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highvern · 3 months ago

Text

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers

warnings: cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption

Length: ~19.5k

Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”

“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.

He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture.

Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem.

“Me first,” you whisper back.

Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list.

Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.

[09:48] You: be nice

[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer

[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid

It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit

Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.

[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more

[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more

[09:50] You: oh?

Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.

The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.

You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.

Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”

“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”

“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”

“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”

It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car).

It’d been…not good.

Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute.

Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume.

And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season.

It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple.

So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror.

It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot.

Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester.

With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.

Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early.

“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.

He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.

The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”

Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.

A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.

On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”

“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.

“May he rest in peace.”

Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.

He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.

There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.

You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.

“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.

Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.”

True.

“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”

Even truer.

The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.

Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance.

Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.

Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.

Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.

It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction.

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks.

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort.

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue.

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh.

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way.

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it.

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily.

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest.

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction.

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.

Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks.

It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.

“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts.

Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital.

Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.

You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.

“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.

“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”

She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.

“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”

The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.

“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”

Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”

“No, all three people who asked her got one.”

“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.

“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”

“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”

Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together.

But now that’s over.

Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.

“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”

Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.

The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.

Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.

Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.

The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.

Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word.

Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords.

Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”

“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”

“No,” you spit like a curse.

Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.”

His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?”

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”

In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.

“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”

You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”

“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”

“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”

He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him.

The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?”

You do it again.

“Stop.”

“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.

Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.

“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.

“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them.

Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.

It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.

He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth – Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.

But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.

“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.

“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.

He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”

“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.

A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns.

There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in?

“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.

When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible.

The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.

He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning.

The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“Morning.”

You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”

The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.

He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.

You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.

Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.

A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.

His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue.

Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.

“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.

With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.

“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.

You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.

He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.

Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.

You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans.

He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”

“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.

But you can’t.

“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.

A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.

Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”

The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is.

You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.

“Stop.”

He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”

The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.

The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”

“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”

“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”

Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.

There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.

The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes.

You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest.

There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it.

Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.

“Hey,” you call.

He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”

And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.

He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”

“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—

“You did.”

“But—”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”

And then you're alone.

You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.

You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.

You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.

Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.

The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.

It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.

It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud.

A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.

He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.

Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.

Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.

“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”

Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.

“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.

“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?”

“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”

“Got it.”

Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide.

It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.

It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.

Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.

A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.

You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.

His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.

It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.

Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.”

He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.

He still hasn’t kissed you.

You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”

You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”

“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness.

His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter.

You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you.

The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now.

“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.

He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood.

Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.

“Why is your boyfriend moping?”

“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching.

You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!”

It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.

Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.

Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.

“Turn around.”

He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist.

“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn.

On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.

“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes.

Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.”

He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.

The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.

Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”

Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.

You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat.

“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him.

A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan.

Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?”

“When you almost got us killed?”

Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).

“Do it again.”

His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.

“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”

Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for. “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”

You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.”

Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”

Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed.

He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely.

“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.

He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips.

“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”

The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.

What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt.

Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”

You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.”

“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.

“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”

He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit.

“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry.

Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”

Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession.

“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”

If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips.

“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.

You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms.

His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away.

You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”

Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”

Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”

“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—

“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.

“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”

He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”

“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.

“We can’t sleep here.”

Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”

He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other.

“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?

Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”

“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.

He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”

You don’t.

There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.

Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work.

Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.

“Oh.”

Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.

“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”

He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize.

“You’re a bad liar.”

Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit.

You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face. “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.

Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well.

“Is this penance?”

“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.

“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”

Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too.

“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”

“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest.

He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”

You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”

“After?”

“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”

“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.

“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.

Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.

“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”

He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”

“You made that pretty clear.”

“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”

“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”

“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.

Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.

You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”

Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”

“You and Wonwoo.”

What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”

If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.

“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.

“‘Huh’ what?”

“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”

It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be.

Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call.

But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side.

Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”

“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”

Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”

“But you guys are always together.”

“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”

“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”

“How does me failing you sound?” you spit.

Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless.

Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.

This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously.

But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety.

Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.

“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner.

It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction.

“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.

Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you.

Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.

“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods.

The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.

“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares.

Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.

“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”

Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”

“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.

The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.

Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”

Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.

You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up.

You want to drown in it.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”

“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this

If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.

“What?” he says.

You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw.

“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”

You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either.

“You think I’d hate you?”

He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.

“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”

For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”

You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”

Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.”

“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.”

If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.

Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment.

When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.

Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete.

Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.

In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.

He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored.

Other people notice too.

In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.

In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.

Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow.

Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.

Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.

Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.

In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist.

You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.

And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.

She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap.

This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.

“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”

Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”

“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”

“What?” you repeat again.

There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.

“So what does this mean?”

“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”

Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.

“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”

The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”

You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry?

It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”

You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.

Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.

“Let me finish.”

“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”

“I love you.”

You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.

“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”

You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.

“You love me?”

All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.

“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.

“What the hell was that for?”

He does it again.

“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.

“Whatever, you love me.”

He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Why are you crying?”

You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.

“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”

“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”

“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”

You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.

He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.

You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.

“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.”

You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”

“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.

“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”

“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”

He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”

“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”

He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.

The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt.

He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.

The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too.

You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit. You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”

Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.

He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.

“Roll over,” you pant.

Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”

“Make love to me,” you croon.

He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?”

“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.

“Love it.”

“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”

Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more.

Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.

“I love you, too.”

You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.

Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.

“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”

He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.

In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.

“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.

You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.

“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”

He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.

But you’re not done yet.

You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?”

Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”

“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.

“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.

“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.

“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”

“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.

“Know anyone interested?”

He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.

His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”

You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.

Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.

“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.

“Really?”

“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”

Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.

“A-about?”

Everything.

He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly.

He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”

You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”

You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”

“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss.

When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.

Epilogue

4 months later…

There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.

On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical.

And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.

You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts.

Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.

You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it. “That sucks.”

“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.

Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.

So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.

“Babe.”

“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.

“What’s that?”

He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.

You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.

Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

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scorpiosbite · 19 days ago

Text

the first time drew saw actress!reader.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── when drew was forced by madelyn to come watch this new show with her and the rest of the cast he didn’t expect to have his heart captured by the mesmerising woman on the screen.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 which is when game of thrones started airing in my timeline also actress!reader is anywhere between 19-22 years old.

drew was sprawled across the couch in his hotel room, aimlessly scrolling. after a long day of filming under the hot and heavy sun of morocco, he had no intention of doing anything that required effort. his plan was to simply scroll until his eyes got heavy and he knocked out, but knowing his insomnia that wouldn’t be until the early hours of the morning.

glancing at the time displayed on his phone ten pm it read, he let out a heavy sigh, though his body ached with exhaustion, his mind would not shut off. but before he could put down his phone and try to force himself to sleep, a knock sounded on the door “yeah?”

“drew! its maddie.”

