of your favorite holiday, ever. the music, the decorations, the presents for your loved ones, the cooking and baking. everything about christmas just screams fairytale,

miguel has never been the one who’s fond of this specific holiday, or any holiday for that matter. he would drown himself in work to avoid any invitations from friends. sad but anything to get away from interacting with strangers.

now ever since you stepped into his life, he can’t help but see how this year’s christmas would be different. having you with him to celebrate together just changes his perspectives. now he has someone to hold and love, this christmas would bring joy into his life.

you and him had been pretty busy with the decorations and stuff. buying a Christmas tree, getting pretty ornaments, looking for presents etc.

“need a hand, baby?” miguel steps into the kitchen, seeing you take out fresh cookies from the oven. you look so… comfy. dressed in his old t-shirt with your hair tied up in a bun—his clothing is basically a dress so there’s no need to be putting on some pants other than underwear—

you nod, looking up at him before setting the cookies on the counter. “can you put those hot chocolates on the table, my love?” you ask with a smile,

his heart soars at the nickname before grabbing the two cups of hot cocoa with tiny pink marshmallows in them. “you pick or i pick the movie?”

you’re quick to raise your hand in a child-like manner, causing him to laugh. “me, duh!” you answer as if it’s the most obvious thing. “we’re tuning in The Mafia Dolls and La Reina Del Sur”

miguel groans at the choice, shaking his head as he put the tray down on the table before grabbing a blanket. “you just want to watch Kate Del Castillo because you have a crush on her” he points out,

shrugging you showcase an expression of no shame. “she’s hot. you know i would leave your ass for her”

miguel jaw drops open, hand over his heart as he watches you stifle a giggle. “i’ve had enough time dealing with men trying to hit on you on a daily basis and now i have to compete with Kate Del Castillo too?!”

“her and Eva Mendes” you nod, arms crossed, smiling to yourself as he rolls his eyes before throwing you a playful glare and sit on the couch. “you’re going to pay for that comment”

you give him a cheeky smile. grabbing two cookies as you stride towards him, his large arm coming to wrap itself around your waist. he gently pulls you down on the couch, letting your head rest against his chest as you feed him a cookie.

“mhmm” he hums in approval. “new recipe?”

“yeah. you like? grandma sent the recipe to me. said that i have to treat my man something nice every once in a while” you giggle to yourself as he put his arm behind you. his lips plants a kiss on top of your head.

“tell her i said thank you” he mumbles as he turns on the tv. “i like this you know?”

a hum rumbles from you as you lay your back comfortably against him, taking another bite of the cookie. “what is?”

then he smiles, eyes landing on you. his fingers move to stroke your soft hair gently, catching that sweet scent of your strawberry mint shampoo that he finds obsessed over.

miguel can’t exactly remember when he had something like this. probably in his childhood? not quite sure. even if it was true, he doubts that it’s actually memorable. he remembers there were a lot of screaming match and broken plates though. maybe that’s why he avoids christmas like a plague. it was never magical.

but you… oh god, you.

you changed it for the better. the decorating christmas tree, wrapping up presents for each other, counting fails at an attempt to create gingerbread house, cooking up delicious traditional food instead of unseasoned dish that he sees people are making. and it might not be a big christmas party like in movies or how his co-workers do it, but that’s okay really. that’s just how he prefers it.

you, him and christmas.

“being with you” he responds, not minding the chatters coming from the tv. “estoy agradecido por ti, princesa”

“so, so grateful” he mumbles, pressing another quick kiss on your temple.

his words cause your gaze to soften. you slowly turn your head to look up to him from the tv, who’s eyes glued into the screen. your heart warms at the sight of miguel being comfortable with you, a small smile attached to his face.

leaning forward, you give him a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. he sighs out of contentment at the gesture, hand around your waist tighten.

“i’m grateful for you too.”

aaa this feels like it’s rushed but i hope u like it anon! I’m sorry it took too long:(

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara fluff

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myhairpintrigger · 5 months

Text

Grieving for the Living (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) Part 3

The entirety of a capricious and treacherous marriage between the Darkling and the Lantsov princess.

read previous parts here!! part 1 part 2

just wanted to say thank u to everyone sending me hate, me & my girlfriend get a giggle out of it. i also want to say thank u to all the cute messages and comments too!!! also i hope everyone that celebrates had an amazing christmas yesterday, and if u don’t celebrate, i hope u had a spectacular monday (do those exist? idk) SENDING LOVE!

word count: 9.7k

warnings: nothing going on here that isn’t necessarily canon. there’s like one part where puking is mentioned. again, i’d be remiss if i didn’t remind u that there are examples of an unhealthy relationship and to read at ur own discretion

taglist: @il0vebeingdelulu @mellowarcadefun @budugu @eir964 @arwensloanebarnes @marytvirgin

“Lots of different precious metals and crystals have different properties. Many cultures believe that precious stones can be healing, in many different ways, take quartz for example…” David, a Durast who was close to your husband, read to you from one of his books and spouted off little facts that he knew about… crystals? You weren’t entirely sure, you were only half listening.

Your husband had left the two of you alone in his carriage while he got out with a handful of his other Grisha to track down whoever. At this point you weren’t sure. David could tell that you were nervous, and he began to read from his book, telling you that it often calmed him down when he read. The air inside the carriage was somewhat warm and you had shed the cloak your husband insisted you wear and instead had it laid out over your lap like a blanket.

You peeked out the window every few seconds until you heard David clear his throat.

“Princess, if I may suggest something.”

You looked up at David and blinked a few times, “Yeah, go ahead.” You mumbled and then lowered the small curtain on the window.

“I just think that you shouldn’t keep looking out the window. Someone might see you, someone dangerous perhaps?” It sounded more like a question, and you gathered that David wasn’t very authoritative.

“I’m just anxious, that’s all.” You mumbled and sat back in your seat, twisting your fingers in the fur along the edges of the cloak on your lap.

And it was true, you were anxious. Anxious that someone was going to get in and hurt you and David, anxious that your husband was going to get hurt, anxious about being away from home, everything.

“Nothing to worry about, Your Grace, The General wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We were briefed before we left, and The Darkling was very clear. We are to protect you at all costs.” David explained, “He also said-“

You wouldn’t get to hear what David was going to say, because he was cut off by an ear splitting explosion not far away.

You let out a yelp, and David lunged toward you awkwardly to shield you with his kefta. When nothing else happened, he slowly pulled away from you and you stared up at him, your pulse racing.

“What was that?” You asked and yanked the curtain away from the window. You peered outside but your line of sight was poor due to the carriage’s position. People screamed and were scrambling around, and you could see a couple Grisha, but you couldn’t see your husband. Panic swiftly gripped you and you stood up and let out a little grunt, pushing the door open.

“Princess y/n!” David screamed after you, “y/n, don’t!” He called, but you ignored him and pushed through a small crowd of people.

You scrambled through a few more small groups of people and you scanned the area for your husband, still unsure of what had just happened. There were no longer any Grisha in their brightly colored keftas remaining in the area and you took a step forward before arms wrapped around you from behind, yanking you backwards violently. You screamed and you tried to squirm away, but you were being easily dragged backwards. You tried to claw at your captor’s hands, but couldn’t with your gloves in the way, and you looked down to your waist to see a pair of purple clad arms. Relief washed over you in a thousand-foot waves when you realized it was only David and you stopped struggling. You allowed the awkward Durast to pull you back to the carriage and once both of you were inside, then slammed the door and he stood in front of it. Surely, he was trying to be menacing; authoritative, but he really just looked as startled as you. Authority and toughness seemed out of place on David. You let out a pent up sigh and you sunk down on one of the seats in the carriage.

“He’s not out there. What if something terrible happened?” You asked nervously, wringing your gloved hands together.

“He is fine, Princess. I guarantee it.“

“How can you be so sure?” You asked, laying your fidgeting hands in your lap, trying to calm yourself.

“Because The General is a smart man, Your Grace, and a determined one at that. He will do anything to return to you.” David said, his voice serious.

This did more to calm your nerves than his entire book of crystals and you found yourself leaning back against the wall, a long sigh escaping your lips. You were still worried, and that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but you were able to somewhat relax in the carriage. David didn’t begin reading from his book again, at least, not out loud. He flipped through it silently on his own, reading faster than you had ever seen anyone read before. You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the side of the wall, counting down from one hundred in your head to pass the time. Once you had gotten one hundred down, you started again, this time from one thousand. You were only about halfway through when you grew bored and opened your eyes again.

You glanced over at David who was still leafing through his book and you reached down and grabbed your cloak off of the floor. You laid it back over your lap like a blanket and smoothed it out meticulously before clearing your throat.

“So,” you began, tapping your fingers against your leg absentmindedly, “What exactly do you do, David?” You asked the boy, trying to pass the time with conversation.

“I make things.” He replied, slowly tearing his attention away from his book, “I made your wedding rings, you know. The General didn’t want the ones the King and Queen were offering up. Said they were too gaudy.”

You looked down at the little bump in your glove over your wedding ring and you hummed once, wiggling your finger a bit, “It’s very pretty.” You commented and David shot you a very small smile.

“Didn’t take me too long, just something easy.” He said bashfully, trying to play off his flattered smile as if the compliment wasn’t a big deal to him.

You smiled too, “Will you read me some more of your book?” You asked and pointed to the book in his lap.

The Durast gave you a nod and he looked back down at his book. He began to read from it in a quiet tone and you laid your head back against the wall. You weren’t really listening, but his voice was something to hear in the background while you tried to relax. You closed your eyes after a while and pulled the cloak up around your arms much like a blanket and you shifted a bit to get yourself comfortable. You felt drained and you tried to clear your mind as best as you could until David’s voice was only a faint hum in the back of your mind.

You had hardly even noticed that you’d fallen asleep, but at some point David must have noticed because he stopped reading aloud. Your sleep wasn’t overly satisfying, but it was enough to keep you distracted from being worried about your husband. You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep, but the carriage around you had gotten a bit colder than it had been earlier in the night and you shivered, pulling your legs up onto the seat with you the best you could , garnering minimal relief. The relief didn’t last long, though, because the doors to the carriage swung open, startling you awake.

“Oh! Hello!”

Both you and David turned to see a man in a long coat wearing a hat standing outside the doors. David scrambled to his feet and he clumsily threw his book at the man before he grabbed you by your arms. By using his own weight as leverage, he tossed you towards the door and you let out a loud yelp, barreling through the doors on the opposite side of the carriage. You practically somersaulted down the one step into the carriage and rolled out onto the gravel with a loud oof.

Your hands skidded across the gravel and you were thankful for the gloves your husband told you to wear. You’d landed awkwardly on your stomach and looked up just in time to see David stumble out of the carriage as well, only to be knocked in the head by a dark haired man with a cane. David fell to the ground unconscious and you gasped, scrambling to your knees.

“David!” You cried, crawling over to the unconscious Durast on the ground. You gaped up at the man who had hit David and he stared back at you, dusting off his sleeve.

“He threw a book at me!” The man from the other side of the carriage had crawled through the open doors that you had just fallen-no, been thrown- out of, and he tossed David’s book aside. As soon as he looked down at you, he snapped his fingers and pointed, “You’re- you’re the princess of Ravka!” He exclaimed, and the man next to him with the cane raised his eyebrows.

You looked between the two of them before you let out a loud, forced peal of laughter, “Not me!” You exclaimed, clumsily rising to your feet, “I’m certainly no princess.”

The man with the hat shook his head and he grabbed the man with the cane’s shoulder, “No, no. You are the princess. I saw you at the fete! In the courtyard!” He snapped his fingers again and shook the other man’s shoulders, “saints! With The Darkling! She’s his wife!” He practically shouted, shaking the other man still.

The man with the cane reached up and brushed his hand off of his shoulder and he raised his eyebrows, “You’re sure?” He asked, his eyes scanning you as if looking for anything to confirm the accusations.

He had dark hair that hung in his eyes and he was tall, not taller than your husband surely, but still quite tall. His lips were pressed together in a perpetual sneer and he leaned against his cane dependently. He wore a long coat that dangled around his ankles and thick leather gloves.

“Yes! I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Kaz, that’s her!” The other man raved, and you wondered if he was going to start jumping for joy by the look on his boyish face.

The man with the cane- or Kaz, as the other man called him- seemed to think for a moment while looking at you before he gave the other man a short nod, “Get her in the carriage, then. I have an idea.”

You took a large step backwards as the man with the hat nodded and you held your hands out, “No, really, you are mistaken, I’m no princess!” You insisted, backing up slowly as the two men took steps towards you.

“Really? Because you aren’t Grisha. If you were, you’d be wearing a kefta. You aren’t a simple citizen, look at your clothes.” The man called Kaz reasoned, his voice low, bordering a whisper nearly.

You watched them wildly as you backed up. David wasn’t able to help, and there were no other Grisha in the area, your husband was nowhere to be found, so you had to be smart about your escape. You had never been in a situation where you had to think like this, and in such short time, too, so you did the only thing that came to mind in that moment.

You let out a scream that could’ve curdled the blood of anyone nearby and you took off running towards the nearest building, only stopping screaming when you had to breathe, and then you started back up again, hoping to grab the attention of anyone nearby. You heard footsteps behind you and you kept running, still screaming like you belonged in a madhouse.

It was a pathetic idea, really, and probably one of the worst ones you could’ve come up with given your circumstances, but it seemed to do the trick. You rounded a corner and pressed yourself up against the wall of a stone building. You put a hand over your chest, struggling to catch your breath, and you leaned your head back against the wall. Your heart hammed against your rib cage and you very slowly peered around the corner. No one was chasing you, and in the distance, you could see the carriage was gone. The only thing left was the lump on the ground that could have only been David. You panted like an overheating dog and you pushed yourself away from the wall and began to walk out towards David, when a hand caught your wrist and yanked you backwards. You let out the beginning of a scream, but a gloved hand clamped itself over your mouth, and you spun around to see your husband.

You shoved his hand away from your mouth and you threw yourself against his chest, wrapping your arms around him as if someone might try to pry you away from him. The thought of it only made you tighten your arms around him. You pressed your face against his chest and you let out a small cry of relief, shaking your head over and over again. He wrapped both of his arms around you protectively and he brought a hand up to hold the back of your head against his chest.

“You’re safe, you’re completely safe now, little love.” He shushed you, soothingly petting your hair.

He held you against his body so tightly that you thought the two of you might mold together, never to be separated again. He continued to shush you and whisper assurances of your safety into your ear, petting your hair softly. Your heart raced in your chest still and you struggled to catch your breath for a long time. You were thankful that he didn’t ask any questions while you chased desperately after your own breath, and finally, after some time, you had caught it once more. Your heart began to slow down and you began to feel less tense.

“That’s right, darling. Just breathe. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” He whispered, leaning down to press a few kisses against your hairline.

You let out a long sigh and you held him tighter, acutely aware of the way your hands shook, as well as your arms and your legs.

“Tell me what happened, my little y/n.” He instructed, sliding his fingers into your hair comfortingly.

You nodded once and you grasped the collar of his kefta tightly, “Two men, they attacked David and I, and one of them recognized me from the fete and,” you paused to let out a sharp sigh and then you lifted your head away from his chest and looked up at him, “and then the other one, he said he had an idea, and told the one who recognized me to grab me and put me in the carriage and-“

Your husband reached up and cradled your face in his hands and he stared down into your eyes, “Are you hurt?” He asked.

When he looked into your eyes, you still got butterflies, even though you’d stared into them countless times before, and you were not exempt from that sensation this time.

“No, no I’m not hurt-“

“I heard you scream. I came as quickly as I could because I thought someone had hurt you.” He explained, swiping a gloved thumb across your cheek.

“I screamed to get someone- anyone’s- attention.”

“Clever girl.” He whispered and leaned down to press a kiss onto your lips. His lips were cold, as were yours, but that didn’t stop you from kissing him back as if it were the first time you’d seen him in years. He kissed you hungrily as if your lips could properly satiate a state of starvation and it stole the breath out of your lungs.

Your husband broke away from the kiss and sucked in a well-needed breath, his hands still clutching your face. He leaned down again and he nuzzled his nose against yours, a small smile covering his lips.

“I’m so glad you are safe.” He murmured, pulling away from you.

You didn’t want him to let go of you and you gave him a frown as he moved back. He let out a chuckle and reached out to grab your hand, holding it tightly in his own, making you feel relieved.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly and then he cleared his throat, “Come. We should go check on David with the others.”

“And my brother, Nikolai, he climbed on that horse like it was no big deal. Vasily didn’t really have the same luck and he got his foot stuck in the stirrup, poor fool, and his horse panicked and began to run around and Vasily went flying. He was never quite gifted with the horses I’m afraid.” You recalled.

You had been chatting with David as you, your husband, and two other Grisha, plus David, walked through the cold, snowy forest in search of Alina Starkov, and a boy that she had run away with named Mal. Your husband had seemed much too absorbed with his hunt to carry a conversation with you, so you had opted to talk with David, who you had taken quite the liking to.

“Did he ever ride horses again?” David asked, brushing a few flakes of snow off of his arms.

“Oh, he tried, but Nikolai and I always outshined him so he took up sword fighting, only to be outshined again by Nikolai.” You explained.

You cozied up to your husband’s side as you walked hand in hand, and he glanced down at you, likely to make sure you weren’t freezing to death. Once he had deduced that you were fine, he leaned down and pressed an affectionate kiss to your forehead. You beamed at the show of affection and you giggled. The two of you had been joined at the hip ever since he had found you much earlier that morning after being chased by the men that stole his carriage. He’d not let you out of his sight even once, not even when he’d gone into town to question a few people about Alina’s whereabouts.

Once he had figured out that Alina was in the forest hunting a stag, the six of you had set out into the forest, which quickly became covered in a thick blanket of snow. Aleksander had made sure that you put your cloak back on and he tugged the hood over your head, making sure that you were as bundled up as you possibly could be.

David hummed next to you and he looked around the forest, “So you ride horses?”

“Magnificently. Or, so she says.” Your husband answered for you, letting out a little laugh.

You looked up at him with a broad smile and instantly you were rendered breathless. Snowflakes laid on top of his head gracefully and the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose was adorably pink. In the light that had become bluish from the surrounding snow, his skin seemed to sparkle like marble and his eyes gleamed darkly.

He looked like a god.

It was so hard for you to believe that he himself hadn’t been labeled a saint just as Alina had.

He noticed your stare and he leaned down to press a quick, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Staring is rude, Your Grace. Didn’t mommy and daddy teach you that?” He teased, pulling you closer to his side.

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring.” You corrected.

He chuckled and gave your hand a little squeeze as he continued walking through the snow with you, “Are you doing alright? Are your boots getting wet? Shall I carry you?” He asked and you wiggled your toes in your boots.

Your feet were freezing, but nothing had managed to soak through your boots yet, thankfully. You shook your head and leaned against his arm, “I’m okay.”

He nodded and led you through the snow with him. The only sounds around you now was the snow crunching underneath your boots and the small humming sounds David made ever so often. After a few moments of only these noises, David cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Sir,” he spoke, and your entire group stopped walking. Aleksander clutched your hand in his tightly and David continued speaking, “She is close by.” He stated.

You looked around at the snow covered trees and then at the ground for any signs of footprints, but you saw nothing. Your husband took a few steps forward with you in tow, and he slowly dropped your hand, taking one step ahead of you. He nodded once and then looked back over his shoulder at David and the others.

“Good. This is good. You all know what to do when we find them. We must act quickly.” He then turned to you and he gently grabbed your forearms and pulled you close to him, “as for you. You are to stay out of sight. Behind a tree, in a bush, I don’t care, but out of sight. Alina wouldn’t hurt you, that I know. But her little orphan friend… I don’t know him. I know little to nothing about him. I won’t risk it.”

“Why don’t you just leave her with me, General? And we can stay back a bit.”

You both turned around, and a Squaller by the name of Zoya took a step forward.

“I can surely keep her safe.” She added, taking another step forward.

“Or I can.” David interjected.

“No, that won’t do,” he said, talking over the two of them, “Zoya, I need you with the rest of us, and David I’ll need you to extract the antlers on the stag.”

Both of them contemplated for a moment but eventually they both nodded and your husband looked down at you, “You will be perfectly safe, my love. I’m sure of that.”

Perhaps he sensed your trepidation, and you figured he had, because he wrapped you in his arms and he tucked your head underneath his chin.

“I’d take a thousand bullets before I let you get hurt, my dear.” He whispered and rocked you back and forth in his arms.

“That’s what I worry about.” You whispered, hiding your cold face against his warm neck.

“Oh, my little love, believe me when I say, I will always find my way back to you.” He promised, holding you closer. You nodded once and he pulled back to kiss your cold nose, “Come on, we must keep moving.” He said softly and grabbed your hand once more.

He pulled you along and the rest of the group followed suit. You looked over your shoulder at David who gave you a tentative smile and a little wave. Zoya stood behind him and she looked as if it was paining her to not argue with your husband. You slowly turned to face forward again and your throat felt a bit tight. You had a feeling in the pit of your stomach that nothing good could come of this excursion.

You had only walked for maybe half an hour more when suddenly your husband stopped you. He turned around slowly and nodded up ahead, beckoning the other Grisha forward. Something in the distance began to glow brightly, turning the forest blue from the way the light reflected on the snow. Your husband grabbed your waist and he pulled you off of the path towards a cluster of bushes.

He gently pushed you down so that you were hidden behind them and he gave you a very small, tense smile.

“Stay here. You will be safe.” He promised and patted the top of your head once before dashing off, the others following hot on his heels.

For a moment, it was silent. You couldn’t even hear the snow crunching underneath the feet of the Grisha you had been traveling with anymore.

You wrapped your arms around your knees as you sat in the snow behind the bushes and your teeth began to chatter mercilessly now that you weren’t moving, you weren’t staying very warm.

The silence was pierced by a loud, animalistic bellowing, and you jumped slightly, scrambling up onto your knees to peer over the bush. You couldn’t see much now, because the light had gone out, but you could see the moon illuminating the outline of a large stag, flailing about. It tumbled to the snowy ground and you brought a hand up to your mouth in horror. You sunk back down so that you couldn’t see any longer, not wanting to see any longer.

The distant sound of a gunshot made your stomach do a flip and you clapped your hands over your ears, feeling overwhelmed and nervous again. Someone cried out loudly and suddenly you could see bursts of light resonating all over the forest. It cast shadows through the trees and lit up the snow falling around you, giving it a shimmering effect as it floated down to the white ground.

Alina’s power, you guessed, slowly pulling your hands away from your ears.

Another surge of light was cast forth and you worriedly popped your head up over the bushes again, squinting to see in the distance. A large weblike dome of light was shimmering brightly in the clearing, and you could see the impossibly dark form of your husband standing near it. People were speaking, shouting, but you couldn’t make out coherent words. The dome of light tumbled down and faded away, and it became too dark for you to see anything. You slowly sunk back down behind the bush and you pulled your cloak around your shoulders tightly, just in time to hear a great crack echo in the forest around you and a sour taste filled your mouth. You hadn’t seen him do it more than once, only in demonstrations during trainings, but you were certain that your husband had just used the Cut, just by the sound alone.

Whether it was on Alina, her soldier friend, or the large stag, didn’t really matter to you. Your stomach felt upset at the thought of any living thing being split in two by the powerful feat that your husband was capable of.

You suddenly felt very out of place, much like someone who had just seen something that they weren’t supposed to see. An uneasiness spread through your veins slowly, and it seemed to make you colder and colder by each passing second. You longed to be back home in Os Alta, in your bedroom. The one in the Grand Palace. You wanted to have tea with your silly mother and cry in her arms over the fear you felt.

Your eyes prickled with tears and it was perhaps the only warming sensation that you had at the moment. You just wanted to be home. Safe in your bed, warm, just… home.

Heavy footsteps made the snow crack and crunch nearby, and you quickly wiped your eyes and rose to your feet just in time to see your husband come around the side of the bush. There was a coldness about the way he held himself and his eyes were perhaps icier than the snow that was falling all around. He held his hand out for you silently and you tentatively took it. He pulled you against his chest in one fluid movement and you shivered, wrapping your arms around his torso. He pulled the sides of his cloak around you, encircling you much like a cocoon, and you laid your cheek against the center of his chest, ignoring the cold metal on his kefta as it pressed against your cheek.

“You’re freezing.” He commented, his voice almost completely devoid of the tenderness it contained just ten minutes before.

You sniffled and you shook your head, tears finding their way out of the corners of your eyes, “Can we go home?” You asked quietly, your voice shaking.

“There’s more to be done.”

“Then can you send me home?” You begged, holding onto him tighter.

Your husband let out a long sigh and he pulled away from you and grabbed your chin with his bare, freezing hand. His eyes were locked with yours and his face was emotionless, save for the small smile that formed on his lips, that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I am your home.”

“Here, one more, perhaps?” Zoya Nazyalensky suggested, wrapping you in your fourth blanket. You felt heavy underneath the blankets’ weight and you looked up at her, shaking your head.

“Four will do, thank you, Zoya.” You mumbled, giving her an appreciative nod.

You’d never been more thankful for a tent in your entire life. The walk through the forest was the hardest thing you’d ever done, especially at night. The snow and the wind had begun to bite at you and you were so cold that you felt like every movement was akin to the slice of a blade. At some point, your legs had practically given out and your husband had to carry you the rest of the way, but you were sure he didn’t mind all that much.

Now you sat on a cot in your husband’s expansive tent and Zoya was tending to you gingerly while your husband sat with David across the tent at a table. They spoke in hushed tones while David crafted something with the antlers of the stag, and every so often your husband would turn around to check on you.

You had finally warmed up again now that you were wrapped in four layers of blankets plus another one of your husband’s thick cloaks, and you felt exhausted. The weight of the day was heavily sitting upon your shoulders and you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your chin on top of them, eyes drooping just slightly.

“Zoya. You may go. I can tend to my wife now.” Your husband said from across the tent.

The Squaller nodded once and gave your shoulder a little squeeze before she left the tent, leaving you alone with Aleksander and David.

Your husband stood up from his chair and he walked to you. He sat down next to you on the cot and he reached up to smooth back your hair. Every trace of coldness from earlier in the forest was gone now, and he was staring at you with nothing but adoration in his gaze.

“My beautiful girl. You look so tired.” He commented softly, leaning in to press his lips against your temple.

“I’m exhausted,” you admitted, leaning into his kiss, “and I’d love you to come lay with me. I want you to hold me.” You whispered.

“And I’d love nothing more, little love. But David and I need to get Miss Starkov taken care of.” He murmured, tucking a bit of your hair back behind your ear, “Once we get this amplifier dealt with, you and I can get some sleep.”

You crinkled your brow confusedly, “Amplifier? What’s that?” You asked, looking up at him confusedly.

“It’s like… a very powerful object that can amplify and strengthen a Grisha’s abilities. Some come from parts of powerful Grisha, some come from animals,” he explained, cupping your cheek with one hand, “this is what we needed the Stag’s antlers for.”

You stretched out a bit until you were almost lying down and you slowly directed your head down onto his lap, “Why give it to Alina? Why not keep it for yourself? If she’s so against helping you, won’t that make it so she can revolt on a much wider scale?”

“Well, I am keeping it for myself. Part of it for me, part for her. It will give me, for lack of better word, control over her abilities. Theoretically.” He said, laying his hand down on the side of your head as you laid in his lap.

You nodded once and then he leaned down to kiss the side of your head, “Why don’t you go sit over there with David, love? Ivan will be along with Alina shortly.”

“Do I have to be in here while this happens?” You asked nervously and your husband brushed his fingers across your cheekbone.

“I’m not sending you out into the cold again, so this is preferable. Just sit and be quiet. The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner you and I can get some sleep. How does that sound?” He asked tenderly.

You nodded in response and he slowly helped you up out of the cot. He took your blankets away from your shoulders and he adjusted the heavy, black cloak around your shoulders. He nodded towards David who sat at a little table on the other side of the tent and you quickly walked over to him and sat down.

“Hello, Princess.” David said warmly, not looking up from his work.

You looked down at his project and you tipped your head to the side. It was almost as if he’d made a necklace out of the antlers.

“Is that the amplifier? A necklace?” You asked, the word sounding strange in your mouth.

“A collar,” he hummed, glancing up at you, “You warmed up at all?” He asked before looking back down at the antlers.

“Oh, yes.” You replied, blinking a few times in surprise. A collar?

David rose from the table and he took his work with him, setting it on a table in the middle of the tent instead.

You stayed put in your chair and you watched as your husband stood across the tent and eyed David before turning away. You looked at David, too, who was wringing his hands together for the briefest of moments before he lowered his hands back to his sides. The air in the tent was tense and you folded your hands in your lap and looked down at the ground.

The only thing that dragged your gaze upwards was the faint sound of a struggle coming closer and closer until Ivan entered the tent with Alina in tow. He pushed her down onto her knees in the middle of the space and she protested loudly.

“Get your hands off of me, you brute!” She hissed, trying to squirm away from Ivan.

But Ivan didn’t budge, managing to still hold her down with ease.

You looked up as your husband and gave a nod to David and he stepped forward to grab the antler collar. The Durast grabbed it delicately and took a step towards Alina.

“What are you doing?” The girl demanded, struggling against Ivan once more.

David awkwardly presented the collar to Alina and he blinked a few times, “I’m going to place this around your neck.” He answered, like it was the most obvious and casual thing in the world.

“I meant why?” Alina asked, ceasing to struggle a bit.

You flickered your gaze between Alina and David and you felt… off. Something felt wrong. You felt that consuming feeling again that you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been and you crossed your legs. You stuck your hands underneath your thighs to keep them from shaking and you looked down at Alina with a small, sympathetic frown. No one had really explained to you in detail why Alina was suddenly a threat, but you got the sense that there were a lot of sides to that story, and on the same note, you realized you’d probably never know the true one.

“I didn’t kill the Stag, it’s not my amplifier. He killed it,” she remarked and jutted her chin in your husband’s direction, “he gets its power.”

“You asked for this yourself, when we met.” Your husband spoke up.

Though you stared at him, he didn’t look at you once. You felt uneasy and homesick, though you tried not to be. The feeling would garner no sympathy from your husband.

Your husband took a half step forward and he set his jaw tightly, “To transfer your gift to someone who could use it.”

“I can use it now!” Alina hissed back, leaning forward as if she was going to frighten Aleksander.

Your husband moved closer to Alina and you watched the scene in front of you unfold uneasily. You pressed your lips together before biting down nervously on your bottom lip, an impending sense of doom shrouding your head.

“You know… so little.” Your husband spoke, hands clasped in front of him, “You’ll learn.” He added with a slight nod. There wasn’t a single bit of kindness in his eyes.

“I know things.” Alina protested, “General Kirigan, is it? Or is Aleksander a fake name too?” She spat and you straightened up.

You wondered how long she had known his real name and in what way she found out. You deduced that she had to have known before you, because he hadn’t seen her since you found out that night in the courtyard from Baghra. This realization hit you almost painfully and you bit down on the tip of your tongue, willing yourself not to get up and walk out of the tent.

“Careful with your words, Alina,” your husband warned, “consider whose life is in your hands.”

The girl on the floor looked fearful for just a moment before she grit her teeth and glared up at your husband, “You said you’d let him go.”

You assumed she meant Malyen and you shrunk back a bit in the chair. Your husband was dangling someone’s life above Alina Starkov’s head, like a cruel cat teasing a mouse.

Your husband smirked, “I said I would heal him. What happens next is up to you.” He breathed, tipping his head to the side slightly.

Alina deflated a bit on the floor and she looked around the room wildly. Her eyes met yours for a brief second and you thought you could see tears on her bottom lash line.

“None of this has been up to me!” She shouted.

Your husband now stood directly over Alina and he laid his hands at his sides.

You watched as your husband crouched in front of Alina and he clasped his hands together, taking a moment to think before he finally spoke.

“Do you know the only thing more powerful than you or me?” He asked. When she didn’t answer he pressed on, “The two of us. Together.”

Bile rose in the back of your throat and you nearly jumped to your feet. This was getting out of hand. You miserably placed a hand on your temple and you leaned against your hand, feeling rather deflated yourself. You found yourself wishing in that moment that you were the Sun Summoner. You wished that it was you that could give Aleksander what he craved most, whatever power he sought after tirelessly. You were painfully aware of the fact that you were ungifted and completely ordinary when placed next to Alina Starkov. You blinked back tears that threatened to fall and you cursed yourself, not wanting to cry here. Not now.

“Together, we can end all wars. We can protect our own. Is that not what you want?” He asked her, leaning a bit closer.

You swallowed thickly. Protect our own. He meant Grisha.

You didn’t fall under that category.

“Are we destroying the Fold?” Alina asked sternly, looking defeated.

Your husband hesitated and you looked over at him. His eyes darted to you for the briefest second before he let out a sigh.

“We can do anything…” he said, holding his hands out to Alina, “Together.”

You brought your hand up to your mouth to stop a cry and you closed your eyes tightly as the realization hit you. Your husband didn’t want to take the Fold down, he wanted to use it to strengthen his own claim to power. That’s why he seldom spoke of the subject with you, and that’s why Alina was fighting so hard against him. You felt foolish and you felt faint, as if your world had just crumbled at your feet. You stared at Alina with wide eyes that you were sure had tears shining in them, and the girl looked back at you. Her face showed sympathy and concern, and she took your husband’s hands and he pulled her to her feet, rising to his own in the process.

“You need to let her go, Aleksander.” Alina whispered, “Don’t put an innocent girl through your tyranny.” She begged, but your husband simply shot her a venomous look and walked away from her, towards you. David stepped forward with the collar in his hands and he looked tense.

Your husband stopped moving towards you mid step as if he had reevaluated his actions and he moved back towards David and Alina. You felt as if someone had torn your heart right out of your chest.

David placed the antlers against Alina’s collarbones and she began to breathe heavily as David grabbed another object. Your husband held his hand out towards David.

“What… what’s happening?” Alina stuttered.

David placed what looked like either bone or antler against the back of your husband’s outstretched hand and Alina looked at you, panicked.

“Wait, I don’t understand. What-“

But Alina didn’t get to finish. Behind her, Ivan held his hands up and you watched her eyes droop tiredly. David reached out to touch your husband’s hand and Alina’s collar and he took a breath.

You stood up from your chair as light began to emanate from Alina’s chest. The collar began to melt into her skin as if it were meant to be there and you felt nauseated. The fragment on your husband’s hand sunk into his skin the same way, and a bright light surrounded them.

The sight was macabre at best and your stomach turned. A sour, bitter taste covered your tongue and you clapped a hand over your mouth.

You wouldn’t know what happened next, because you dashed at full speed outside of the tent and your sock-clad feet had only barely touched the snow before you were emptying your stomach and its few contents out onto the white snow in front of you. You sunk down onto your knees in the snow and let out a sob, feeling empty. Betrayed. You felt like someone had completely maimed your insides and you pictured your heart looking like it felt. Visualizing a shredded internal organ only made you feel sick again, and you found yourself retching again. Tears spilled down your face and you reached up to wipe your mouth with the back of your sleeve. The snow soaked through your socks and it felt like you were standing on needles.