“maddie?” he spoke softly, what’s she doing up at this time. usually she was asleep the moment she got back to the hotel. “come in, its open.”

she came tumbling through the door, coming to a stop in front of the couch where he laid. drew couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her. “what’s up?”

“drew! you gotta come watch this new show with us!” her hands were placed on her hips as she looked down at him.

drew sighed, a noise of exhaustion. “i can’t be fucked getting up, cline.” her face scrunched up, ready to dispute him.

“drew you have to! the last episode of season one just came out and i watched the first episode when it aired and it was so good that i stopped watching so that we could binge it all when the season finished!”

recognition sparked on his face. “wait is this game of thrones? i remember you saying how good the first episode was, like two months ago.”

madelyn’s face grew excited at the fact that he remembered. “yeah! please please, you have to come watch it, jd, bailey, chase, laci, rudy and austin are already in my room waiting.”

drew mulled over the idea for a moment. either he could rot in his room until his call time tomorrow or hang out with his friends and possibly watch a good show, if maddie’s high praise was anything to go by.

“yeah, alright let’s go.” he stood up from the couch, stretching his arms and grabbing his phone to follow maddie, who was already halfway out the door, unable to wait any longer.

when they arrived at her room, the first episode was already lined up on the screen, the hbo logo blaring in the dark room. drew greeted everyone and then took a seat on the spare love seat by the window. “you guys get forced too?” he questioned.

“yup.” jd breathed out. “nah i’ve been wanting to watch this, i remember hearing about it when they started filming, it’s supposed to be like super graphic and vulgar.” madison commented. “shit, really? i know nothing about this show, other than the fact that cline can’t shut up about it.” austin added. chuckles sounded across the room, and madelyn yelled from the kitchen where the popcorn she was making turned in the microwave. “y’all are about to thank me!”

drew simply sat in silence, with the amount maddie was praising this show, his skepticism grew, no way this show was that good. someone pressed play as soon as madelyn was seated, he didn’t see who. the intro song of the show blasted through the room and drew settled back into his seat.

“yo, pass me the popcorn?” chase rolled up the back and chucked it across the room from where he was sat, drew caught it with ease.

he couldn’t lie, the show was good, fifteen minutes in and he was hooked. and just when he thought that it couldn’t get better, you came on the screen.

“holy fuck who is that?” jd’s voice rang out, but drew felt as though his voice came from somewhere far away. he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. “she’s beautiful right?” madelyn sighed out. mummers of agreement sounded from the people sitting in the room. “her name’s y/n y/l/n.”

“y/n” drew repeated to himself softly, almost as he was testing the feel of your name in his mouth. rolling the syllables on his tongue, in that moment he decided that no other word would ever compare to the way your name felt on his lips.

dressed in a flowing dress with daring cuts exposing your seemingly soft skin, he wondered what would it feel like if he ran his palms along the smooth expansion. your hair sliver, long and loose to play visenya targaryen, the last targaryen, the daughter of rhaegar targaryen and elia martell. drew felt as though no one had ever looked more stunning in the history of the world.

“drew? you all good man?” someone asked, he didn’t know who, he couldn’t hear or think of anything beyond you and the performance you were giving. “i think starkey’s got a crush.” rudy sang out, and the rest laughed. but drew couldn’t care less, too busy watching you.

they watched two more episodes and as the third episode came to an end drew finally broke out of his trance. while the rest occasionally made comments during the show drew could not tear himself away from the screen, afraid that if he looked away he would miss you.

“i gotta hand it to you, cline, i’m hooked. that shit was amazing!” carlacia grinned. “i fucking told you guys!” she retorted back. “but aside from that, starkey? what did you think?” she smirked at him.

“yeah, that was good.” drew’s body tingling “that’s it? just good? you don’t wanna talk about the moon eyes you were making every time visenya came on screen?” drew cheeks tinged pink. “yeah, she’s pretty.” “aye, shot your shot man, she’s so fine.” madison teased.

as drew made his way back to his room he looked at the time, two am, damn he didn’t even realise time had passed that quick. sliding into his bed after taking a quick shower, he couldn’t help himself but run a quick search of you on google. “fuck.” the soft curse slipping from his lips, just when he thought you couldn’t get hotter, he saw pictures of you, not in costume, naturally a brunette, he was so fucked. fuck it, he quickly searched up your name on instagram.

you were laying in bed scrolling through instagram when a notification popped up.

drewstarkey started following you. follow back?

first one, do you like it? if you do i’ll keep writing. reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated.

#𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 actress!reader x drew starkey works #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x actress!reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe x reader

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won4kiss · 1 month ago

Text

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────UH OH, I’M FALLING IN LOVE.

𝓢YPNOSiS. you and heeseung have been rivals for as long as you could remember, constantly competing for the top spot in school—basically everything. living next door to each other only added to the fire, the tension between you, especially when heeseung’s cocky aura never seems to waver. but one single encounter shifts the entire dynamic, leading to confusing emotions arising, jealousy, and new surprising revelations. what happens when rivalry starts to feel like it’s growing into something more?

୨୧ 𝓟AiRING. academic rival! lee heeseung x fem! reader, e2l, platonic jake sim! x reader.

୨୧ 𝓖ENRE. frenemies to enemies to lovers trope, neighbours trope, slowburnish, she fell first, he fell harder, angst but vv happy & fluffy ending!! non!idol au.

୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, mean girl harassing yn, slight miscommunications, overthinking, heeseungs’ unfortunately vv dumb T-T, kissing, jealousy, insecurities, not proofread so expect spelling errors :3!!

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 10,283 | 10.2K

𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ labyrinth, taylor swift, let the light in, lana del rey, white mustang, lana del rey, i love you, i’m sorry, gracie abrams, nobody gets me, sza, fishtail, lana del rey, bel air, lana del rey, intro (end of the world), ariana grande, daydreamin’, ariana grande.

NOTE. after three days it’s finally complete:3 this is my first 10k+ work and i’m really proud of it!! feedback is always appreciated<3 ig this is another (late) birthday post for heeseung bc ilhsm!! ㅠㅠ

YOU HAVE ALWAYS HATED LEE HEESEUNG IN ALL YOUR YEARS OF LIVING.

or at least, that’s what you told yourself after your crush on him in freshman year, long before he decided he didn’t wanna be friends anymore—everyday as you stared at the back of his head in class, as you watched him stride confidently down the halls, or caught a glimpse of him outside your window, you knew you hated him.

it wasn’t hatred in the traditional sense, but rather an intense, gnawing resentment that had grown over the years.

he was your biggest rival—had been since childhood.

every achievement, every reward you earned, was always tainted by the fact that heeseung was right there, just a step ahead or a breath behind, competing with you for the same crown.

for as long as you could remember, it had been you and heeseung battling for the title of “number 1” in everything.

academics, sports, student council—if there was something to win, one of you would, and the other would be left second place, seething with anger.

you both knew it, and so did the rest of the school—the rivalry between the two of you was practically legendary.

and it didn’t help that you were neighbors.

from your bedroom window, you had a perfect view into heeseung’s room.

the distance between the two houses was just a few meters, and if you opened your windows at the same time, you could practically hear each other breathing.

there were nights when you could see the dim glow of his desk lamp as he studied late into the evening—no doubt working just as hard as you were, trying to maintain his title over you.

heeseung was infuriating, cocky, arrogant, and—worst of all—talented.

it wasn’t enough that he was smart—he was also athletic, charismatic, and effortlessly incredibly popular.

he’d never let you forget it, either, there wasn’t a day that passed without him throwing a smug comment your way about how he’d beat you in the last exam or how he scored higher in a math test by a single point.