A blinding light spilled out from the tent behind you and you shakily rose to your feet and glanced over your shoulder. You waited to make sure no one was going to come after you, and you began to tromp through the snow. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster until you were running as fast as you could away from the tent. Your throat burned harshly and there was a disgusting taste on your tongue, making you gag while you sprinted towards the forest beyond. You let out a wail as you barreled towards the forest, and you almost had time to feel relieved before you felt your chest tighten impossibly. You froze. It was impossible to breathe and you dropped to your knees, clawing at your throat.

This has never happened to you before. Panic gripped you as you tried desperately to breathe, so consumed with trying to get a breath in that you didn’t even have time to react to the two hands that yanked you roughly to your feet.

Suddenly, you could breathe again and you sucked in the biggest breath that you possibly could have. Your relief was short lived, though, because you were spun around to face Ivan the stone faced Heartrender. You shrunk back just a bit before he bent down and lifted you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. You pummeled his back with weak fists as he brought you back to the tent easily.

Once he’d gotten you inside, he tossed you to the floor. You yelped as your head hit the ground and you closed your eyes and curled into a ball on the floor, feeling as if you’d been trampled by a stampede of elephants.

“Careful with her!” Your husband barked, somewhere in the tent.

You had assumed he meant Alina, but you were soon gathered up into your husband’s arms. You opened your eyes to see that he had knelt next to you on the floor and he pulled you into his lap, cradling you in his arms as if you were an infant.

You knew you shouldn’t have enjoyed the way his arms felt around you, but the truth was, you did. You felt a bit of pride bubble up in your chest as he held you in front of Alina who was in hysterics on the ground on the other side of the tent. The pride was short lived though, because that sick feeling overtook your system again and you tried to sit up.

“Little love, stay down.” He simpered, running his hand over your hair.

“I want to go home!” You wailed, collapsing tiredly against Aleksander, “Please take me home, I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“Shh, hush, my little princess. Would I ever do anything that would put you in harm’s way?” He asked, his voice as soft as the snow outside, “Answer me, y/n. Would I? Have I ever done anything to put you in imminent danger?”

You thought for a moment and then you shook your head, “N-no.”

“See? Why would I-“

“That’s a lie!” Alina screamed from across the tent, “It’s a lie and you know it! You’re endangering her just by having her here. She is only a girl, Aleksander! An innocent girl!”

Your husband looked up at Ivan and gave him a nod, “You may take Miss Starkov to the other tent, Ivan. She is frightening my dear wife.”

Ivan nodded and pulled Alina to her feet, dragging her out of the tent. She didn’t say another word the entire time. David remained where he stood, frozen in place. His eyes met yours from across the tent and they were full of regret.

“Tell me, sweet girl, what worries you?” He asked, coaxing your head down against his chest, forcing you to tear your eyes away from David. Your husband ignored the Durast’s presence.

You sniffled and you shook your head, “You don’t love me. You want me for power. Like you want Alina for power. Like you want the Fold for power.” You said shakily, though you allowed him to pull you closer.

“The only thing in the world I want more than power is you, y/n,” he said seriously, leaning down to speak into your ear, “I do love you. More than I’ve loved anyone in my life. I want Alina for power, sure, and I’d like to control the Fold for the same reason, but I want you because I love you. Not because I can garner power from you. I want you to be my queen. I want you to join me, be my strongest ally. I want you to be by my side as we rebuild this country. For the better.” He whispered, kissing the shell of your ear, “Don’t you want that, my love?”

You craned your neck away from him and you shook your head. Of course you wanted the country to be better, Ravka needed serious reformation. But not like this. Not his way.

“I want you to let go of me.” You whispered, placing your hands over his arms.

“I can’t do that, y/n. In my five hundred years of life-“

You turned your head towards him and you held your hand up to silence him, “Five hundred? You told me you were one hundred twenty. How can you expect me to be your strongest ally if I can’t even trust the things you say?” You asked sharply.

He looked down into your eyes for a long time and then he let out a slow, bored sigh, “These outbursts-“

“Oh, spare me. They’ll continue.” You spat.

“To what end, y/n? You cannot oppose me forever. It comes down to two options, and I’ll tell you how both will end and you can make your decision now. One, you can join me and stand by my side. You’ll have everything you ask for, you will be integral in the harmony between Grisha and otkazat'sya. You will live a life of free will and liberation as my wife, I’ll protect you always, you will be loved. Is that not what you’ve always wanted? To be loved? Not only by me, but by your entire country?” He looked down at you and he reached up to brush his thumb across your bottom lip, “Or, you can decline to join me and you will have nothing. I cannot offer you protection, and once I liberate Ravka, you will be labeled a traitor. You will live and die your life out in prison, and if not prison then exile. Oh, and until then? Your country will hate you. You will be cursed with the title of my wife for as long as you shall live. You’ll be treated no better than Grisha.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at Aleksander, “Even if I take your side, I won’t have free will. Not really. You’ll give me free rein of my pen but clip my wings so I can never get out of it. That isn’t free will, Aleksander.” You argued.

He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your nose and he let out a sigh, “I will give you a week to make up your mind. Think about what’s at stake, darling.”

The side of your head hurt from where it hit the floor after Ivan had dropped you and your eyes felt heavy, but you refused to fall asleep in Aleksander’s arms. You crossed your own arms over your chest and you stared up at the ceiling of the tent. You watched your husband nod towards David in your periphery and then you heard shuffling near the opening of the tent, then silence.

With a shallow sigh, your husband adjusted his arms around you and slowly rose to his feet, lifting you with him. He carried you off to the other side of the tent and laid you out on the cot before covering you with blankets.

“Get some sleep, darling. We leave in the morning.” He said softly and reached down to smooth back your hair.

And though you closed your eyes, you didn’t get a moment of sleep that night.

Five days had gone by since the night your husband had given you his makeshift ultimatum, and for five days you’d done your very best to avoid him. You had spent four days on the road to the army encampment just near the Fold. For some parts of the day, you were holed up in a carriage with David, which you didn’t necessarily mind. He gave you space and only spoke to you when you initiated it first. Sometimes he’d silently pass his book to you and point at a passage. It was some sort of Grisha history book, you assumed, because the passages he’d shown you all pertained to Grisha magic, the Fold, amplifiers, or theories as to what had created the Fold. When you weren’t in the carriage with David, you were riding in front of your husband on his horse, and this is when you felt most miserable.

Aleksander acted like nothing had happened. He was sweet to you and always fussing about keeping you warm. He’d give you little kisses often as well as frequent affectionate touches, and with each one, you felt more and more confused.

There should have been no confusion, this situation was not a grey area. It was black and white, right and wrong. You wondered how he could claim to love you and then promise you a life of misery in the same breath.

He was right, though. You wanted love. Just… not like this.

You sat stiffly upon a plush chair and looked down at your dress, smoothing it out. You had been up since early in the morning, woken by Genya Saffin and your husband. Aleksander had left just after you awoke, but Genya stayed and got you dressed and ready, as if it was some kind of special occasion. As if crossing the Fold with your husband and Alina wasn’t some kind of fate worse than death. Your hair was piled on top of your head intricately and you had handfuls of fine jewelry hanging from your neck and wrists. You didn’t speak a word to Genya as she readied you, and you didn’t bid her farewell when she left.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you turned around slowly, dreading the idea of seeing Aleksander.

You felt some semblance of relief when you saw it was only David standing at the opening of the tent holding a brown sack.

“May I come inside?” He asked quietly, looking around the tent. Probably checking for your husband.

“Sure, David.” You answered and he quickly walked inside, coming to stand next to where you sat.

“I um,” he paused for a long moment and then he sighed, murmuring something under his breath before he spoke finally, “I am worried about you, and your wellbeing.”

You shifted your eyes up towards his face and you raised your eyebrow, “I can hold my own. But I appreciate your concern.”

“Well no, I don’t think you can, Princess.” He said quickly, and you noticed how he pressed his nails into his palms nervously, “I don’t think you know the lengths that the Darkling will go to, to get what he wants.”

“I think I’m starting to get a pretty good idea.” You replied, folding your hands in your lap. Your black gown was heavy and thick, and you began to sweat under it, feeling a bit queasy.

David put the large sack he carried on your lap and he nodded at it once, “Inside of that, there are first army clothes. A hat, too. You don’t have long. The General is speaking to the Sun Summoner and then he will be on his way to fetch you.”

You were confused for a moment and you opened the bag, then you understood. David was trying to help you run away. You looked up at him with wide eyes and he clutched his hands together.

“David, I don’t know what to say.” You whispered and slowly stood up from the chair.

“Well, you don’t have to say anything. I just think you deserve a third option. The two that your husband gave you were… rather inhospitable. But I digress. I’ve already got a story worked out, I’ll blame your disappearance on Fjerdans, but if you want a shot at getting away from here, you need to take it now.” David said somberly, offering you a rather sad smile, “There are many places you can go. Or you can go home. It’s up to you. I’ve left a map and compass in the bag as well.”

There were loud voices outside the tent and David stiffened and he grasped your arm, “Whatever you do, though, just take care of yourself.” He whispered and then he was off, darting out of the tent, and likely putting as much distance between you and him as possible so that no one could place him there later for any reason.

You waited for only a moment to ensure that no one was coming, and when no one came, you quickly shed your gaudy black gown. You took the jewelry off of your neck and your wrists and put it in the bag before you yanked out the other clothes.

They weren’t cute and they were likely the least appealing pieces of clothing you had ever seen in your entire life. But you didn’t have the luxury of escaping in a glamorous ensemble. You shoved your legs into the pants and you pulled the shirt on rapidly before shrugging on the long coat that came with it. You sat down on the chair briefly to yank the tall boots onto your feet, not caring that they were two sizes too big. Wasting no time, you pulled your hair out of its twists and braids, yanked out the pins, and you pulled the hat on.

You prayed you were unrecognizable as you wildly looked around the room for a weapon of some sort, one for self defense. The only thing you found was a small, almost decorative dagger sitting on Aleksander’s desk. You snatched it up and threw it in the pocket of your coat, heart hamming against your chest. You took a few long, deep breaths before you willed your feet to move, to carry you swiftly out of the tent.

Once you were out, the cold air was an unwelcome slap in the face, and the unpleasant shiver you got was nearly enough to send you back into that tent. But you pushed on.

You weaved between tents and past other soldiers until you could finally see the horizon rather than just a fleet of tents. You stopped at the edge of the camp and looked over your shoulder. The Fold stood tall and unwavering behind you and everything before it looked tiny and breakable. Like toys in the hands of a destructive toddler.

A group of soldiers rushed past you shouting something in Ravkan repeatedly, and after hearing it about three times, you understood what they were saying.

The Princess has gone missing, find her immediately. Darkling’s orders.

You swallowed thickly and you quickly turned away from facing the Fold and walked as briskly as your feet would allow you, moving faster and faster until you were sprinting at full speed into the forest beyond the camp, far away from the Fold, away from Sun Summoners and Shadow Summoners, away from Aleksander’s promised gold gilded cage and a life of captivity.

Away from the darkness and into the light.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling imagine #the darkling x you #the darkling imagine #the darkling #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine

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ronearoundblindly · 1 month

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Kissing, lighting and sleepy sex for Hideout Steve and Reader?

I am not prepared. My feels...they shall be too deep and endless. I shall try anyway.

From this dirty ask game for this AU series where Nomad Steve lets motel-employee!Reader soothe his touch-starved body. Lawd, halp me, this is about to get crunk in a tooth-rotting, put-some-pillows-beneath-you you're-gonna-faint type o' way. [y'all can't tell I drank during the eclipse today, right? I'm subtle? Cool.] MINORS DNI.

K - Kissing

ACK My heart! Or rather, there is something deeply adoring for Steve when you kiss his chest, over his heart. It makes him feel just that much more like a person who lives in this world, who belongs in this world, who will return one day to this world...

His hands are also a big one--no, not just actually big hands, but important to show love to because he uses them for such violence. Each kiss is like a little touch of forgiveness for what he's done or had to do with those hands. He appreciates the trust it takes, too, to kiss his palms, when he could easily stop you breathing (sorry, that sounds dark, but Nomad was in a dark place, okay, bad things occur to him now).

Steve loves to kiss your stomach, and it might be somewhat taboo to say, but he has a touch of that crawl-back-home-for-safety comfort thing going on when he presses close and holds your center to him. It's not a mommy kink or roleplay, per se; he relishes the connectedness of being one and curling up against you is the only non-sexual way he knows how to achieve that--like in Chapter 3 when he falls asleep in that position.

As far as leaving marks though? Steve can emphatically say 'hell no,' not on purpose. Pain is a bit, meh, weird for him because he heals so quickly. He might not even notice if you did bite or bruise him. He certainly wouldn't see it in the morning. He does not in any way associate marks with love or affection since he only ever saw them on himself after fights or on women (including his Ma) after being abused.

That is not love to Steve.

It's control, it's dominance, it's inequality, and he fucking hates it.

L - Lighting

Steve entirely defers to you on whether there are actual lights on or off. He likes to use his senses to explore and enjoy you, so without light is fine. He's just here for you.

Steve does, however,--no spoilers for Chapter 5--like ambiance such as candles or something dim and colorful. He thinks you'd look unbelievably perfect beside a sparkling Christmas Tree. He hopes to celebrate (all holidays and birthdays and everything) openly with you some day. The sooner the better.

(Except, no audience for him making love to you under those twinkling lights, please. He's staunchly opposed to that sort of thing.)

S - Sleepy Sex

So, again, no spoilers for Chapter 5, but once Steve gets comfortable with oral sex he is comfortable with oral sex, if you catch my drift.

If he wakes up first, he's on you in some way, arms and legs draped over you, kissing any place he can get to, man-handling you just enough to start something he 100% will finish. He's just...uh god, so attentive.

With the super senses and being a fugitive though, it's not often that you can wake up before him, truly, which limits or completely removes the ability to surprise him with a blowjob, but he will dreamily let you roam wherever your mouth and hands take you. As long as there's lots of contact. As much as possible really. Like lay your arms across his thighs and abs while playing with him. Maybe put your body over one of his legs and ride his foot if you need to. He must feel attached in some way. Cold, distant, or separated does not do it for him.

Here's my absolute, I-will-die, favorite thing about Hideout Steve though: when he's tired/fatigued/worn out/sleepy, he gets louder.

Much. Much. Louder, babes.

No cursing, mostly, but all the moans and groans and whining are totally dialed up. And I don't know about y'all, but I can't really think of anything fucking sexier than Nomad Steve screaming that he's gonna come.

🥵

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Here lies Ro in a puddle. She made up a man she wants and will never have.

[Main Masterlist; Hideout Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #hideout series #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #dirty asks #ask game

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josibunn · 5 months

Text

Naughty or nice?

happy holidays and merry christmas to those who celebrate! and thank u for 300 followers, I love u guys and i’ve made so many nice moots :3 I hope u guys enjoy this one. You n jack have a christmas party to attend! someone’s not happy about your outfit tho :( smut, oral male receiving, p in v no protection, choking, gagging?? he puts his thumbs in your mouth idk, VERY public sex, body worship sort of? you’ll know it when you see it, he’s so mean with it, daddy kink, soft dom jack, man he’s so dirty n mean perverted here I wonder who did that🤔

(ur fit :3)

jack didn’t want to dress up, but you still put him in something cute. he had an ugly sweater on that displayed santa flying his sleigh and the reindeers, tiny christmas lights powered into his sweater for Rudolph’s nose and a santa hat to match yours. he wasn’t too fond for your outfit, he didn’t not like it, he thought you looked beautiful, but god it was so short, and your boobs hung out, the thought of a man hitting on you let alone approaching you had him weak in the knees wanting to throw up.

you and jack had been invited for to a Christmas party by some work friends! though it wasn’t what jack was into, being the antisocial guy he is, he went for you. you guys had matching outfits (sort of), you wore your frilly Mrs. Claus two piece with some thigh high black boots, topping it off with a santa hat.

“onea these ugly sons of bitches are gonna come up to you all smooth talky n shit and i’m gonna have to embarrass you, you understand?” he says as you two make it to the car and you laugh, though he’s not joking. “i’ll stay close to you, ok? trust me, only guys that’s gonna smooth talk me tonight is don julio,” you stick your tongue out as you plop into the car, and he rolls his eyes, laughing lightly as he gets in too.

and you kept your word, dragging jack around the house, making him take your photos, watching you take shots, playin the little games with you, catching the ass you throw even though he hated the eyes on him, on you. he should’ve left some sort of marking, a hickey or something on you before you left, because even though he was the only one smacking your ass as you plant your hands on the floor and twerk on him, shared shots with, taking your pictures and so on, guys still tried to make advances towards you, right in front of him, actually.

jack had joined the school of tired men on the couch as you live it up with some friends on the other side, a cold glass of whiskey in his hands as he conversed. “hey jack, isn’t that you over there?” the use of “you” let him know he was talking about his girlfriend in a possessive manner, he turned his head quick, seeing you on the opposite side of the room, your cheeks taken in another man’s hand as you look up with your tongue out, a shot being poured in your mouth.

his head jerks forward at the display in shock, anger building in him as he watches you giggle before looking his way, feeling his eyes on you. you smile tipsily and wave, and so does the guy, making him scoff, “are you serious?” he says under his breath before motioning for you to come over, and you oblige, not know he’s bout to do exactly what he said he was and embarrass you.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he tries not to spit, gripping his glass. “huh? I-i’m takin’ shots, you wanna join?” you sense his anger as you bend over a little, hands on your knees as you try n keep your big eyes on him. “no, not that. who’s that?” he points behind you to the guy you were just with. “his names…jonathan, I think.”