“you almost had me that time,” he’d say with a smirk, as if being second place wasn’t a knife in your chest.

so, naturally, you’d responded in a way anyone else would, throwing curses and insults his way whenever you could.

it was a defense mechanism, a way to keep the bitter rivalry alive.

but deep down, you had to admit, there was something almost exciting about it.

heeseung pushed you to be better, to work harder—and while you loathed the look he gave you every time he won, there was something about his presence that you couldn’t quite shake off.

then, one morning, everything changed.

it was a normal tuesday, and you were getting ready for school as usual.

the sun was barely rising, casting a soft golden light into your room.

you were standing in front of your mirror, adjusting your uniform, when something caught your eye from the window—more specifically, someone.

heeseung.

at first, you didn’t think much of it—after all, his window was right across from yours, and you’d seen him countless times getting ready for the day.

but then you realized—he wasn’t just standing there, he was shirtless.

your heart skipped a beat—you froze, eyes wide, as you took in the sight of him.

his hair was still messy from his slumber, and his skin was glowing softly in the glow of the morning light.

you’d never really thought about heeseung in any way other than as your obnoxious rival, but seeing him like this—bare and vulnerable—you couldn’t deny that it did something to you.

you tried to tear your eyes away, but for some reason, you couldn’t.

you felt your cheeks grow hot as you stood there, practically staring at him.

and that’s when he turned his head.

he caught you.

heeseung’s eyes flickered toward your window, and for a split second, you thought maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t notice.

but then his lips curled into that familiar smirk, the one that always made you want to punch him, and he raised an eyebrow.

slowly, he stepped closer to the window, clearly amused by the fact that you’d been caught staring.

your heart hammered in your chest, this was the most mortifying moment of your life.

before you could react, heeseung opened his window, pushing it up with a soft creak.

his smirk widened as he leaned against the windowsill, his bare chest still on full display.

and then, he did something you didn’t expect—he motioned for you to open your window.

for a moment, you just stood there, frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

every fiber of your being screamed at you to ignore him, to pretend this never happened.

but there was something about the way he was looking at you—something playful, something almost… flirty? it sent your brain into a whirlwind of confusion.

with shaky hands, you hesitated, then slowly cracked open your window, just enough to hear him.

“what? did you enjoy the view?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

your face flushed even hotter—this was not happening. lee heeseung was flirting with you?

he had never flirted with you before—he was usually busy insulting you or trying to one-up you.

but now? now he was standing there, shirtless, with that stupid grin on his face, teasing you like this was some kind of game.

“i—what are you even talking about?” you stammered, trying desperately to regain some sense of control. “i wasn’t staring, freak!”

heeseung chuckled softly, the sound sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“sure, you weren’t. it’s okay to admit it, you know? i get it. i am pretty hard to resist.”

you gaped at him, utterly speechles, was this really happening? was he seriously being… flirty?

your brain couldn’t handle it—without thinking, you slammed your window shut, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

your heart was racing as you quickly yanked the blinds down, cutting off any possibility of him seeing your red, embarrassed face.

you leaned back against the wall, your hand pressed to your chest as you tried to calm down.

what the hell just happened? was this some new tactic of his to throw you off your game? to mess with your head right before exams?

or… was it something else entirely?

for the first time in years, you found yourself truly confused about lee heeseung, and that terrified you.

you tried to push the incident out of your mind, but it clung to your thoughts like a stubborn stain you couldn’t scrub away.

that strange encounter with heeseung left you feeling unsettled, his cocky grin and the way his eyes lingered on you making you feel things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

flirting. it was definitely flirting. but why? what was his angle?

in the days that followed, things got even weirder.

heeseung, your sworn academic rival, the bane of your existence, had suddenly… softened.

the mean remarks, the casual taunts—gone.

instead, he’d been acting almost… considerate?

you noticed it first when you were walking into class one morning, arms full with textbooks and a coffee in hand.

normally, heeseung would be the first to slip in front of you and let the door slam shut in your face—just to get under your skin, of course.

but that morning, he held the door open for you, his eyes meeting yours briefly as he gave you a small nod.

“thanks,” you mumbled, confused but too caught off guard to say anything more.

he didn’t say anything either—no smug response, no condescending smile.

he just let you walk through the door and quietly followed you inside. the whole thing was… unnerving.

then, during class, he didn’t try to one-up you during discussions, didn’t toss his usual gloating looks your way when he answered a question right before you could.

he was just sitting there, minding his own business.

you couldn’t understand it. this wasn’t the heeseung you knew—the heeseung you’d spent years battling, exchanging insults, and outdoing each other.

this version of him, quiet and strangely kind, threw you off balance, and it only got worse.

in the hallways, heeseung started greeting.

not with his usual sarcasm, but with a simple, “hey.” sometimes, he’d even smile at you—an actual smile, not that infuriating smirk he usually wore.

you didn’t know what to do with it. your brain felt like it was short-circuiting every time he looked at you, like you couldn’t reconcile this new heeseung with the one who had spent years making your blood boil.

it wasn’t just you who noticed the change, either—your friends started giving you weird looks every time heeseung passed by without some snarky comment.

one day, your friend mina leaned over during lunch and whispered, “what’s up with heeseung? he’s been acting like… different lately.”

“i don’t know,” you muttered, stabbing at your food with more force than necessary. “maybe he’s finally grown up.” mina raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“or maybe he’s just tired of pretending to hate you.”

you nearly choked on your drink. “what?”