“ok. well tell him to fuck off. I don’t wanna see that shit again, if you wanna take shots you take ‘em with me or someone else, you hear?” hes rubbing your leg as you begin to pout, “oh, but..he’s funny n nice..” “what’d I just say, baby?” he whispers, it has you heating up, feeling the eyes next to him on you now. “don’t make me embarrass you in front of everyone, you either do something else or sit that ass down.”

you nod before he gives you a small kiss, tapping the back of your thigh and sending you on your way. “I dunno how you do it jack, I would’ve wrecked havoc.” his buddy says from beside him. “especially when she’s so pretty, i’d go crazy bout that.”

he didn’t look into how backhanded that was and shrugged, finishing his drink. “she knows better, just a little drunk. i’ve got it under control.” he watches you intently as you join the girls on their knees in a pile, giggling as you pour yourself another spiked batch of punch.

he watches your skirt ride up as you crawl towards your friends, your barely covering underwear peaking from your skirt, making him sigh softly. “oh yeah dude, i’d go insane.” his friend once again says, and the use of dude and the oversexualization of you has him rolling his eyes and cringing.

his leg bounces as he cuts himself from the conversation and continues to watch you before getting up and heading to the table with the drinks, pouring himself. he takes notice to the guy standing next to him doing the same while also looking back at the group of girls.

“you gettin it on tonight?” he asks jack, and jack cringed, he didn’t think he’d make any conversation tonight, let alone christmas sex conversation. “maybe. my girls back there taking shots with everyone under the sun so probably not,” he forces a chuckle with the guy, and almost leaves until he kept going.

“i’m thinkin’ about takin’ that one, mrs. claus in the black boots. she came in with some guy and I don’t know em but that’s not stoppin me, like, clearly he doesn’t give a fuck what she does if he let her come out like that.” he laughs, and jacks tongue circles his teeth as he nods, gripping his cup again. “right? like that’s so crazy, i’d never.” he shakes his head and rolls his eyes, trying to force another laugh.

a smirk creeps on his face when he sees you stand and look for him, smiling when you see him at the table. “ooh she’s comin, they just flock to me yknow?” the random says, and jack nods, perking his head as you made your way over. “baby,” you say, stopping in front of jack with a hand on his chest, causing him to pull you closer by the hip, your chest hugging his as you look up at him.

“they’re-they’re about to do a contest, can you sing with me?” “sing?? like a song?? what do you take me for,” he’s bubbly, almost cocky as he takes in this guys face as jack rubs your ass, holding you close to his body and while you stare at him like he’s the world.

“it’s karaoke! just one song, swear. what’s that?” you point to his drink, “i’ll think about it, n’ I dunno, some sort of candy cane eggnog concoction, try it it’s good,” he brings it up to your mouth and forced you a drink, using his thumb to get the excess off the your mouth and licking it up himself, brows raising when he “remembers” who was standing next to him after hearing him scoff.

“oh! baby, we were just talking about you. this is uhm..what’s your name again?” he points as you look over, but whoever it was just shook his head and walked off, and jack smiled brighter. “who was that? what was that about?” you ask, and jack just shakes his head. “no one, i don’t even know. he was talking about you though, and you came right on time.” he kisses your cheek, “i’ll be back, stay right here, ok?”

he stalks over to the host who he knew well, asking them if they had a room jack could cool off in, telling them “the alcohol isn’t sitting well” and that he “just needed a dark room for a little.” and that wasn’t a lie per say, he did need to cool off, and he did need a dark room for a while.

so he holds your hip as he takes you upstairs, telling you nothing but to follow him. “are you feelin ok?” you ask, worry laced in your voice as he pulls you into the room, locking the door behind himself. “hm? mhm, i’m fine,” he says, flicking on a lamp before grabbing you by the face and smashing his lips onto yours, forcing a yelp out of you before you kiss back.

he was angry, you can feel it. you could feel it in the way he kissed you, in the way his hands ran down your body and pulled you close, his knee budging between your legs, making you gasp in the kiss. “jack,” you breath as he moves to kiss down your neck, and you hold his bicep, “jack-here?” you whimper, your mouth falling open as he bites down on your skin.

“yes,” he pants, and you feel his hard on against your abdomen before he forces your ass on the bed, your hair in his fist and your santa hat long discarded. “here, they’re your fuckin GrOuPiEs anyway.” he taunts, loosening his belt with his free hand. “right? those guys down there are your audience?”

you shake your head as you frown, knowing it’s better to just not speak when he got all mad like this. “yes they fuckin’ are, puttin on a fuckin show for em, had them in my ear about how bad they wanna take you home, how they’d never let you walk out if you were yours. my fucking god,” he sighs, rolling his eyes as he rubs your chin.

“m’sorry, I-i’d never let them-” “I know you wouldn’t baby I know,” he coos, nodding, “you just don’t get it, it’s ok. just do this for me, okay?” you’re already palming him as he stands back up straight, apologetically looking up at him with big eyes, cheeks hot as you feel more and more tipsy.

you’re pulling him out as he caresses the back of your head, his dick hard and hot and oozing with precum, and you smile, realizing he was so turned on because he was jealous. fuck, why did you have to pick such nasty guys? “it’s funny, princess?” he asked you.

“no, you’re just..so cute when you’re jealous.” you smile once more before you’re placing his tip flat on your tongue, circling the top before licking the underside, holding his hip and the base of his cock. “f’course im jealous. you’re the prettiest thing in the world.” he sighs, shoulders sinking and tension fading at the feel of your hot tongue.

“you should’ve heard it baby, they’re fuckin’ animals. s’why you need me, daddys the sweetest guy for you.” he coos, and you feel warm inside. “right? daddys the only one you need?” he asks and you nod, a string of saliva connected from his cock to your lips as you pull off and peer up at him. “uh huh, only you. n’id never chose any of em over you,” you stroking him as you speak, watching his eyes almost roll back as his tongue pokes the inside of his mouth.

“never, never ever,” you continue, your hand raising his sweater and rubbing under his stomach as you began kissing his cock lovingly, precum dripping on your cheek mixed with your own spit. “love you so bad, love your dick so bad,” you whine and he scoffs, shaking his head. “you’re so nasty baby, shit.” he admires. your wet cheeks glisten under the low light and he’s shaking his head, he loved how nasty you are, youre perfect for each other. fucking perverts.

he pulls you back and guides his cock into your mouth quickly, sucking in a breath as you grab onto his small waist and your eyes roll back as your mouth stretches around him. he’s bobbing your head for you and you let him, you loved how he handled you and he loved handling you like you were some..doll. his doll :3

he starts off slow, pushing you deeper onto his cock until he hears you gag, knowing he’s hit the back of your throat. “s’that good baby?” he pants, tapping your cheek and bringing your eyes back on him. you nod as he fucks into your throat faster, your hands grabbing his body and pulling him deeper down your throat which thrust of his hips, gagging with each hit to the back of your throat.

“you want it back there, princess? you want my dick in your throat? right here?” he rasps, hand moving to the back of your neck, forcing himself deeper, making you choke around him, eyes watering. you whine around his cock as you nod weakly, eyes low as you stare up at him through wet lashes.

“fuckin disgusting- I-shit-” he heaves, saliva getting caught in his throat as he goes harder, and he fights a loud groan when you close your lips around his cock and hallow your cheeks, drool and precum pooling around your mouth and dripping onto the bed.

“fuck baby fuuuck,” he whispers, throwing his head back to get the hair off his face. he’s fucking the brain cells outta you, going so hard you’re being pushed back, leaning on your hands with your head thrown back, eyes no longer open, just vibes.

he puts his knee on the bed as his cock throbs in your mouth, his lips parted as he feels himself grow closer and closer, cheeks hot and chest heaving. he shoves you down, both hands on your head as he shoots hot loads into your mouth, his happy trail tickling your nose. he tucks hair behind your ear as he pulls you off, catching his breath as you did too, watching as he puts his still hard cock away.

“was quick, jack.” you joke, panting. “gonna bite my head off about it?” he chuckled breathily, pulling your hat back on and wiping your face straight before pulling you on your feet and kissing you lovingly. “i’ll reward you when we get home, yeah? wanna get the fuck outta here.” he says, and you nod. “mhm, that’s fine. I don’t wanna get too fucked up in this guys house.”

so you guys go back downstairs, retrieving your things and saying your goodbyes, and anyone with a brain could make out as to what you were doing. your lips were beat up, red and swollen, your eyes were still tearing up, red lipstick smeared along jacks dick and your highlighter was long gone from your nose, not to mention jacks cock was poking through the thigh of his pants.

you guys join in on one last group picture (jacks hands holding you possessively) and walk out in hand, “everyone totally knew we did something in that room :(,” you pout, holding his hand that sat on your thigh once you got in the car. “did you see the way they looked at me when I came down? it’s like I had whore written on my forehead.”

“so? it’s good they know how nasty you get for me, you’re my dirty girl,” he rubs your thigh as he gives you a little kiss, but you’re pulling him in for more, holding his cheek. the cars not even on yet, it’s freezing out, but here you are-crawling into the lap of your boyfriend who resides in the drivers seat.

he trails his hand inward, making you lift up on him for more access. you sigh when he kissed down your jaw, his fingers rubbing your soaked pussy. “never wear these fucking underwear again,” he says against your skin, biting into your skin. you could barely call the underwear, they barely covered your asshole let alone entire pussy.

“basically wearing fuckin’ floss. why’re you showin’ out tonight?” he shoved his two fingers in your wet cunt, basically swallowing him in. he’s so bipolar, you can’t even get a word in to plead your case before you’re moaning out at the intrusion, holding his shoulder. he’s quick, digging his fingers into you faster and faster, soft moans flying off your tongue as you fuck your head near his ear.

granted you were outside and no one was coming to their cars any time soon but you still were cautious, knowing just how loud jack could make you, especially since he’s still a little heated. “shouldve bent you over when we were in front of all those guys,” he pants, “shouldve shown them how much of a slut I can really make out of you. how bout that baby?” he nudges you, “fucking the daylights outta you infronna’ all your work boyfriends?”

“I don’t..” you squeak, “don’t have any work boyfriends daddy. hate those guys,” you give him a pouty face to which he smirks at, “you hate em? they bother you all the time?” “mhm, always askin if I can come out for drinks, tryin to butter me up n shit. so annoying.” “aww, you’re just so pretty baby f’course they’re all over you.” he rubs the back of his knuckles along your cheek, “they make you mad?” he asks once more and you nod, “yeah? show me how mad they make you,” he pulls his cock out and slips your underwear to the side, and you feel his hot tip against your hole before his dick is stretching you open, sliding you down on his cock with his hands gripping the fat where your ass and hips met.

you moan high as he bottoms out inside you, gripping his neck as your eyes close, hands shaking as he’s already bouncing you on his length, giving you no time to adjust, although you werent foreign to this, he’s always so needy. “jack!” you gasp a moan, brows coming together as he groans, lip tucked under between his teeth.

“yer’ always so tight mama, whatre those losers gonna do with you if even I can’t handle this pussy, hm?” he slaps your ass, groaning when he feels you clench around him, “fuck baby,” he whispers, taking in the sight of you. your tits are almost hanging out your tiny top, bouncing in his face as he guided your hips on his cock.

you’re whimpering as you look back, your skirts hiked up as you watch him fuck you on his cock, your ass in his hands, shoving you down against him, hitting his thighs harshly. they’re red and there’s a plap plap plap sound everytime you go down tying in with your moans.

and he’s watching from the front, watching his dick disappear inside your wet cunt, soaking his dick completely with each long drag inside you, visibly seeing your pussy clench around him. it his reeling, your tits in his face in your adorable outfit, your face all pouty as you he man handles you, your only say so being the hand you arm wrapped around his shoulders and the hand you have perched against the fogged up car door window.

“baby someone’s gunna see..” you pout, to which he smacks his teeth at. “it’s late at night princess, no one’s coming out at his time. just don’t make a fuckin scene, kay?” he says, gasping when you start to fuck yourself on him now, shoving yourself down on his cock, his hands resting on your body now.

“there we fuckin go mama, you got it,” he praises you, rubbing your hip and tilting his head back to watch you. he knows how you have trouble riding him, so he doesn’t mind that it takes you a while to get started on your own slowly. “m’i doin’ good daddy?” you whimper, tiny moans coming off you as his cock fills you, fuck, he’s just so big. it’s always the weirdo losers.

“of course you are sugar, fuckin’ me all by yourself, being a big girl,” he pants. “gonna let daddy have it, hm? gonna give it to me good?” his hand wraps around your throat and you gasp a moan, nodding eagerly. “gonna fuckin do it,” you whisper. “yeah that’s it baby. give it to me, let daddy have it, that’s it,” his chest heaves as you speed up, fucking your self deeper, his cock spearing you open.

he doesn’t let up on the grip he has on your throat, in fact he squeezes you tighter as you grind on him, looking for that sweet spot. his other hand pulls your tube top completely down to your stomach, your boobs bouncing a little before his big hand grabs one of them, squeezing your nipple between his fingers. “jack fuck!” you cry out at the pain, tear pricking.

“you’re fine, baby, can’t help myself, yknow? fuckin love when you cry like that,” he says before taking squeezing your throat harder, a yelp coming from you as he pulls you closer. “never wearin this again, kay?” he squeezes you again, this time you can barely breath as you continue to fuck your self on his cock.

“this is an inside outfit. can’t have everyone all over you ever again. got it?” he says, and you squeak as you nod, “yes daddy, promise..” you say, and your breath is given back to you once he loosens his tight grip. you grab his biceps as you grind down on him, gasping and moaning loudly when his tip rubs hard against that spongey, sweet spot inside you, feeling like your legs are gonna go out with his bad they’re trembling.

“oh jack! fuck!” you moan, going faster, your hips rutting against his shallowly, and you’re gasping and sputtering for air, moans flying off your tongue. “you’re so good baby, gonna make yourself cum all on your own, hm? didn’t even have to help you, look at that.” he praises you, and his hand moves from your throat to your cheek, caressing you with his thumb.

“you gonna cum?” he coos lovingly, watching your head tip back as you grind harder and slower, drool pooling in your mouth as you feel yourself grow ditzy, a shirt and high “uh huh..” the only thing coming from you.

“that’s it, my sweet girl.” he watches you squeeze your eyes and mouth shit, biting hard on your bottom lip as your nails dig into your nails into his shoulder blades. “nuh uh,” he shakes his head, and before you know it he’s prying your mouth open with his thumb, his thumb pressing the inside of your cheek and forcing your tongue aside, “let it out for me baby, you’re making yourself feel so good, right?” he rubs your aching, trembling thighs. “let me hear it, lemme know how good it is pretty girl.”

and with that, you feel yourself come undone, loud shaky moans flying out of you, filling his now hot car as you make a mess on his cock, cum pooling under you two, his lap drenched along with the back of your thighs and ass. “so fuckin messy, let em know how you feel mama,” he’s watching you drool all over yourself, eyes steady on him. it’s getting on his hands, sleeves, his sweater and your little skirt. you’re killing him.

you’re grinding slowly, barely moving as you try n come down. his hand moves to the back of your head as his other arm wraps around your hips, pulling you closer and starting you back up-moving you up his cock like some sort of fleshlight, your boobs perched again his chest and your noses ghosting each others.

you’re still shaking, and now he’s overstimulating you, “jack, I-I can’t—gasp—jack!!” you moan out into his mouth, and he’s taking it in, feeling his release creep up closer on him hard, he already knows as he watched your face. “just a little more baby, m’almost there,,” he pants, his eyes hard on yours.

his cock is throbbing inside you as you squeeze onto him, it has him groaning as his eyes roll back to his head. he feels his orgasm run over his body as he wraps both arms around you, using his body to shove you on his cock, moaning into your breast, his face hot. “fuck that’s it baby, don’t fuckin’ stop,” he groans, and his mouth hangs open as he stammers, shooting hot ropes of cum into your cunt, holding you close.

it’s flooding, popping out of you, making you shiver. “you’re so good baby,” he emerges from your breasts, panting as he shakily moves hair out of your face. he rubes your cheeks as you smile ditzily, “sweet thing, sweetest girl in the world.” hes kissing your cheeks softly before he plagued your whole face, still whispering praises. “my good girl, love you so so much.” he says and gives you a small kiss to the lips, rubbing your back.

he allows you to lay your head on his shoulder as he fixed your outfit, pulling your shirt back on correctly. “you gonna stay like this while I drive?” he asks as he wipes down the window and turned on the car, receiving a small nod from you. “sleepy girl, just sit tight,” he coos, kissing the top of your head, and you drift asleep, his cum and cock still inside you as he pulls off.

merry christmas i’m sooooo sorry this is so late :( my christmas has been mighty stressful. I hope everyone else is doing so good!! mwah mwah mwah mwah!!

tl: @vanlisbon @sugarinte @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @auggiethecreator @wonkinoo @auryyz @brithedemonspawn

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #x black reader #jack goes home #jack goes home smut #jack thurlow smut #jack thurlow #christmas smut #jack thurlow prompt

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kirislovelygf · 5 months

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❄️ christmas hc’s with the avatar girls!! ❄️

-kiri people put mistletoe on EVERY doorway for any chance to kiss you (she kisses you anyway)

-tsireya is the most thoughtful person and every gift she makes is made with love

-neytiri would make the best christmas dinner and wouldn’t even let you step foot in the kitchen

-you and ronal would spend time wrapping presents for friends and family (she’s a perfectionist and doesn’t let you touch the gifts.)

-kiri’s favorite tradition would be being able to open a single present on christmas eve night

-tsireya make batches and batches of holiday cookies and you’d help her hand them out to the kids in her neighborhood

-neytiri would force her family to wear hand-okie ugly christmas sweaters and then take family photos

-ronal would spoil her kids when they were young with santa and elf the shelf, dedicating her time to making sure they believe in them while you remind her it’s a bad idea (she’d pour flour or powdered sugar on the floor and make footprints)

-kiri ALWAYS makes sure you get more presents than her

-tsireya once received a shell necklace for christmas you gave her and she had barely taken it off since

-neytiri’s favorite part of christmas eve is when the kids are in bed and you two are drinking peppermint hot chocolate while watching christmas movies

-ronal told you not to get her a present but when you got her one anyway, she cried for like a whole day (it was a homemade ring but it was really cute!)

· ☁︎ ̩͙ ̩͙❄️ ₊˚

a/n: merry christmas to those who celebrate! i hope you have a nice holiday break, love you <3

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rainbowsky · 2 months

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I haven’t had any questions lately but love your blog and your insights. In a video of the group photo at Milan fashion week, GG is sitting next to the older man and they are talking. I figure in some videos when GG is talking to others he has translators but it does not look like anyone from his staff is around and I was wondering if they were speaking in English or what other languages he might speak. Love to hear your insights and hope you are doing well.

Hi coyote! Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! 😊

The man he's seen talking with a lot is Diego Della Valle, the CEO of Tod's. GG has a fantastic relationship with him, and he even referred to him as yeye (grandpa) in his Vogue interview from the show.

Last time GG was in Milan Della Valle took GG on a tour of some beautiful sites around Italy - including the Colloseum in Rome -and some sites significant to the brand (the workshop, the flagship store, etc.). GG got to spend a lot of time with him, so they had plenty of opportunity to build a strong relationship.

You can tell just by his entire demeanour around GG that Della Valle adores GG. Which makes absolute sense given how cute, gracious and charming GG is. When GG arrived at the Tod's show this year Della Valle lit up like a Christmas tree.

They sat together last year at the Tod's show as well (those who missed out on last year's trip can check out my 'gg milan fashion week 2023' tag).

Anyway, you weren't asking about Della Valle, you were asking about how GG is able to communicate with him. The simple answer is that GG does have some English!

Many students in China learn English in school, although they sometimes don't get as much opportunity to speak it, so it's probably kind of like my French - I understand quite well to hear, read and write it, but my accent and pronunciation are a bit rough around the edges (that's putting it mildly 😅).

With the international travel he's done and all the elbow-rubbing he's had to do with foreign celebrities and brand stakeholders I think GG has had a lot more opportunity than the average person to exercise his language skills, so I've no doubt he's improving all the time.

He's also a huge music lover and has many times been seen singing English songs from Avril Lavigne, Ellie Goulding, Sam Smith and many more. A couple of English performances he's done in the past:

youtube

Starts at 3:22 (I'll never get over hockey player GG 🥲).

It also seems clear that GG has a general interest in languages. He knows a fair bit of Korean and he and DD are seen in The Untamed BTS speaking various languages and dialects, including English. This is also a common feature of LRLG rumors.

There are many clips to be found online of GG speaking English for ads, occasionally a few lines for drama roles, throwing in English phrases into interviews, etc. Just based those alone I think one can tell that he's got pretty good English. His pronunciation is quite good.

If you watch some of the vlogs he's posted from the international events, and some of the clips shared by brands and magazines, you can catch moments of GG having English interactions with many people at those events. One of my absolute favorites is when he's replying to a bodyguard in a vlog when he was in Florence last year (starts at 4:08).

The bodyguard is trying to teach him how to roll his r to pronounce Florence in Italian ('Firenze') and GG says, "I can't do it." The way he says it is so damn cute, I almost died when I heard it.

Anyway, so to answer your question, GG speaks in English with Della Valle and others at those events!

#bjyx #yizhan #gg milan fashion week 2024 #ggdd entertainment circle #ggdd endorsements #tod's #ggdd uncategorized #ask #english #ggdd english

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aaronhotchswife · 3 months

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THE WAY YOU MAKE ME FEEL

Drew Starkey x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Warnings : alcohol, smut, loss of virginity This is the last chapter of this serie. I hope you'll enjoy it !

chapter 1

chapter 2

"There are many things in life that will catch your eyes, but only a few will catch your heart. Pursue those. " -Michael Nolan

It’s the first time that we’re all since Christmas. Drew is talking to the boys, telling him about how at his parents. We didn’t talk about what happened that day in his bedroom, I just apologized for acting like that and he told me not to worry. We’re just best friends trying to figure life out.

"If that is not Y/N!"

"Oh my god! Hiiii! How are you?" I asked the guy behind me, rising from my seat to hug him. "Guys, this is Oliver. He was my best friend from elementary to high school."

He smiles at them, his arm around my shoulder. When I ask him what he’s doing here, he tells me that his friends picked this bar to celebrate the New Year.

"Do you want a drink? " Olivier asks, pointing over two stools at the bar. I accept, taking his hand and following him. I see the girls looking at me with smiles and playful looks. I laugh softly, just wanting to have a drink with my childhood best friend. My heart belongs to Drew, but these past few days I just want to think about someone else and clear my mind. I’ve been in love with him for a long time now, always thinking about him and how cute and wonderful he is. From the moment we kissed as our characters for the first time to our fight, I keep loving him. But maybe now it’s time to let myself live at little bit, without him.

Drew’s point of view

I see her at the bar, talking with some guy. She’s sipping her cocktail, admiring him. I think Lacia sees the confusion on my face because she taps on my shoulder and explains to me who he is. He looks handsome and I can’t help but be a little jealous of how she looks at him. Especially when his hand finds its way down her back, murmuring something in her ear. It should be me with her like that, and I can’t help but be mad at myself for how things played out.

***

Y/N’s point of view

I’m outside with Oliver, still talking about what is going on in our lives. My phone rings and when I look at it, I see a text from Madelyn wishing me a happy New Year. I didn’t even realize that it was midnight already.

"Happy New Year Oli! "

"Oh! Happy New Year! I wish you everything you wish for. "

I smile before hugging him. It’s good to see him again after having lost touch after high school. When I break his embrace, his lips find mine, kissing me softly. I smile on his lips, my face finding its way on his chest.

"Don’t get shy on my now, " he laughs.

"I’m sorry, I just didn’t except kissing someone tonight. Listen, I just probably go check on my friends, they must probably wonder where I went. You have my number so text me whenever you want, " I kiss his cheek goodbye before turning around and entering the bar.

Drew’s point of view

I see her coming back to our table, her lipstick a bit smudged. I don’t need more clues to understand what just happened with her and that man. I look at her, my head filled with memories of the feelings never told and at this moment, I realize that I need to be hers. I would crawl home to her if it was what it took for her to want me.

"You had fun with your friend?" I ask.

"I did. Thanks for asking…" she responds.

"Yeah, I can see that. "

She looks at me with an awkward smile, before sitting next to Maddie, who is almost sleeping on the table. She wakes her up, telling her that she’ll drive her home since she just had one drink.

"C’mon Mad. Let’s get you home. Drew, are you coming home too? "

I nod, before saying goodbye to everyone. Y/N drove Maddie home before parking her car at our apartment entrance. When she unlocks the door, she throws her heels away, sighing in relief.

"God, my feet are killing me. " She laughs, making her way to her bedroom, exiting it with her towel and pyjamas. "I’ll go in the shower; do you want to watch an episode of Modern Family after? "

"Of course. But I need to take a shower too before. I feel disgusting, " I chuckle.

***

As we’re sitting on the couch, I look at her, not thinking twice before asking about Oliver. She explains to me that he was her best friend and that they kissed. I can feel the anger and the jealousy inside of me but I try to act as nothing.

"He’s cute but he is not my type. I would not have a relationship with him, if it what you’re asking. "

"Maybe it is, " I say. "Maybe it’s because I want you. "¸

"What? "

"I want you, Y/N. I want everything from you. I want you to be able to see yourself through my eyes and to realize how special you are to me. And tonight, when I saw you with him, I realized that I need you in my life more than a best friend. "

"Drew…"

I suddenly have a feral urge to crash my lips on hers and I can feel she wants the same.

Y/N’s point of view

Drew’s lips are on mine and I can’t explain how it feels at the exact moment. Even if I kissed him for work, it doesn’t feel the same. It feels real. It is real. I can feel him smile against my lips when my hand grabs his hair, giving me a little push to sit on his thighs. One of his hands is on the end of my back and the other one is on my cheek. I can feel his tongue pushing against mine and I let him. He lays me on the couch, his hand caressing my hair.

"Do you want to go in the bedroom? " He asks me, murmuring in my ear. He doesn’t have to ask me twice before my hand is in his and I bring him to my bedroom. He kisses me until my legs are on the side of the bed, making me fall on it. He’s on top of me, and his mouth is on my neck, giving me butterflies.

"I want you, Drew. Please. "

"Asked like that, it would be my pleasure, " he says chuckling.

His hands make their way to the hem of my shirt, pushing it further, asking for permission to undress me. I nod, watching Drew undress both of us. Both of our breathing is shallow when he looks at me. I feel shy, being almost naked in front of me. His hand plays with the hem of my panties, his mouth leaving small kisses on my stomach. When he takes off my underwear, I can se his eyes glistening.

"You are so beautiful. Are you sure you want to do this? "

"Yes, Drew, please. "

He kisses me one last time, his fingers playing with my nipples, making them hard. His hand finds its way to my core, murmuring in your ear how wet I am. His fingers play with my folds, before pushing one finger slowly into me, making my breath stops. The palm of his hand rubs softly against my clit, and it that moment you never felt better.

He parts my thighs and he places my feet on his shoulders before placing him between my thighs. The tip of his nose brushes delicately on top of my clit and his tongue glides slowly in my folds. The moan I do makes him smile against my core and when he looks at me, his face is all wet from my arousal. But now I want to make him feel good. So, I sit up, my hand taking his boxer off. My breath gets caught when I see how big he is. I tentatively put my hand around him, making up and down movements and with the way his head falls back, I guess I’m doing good.

"Fuck. " He moaned.

"Can I taste you? "

His eyes sparkled the second I ask him, and he replace himself to be comfortable, while I start leaving some small kisses on his cock. His hands grab my hair in a makeshift ponytail, before guiding my head up and down his cock. He stops me just before he could cum, kissing me softly.

"Are you ready? "

"Put your hands on my shoulders and squeeze if it hurts, and tell me if you need me to stop, okay? " He instructed.

I nod, while Drew slowly pushes the tip of his cock in me. He takes a sharp breath as he pushes into me, feeling my walls clenching around him.

"You’re doing really great baby, want me to move? " He says, his voice hoarse.

I agree and with that, it’s not long before Drew’s sweet sounds in my ear and each stroke of him against that perfect little spot make me grip the headboard.

"You feel so fucking good baby, so tight. "

"Drew. "

Drew’s point of view

"Drew. "

The way she says my name and the breathy moan that spills from her lips are too much, pushing me right to the end. I watch her as her head falls back on the pillow and her back arches, and I swear that I never saw something that perfect in my life. I try to catch my breath, while she does the same. I cuddle her, caressing her hair.

"Hey, I love you. "

She smiles at me, and her smile is literally the cutest thing I have ever seen.

"I love you too Drew. "

taglist : @willowalexissss @maybankslover @prentissesredtanktop @conniebabyy @arinadixin @chenslucy @h34rtsformilli @tiaamberxx

#drew starkey fluff #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction

87 notes · View notes

rogueddie · 11 months

Text

Canon Divergence Steddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🧭

save it for a rainy day

Unoriginal_Username

In which Steve Harrington has to walk home in a torrential downpour, and happens to find Eddie Munson without an umbrella.

Words : 5,166 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

Haunting

AnnetheCatDetective

Steve gets dragged to a haunted house… little does he know he's about to be a whole other kind of haunted.

Words : 8,890 Chapters : 3/3 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I think I like them too

melonalemonade

Eddie was expecting to feel the sharp knuckles of a hand colliding with his jaw any second but the only thing colliding was a pair of soft lips … with his own.

Words : 2,035 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

off the beaten path

pukner

Post season 3, Steve manages to figure out that he's bisexual, despite his best efforts to repress it, comes out to Robin and Jonathan Byers of all people, and figures himself out. Also, there's a cute guy who might be actually insane running the kids' dnd club and he's got his eye on him. And his bandana.

Too bad Eddie Munson hasn't had a similar revelation. He's still under the impression that he's a straight man obsessing over Steve Harrington for normal, extremely heterosexual reasons.

Words : 34,208 Chapters : 6/6 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

you make it feel like christmas

oceanwaves23

Steve somehow ends up celebrating the Christmas of 1985 with Max and Eddie 'the Freak' Munson and it just might be his favorite Christmas yet.

Words : 9,122 Chapters : 3/3 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

I wave goodbye to the end of beginning

LittleMissKnowItAll

Steve and Eddie properly meet for the first time in the middle of Family Video, somewhere during the summer of '85.

It's the start of a friendship, maybe even the start of something more.

Words : 19,814 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

kickstart my heart

inspectorabed

Eddie sighs and leans back in his chair. The plastic groans in protest under the weight of him. “You know, what sucks about all of this is that now I have to re-examine my biases. If Steve Harrington is actually, deep down, a decent guy, that means any of those asshole preps might be hiding a secret heart of gold. I mean, who’s next, Jason Carver?”

This makes Ant laugh rather hysterically. Eddie can’t tell if he’s doing it for dramatic effect or if he really thinks Eddie is that funny. “Okay, maybe not,” he concedes. “But you get my point.”

Words : 14,236 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

it's his party (and i'll fall if i want to)

formosus_iniquis

"Steve?" She nods, but even death couldn't stop him now,

"Harrington? Steve Harrington? King Steve? Steve "the Hair" Harrington? Steve "Big House, No Parents" Harrington? Steve "Sex God" Harrington?"

"I am certain you made at least those last two up. Yes, Steve "Lady Killer" Harrington invited me to his party."

"Are we about to be Carrie'd?"

Words : 25,411 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I'm Beginning to Understand, There's No Mystery to This Man

senoritablack

Four times Eddie thinks Steve Harrington’s fucking with him, plus one time he accepts the compliment. Alternatively, the one where Steve’s been blatant since freshman year and Eddie’s really thick.

Words : 5,428 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

don't you know you might find a better place to stay

Anonymous

Eddie works the night shift at Hawkin's local grocery store. Somehow, Steve can't stop coming.

Words : 6,780 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

King Steve Buys Weed

StepfordSnarker

When Steve promises to get Robin high over the weekend, and his usual weed guy goes out of town, he needs to find a replacement. Eddie's grungy, and nerdy, and weird, but he'll have to do.

Words : 4,488 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

undue

meglimeg

Steve and Eddie knew each long before Vecna, before Hellfire, before the Upside Down.

Words : 6,301 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

The Enormous Upside to Losing Everything

Stressed_Depressed_Lemonzest

Steve gets his heart broken in two and promptly trips over Eddie Munson. Then that school freak Steve usually wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole offers him weed to forget his troubles.

Words : 35,886 Chapters : 5/5 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fic rec #ficrec #is this a good time to admit that I'm not entirely sure what counts as canon divergence and I'm just hoping and praying with this one lmao

196 notes · View notes

rainylana · 1 year

Text

“Yeah, baby, I’ll go with you.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary: a continuation of my series ‘i’ll always take care of you’. takes place two years after the first chapter, one year after the epilogue.

Warnings: contains mentions of past sexual violence and assault, ptsd and trauma flashbacks, detailed panic attacks and anxiety habits, unprotected sex, language, heavy description of blood, reader gets her period, gagging, vomiting, self hatred and self blame.

a/n: hi everybody:) this took longer than expected but i’m very very excited for you to read, as i love this series very much and just wanted to go back and explore it. i hope you love this as much as i do! i’m very happy with the way it turned out! please share how you feel about it:) i missed you! and i hope you have a very merry christmas to those who all celebrate it!<3

taglist!

@phantomxoxo @noturmom15 @lexthemess21 @antigoneidk @averysblog @catherinnn @your-starless-eyes-remain @cosmic-lavender @ultimate-sdmn-trash @xx-hospitalforsouls-xx-blog @aa-li-yah @hearts4lana @kaqua @softyutae @nothisispatric @itiscj @avobabe87 @mic429 @flowers-and-tsukki @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @lillianofliterature @bellasfavoritesweatpants @livasaurasrex @tessiemessie @ohlovelyhollow @supercalifragilisticprincess @justaproudslytherpuff @kellysimagines @heeyitsg @genuine-possum @imangy @ches-86 @cheri86 @edzmunsonswife @basicallybats @fvcking-gxddess @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @no0neknowsm3 @underthebatcape @ruinedbythehobbit @randomstory56 @babyhvunjin @venicereads @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @anothermunsonsimp @ahzysauce

Two years later.

“I met Nancy in fifth grade when I moved here from Chicago. I had trouble making friends, but Nancy- she introduced herself to me right away, even gave me half of her rice crispy treat. I didn’t know at that age just how important she’d become to me, in fact it’s still hard to believe how much she’s helped me. I can only hope I’ve been able to return at least a fraction of what she’s given me. So, I want to raise a glass to Nancy and Jonathon, yes, I’ve not forgotten about you, and tell you both that we all love you very much. I love you very much. Congratulations, you guys.”