“come on,” mina said, smirking. “it’s obvious. heeseung’s been obsessed with you for years. he’s probably just finally figured out that he actually likes you.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “that’s ridiculous. heeseung hates me. we’ve been rivals since we were kids.”

mina shrugged. “rivals, sure. but that doesn’t mean he hates you. sometimes people use rivalry as an excuse to get close to someone.”

you didn’t want to believe it. you couldn’t believe it. heeseung liking you? it made no sense.

he was obnoxious, arrogant, and had made your life hell for years.

there was no way he suddenly had feelings for you. no. it was all some game—some twisted strategy to throw you off your game. right?

but then there was that nagging feeling deep inside, the one you didn’t want to acknowledge— the same ones you felt not too many years ago.

the one that kept reminding you of how your heart had skipped a beat when you saw him shirtless through the window.

how your pulse quickened every time he smiled at you now, even if you hated to admit it.

the realization was creeping in slowly, like a slow, dread filled idea building in your chest.

the truth was, heeseung had always been more than just your rival. he’d always been the one person who could get under your skin in ways no one else could.

and maybe, there was something there—something that went beyond the rivalry.

but before you could make sense of it, everything had changed again.

a few days later, you noticed a new face in school.

she was striking—tall, with long, dark hair and a bright smile that seemed to light up the room.

she moved through the hallways with an air of confidence, making friends effortlessly.

within days, it felt like everyone knew her name—you quickly learned her name too: haerin.

at first, you didn’t pay much attention to her.

she was new, sure, but you had more important things to worry about—like the upcoming exams.

but then you noticed something that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t explain.

heeseung was spending time with her—a lot of time.

you saw them together between classes, walking side by side, talking and laughing.

heeseung, who had been oddly nice to you lately, now seemed to be focusing all his attention on this new girl.

it was subtle at first—just casual conversations, a friendly smile here and there—but soon, you started seeing them together all the time.

and it wasn’t just their proximity that bothered you. it was the way they were so… touchy.

heeseung would lean in close when he talked to her, his hand brushing her arm casually as he laughed at something she said.

she’d playfully nudge him back, her eyes sparkling.

it was the kind of easy, natural closeness that made you feel sick to your stomach.

jealousy was a foreign emotion for you—especially when it came to lee heeseung.

you’d never thought you’d care about who he spent time with—but seeing him with haerin, seeing how comfortable they were together, made something ugly and bitter rise in your chest.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being replaced.

that whatever strange connection you and heeseung had been developing was being overshadowed by this new girl.

as much as you tried to ignore it, the jealousy gnawed at you.

you couldn’t help but compare yourself to haerin—she was charming, effortlessly likable.

she fit in with heeseung’s world in a way that you never could.

you were his rival, his equal in competition, but haerin? she was someone who made him smile without the sharp edges.

you hated it. hated how it made you feel. hated how you started to question if heeseung had ever really changed at all, or if he had just been playing some long game with you.

days passed, and heeseung’s attention on haerin only seemed to grow.

they were inseparable now, and every time you saw them together, your heart clenched painfully.

the worst part was, heeseung barely even looked at you anymore.

he had stopped greeting you in the hallways, stopped holding the door for you, stopped leaving those lingering glances that had started to make your stomach flip.

it felt like you were disappearing from his world.

but maybe that was for the best, you thought—maybe heeseung was never meant to be anything more than your rival.

and maybe you were just fooling yourself into thinking there could be something more.

you had always prided yourself on your confidence.

in all the years you spent locked in competition with heeseung, you’d never doubted your abilities.

sure, he was good—annoyingly good—but so were you.

you matched him step for step, beat him sometimes, and when you didn’t, you got back up, ready to fight again.

but now, something was shifting, and it had nothing to do with grades or exams.

it had everything to do with haerin.

insecurity was new for you, but it was impossible to ignore, everywhere you looked, she was there—laughing with heeseung, brushing against him like they’d known each other for years, not just a couple of weeks.

they were so casual with each other, so comfortable.

you told yourself it didn’t matter, that heeseung’s friendships didn’t affect you.

but it did. it was starting to eat away at you, piece by piece.

what was worse was that you found yourself wondering why it wasn’t you.

why had heeseung been so kind to you one minute and then completely shifted his attention to someone else?

had all those smiles, those lingering glances, meant nothing? maybe you’d misread everything.

maybe it had never been anything more than a temporary truce in your endless battle.

but no matter how much you tried to brush it off, the truth was impossible to deny—you were jealous.

you hated that it felt like haerin was taking your place in heeseung’s life.

you hated the way she made him laugh so easily—and most of all, you hated how small and insignificant it made you feel.

and then came the final straw.

it was a friday afternoon, the cafeteria bustling with noise as students crowded around tables for lunch.

you were sitting with your usual group, mina chatting about some drama she’d seen on tv, but your attention was elsewhere—locked on the sight of heeseung and haerin across the room.

they were sitting together, as usual—haerin was leaning in close, whispering something that made heeseung throw his head back in laughter.

your chest tightened at the sight—you tried to look away, to focus on mina’s story, but it was impossible.

that green, bitter feeling of jealousy twisted in your stomach, making you feel sick.

“are you even listening?” mina’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you blinked, turning back to her.

“yeah, sorry,” you muttered, forcing a smile. “just… tired, i guess.”

mina raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but before she could say anything, someone approached your table.

it was haerin.

you looked up, startled to see her standing there with a carton of milk in hand, a sweet smile on her face.

but there was something about her expression that felt… off.

her eyes gleamed with a certain smugness that sent warning bells ringing in your mind.

“oops—” haerin’s voice was sickeningly sweet as she ‘accidentally’ tipped the milk carton over, sending the liquid spilling across the table and right into your lap.

your entire body stiffened as the cold milk soaked through your clothes, shock momentarily paralyzing you.

the cafeteria seemed to go quiet around you as everyone turned to look at the scene unfolding.

haerin’s smile didn’t waver for a second.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, though there wasn’t a trace of sincerity in her voice. “that was totally an accident!”

you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears as your mind raced to process what had just happened.

the milk was cold, seeping into your uniform, but that was the least of your concerns.

you knew it wasn’t an accident. haerin had done it on purpose, and judging by the look in her eyes, she wanted to humiliate you in front of everyone.

for a second, you felt frozen—the room was watching, the sound of whispers starting to make its way through the crowd as they waited to see what you would do.

“it wasn’t an accident,” you said, your voice sharp and louder than you intended.

you stood up abruptly, glaring at haerin. “you did that on purpose.”

haerin’s smile didn’t falter—she tilted her head, feigning innocence as she blinked at you.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. it was just an accident, really. no need to get so upset.”

the fake sweetness in her voice set your teeth on edge.

anger bubbled up in your chest, mixing with the hurt and insecurity you’d been bottling up for days.

“that’s a lie,” you snapped. “you’ve been trying to mess with me since you got here.”

the whispers around you grew louder as people leaned in, watching the confrontation unfold.

haerin’s eyes flickered with amusement, but before you could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

��hey, what’s going on here?”

you turned to see heeseung standing a few steps away, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked between you and haerin.

for a moment, relief washed over you. heeseung had seen everything, right? he’d understand what was happening, and for once, he’d take your side.

but then haerin turned her wide, innocent eyes on him, her lower lip jutting out in a perfect pout.

“i accidentally spilled milk on her,” she said, her voice soft. “but she thinks i did it on purpose. i don’t know why she’s so mad…”

you watched in disbelief as heeseung’s expression softened.

he glanced at you, but there was no anger in his eyes—only frustration.

“come on,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “it was an accident. don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your heart sank.

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing—heeseung was taking her side? after everything you’d been through, after all the strange kindness he’d shown you in the past few days, he was choosing to believe her over you?