Your hand was raised, holding up a crystal glass at the end of the long, white table. Nancy, who was at your side, had tears going down her face, while Jonathan had a beaming smile. The people on the benches in front of you all cheered from your maid of honor speech, and you giggled when Eddie whistled at the other end of the table, a groomsman himself.

Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding was probably one of the most beautiful Hawkins had ever had. Everyone had come, and you couldn’t deny the fact you’d been extremely nervous to give your speech in-front of everyone, but Nancy deserved to hear what you wanted to say. You could never really be able to express how much she meant to you.

The wedding was held outside at a meadow, just a mile outside of town. It was littered with lavender and dandelions, even an ice sculpture. Truthfully, both Nancy and Jonathan would have been fine with having a courthouse wedding with a few friends and family, but Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler wanted to spoil their daughter, and Joyce, had chipped in almost all the money she had to help.

You admired how handsome Eddie looked in his tuxedo, hair slicked back into a neat ponytail, one of the only few occasions where he put effort into his hair. His shoes were shiny and squeaky. He even rubbed a fork on the bottom of the soles so he wouldn’t slip. Will was the best man, and the other groomsmen being Hopper, Mike, Dustin and Lucas. Robin was also a bridesmaid. Karen and Joyce, too. Little Holly was the flower girl.

White flowers and pink tulips were the flowers of choice, the cake almost seemed to be seven stories tall. Elegant couldn’t even describe how beautiful it all worked.

“Wanna dance?” Eddie flicked the rim of your champagne glass, a happy grin on his face.

You were happy the ceremony was over, everyone now able to relax and celebrate the happy moment with booze and food. Everyone drove across town to city hall, but the wedding theme had still followed them over there.

“Hmm, yes, please.” You placed down your glass, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body close to his. Mostly everyone was dancing now, and if they weren’t, they were engulfing themselves on the buffet and chocolate fountain. They, meaning the children and Dustin.

“My feet hurt so bad. I think I got blisters.” You groaned through a chuckle.

“Tell me about it.” He smirked in agreement. “These things are probably full of my blood.”

You smiled and looked over to your best friend, who was dancing her heart away with Jonathon in the middle of dance floor. “It’s worth it, though. She looks so beautiful.”

Eddie looked over and smiled softly. “Yeah, she does.”

You laid your head on his chest and wrapped your arms tighter around him, swaying softly to the happy tune of whatever song was playing. You had no idea what it was. The irony, warm feeling of his rings brushed along your neck, hair being pinned up with a few loose curls.

“I hope Joyce and Hopper are next.” You smiled when your eyes found them, dancing softly and gazing into each other’s eyes. They looked like they saw no one else.

Eddie chuckled and found them, too. “I’d say so.”

Then you found Dustin and Suzie. Lucas and Max. Mike and Eleven. Couples dancing, kissing and being happily in love. Weddings were stressful, sure, but you loved them. You loved being in love. You looked up to Eddie and grinned, standing up taller to peck him on the lips. “I love you.”

His hand squeezed your waist and he smiled, bringing up his other to hold your cheek. He melted his lips against yours in a sweet kiss, the taste of the chocolate fountain evident on his tongue. “You have no idea.” He replied.

•

Your curled up hair was starting to fall apart after all the clean up duty. You and Eddie, along with some of your other friends, stayed to help clean the hall when Nancy and Jonathan left for their honeymoon. It took several hours to take down all the decorations, put away the food, tables and chairs. You and Eddie were the only ones left now. You sent everyone home, assuring them you could finish by yourself, and that only left you to sweep the floor and throw away some trash.

The bottom of your feet were filthy, having disregarded your heels so your feet didn’t have to suffer during clean up. Your dress was bunched up a bit by your waist.

“You bout finished, babe?” Eddie asked, coming back inside from taking out garbage bags. His hair was also a bit more frazzled, his black suit jacket thrown over a chair, leaving him in his white button up.

“Yeah, I think so.” You half panted, placing your hands on your hips as you turned to greet him. “Get everything outside taken care of?”

“Yeah, Hopper just left.” He sniffled, wiping away some sweat. “You hungry? I could order a pizza or something.”

You rolled your head back in exhaustion, admiring how handsome he looked. “Had too much cake. I’ve got a food baby.”

He chuckled as he looked down to your belly, coming close to wrap his arms around your waist. He kissed your forehead lovingly and you tiredly laid against his chest, lazily resting your arms around him. Without your heels, your head barely came up to his chest.

“I think this is my favorite version of you.” Eddie smiled softly, lips brushing over the side of your head.

You narrowed your eyes, cheek squished against his chest. “Why? I’m dirty.”

His laughter sounded in your ear, pulling away so he could hold you out in front of him. “I like when your hair is like this. It’s cute.”

“It looks like a rats nest.” You retorted.

“And your face is all red.” He continued, holding your arms. “And you got those little lines between your eyebrows from concentrating so much.”

“Well, we have to make sure this place is cleaned otherwise we’ll piss off the city council- are you sure it looks alright?” You went to turn away but he grabbed your jaw, turning you to give you a gentle kiss.

“You look pretty handsome, yourself.” You relaxed against his lips. “Class suits you.”

He smirked, a breath hitting your cupid’s bow. “That right?” His forehead connected to yours, his hand reaching around your waist to push you against him. He ducked down to kiss you fully, bodies melting together in the empty room.

Your tummy fluttered as his hands roamed at your sides, deep kisses being briefly broken apart for a breath of air. “You wanna?” He husked, smirking against your neck.

“Here?” You burned, arching your back slightly. “Don’t you think- are there cameras?” You looked up to the ceiling, looking between corners.

He held you up as he kissed on the exposed skin of your chest, the plump skin of your breasts that shown was caressed by his tongue.

“I don’t see any.” He murmured seductively.

“You didn’t even look.” You pretended to scold him, but you inhaled a sharp gasp as he bit your skin softly. “You’re awful. Yes, I wanna.”

You pulled his face so you could kiss him, and he picked you up by your thighs to put you against the wall. You throbbed for him as he pressed himself against you, your skin shining with a lustful glow that made his heart erratically beat. Your hands roamed his chest, the blades of his back, anything to get him closer to you. Anything to feel good. He always made you feel good, and he always took care of you.

There was a time where you thought you’d never be able to experience that again. You never thought you’d be able to be intimate with Eddie like this. You never thought you’d be able to be touched, caressed and pleasured without second guessing yourself or who you were with.

You never would have said it then, but now, after two years from your assault, you couldn’t deny the fact that you found some benefit from the situation. You had to if you were going to live with it. If there was anything you learned from that night, it changed the way you saw the world, and not in a bad way. It made you smarter, careful. It made you learn things about yourself, who you wanted to be. It was a chapter in your life that had come and gone. That’s how you dealt with it. When ptsd and trauma flashbacks came, you dealt with it like you’d learned how to. Sometimes they were nothing, sometimes you nearly went to the hospital, but you dealt with it either way, and never alone.

“You want this, baby?” He pulled the straps of your dress down to free your breasts, and he wrapped his warm lips around your left nipple.

“Yes.” You tangled your hand in his hair, shamelessly rocking your hips up to his. “I need you so bad.”

He kissed and suckled on each breast, taking his sweet time, moving down the valley between them as best as he could with your dress still in the way. When he’d freed himself from his pants, rubbing himself up your slick, you buried your face in his shoulder and tightened your arms around his body. “Tell me, sweetheart.” He kissed your collarbone, teasing you, but he didn’t ever not ask that question.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, almost drunkenly, eyes already glossing over. “Fuck me, Eddie.”

He moved your panties to the side, sliding his cock inside of you slowly, burying his face in your chest. It was the burning stretch that made you whimper, but it just felt so, so good. It was slow at first, it usually always was. Eddie rocked into you a few times, grunting lowly to give you time. He always gave you time. The burn started to go away, and you leaned back to connect your lips passionately, silently telling him you were ready.

Your mouths were everywhere, sloppy and needy, the taste of one another driving you mad. You whimpered desperately into his mouth when he finally gave a sharper, more fluent thrust that moved you up the wall. Your response made him do it again, and again, and again, until he was at a pace that had you crying into his shoulder again. Skin slapped quickly, stomachs tightened and your teeth dug into his shoulder that made him groan.

Sometimes the only thing you could ever really do during sex was cry. Sometimes it just felt too good and that was all you could do. Eddie never questioned it, not anymore.

He could feel you clenching around him, and he gave one more thrust before he reached his orgasm, forcing a sob from your throat as your legs trembled in his sore arms. Your mouth was agape, tears rolling down your face as you panted, gulping and whimpering sounds squeaking their way out of you. Eddie huffed loudly, readjusting his hold on you with a fuzzy head.

“Thank you.” You choked, eyes fluttering closed, your body rocking with pleasure.

Eddie had assured you countless times you didn’t have to thank him for sex, and you knew you didn’t. You never meant to say it really when you did, so he learned to just accept it.

“Let’s go home.” He kissed your cheek.

•

Your panic attacks were easy to maintain and they had been for awhile. You’d gotten extremely well at mastering them, keeping them from overwhelming you too badly. It hadn’t always been that way, definitely not. But in the course of the last six to eight months, you’d impressed even yourself with your skill.

You’d done certain techniques, some worked and some didn’t. Journaling didn’t help shit. You thought it was boring. Going for walked helps sometimes, only if it wasn’t too hot. Deep breathing helped a lot, especially if you could hold on to Eddie’s hands or his shoulders. And sticking your face in a bowl of ice water always did the trick.

In the beginning he encouraged you to seek out for additional help, help that he knew he couldn’t give you. Sure, he was always there to listen and to be at every beck and call, but he’d never be able to understand what you went through. You saw a women’s support group almost two times a week back then, and now it was just once a month.

The worst panic attack you’d had, which haunted you and Eddie both, was last year. Eddie had to take you to the hospital, and even he at the time thought your fear was something more than panic, that’s how bad it was, like something was actually wrong. In these two years you’d been to the emergency room twelve times.

You hadn’t had one like that in a while, or really any. They were small, here and there. So when your eyes cracked open, trying to squint in the dark so you could see the time, you knew something was off, because you were past the point of waking up in the middle of the night. You were anxious was the first thing you realized. Your chest felt warm and your heart was beating more quickly than it should.

Great.

But it was okay. You’d be fine. You knew it would pass if you gave it time. You turned to lay on your back so you could breath easier, glancing over at Eddie in the dark who was sound asleep. You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose, counting to five, held it for 5, then let go. You repeated it for awhile, but your body felt oddly uncomfortable besides just feeling too warm.

You laid there and breathed for almost twenty minutes before you decided you needed a glass of water. Shuffling through blankets, you sat up and lifted the comforter off your sweaty body, and even in the dark you could see the substance that was on the sheets beneath you. Your heart leapt in your throat and you turned to switch on the lamp by your bedside.

You’d gotten your period. Blood was bright and crimson on the white sheet, all over your thighs and ruining the pair of blue sleep shorts you were in. This wasn’t a big deal in itself. You’d gotten your period many times in the night, but your body didn’t seem prepared for it this time. Maybe it was the fact you were already trying to fight off an anxiety attack, who knows, but your eyes tripled in size and you gasped.

Eddie was awake immediately.

“Y/n?” He said through sleepy, alarmed eyes. “Y/n- hey, what’s the matter? What happened?”

Your anxiety immediately seized up to pure panic. The blood was just too much. It was everywhere. Not really, but to you, right now, it did. You started gasping, your throat bopping noisily as your hands shook above your legs.

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw the blood, grabbing your shoulders in confusion. “Hey, hey- honey, look at me.” He turned your face toward him, more like pried it away from your lap.

“Shit- Eddie, I’m sorry, I- I got my period, I’m sorry.” You rushed, voice shaking and unsteady. You couldn’t keep your focus on him. You kept staring at your legs that were also shaking now.

“Baby, hey, it’s alright.” He cooed, scooting closer to you to wrap his arm around your back. “You don’t need to get upset. It’s not your fault, y/n, just take a breath, alright?”

You nodded, lifting your legs to try and avoid getting more blood on the blankets.

“Okay, uh- let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He looked your face over, sitting up more to grab your elbow. “That okay?”

There was no reason to have a panic attack over this. There was no reason to breathing so irrationally like you were doing. Eddie helped you stand, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he turned to the dresser where you kept your clothes. You tried to keep looking at him, but your eyes drifted back down to your legs. Your hands were vibrating at your sides, your chest continued to burn. You watched as a small bead of blood rolled down to your knee. Then it hit you.

You froze, your stomach flipping upside down. God, there’d been so much blood on you that night. You bled for days. You’d had to throw out your clothes so Eddie wouldn’t see.

“Eddie,” You cried, bile resting at the back of your throat, eyes wide with terror. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-”

“What, what, y/n-” He grabbed your face, throwing down your clothes he’d gathered when you started completely panicking.

“Get it off me!” You screeched, sobbing as you looked down to your legs. “Please, please, please!” You begged him desperately through violent cries and a thrashing body.

He quickly reacted and practically dragged you to the bathroom, flipping on the light and throwing the shower curtain open. He turned on the cold water and grabbed your waist, putting both you and him under the freezing cold water.

You didn’t react to the water that hit you in the face, or Eddie dropping to his knees to grab hold of your legs. You went into a frenzy. You bent your body over his head, hand smacking against the shower wall to brace your weight. Your body was overcome with a disgusting feeling of violation, your skin buzzed with ick and you heaved above him. The nausea in your stomach turned into a burn, an ache that wasn’t even really there, only in your head, but that was real enough for you. You screamed and grabbed your stomach with your other hand, eyes clamped shut and cold water making your clothes heavy, Eddie’s too.

Fear surged through your body, although fear never quite seemed to sum up the feeling, and your breath came too quickly. You weren’t getting in any air. Your skin buzzed and your throat was raw. You were practically screaming, hovering over Eddie. And then you gagged, nearly tripping over him as you gripped his shoulder, a mixture of water and stomach acid barely dribbling out of your lips and onto the shower floor.

All the while, Eddie’s hands were furiously trying to get the blood of your skin, the water turning a crimson red. His hair was wet and stuck on his face, black sweatpants now extremely heavy. Your clothes were stained but the water helped the brightened tone of it. He didn’t even look at you. If he did, he’d be lost. He had to fix what was making you panic to get you to calm down. His ears were thumping from how loud you were, sobs and shrieks making his bones rattle. Then he heard the tail tell sound of you throwing up.

When the water was no longer red, he finally breathed. “Y/n.” He said firmly, standing quickly on his own unsteady legs to catch your flaying arms. “It’s gone, baby, it’s gone. Look, look, it’s gone.” He grabbed your face to get you out of your trance, guiding you to look down. “Take a breath. Breathe. Breathe.” He pulled you to his chest, not even really sure if you were registering what he was saying.

And you didn’t, but within a few more minutes of hysterics, you pushed your face away from his chest to look down to your thighs. They were clear and the blood was gone. The sounds of your panic were quieting down and your arms finally locked around Eddie’s like his were on you. You could hear how loud his heartbeat was against your ear, your body shaking, and not just from previous anxiety.

The cold water was still beating down on you, Eddie shushing and rocking you gently all the while. He kissed and rubbed the back of your head, caressing your neck and your temple, doing everything he could to make sure you were grounded and wouldn’t pass out. You had before. But he could feel your deep, shaken breaths against his own, and he knew you were alright now.

You stood there until you both were shaking from the freezing water, but it brought a sense of relief that you didn’t want to leave. Your mind always felt empty after attacks like these, but it had been so long since you’d had such a bad one. Why hadn’t you been able to brush this one off? Why did it bother you so much? Your period had never triggered this kind of response from you? You couldn’t be back tracking your progress.

Everything seemed like a foggy dream now. The assault was not front and center anymore, neither was the image of your bloody and bruised thighs. You were okay now, but you fucking hated the fact you still had to deal with these. They were just so damn scary, and you sure as shit knew they scared the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie reached behind him to turn to water off, carefully guiding your steps over the edge of the tub so you wouldn’t slip. You both were shivering, and he grabbed a towel to wrap around your shoulders. “Get you some clothes, huh?” He said softly, tapping your chin as he guided you out of the bathroom.

He picked up the clothes he’d had before and sat them on the bed next to you where you’d sat down, trying your best to get off your sopping wet clothes. He gently grabbed your arms and tapped them so you’d lift them up, and he peeled your shirt over your head, helping you take down your sleep shorts and ruined panties. He threw them in the corner of the room.

You attempted to dry yourself but your limbs were too shaky, so he took the towel and crouched in front of you, taking your legs in his lap so he could dry you. You let him. He thought you were going to fall asleep because you looked so out of it, but it wasn’t nothing he’d seen before. He knew you needed to have time before you could talk about it.

Once you were dry and changed, Eddie did the same to himself, keeping his eye on your sunken form. You were left in a state of deep sorrow, an aching guilt that always crept up in you after a panic attack. Once Eddie started drying his hair, you got off the bed and walked out of the room without him noticing. You just needed a moment to yourself. Just a minute.

You curled yourself up on the couch and pulled your legs close to your body. You couldn’t do anything else but cry. You called these little moments pity parties, the tremors of a meltdown that you never could surpass. You buried your face in the material of the couch, weeping softly.

When Eddie followed you out there, his first instinct was always to go to you, always, but he had to give you a minute to cry. He was sure that over the years his jet black hair had turned a few pieces grey. He ever actually checked, but he could imagine he’d get the salt n’ pepper look before thirty. He always felt guilty for his broken heart over you, because he knew it didn’t hold a candle to what you’d been through or how you felt. When he decided you’d cried alone enough, he went to you.