“that’s not what happened!” you shouted, your voice breaking with frustration. “she did it on purpose! you saw—”

“just drop it,” heeseung said, cutting you off—his tone was tired, as if this whole situation was just an inconvenience to him.

“you’re seriously overreacting.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. overreacting? he was dismissing you—again.

something in you snapped—without another word, you turned on your heel and bolted from the cafeteria, ignoring the whispers and stares that followed.

the humiliation, the betrayal—it was too much to bear.

you found yourself in the empty janitor’s room, the quiet darkness swallowing you whole.

you slid down the wall, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally came.

everything hurt—your pride, your heart, and the foolish hope you’d had that heeseung might actually care about you.

the cold, dim room was silent, except for your quiet sobs.

you tried to keep them in, biting your lip, but the tears just kept coming.

your hands trembled as they gripped your knees, pulling yourself into a ball on the floor of the empty janitor’s room.

it was the only place you could think to hide, the only place where no one would find you in this humiliating state.

you couldn’t believe how things had turned out—everything was a mess.

not just the milk soaking into your uniform, but the betrayal from heeseung, the stupid jealousy you felt toward haerin, and the way the entire cafeteria had seen you break down.

your head spun with anger and sadness, and no matter how hard you tried to calm yourself, the tears kept flowing.

then, there was a soft knock on the door.

you stiffened, wiping your face furiously with the back of your sleeve.

whoever it was, you didn’t want them to see you like this.

but before you could pull yourself together, the door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

“hey… are you okay?”

jake sim?

you blinked up at him, confused, you hadn’t expected anyone to come looking for you, least of all jake—heeseung’s rival on the basketball court and someone you’d barely spoken to outside of class.

he closed the door behind him, giving you a soft, understanding smile as he crouched down in front of you.

you sniffed, quickly wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still shaky. jake shrugged, sitting down beside you on the cold floor.

“i saw what happened in the cafeteria. i figured you might want to be alone, but… i also thought you could use some company.”

you looked away, embarrassed that he’d witnessed everything—the last thing you wanted was for anyone to see you like this, but at the same time, the quiet sympathy in his voice was oddly comforting.

“i don’t need company,” you muttered, but the words lacked conviction.

jake chuckled softly. “maybe not, but i’m staying anyway.” for a few moments, neither of you said anything.

jake sat beside you in silence, giving you space to collect your thoughts—it was strange how easy it felt to be around him.

even though you’d never been particularly close, his presence wasn’t overwhelming or intrusive. it was just… there, solid and dependable.

finally, you sighed, leaning your head back against the wall. “it was her,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“haerin. she did it on purpose.”

jake nodded. “i figured. she’s been hanging around heeseung a lot lately. guess she thought picking a fight with you would get her more attention.”

you clenched your fists, feeling the anger bubble up again. “and heeseung… he just believed her. he didn’t even listen to me. he just… told me to drop it, like it didn’t matter.”

jake was silent for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“yeah, that wasn’t cool of him. i don’t know what’s going on with heeseung, but what he did today was wrong. you deserved better than that.”

the simple validation of your feelings made something inside you crack open.

you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that—how much you needed someone to understand what you were going through.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

jake smiled at you, the kind of smile that felt genuine and warm. “anytime.”

for a while, you sat there in silence, letting the tension of the day slowly nib away in jake’s quiet company.

it was strange—this was the first real conversation you’d ever had with him, but somehow, it felt like you’d known him for longer.

there was no awkwardness, no pressure to fill the silence with unnecessary words. he was just… there.

after a while, you finally spoke again. “why are you being so nice to me?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

jake chuckled softly. “is it that surprising?”

“a little,” you admitted. “i mean, we’ve never really talked before.”

he nodded thoughtfully. “true, but i’ve seen you around. we’re in the same class, and you’re heeseung’s biggest rival. i guess i always admired how you handled him.”

you raised an eyebrow, surprised. “admired?”

“yeah,” he said with a smile. “heeseung can be a lot to deal with, but you never back down. you’re tough, and you’re not afraid to butt heads with him. that’s not something everyone can do.”

you blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

no one had ever put it that way before—most people saw your rivalry with heeseung as petty or competitive, but jake seemed to see something more.

something you hadn’t even realized about yourself.

“thanks,” you murmured, unsure of what else to say.

jake gave you another easy smile. “no problem. and hey, if you ever need someone to vent to, i’m here. heeseung might be my rival on the court, but that doesn’t mean i’m on his side when it comes to this.”

for the first time all day, you felt a small, genuine smile tug at your lips.

jake’s kindness, his quiet reassurance, was exactly what you needed.

he didn’t try to fix everything or offer empty words of comfort. he just listened, and somehow, that made all the difference.

“thanks, jake,” you said softly. “i really do appreciate it.”

“anytime,” he replied with a grin, standing up and offering you a hand to help you off the floor.

you hesitated for a moment, then took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

as you both made your way out of the janitor’s room, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like some of the weight on your chest had lifted.

jake’s unexpected kindness had done more to heal the hurt than you’d expected.

and as you walked side by side back to class, you realized that maybe, this was the beginning of a new friendship.

over the next few days, something unexpected happened—you found yourself spending more time with jake.

jake made everything feel a little easier, a little lighter, and you didn’t feel the constant pressure to put up walls around him.

at first, it was just small moments here and there, like passing each other in the hallways and exchanging knowing smiles, or sitting together during lunch when mina was busy.

with jake, there were no mind games, no intense competition, and definitely no betrayal.

the first time you laughed with him in class, you almost forgot the sting of what had happened with heeseung—almost.

it was small things at first. jake would crack a joke when you were feeling down, or lean over during study periods to ask a random question that had nothing to do with school but everything to do with making you smile.

he had this easygoing charm about him, the kind that made it impossible to stay mad or sad for long.

and, of course, heeseung noticed.

it was hard not to. you and jake had started walking to and from classes together, and every time heeseung passed by, you could feel his eyes on you.

he didn’t say anything at first, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your skin prickle—like he was trying to figure something out, something that was just out of his reach.

one afternoon, you were sitting with jake outside, taking in the rare moment of sunshine between classes.

jake had just told a terrible joke, the kind that made you laugh even though it was ridiculous, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, playfully nudging his shoulder.

“really, jake? that’s the best you’ve got?” you teased, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye as your laughter faded.

“hey, i don’t see you coming up with anything better,” he shot back, grinning.

his smile was infectious, and you felt a warm comfort wash over you.

it was nice, being able to relax like this—something you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

but then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

heeseung stood a few feet away, watching you and jake with a look that was hard to read.

his jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw something close to frustration flash across his face.

you immediately straightened up, the laughter dying in your throat as you met his gaze.

heeseung didn’t move, didn’t say anything, but the tension between the three of you was thick.

jake noticed too, his smile fading slightly as he glanced between you and heeseung, clearly picking up on the strange energy.