He sat on the edge, barely having any room, and laid his torso atop of yours, his chest against your back to hold you as best as he could. He kissed your shoulder repeatedly, his fingers brushing away your wet hair comfortingly. “I’m sorry.” You cried, tears dropping down your face.

“No, no,” He whispered, barely audibly as he kissed your cheek. “It’s alright, baby.”

You cried for several more minutes, curled up on the couch with him hovering over you. He gently rubbed your back and gave your torso kisses and little nose rubs, hoping to ease your sorrow in anyway.

“I wasn’t going to go to my meeting tomorrow.” Your voice cracked, staring off into the space of nothing.

Eddie said nothing, perching his chin on your shoulder blade so you could talk. He knew you were ready.

“I thought- I thought I didn’t need to.” You admitted, a flame growing to your face that he didn’t miss. “But when I saw the blood I- all I could think about was..was when,” Your voice broke and your eyes glazed back over again when you felt Eddie tense.

“It’s been so long since I had one that bad. I thought maybe I was done.” You sniffled, silent tears rolling down your face. “I just…I don’t know, it just..I- don’t,”

“Shh, shh,” He petted your head, lifting slightly off you. “You don’t need to rush. I’m here, take your time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in the couch, whining out a little cry mixed with groans, feeling frustrated with yourself.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Stop that.” Eddie said sternly, squeezing your arm. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid.”

You didn’t answer him, you just cried. You’d never really felt so much self hatred after a panic attack before, but right now, you were very aggravated with yourself, for your body to still be so affected for something that happened so long ago. You were tired of having these attacks in the middle of the night, keeping Eddie up and worrying him to death, begging him to take you to the hospital even though you knew deep down that you weren’t dying.

“You know you have to talk to me, baby.” He said softly, rubbing your back. “You gotta tell me what you’re feeling.”

You knew that, but you also knew he wouldn’t want to hear you say the things you felt, right now. Either way, it wasn’t fair.

“I’m mad.” You croaked.

“Mad?”

You nodded, still pressed into the cushion of the couch.

“Why?” His fingers traced your spine.

“Me.” You cried. “I hate myself.”

You felt his hand stop, his gaze sharpening on you. “Why?”

“Because,” You hiccuped.

“Because, why?”

You whined through tears and forced yourself up, your hand digging a fist into the couch. “Because I’m a fucking mess!” You scoffed.

“I act like I’m fucking unstable.” You whimpered, wiping at your face. Eddie stared at you, holding his palm on your lower back.

“Y/n-” He swallowed.

“I shouldn’t be doing this anymore!” You started sobbing again, looking at the floor, anywhere but his face. “I can’t- my entire life is just- just focused on what happened and it’s so humiliating!” You started to pull on your shirt and he took his hand away from your back, knowing you didn’t want to be touched.

“I’m tired of freaking out and I’m tired of meetings! I’m tired of- of everyone saying how proud they are of me and that I’m strong. I’m not fucking strong, look at me, I’m a fucking wreck all the time!” You wailed, snot dripping down your nose as your head hung low.

“It’s so embarrassing, I shouldn’t be doing this shit a-anymore.” You bent over to press your elbows into your knees, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Eddie never knew what to say when you said things like this. He could help you with anything and everything else, but hearing you talk to negatively about yourself made him sad. He had to force back tears that glazed over his eyes, taking a shallow breath.

“Sweetheart,” He refrained from scooting closer to you. “What’s got you saying this stuff, huh? You’ve not said anything like this before.”

Your body shook from your tears. You couldn’t possibly imagine that you had anymore to cry, but they kept on coming. “It was my fault.”

Eddie paled at your remark. “Y/n. Stop it.”

“It was.” Your chest heaved as you balled into your hands, hair still dripping wet. “It was my own fault and I- my dress..my d-”

“Hey,” He grabbed your shoulders and made you face him, eyes focused and jaw clenched. “What are you saying, huh? That you asked for it?”

Your sobs were loud in his face, your skin red and blotchy, snot dripping over your cupid’s bow. “It should’ve been- longer.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d said something like this before, but it never was easier for him to hear or for you to say.

“What about Nancy then?” He grabbed your face to hold you upright. “What about her dress? Would she have asked for it if she’d been raped instead?” He said sternly, almost harsh, because it was vital to him that you understood.

“Answer me, y/n.” He shook you lightly. “Would she have deserved it?”

You shook your head, voice quivering and full of emotion. “No.”

“No, she wouldn’t, and neither did you.” His eyes glazed over. “You didn’t fucking deserve that and you didn’t fucking ask for it, okay? You can’t think shit like that, understand? You just can’t.”

You grabbed his thick wrist and squeezed. “Then why did It happen?”

He touched his forehead against yours, sighing deeply. “I wish I knew, honey. I’m so, so sorry. I wish you could know just how sorry I am, but baby, you gotta believe me when I say that I’m not going anywhere, alright? You know I’m not. You don’t need to be embarrassed around me. There’s nothing you ever need to be embarrassed about, alright?” His lips ghosted over mouth, nose edging yours.

“That’s what you do when you love someone. You take care of them, right? It’s what we do.” His heart ached at your broken face, your tears now slowing and sobs quieting.

You caught your breath, gulping and swallowing loud, sniffling and blinking wet eyelashes as you tried to calm yourself. You were growing exhausted, your body too tired to keep itself so worked up. “I just wished it didn’t happen.” You said softly. “It’s..it’s hard to like who I am now.”

He kept blinking away his tears. He always had his breakdowns in private. “Well, I like you.” He gave you a delicate smile.

He took his thumb and swiped at your tears, fixing your wild hair and sweeping it from your face. He wiped your nose with his sleeve. “We do it one day at a time remember? Just because tonight was bad doesn’t mean tomorrow has to be.”

“I know.” You muttered, staring at his chest while he stared at you. “I wish you knew how much I love you. Loving you is the only thing that’s ever felt stronger than..than him. You keep me sane when everything else around me is insane.”

Him. Him.

Eddie gulped, grabbing your waist. “Come here.” He pulled you into his chest, leaning back to rest against the arm of the couch. He wrapped his arms tight around you and you laid your cheek against his chest.

“Baby, it’s okay to not be okay all the time.” He said after a moment, his face pressed in your hair. “It’s not all going to go away.”

You didn’t say anything. You knew he was right.

“And that’s nothing to be ashamed of, you hear me?” He continued, your legs between his. “When there’s a bad day we work through it, don’t we? Don’t we always get through it?”

You nodded slowly, sniffly. “Yeah.”

“There’s no reason to hate yourself, y/n. I wish you could see yourself how I see you.” His palms were pressed against your back, cheek pressed against the side of your head. You could feel how erratic his heartbeat still was.

You both sat in silence for awhile, still allowing your body to calm down. Your mind kept replaying how worked up you’d gotten all because you’d gotten your period. That just didn’t make any sense. It had never triggered you before. You couldn��t remember what had caused your last panic attack.

“I just don’t understand why it still bothers me.” You said after a moment, voice drained and exhausted.

Eddie’s head leaned against the arm of the couch, still holding you close with his legs wrapped around yours. “Y/n,” He sighed heavily. “You always..”

“Always what?” You peaked up at him.

He swallowed and met your eyes. “You always downplay what happened and- and you just..you just can’t rush healing from that, honey.” He said carefully, not wanting to push your buttons, but he said only truth.

“When you’re talking about..what happened you.., well you always tell me ‘it’s okay, eddie’,” He rested his hand at the base of your neck.

“And it’s not okay.” He squinted his eyes. “What happened is not okay, but you are, y/n. You’re okay and you’re alive and you make me so damn proud, you know it?” He cupped your cheek, pressing his forehead to yours again.

“No matter what happens, if things get bad, nothing will change between you and I. Okay?” His breath blew against your lips, a salty tear falling down your cheek. You nodded, gulping, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Will you go to my meeting with me tomorrow?” Your voice broke. If you hadn’t been so out of it, you would have seen the tear that fell from his eye.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll go with you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #i’m always going to take care of you #eddie munson series #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic

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talesofesther · 5 months

Text

discover the beauty

Sylvie x Reader

Summary: Sylvie doesn't quite understand what you make her feel, or what she should do about it. All she knows is that you've brought a warmth to her life that had been long lost. So when you ask her to spend Christmas with you, how could she ever say no?

A/N: This is, or was supposed to be, a quick and sweet lil story with my favorite lady to give her the Christmas she deserves. Naturally, I got a little (a lot) carried away. I also feel like my writing turned out rather different in this, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. <3

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

You were not something she expected to have. Sylvie may even go as far as saying you were not something she wanted to have. Not in the beginning, at least.

It was a normal day at work the first time she saw you. During a late afternoon, with golden rays of a setting sun seeping through the windows of McDonald's. You walked in with a backpack hanging from one shoulder and the ghost of a smile on your lips. You ordered a burger and fries accompanied by an orange juice, a combination Sylvie didn't serve too often. You thanked her with an even wider smile and sat on one of the tables closest to the window. You finished eating and didn't leave, instead, you pulled a sketchbook from your backpack and started scribbling something down. All the while that you stayed, Sylvie could feel your eyes on her from time to time.

A routine started then. You'd come by almost every day, at the same time, make the same order, sit at the same table, and pull out the same sketchbook. And it went on for weeks.

There was something about you that Sylvie couldn't put her finger on, something that stole her focus and forced her to recount the change at least twice when you were around. Your presence carried an aura of calmness, being around you was easy, and talking to you felt like breathing.

Slowly, order by order, you and Sylvie grew closer. Slowly, Sylvie started to expect your presence at the end of each day.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Today was a Thursday, a day you usually stopped by. When the clock on the wall hit 4 PM, Sylvie found herself stealing glances at the main doors. Sometimes she'd chastise herself for the childish behavior, after all, why should she care if you stop by or not?

A cold breeze came in through the open windows. Sylvie leaned on the counter beside the cash register, looking out onto the parking lot; it was covered in a thin layer of white. The snow had slowly and thinly started falling just a few days ago, announcing the definitive arrival of winter and the ever-approaching festivities of the end of the year—as did the obnoxious Christmas decorations scattered all around the inside of the fast food place.

She had heard her colleagues here talking about it, Christmas, and from what Sylvie gathered it was a time for celebration and gifts, a time to spend with loved ones. When the matter came up in conversation, Sylvie hid in the corners, making herself look busy and distracted with anything she could think of. She didn't want to answer the casual questions of where she'd be spending her Christmas at, who she'd be spending it with. She didn't want to admit she had no one at all and would likely spend the night at a bar, alone.

The sound of the door being pushed open brought Sylvie back to reality, she looked up only to see you walking in, with your backpack on one shoulder and bundled up in a hoodie with a jacket on top to chase away the cold.

It was new to her, the fluttering in her stomach whenever she saw you and the warmth on her cheeks whenever you smiled at her. Everything was new. Sylvie didn't know what to do with the feelings you brought to her. It's not like she had many of those when jumping through apocalypses.

Your eyes met hers and your smile was instant, you adjusted your hold on your backpack as you approached the counter. Your greeting came in the form of a question; "Why is it that good things always have to hurt a little?"

Sylvie raised an eyebrow at you, an amused smile of her own fighting its way to her lips. Her fingernails tapped the counter softly. There were small flakes of snow hanging onto your hair, your clothes, glittering under the artificial lights; why did they make you look prettier still?

"The snow," You nodded toward the big windows behind you, "So beautiful yet so unforgivingly cold, isn't it?"

A low hum went past Sylvie's lips, she shrugged with a teasing smirk. "I don't know, I don't think it's that cold."

You huffed, already familiar with the statement yet baffled all the same, "That's because you're a special case I'm still trying to figure out."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her voice just a tad lower, "Good luck with that."

You avoided her eyes and nodded softly, smile lingering on your features. You leaned your elbows on the counter then, hands coming to stay just inches away from Sylvie's. She wondered what it would feel like to touch you.

Sylvie cleared her throat, promptly chasing away the thought. She grabbed her notepad and pen, her customer service voice making an appearance; "The usual?"

"Uh yeah," you sounded just a tad disappointed. As Sylvie wrote down your order, you leaned just a bit forward and closer to her, pursing your lips before saying; "So, any plans for Christmas?"

The pen in Sylvie's hand gave a sudden and rather forceful scratch, nearly tearing the paper. She halted, intently glaring at the out-of-place line that was now written on top of the word 'fries'. She held the silence for a moment longer, her jaw set tightly in place. For the first time in a long time, she hesitated. "… No."

A soft frown came to your features. You didn't ask, but the question was there.

"I'll probably just sleep in," Sylvie glanced up at you with her lips pressed together in a smile that looked a little too forced. She didn't give you time to answer. "Your order will be ready in a minute." She informed you, before turning around to fiddle with the ice cream machine she had already organized this morning.

Two minutes later, your order was ready. You mumbled a gentle 'thank you' to Sylvie before making a beeline to your usual table near the windows.

It was a little pathetic, really—you thought to yourself as you munched your burger—how quickly you became infatuated with the pretty attendant from your local McDonald's. Sylvie had captured your attention since the first day you walked in and said your order to her. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. But there was something else there, something about her eyes and the way she carried herself and interacted with others, that gave away the impression that she had lived a thousand lives, seen a thousand worlds, and now carried the weight of it.

Sylvie was, what you liked to call, an artist's utopia. The perfect muse. Everything about her was screaming to be written down in novels and painted to be hung in a museum. Her genuine smiles whenever she delivered a random order as well as the closed-off and tense ones whenever her colleagues crowded her. The prideful way she'd glance at her name plastered on the employee of the month display as well as the melancholic look in her eyes when she climbed in her truck at the end of the day. Each part of her seemed to tell a story bigger than anything you could fathom.

And that, was simply something you couldn't bring yourself to ignore. It started as a mere sketch of her serious expression on the first day you noticed her. And then you came back, once, twice. And it evolved into her being the biggest constant in your sketchbook. There were scribbles of her profile, her back, sometimes just her eyes or hands, smiles and frowns. Each piece of her as seen by your eyes, now eternal, shaped by the grey lines of your pencil.

Whatever could you do, after all? She was enchanting.

In the end, it was expected that she would become quite familiar with you, given how much you stop by. But you were pleasantly surprised to realize that you two clicked rather well. You'd go as far as calling her a friend now.

And today, you noticed the hints of sorrow that always danced in her expressive eyes making a more vivid appearance. Maybe that's the reason why you threw caution to the wind.

When you finished your meal, you picked up your backpack and promptly walked towards the counter Sylvie stood behind. Deciding that if you waited, your courage would most likely vanish.

She perked up when she noticed you coming towards her, a mix of confusion and expectancy painting her features. Her posture straightened as she reached for the notepad, expecting another order.

You cleared your throat, unable to properly meet her gaze and choosing to fiddle with the pen lying around in front of her. "You know, my family lives a few hours from here and I don't plan on driving there this year." Glancing up at Sylvie, you had to hold back a smile at the sight of her adorable frown. "So, I was thinking… Maybe, if- if you want," you held her gaze, words heavy on your tongue, "We could spend Christmas together." It came out more like a question than anything else. You bit the inside of your cheek, and waited.

Sylvie breathed in sharply, her shoulders tensing. Her eyes shifted from one side to the other, as if looking for an answer around the vicinity. For excruciatingly long seconds, she said nothing. And you were already thinking of a half-assed excuse to give her an out when she finally spoke.

"Okay." You'd never heard her voice this small. "I'd like that," she smiled then, it was a sweet, little thing, barely a stretch of lips; but it warmed your heart like nothing else could.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The day before Christmas arrived both too soon and too late. Sylvie woke up this morning and her first thought of the day, as she still lay in bed, was you. And how she would be meeting you at McDonald's just like every day before, but today there was a break in the pattern; she would be leaving with you. Together.

Sylvie had reluctantly agreed to spend the night at your place when you insisted Christmas morning was the most special and crucial part of the holiday. Yet now, as the day finally was upon her, she began to wonder if she'd dug her own grave. Because her stomach twisted with the mere thought of it, her body felt all warm and fuzzy knowing she'd be spending so much time by your side, and her heartbeat skyrocketed knowing she'd be waking up the next morning only for you to be the first one she sees.

As Sylvie drove to work, she couldn't help but admit that this whole Christmas thing gave the town a rather pleasant look. Several decorations in bright red, golden, and green could be spotted in every corner of the town; string lights were a must in most buildings and houses; and inside each store at least one small Christmas tree was present.

While stopped at a red light, Sylvie's mind wandered to one specific aspect of the tradition. Gift giving.

Should she get you a gift? Did she want to?

She had never given or received any gifts. She wasn't sure if the two of you were close enough for it to be acceptable.

She gulped, grip tightening on the steering wheel. Her gaze roamed around the stores nearby and people walking on the snowy sidewalks. Just in case.

And a little further down the street, in a small corner beside a bakery, Sylvie spotted a retail store.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look, she decided.

The selection of items inside the store was… less than pleasing. They weren't bad in on themselves, but as Sylvie browsed the racks of hoodies and sweatpants and t-shirts, she felt that nothing seemed right. In her eyes, nothing particularly suited you and nothing was good enough.

A sigh went past Sylvie's lips as she ran a hand through her hair, messing it up more than it already was. She felt lost, out of place in her own skin. The few people around her were minding their own business, eyes fixed on the clothes they were after. Yet she couldn't help but think they were watching her.

She didn't know how to do this. Any of it. She didn't know what it was that you made her feel; she didn't know how to act around you without looking like this was her first shot at a normal life; she didn't know how to buy a damn gift for you.

Her mind started spiraling and she second-guessed her decision to ever say yes to all of this.

Sylvie was about to bolt out of the store and come up with some excuse about not being able to join you, when her eyes caught sight of a green and golden scarf. It was hung by itself and looked rather out of place amidst the t-shirts beside it.