“heeseung,” jake greeted casually, though his tone was a little less cheerful than before. “you need something?”

heeseung’s eyes flickered from jake to you, and for a brief second, you saw something in them—something sharp and raw.

he shook his head, his expression unreadable. “no,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “just passing by.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say.

there was an awkwardness in the air, a tension that hadn’t been there before, and you couldn’t help but feel like something unspoken was simmering beneath the surface.

but before you could figure out what it was, heeseung turned and walked away without another word, leaving you and jake in a strange, uncomfortable silence.

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “heeseung sure knows how to kill a vibe, huh?”

you tried to laugh, but it came out weak and forced. “yeah…”

but your mind was already elsewhere—on the look in heeseung’s eyes, the way his shoulders had tensed when he saw you and jake laughing together.

heeseung had never been one to back down from anything, but now it seemed like he was avoiding you.

and it didn’t make sense—one minute, he was pushing your buttons, flirting with you through the window, and the next, he was… distant. cold.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you two, and you didn’t know how to fix it.

worse, you didn’t even know if you wanted to.

that night, as you sat at your desk pretending to study, you caught a flicker of movement outside your window.

your heart skipped a beat, and before you could stop yourself, you glanced over to see heeseung’s figure illuminated in the soft glow of his desk lamp.

your eyes locked for a moment.

then, heeseung did something that took you completely by surprise.

he reached down, grabbed something from the floor, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed a small rock at your window.

it hit with a soft tap, not loud enough to startle you, but enough to catch your attention.

you hesitated, unsure of what he wanted.

heeseung hadn’t thrown rocks at your window since you were kids, back when your rivalry was less serious and more playful— back when you could actually call lee heeseung one of your best friends.

now, the gesture felt strange—almost nostalgic in a way that made your chest tighten.

still, you couldn’t ignore him—you pushed the window up, letting in the cool evening air, and leaned out slightly, your voice low as you called over to him.

“what do you want?”

heeseung’s face was mostly in shadow, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the edge of his window as if he was holding something back.

“i need to talk to you,” he said, his voice quieter than you expected. “now.”

you frowned, your heartbeat quickening. “about what?”

“just open your window,” he muttered, his voice strained. there was something different in his tone—something vulnerable, almost desperate.

it wasn’t like the confident, cocky heeseung you knew. and that was what made you hesitate.

but after a long pause, you sighed and opened the window a little wider, waiting for whatever he had to say.

you stood at your window, the cool night air brushing against your skin, as heeseung’s figure shifted in his room across from yours.

he was still gripping the windowsill, his posture stiff and tense.

the silence between you stretched, uncomfortable and heavy, until finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“what do you want, heeseung?” you asked, your voice coming out sharper than you intended.

the wound from the cafeteria incident was still fresh, the memory of him siding with haerin burning in your chest.

for a second, heeseung didn’t respond, his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenched tight as if he was struggling with what to say.

then, finally, he let out a long breath, and his shoulders slumped, just a little.

“why are you hanging out with jake?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. “what?”

heeseung’s hand ran through his hair in frustration.

“jake. you’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately. laughing with him, spending time with him…” his voice trailed off, and when his eyes met yours again, there was a flash of something vulnerable in them—something you hadn’t seen before. “why him?”

anger flared inside you—after everything that had happened, after he had humiliated you in front of everyone, this was what he cared about? who you were spending time with?

“why does it matter?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “what, you’re allowed to spend all your time with haerin, but i can’t hang out with jake?”

heeseung winced at the mention of haerin, but he didn’t back down.

“that’s not what this is about—“

“then what is it about?” you shot back, your voice rising with frustration. “because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re just jealous.”

heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to say it out loud. “jealous? of jake?”

“yeah,” you said, glaring at him. “you have no right to question who i spend time with. especially after what you did.”

his brows furrowed in confusion. “what are you talking about?”

“the cafeteria, heeseung!” you practically shouted, the hurt finally spilling over.

“you took haerin’s side, you embarrassed me in front of everyone, and you didn’t even bother to hear me out! and now, you’re mad because i’ve been hanging out with jake? after you made it pretty clear you don’t care about me at all?”

the words came out harsher than you intended, but once they were out, there was no taking them back.

the raw truth of how much heeseung had hurt you was now laid bare between the two of you, hanging in the air like a thick fog.

heeseung’s expression crumpled. for a moment, he looked utterly lost, his eyes wide with regret and something close to panic.

“i—” he opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting away from yours. “i didn’t know. i didn’t realize…”

you let out a bitter laugh, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“of course you didn’t heeseung, you’ve been too busy with haerin to notice.”

heeseung’s face twisted with frustration. “it’s not like that with her.”

“really? because it sure seems like it.” your voice was trembling now, the emotional weight of everything threatening to crush you.

“you’re always with her. you don’t even look at me anymore. and when you did have the chance to stand up for me, you didn’t. you humiliated me, heeseung. and you didn’t care.”

the words hit him like a slap. you could see it in the way his eyes widened, how his hands balled into fists at his sides.

heeseung took a step closer to the window, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “you think i didn’t care?”

you stayed silent, your heart pounding in your chest.

heeseung’s jaw clenched, and then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “i’ve been an idiot. i know that now.” his eyes were locked on yours, and for the first time, you could see the depth of his regret.

“you’re right. i didn’t stand up for you, and i should have. i hurt you, and i hate that i did. but it’s because…”

he hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

“it’s because i’ve been trying so hard to ignore how i feel about you,” he finally confessed, his voice thick with anxiety.

“i’ve spent so long thinking of you as my friend—then my rival and enemy, as someone i had to beat, that i didn’t realize… i didn’t want to admit that it was more than that.”

your breath caught in your throat.

“i’ve been feeling odd—weird around you for a long time,” heeseung continued, his voice cracking slightly.

“but i didn’t know how to deal with it. i pushed you away, acted like a jerk because i was scared. and then haerin showed up, and i thought if i focused on her, maybe i could forget about you—get rid of this feeling, but i couldn’t.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.

you wanted to be angry, wanted to hold on to that hurt and betrayal, but hearing heeseung’s voice crack with vulnerability made it harder.

his words, the way he looked at you, made you feel things you had been trying to deny for so long.

“but why didn’t you defend me?” you asked, your voice breaking.

heeseung’s expression crumpled. “i don’t know,” he whispered. “i was stupid. i thought if i stayed out of it, it would just go away. but it didn’t. and now i’ve ruined everything.”

you stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching with the weight of it all.

heeseung was standing there, tears welling in his own eyes, and for the first time in all the years you’d known him, he looked completely vulnerable.

“i don’t know if i can forgive you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “not right now.”

heeseung nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as he swallowed hard.

“i understand,” he said softly. “but please… don’t shut me out.”

without another word, you shut your window, turning your back on him and collapsing onto your bed, emotions swirling inside you.

even though you had closed the window on him, part of you still wanted to reach out.

the next morning, you woke up feeling emotionally drained.

the conversation with heeseung played over and over in your mind like a broken record player, his voice echoing in your head, repeating those words.

“i’ve liked you for a long time.”—you had wanted to be angry, to stay angry, but now, all you felt was confusion.

did it even matter? he’d hurt you, after all.

that should’ve been enough to keep the walls you’d built between the two of you intact.

but something inside you had softened at seeing him so vulnerable, so broken.

you’d seen a side of him you weren’t sure anyone else had ever seen.

as you made your way to school, you told yourself that things would go back to normal.

you’d ignore heeseung like you always did, keep your distance, and focus on the things that mattered—your studies, your friendship with jake, anything but heeseung.

but the moment you walked into the classroom, all of that went out the window.

there, sitting on your desk, was a small carton of strawberry milk—your favorite.

you stopped in your tracks, blinking in confusion—the bright pink carton stood out against the plain wooden surface of your desk, and for a moment, you thought it had to be some kind of mistake.

but then you saw it— a folded note tucked underneath the carton.

with cautious fingers, you reached for the note and unfolded it. the handwriting was familiar, neat and precise.

“i’m sorry.”

that was it—no explanation, no signature, but you didn’t need one.

you knew exactly who it was from. your heart gave an involuntary flutter, and you quickly stuffed the note into your bag before anyone could see it.

your eyes darted to heeseung’s seat across the room.

he was already there, sitting with his head resting on his hand, staring at the window as if he hadn’t just left a peace offering on your desk.

he didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, like he was waiting for you to react.

you bit your lip, unsure of what to do—you wanted to stay mad at him, wanted to cling to the hurt and anger from yesterday, but this… this small gesture of apology tugged at something deep inside you.

heeseung wasn’t one to apologize easily. you knew that. he was proud, stubborn, and always had to win. but this? this was different. it wasn’t much, but it was something.

before you could figure out how to feel about it, the bell rang, and the classroom began to fill with students.

you slid into your seat, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as the day began.

over the next few days, it became a pattern.

every morning, when you arrived at school, there was something waiting for you on your desk—a carton of strawberry milk, a small packet of your favorite snacks, even a neatly folded handkerchief after gym class when you’d been sweating.

each gift came with the same simple note—“i’m sorry.”

it was starting to drive you crazy.

heeseung didn’t say a word to you during class, didn’t try to talk to you between periods, but his quiet gestures of apology were impossible to ignore.

the other students had started to notice too, whispering to each other whenever they saw the latest offering on your desk.

“what’s going on with you and heeseung?” mina asked one day at lunch, her eyebrows raised in suspicion. “he’s been acting so… weird lately.”

you shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “i don’t know. he’s just… apologizing, i guess.”

mina’s eyes widened. “apologizing? for what?”

you hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her—mina didn’t know about the confrontation in the cafeteria, didn’t know how much heeseung’s words had hurt you.

and honestly, you didn’t feel like reliving it. so instead, you just sighed. “it’s complicated.”

mina gave you a look, clearly not satisfied with your vague answer, but thankfully she didn’t push it.

instead, she glanced over at jake, who had been sitting quietly beside you, picking at his food.

“what do you think about all this?” she asked, nudging him playfully. “you and heeseung have always been rivals too, right?”

jake glanced up, his expression thoughtful “yeah, we’re rivals on the court,” he said, his voice casual. “but i don’t really care about that. if he’s apologizing, maybe he’s finally realized he messed up.”

you looked over at jake, feeling a wave of gratitude for his support.

he had been there for you when you needed someone, and now, more than ever, you appreciated his calm, steady presence.

he didn’t make a big deal out of the situation, didn’t push you to confront heeseung before you were ready. he just… understood.

jake caught your eye and smiled, and for a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

but of course, that peace didn’t last long.

later that afternoon, as you were walking through the hall with jake, laughing at one of his dumb jokes, you felt someone grab your wrist.

you stopped, your laughter dying on your lips as you turned to see heeseung standing there, his grip firm but not painful.

his eyes were intense, his jaw set in determination.

“come with me,” he muttered, his voice low and urgent.

you blinked, confused. “what? where—”

“just… come on.” heeseung didn’t give you a chance to argue. he tugged you along, pulling you toward the stairwell that led up to the rooftop.

jake called after you, his voice tinged with concern, but you were already too far down the hall to stop.

your heart pounded in your chest as heeseung led you up the stairs, the quiet intensity of the moment making your head spin.

when you finally reached the rooftop, he let go of your wrist and turned to face you, his expression conflicted, like he didn’t know whether to yell or beg for your forgiveness.

“what are you doing, heeseung?” you asked, your voice shaky with confusion and anger.

“i need to talk to you,” he said, his voice quiet but desperate. “about everything.”

the rooftop was quiet, other than the soft rustling of the wind and the distant chatter of the school below.

you stood there, facing heeseung, your heart pounding in your chest.

the tension between the two of you was thick, and the silence stretched on, filled with the weight of everything unsaid.

“what are we doing here?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

you were still reeling from the suddenness of it all—one moment you’d been laughing with jake, and the next, heeseung was dragging you up here like something urgent was at stake.

heeseung ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face.

“i needed to get you away from him,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“from jake?” you asked in bewilderment, your anger flaring up again. “what does jake have to do with this?”

heeseung finally looked at you, his eyes dark and intense. “everything. he’s—he’s not the one you should be with.”

you stared at him, stunned. “excuse me? what gives you the right to say that?”

“i know,” heeseung said quickly, holding up his hands in a gesture that almost seemed like surrender.

“i know i don’t have the right. but i can’t stand watching you with him any longer.”

your chest tightened as his words hung in the air—you didn’t know what to say.

part of you wanted to snap back, to tell him that he had no business being jealous after what he did.

but the other part of you— the part that had been waiting for him to say something—was finally starting to understand.

heeseung’s voice softened, and he took a small step closer to you. “even if we’re enemies, even if we’ve always been rivals, i would never side with jake. i would never choose someone over you.”

you blinked, your mind racing. his words made no sense. “then why didn’t you defend me in the cafeteria?” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but the hurt was still there, sharp and raw.

heeseung flinched at the question, his jaw tightening. “i told you— i don’t know,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“it was stupid. i didn’t realize how much i was hurting you. and when i saw you with jake…”

he trailed off, his eyes searching yours, desperate for you to understand what he was struggling to say.

“when you saw me with jake, what?” you pushed, your voice quieter now, the anger fading away into something softer.

heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours.

“when i saw you with him, i realized how much i messed up. i realized that i was losing you, and i didn’t know what to do.” he took another step closer, his eyes filled with regret.

“i’ve been trying to ignore it for so long—these feelings i have for you. but i can’t anymore.”

your breath hitched at his confession, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

heeseung, the person you’d spent your entire life competing with, the person who had always been rude and cocky, was standing in front of you, confessing that he liked you?

“feelings?” you echoed, your voice barely audible.

heeseung nodded, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before.