Sylvie made a beeline for it, instantly reaching out to run her fingers through the soft fabric. It was comfortable to the touch, dark green wool woven with specks of details in gold; carefully made, not a string in the wrong place.

Carefully, Sylvie took it fully in her hands. This is it, she decided with a faint smile. This is perfect. You were always complaining about being cold, after all.

She walked up to the cashier with a newfound confidence, holding tight onto the precious scarf. "It's a gift," she stated rather proudly, "How do I do this?"

The woman behind the counter looked less than pleased to be working on Christmas Eve, she raised an unamused eyebrow at Sylvie; "You want it wrapped?"

Sylvie hesitated for a beat, and then recalled the many customers she had served who held bags themed with reindeer, Santas, and the like, all carrying wrapped gifts inside. It seemed to be the appropriate decision. "Yes."

After her detour for gift shopping, the day went about as normal as it could. Sylvie got to work barely on time, parked her truck in her usual spot, served a few customers, and watched as thin snowflakes fell from the sky. It wasn't a busy day, only a few and far in between walked in to grab a lunch, and most of them took it in a to-go bag.

When the clock hit 4 PM, however, Sylvie grew restless. She would be leaving earlier today, and you would be stopping by any minute now.

"Ah, almost time to leave," Carla, one of Sylvie's colleagues and one of the few who'd also agreed to work at this time of year, sighed from her place on the other side of the counter.

"Yep," Sylvie mumbled, her eyes fixed on the parking lot outside.

"Can't wait to not come to work tomorrow," Carla chuckled, "Gonna be spending the day with my kids." She smiled to herself and turned to look at Sylvie properly; "You got any plans, Sylvie?"

The enchantress' instinct was to deflect the question with something else, but her lips hovered and she found herself being engulfed in a foreign emotion. "Yes," she breathed, "I do." The soft smile on her lips held more sentiment than she cared to admit.

A gush of wind washed over her then, making her hair flow. She looked towards the entrance and saw you standing between the open doors. A familiar smile crinkled the sides of your eyes and you raised a gloved hand in a timid wave.

"And she just arrived," Sylvie spoke, more to herself than to her colleague, words dripping with something akin to adoration. She took off her hat, picked up her checkered trenchcoat from the back, and bid Clara goodbye before walking up to you.

"Hey," you greeted her, burying your hands in the pockets of your jacket. Voice sweet as honey and cheeks pink from the cold. "You ready to go?"

It scared her, that you could so easily strip her of her defenses. Her muscle memory sometimes urged Sylvie to hold onto the handle of a sword that wasn't there. If only to feel some sense of security.

She gulped, wriggling the ends of her sleeves between her fingers. This warmth, these colors you'd unintentionally brought to her life—she never realized how much she craved it until you came along.

Maybe she doesn't need her defenses anymore.

"Yeah."

With that, Sylvie climbed into her truck and you followed, giving her the instructions that led to your house. The drive was comfortable, the weight of your presence beside her, surprisingly, didn't throw her off; on the contrary, it felt like you belonged there—talking about the upcoming snowstorm of tonight and pointing out the blinking lights you passed by.

Your home turned out to be exactly as Sylvie expected it to be. Two trees stood tall in front of the small house made of dark wood, several string lights were hung all over the porch, and there was a Santa plushie peering through the window. The inside was all warm and homey, each nook and cranny of your house exuded comfort and peace.

You took off your jacket, haphazardly throwing it over the couch, and kicked off your shoes. "Please, make yourself at home," you gestured around with a wide smile. "I'm gonna make some hot chocolate to warm up, would you like one?"

With her heart in her mouth, after a lifetime of living in cold, apocalyptic worlds, Sylvie allowed herself to be enveloped by the warmth. The blinking lights of the Christmas tree in your living room danced over her skin; in her wildest dreams, she'd dreamt of this. Tears prickled her eyes.

A gentle touch brushed her fingers, and Sylvie held her breath. She glanced down to see your fingers hesitantly hooking around hers. You'd noticed the crumbling walls around her—Sylvie didn't mind. Your touch raised goosebumps on her skin. She held you tighter, "I'd love one."

You led her to the kitchen, talking about the bathroom at the end of the hall and the guest bedroom she'd be staying at, only letting go of her hand when you had to start preparing the two mugs of hot chocolate. "I'm glad you agreed to come here," you spoke casually, keeping your back to Sylvie as you skimmed around the kitchen. "I was- I was afraid you'd think I was weird for asking."

Sylvie chuckled, bashful eyes looking down at her hands. Her heart wanted to jump from her chest. She bit her lip, wondering if it would be too foolish to admit what it meant. "I was glad you did," she confessed quietly, both to you and herself. "I'd be alone otherwise."

Your movements halted, and after a beat of silence, you glanced at her over your shoulder. "I would too."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Hours went by like minutes. Chocolate wraps and a half-empty bottle of wine were now discarded on your coffee table. Somewhere along the late hours of the night, you and Sylvie ended up bundled together on your couch under a blanket, sharing stories and laughing to your heart's content as if you'd known each other for years.

You'd lost count of how many embarrassing childhood memories you'd already spilled for her, all so you could hear that laugh of hers again and again. She was beautiful like that. With the warm glow of your fireplace highlighting her features, the shape of her smile, and the strands of her hair. You did your best to capture this exact image of her in your mind, so you could put it on paper later.

Sylvie lay on one side of the couch while you occupied the other, her legs were tangled with yours under the blanket. Maybe this wasn't just a mere infatuation, you mused to yourself, drinking in the spark of her eyes and the weight of her body on yours.

She leaned her head on the back of the couch, looking at you as her smile faded from a wide grin to a soft tilt of lips. She had the look of someone who just discovered something magical. You couldn't help but think you weren't too different.

Her very presence was like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. Her melodic voice was the last thing you heard before drifting off to a light slumber, dreaming of warm colors and bright eyes.

It was a ten, maybe fifteen-minute thing. One of those naps that catch you by surprise when you're engulfed in comfort.

You woke with the feeling of the couch moving beside you and then heard the sound of pages being carefully turned. The blanket still rested comfortably over your body and the fireplace still cracked with a low flame. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you came to only to be greeted with the sight of Sylvie sitting by your side, with your sketchbook in her hands.

You inhaled sharply and held the air in your lungs, bunching up the edges of your blanket in your hands. Suddenly wide awake. You could vaguely recall forgetting the book on top of the kitchen table this morning.

Her hands held the book almost reverently, delicate fingertips tracing the lines that shaped sketches of her. They were fairly endless and now that you watched as she turned the pages, you realized there were more than what you accounted for. The dark graphite on paper outlined her hair, her eyes, her lips; and Sylvie herself gazed down at the drawings with her lips parted and eyes glazed over.

You gulped, with any possible words stuck in your throat. Would she be mad? creeped out? Maybe never want to speak with you again?

You knew that she knew you were awake already, yet for long moments, Sylvie held the silence. Her lower lip twitched at each new image of her that she discovered in your book. It almost looked like she was holding her breath too.

Gripping tightly onto your book, Sylvie finally looked up at you again; "Did you… make these?" It was nothing but a breath, almost as if she was afraid of the answer.

You merely nodded, avoiding her eyes.

Sylvie breathed in, it sounded a lot like a sniffle. She pursed her lips, looking down at the book and then back at you. "Why?"

You cocked your head to the side, focusing past your thundering heart and on the soft curve of her eyebrows and the way her bright eyes reflected the orange flames of the fireplace—they glimmered, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say it was because there were tears there.

"I uh-" Your voice stumbled, and you cleared your throat to compose yourself. "You were… captivating ever since the first time I saw you. I thought that- that there was a lot of beauty and…" You bit your lip, hesitating. "And a lot of sadness, in you. And I just… wanted to capture it. I couldn't help it, I'm sorry."

A gentle smile came to Sylvie's lips, there were too many emotions swimming behind her eyes for you to put your finger on any of them. "You think I'm…" her words were quiet, private. Her fingers fiddled with one of the pages. "I'm beautiful?"

You opened your mouth to answer just as your gaze caught sight of the window that led to your porch. Outside, you could see the heavy snow falling from the sky. A soft gasp went past your lips, "The snowstorm is starting." You threw the blanket off your lap and ran to your door, haphazardly putting on your boots before yanking the door open and rushing outside.

The snowflakes clouded the dark horizon of the night, falling rapidly like summer rain and collecting on the streets in a white blanket. The lone lamposts cast a golden light on the increasing snowfall, if you pretended enough, it almost looked like specks of magic. The snow had always fascinated you. Despite the chilling cold it brought, you always waited eagerly for the first real snowfall of the year.

You stood in the open space of your yard, looking up at the sky and watching as cold stars fell upon your skin and clung to your clothes.

Slow footsteps that crunched the snow captured your attention. You turned around and saw Sylvie joining you, her eyes were wide in amazement as she watched the white flakes cascading down from the sky. She raised a hand to try and catch the snow, carefully so, as if the natural phenomenon could scare easily.

The snow kissed her pink cheeks and landed on her gently outstretched hand, it surrounded her as if it chose to fall tonight only so her eyes could witness, touching her with delicacy, all intimate and tender as some of the flakes melted on her. You were envious of their privilege. A breathless chuckle escaped Sylvie, and her gaze turned to you. There was a near child-like excitement glinting in her pupils and it was enchanting.

You watched as the faded light of the street lamps outlined her body, as the snowflakes clung to her eyelashes and brought a smile to her lips. The world around you blurred at the edges; there was only her and the snow. "Beautiful," you simply breathed, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

Sylvie blinked multiple times, her smile fading yet the shine in her eyes increasing tenfold. The air was suddenly charged with electricity, warm under the cold weather. Sylvie's lips parted, and you thought you saw her glancing down at your lips.

You chanced a step closer, and then another, running your tongue over your bottom lip. One of your hands brushed hers, while the other came up to tuck strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

Sylvie gripped your hand as soon as she felt your touch, as if you could disappear with the snow at any second.

"More than beautiful." The increasing wind nearly carried your voice away. You traced the outline of Sylvie's jaw with your thumb, the same one you'd traced with your pencil countless times before. "I don't think I could ever tire of drawing you."

There was no time for you to react before Sylvie took hold of your cheeks with both hands and pulled you in. Her lips crashed with yours with an unexpected delicacy. She came closer until her bare feet stood between your boots and her chest was flush with yours, as if no amount of closeness was close enough.

Her kiss was tentative and almost shy in a way, the softest lips moving in tandem with yours like they belonged together. You gripped her waist, onto the fabric of her plaid pajama shirt that you thought looked oh so adorable on her as soon as you saw her change into it.

With your eyes closed, all you could feel were Sylvie's warm touch and gasps that you kissed away, a striking contrast to the cold snowflakes falling onto your skin and melting between each stolen kiss. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Sylvie's fingers buried in the hair at the nape of your neck, she pulled away only a fraction of a second, bumping her nose with yours to fill her lungs with only the amount of air enough to get her lips back on yours. Surrendering herself to the moment, to you.

Your fingertips sneaked beneath her shirt, gingerly brushing against the skin of her hip. Sylvie shivered under your touch. Her lips tasted like chocolate and wine, all sweet and addictive.

When she pulled away, Sylvie refused to go far. Her doe eyes were swimming in a sea of adoration, almost pleadingly so. You tugged her closer still, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead. It felt like a promise, the world frozen in place to hold the moment.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

When Sylvie woke up the very next morning, she wasn't sure if it had been a dream or not. Golden rays of sunlight seeped through the window and made the snow outside shine like glitter. Sylvie touched her lips with the tip of her fingers, the memory felt almost too perfect to be real. But then again, she doubted her subconscious would ever gift her with such a blessing over the night.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sylvie glanced at the package resting on top of the bedside table. She had been extra careful for it to not be crumpled or torn, it still looked perfect.

She ran a hand through her hair and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before getting up and walking to the window. The streets, sidewalks, and yards all around were covered in a thick layer of white snow, glistening under the sun. It was Christmas morning, and Sylvie was stalling.

Apprehension and nervousness twirled in her stomach wildly, she wasn't used to this. What if you regretted it? What if she had crossed a line?

The clattering of plates coming from the kitchen pulled Sylvie out of her mind. You were already awake.

Taking in a deep breath to steady herself, Sylvie forced her feet to move. She picked up her wrapped gift, and turned the door handle.

Immediately, Sylvie was engulfed by the smell of cinnamon and chocolate, it weaved through the air like a warm hug, making her close her eyes and inhale deeply. The enchantress couldn't help but allow her nose to guide her towards the kitchen, wood boards creaking under her bare feet and stripes of sunlight coming through the windows and shining against her pajamas as she walked.

The radio was on and you were humming along with the song playing, with your back turned to her as you worked on something on top of the counter, your hips swaying softly and hair pulled up in a haphazardly done bun. The window beside you was open, allowing for the cold breeze to come in, along with the morning sun rays, bathing your kitchen in an array of warm colors.

Sylvie's heart was in her throat, she bit her lip until she nearly tasted blood. There was a sting in her eyes as she looked at you as if she'd just realized what love felt like, what life was all about.

As you turned around, with your lower lip between your teeth and focused solely on the two mugs of hot chocolate in your hands so you wouldn't spill anything, Sylvie decided that she could get used to this. Actually, she would have a very hard time ever waking up without it. Without you.

When you noticed her standing before you, holding the wrapped gift between her hands as if her life depended on it, a huge smile broke into your lips and you lit up like the Christmas tree in your living room.

"Sylvie!" You exclaimed her name as if you'd been waiting the whole morning to say it. You left both mugs on the table and didn't waste a second before rushing to her. Sylvie barely had time to move your gift away before your body collided with hers. You hugged her tightly, bunching the fabric of her shirt between your fingers. "Merry Christmas," you whispered against her skin.

A breath Sylvie didn't realize she'd been holding went past her lips as she enveloped her arms around you, burying her nose in your hair and savoring the feeling of you. "Merry Christmas."

When you pulled away, Sylvie's cheeks were dusted pink and it had nothing to do with the cold. She avoided your gaze, looking down at the package in her hands instead. Tracing the wrapping with her thumbs, she said; "Um- I bought you this…" It almost sounded like a question, as if she wasn't sure this was the right way to go about it.

"You got me a gift?"

There was a waver in your voice that made Sylvie look up at you, only to be greeted with the sight of your eyes shining with… could it be love?

Sylvie tried to mimic your smile, as much as her nerves would allow. She nodded, pushing the gift into your hands.

You took it as if it was made of gold, hugging it to your chest. "Thank you," you breathed, before leaning in to land a peck to the corner of Sylvie's lips.

The gesture brought goosebumps up and down Sylvie's spine, and she watched with bated breath as you carefully tore open the wrapping at last. Your mouth hung open as you pulled out the scarf, tones of green and golden molding between your fingertips. You felt over the fabric, with your eyes drinking in every detail of it, until you promptly hooked the scarf around your neck and nuzzled in it; "I absolutely love it!" Your eyes crinkled on the sides because of your smile.

Sylvie's heartbeat stumbled, she reached up to trace the green fabric until her fingertips found the skin of your jaw. "It suits you."

"Oh, I just remembered," you told her suddenly and took hold of her hand so you could pull her to the living room. You dragged Sylvie to stand before your Christmas tree, and under it, rested a single box wrapped in green and red paper decorated with little Santas. "It's for you," your voice was as timid as Sylvie's had been as you pointed to the lone box.

Sylvie blinked and turned to you, squeezing your hand to make sure you were real. "You got me a gift?" She couldn't remember the last time someone had gotten her anything.

You pursed your lips and nodded, almost bouncing on your stance from excitement. "Of course. Come on, open it."

A breathless chuckle went past Sylvie's lips, and she knew right then and there, on this peaceful Christmas morning beside you, that she was a goner. She crouched down and unwrapped the box, prying it open with utmost care. From inside it, she pulled a crumple of white, green, and golden fabric. Much like the scarf she had given you, it was meticulously sewn together with a soft and comfortable wool.

Her chest felt all tight and warm with an emotion she could barely contain within herself. Standing up and stretching the fabric, Sylvie realized that it was a sweater, decorated with reindeer and Christmas trees. Peering around it and to you, she could clearly see you were holding back a grin.

"We'll be matching!" You exclaimed, clasping both your hands together.

Without a second thought, Sylvie pulled the sweater over her pajama shirt, closing her arms around herself and raising her shoulder as the soft fabric enveloped her. "It's perfect." She decided.

A soft laugh went past your lips and you raised a hand to Sylvie's hair, straightening the strands she had messed up. Your fingers brushed over the soft, blonde strands, until they fell to her shoulder and then found her hand, intertwining your fingers together.

Sylvie basked in the silence of the moment, in the feeling of your skin touching hers, of the comforting weight of your presence. She closed her eyes and gripped your hand tighter, gulping back a sudden wave of tears. From a lifetime of living in worlds on the edge of destruction, she'd found her little piece of paradise, all on her own. And she'd keep it close to heart until the end of her days.

The thumb of your free hand brushed her cheek, drying a drop of wetness there. The single tear that had fallen past her defenses. Sylvie looked at you and expected to see confusion or even judgment, but she only found care and adoration.

You brought your intertwined hands to your lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles; "I made us hot chocolate, what do you say?"

Sylvie's answer came in the form of a kiss of her own, to your lips instead.

Perfect.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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Sylvie’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us

#sylvie x reader #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie imagine #sylvie #marvel #loki series #loki #sylvie x you #marvel x reader #sylvie x female reader #sylvie laufeydottir x reader #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #sylvie fanfic #my story

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