“yeah. i’ve liked you for a long time, but i didn’t know how to handle it. so i pushed you away. i made everything about our rivalry because i didn’t know what else to do.”

his words hit you like a wave, crashing over you and leaving you breathless.

you didn’t know how to process it, didn’t know how to reconcile the heeseung you’d always known with the one standing in front of you now, baring his soul.

“i hurt you,” heeseung continued, his voice trembling slightly. “and i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. but i can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. i don’t want to be your rival anymore. i don’t want to lose you.”

you stared at him, your heart pounding, your mind racing with thoughts.

this was everything you’d been trying to ignore, everything you’d pushed aside because you didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings that had been building up between you.

but now, standing here, with heeseung looking at you like he was afraid you were going to slip away, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

“i…” your voice faltered, your throat tight with emotion. “you’re an idiot.”

heeseung blinked, startled. “what?”

“you’re an idiot,” you repeated, shaking your head as a small, incredulous laugh escaped your lips.

“you spent all this time pushing me away when you could have just told me the truth earlier.”

heeseung opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, you closed the distance between you in one fast motion, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down into a kiss.

for a second, heeseung froze, clearly shocked by your sudden move.

but then, he kissed you back, his hands coming up to gently cup your face.

the kiss was soft, slow at first, but it quickly deepened as all the tension between you melted away.

it was like everything you’d been holding back, all the unspoken words, all the bottled-up emotions, were finally being released in that moment.

heeseung’s lips were warm and gentle, and he kissed you like he’d been wanting to for a long time—slowly, sweetly, as if he didn’t want the moment to end.

your heart raced in your chest, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you poured all of your frustration, confusion, and affection, into the kiss.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, you stared up at him, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding.

heeseung’s eyes were wide with surprise, but there was a small, almost dazed smile tugging at his lips.

“i… i didn’t expect that,” he whispered, his voice shaky.

you smiled, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. “you’re such an idiot,” you said again, but this time, there was no bite to your words—just warmth.

heeseung let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “yeah,” he agreed, his voice thick with emotion. “i am.”

without thinking, you kissed him again, softer this time, more sure of yourself.

and as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you realized that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

the next day at school, everything felt different. it was subtle at first—a kind of quiet shift in the air that made you hyper-aware of heeseung’s presence the moment you walked into the classroom.

you weren’t used to this—the ease, the softness that seemed to have settled between you overnight.

after years of rivalry, the shift from enemies to something more felt almost surreal.

but then you saw him—heeseung sitting at his desk, already glancing over at you the second you stepped through the door.

his usual smirk was gone, replaced by a small, almost shy smile, and it sent a warm flutter through your chest.

you smiled back, the tension from the day before melting away as he held your gaze for just a moment longer than usual.

it was like the rivalry had evaporated overnight, leaving something softer in its place. and yet, the familiarity of your banter remained.

you slid into your seat, feeling a little lighter than you had in weeks.

there was no strawberry milk waiting on your desk this time, no snacks or apology notes, but the absence didn’t bother you.

the fact that heeseung had taken the time to talk to you, to open up the way he had, was more than enough.

still, you couldn’t help but notice that people were whispering.

it wasn’t loud or obvious, but every so often, you’d catch someone glancing your way, their eyebrows raised in curiosity.

mina, of course, was the first to bring it up.

“what’s going on with you and heeseung?” she asked as soon as you sat down for lunch.

her eyes were gleaming with excitement, clearly having picked up on the shift in dynamics. “you two are acting so different!”

you shrugged, trying to play it off as casually as you could. “we talked. that’s all.”

mina narrowed her eyes. “you talked? come on, you can’t tell me something didn’t happen. you guys have been enemies for, like, forever, and suddenly you’re all… smiley. it’s weird.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, and you looked down at your tray, trying to hide the small grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “it’s complicated.”

before mina could press you further, someone else slid into the seat next to you.

you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was—jake, with his usual easygoing smile and relaxed posture, leaned back in his chair as if he owned the place.

“so, you and heeseung, huh?” jake asked, his tone teasing.

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “not you too.”

jake chuckled, nudging you with his elbow. “hey, i’m just happy for you. i mean, after everything that happened… well, it’s nice to see you smile again.”

you peeked at him from between your fingers, grateful for his kindness.

jake had been there for you when you needed someone, and you’d grown closer over the past few weeks.

but now, things were different, and while you appreciated his friendship, you couldn’t deny the new fluttering feeling that came with thinking about heeseung.

still, you couldn’t resist teasing jake a little. “you’re not jealous, are you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

jake laughed, shaking his head. “nah, i could never compete with heeseung. that guy’s got it bad for you.”

the teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you were about to reply when someone cleared their throat behind you.

you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—the shift in the air—the quiet intensity—was unmistakable.

heeseung stood there, his gaze flickering between you and jake, his jaw clenched slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“what’s going on here?” he asked, his voice casual but with an underlying edge of jealousy.

jake grinned up at him, completely unfazed by the tension. “just talking, man. relax.”

heeseung didn’t move, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “right. well, we’ve got plans after school, don’t we?” his tone was directed at you now, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight possessiveness in his voice.

you blinked, caught off guard. “plans?”

heeseung’s lips quirked up into a small smile, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of softness that made your heart race. “yeah. walking home together, remember?”

you tried not to smile too widely, but it was impossible to hide the way your heart fluttered at his words.

jake, ever the instigator, raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“oh, so it’s like that now?” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “guess i’ll have to find someone else to walk home with.”

heeseung shot him a look that was almost a glare, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “yeah, you will.”

you rolled your eyes, though a small giggle escaped your lips. “heeseung, you’re being ridiculous.”

heeseung leaned down, resting one hand on the back of your chair as he looked down at you with a grin.

“maybe,” he admitted, his voice softer now, “but i don’t like sharing.”

the possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, but instead of feeling annoyed, you found it… oddly endearing.

you nudged him lightly. “you’re such a child.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound low and warm, before he straightened up, glancing once more at jake. “you’ll be fine without her, right?”

jake waved him off, laughing. “i’ll survive, don’t worry.”

just as you were about to stand up and leave with heeseung, a voice interrupted the playful atmosphere, slicing through the lightheartedness like a cold breeze.

“heeseung.”

you looked up to see haerin standing a few feet away, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes that made your stomach twist.

she glanced between you and heeseung, her lips pressed into a thin line before she focused on him. “can we talk? alone.”

heeseung’s body tensed beside you, but instead of acknowledging her request, he tightened his grip on the back of your chair, his attention still fixed on you.

“no, i’m good,” heeseung said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

haerin blinked, clearly not expecting the rejection. “i just wanted to—”

“i’m with someone right now,” heeseung cut her off, his voice firm but calm. “and i’d appreciate it if you left us alone.”

the sting of his words was evident in haerin’s eyes, but she didn’t argue.

after a moment, she let out a quiet scoff and walked away, her shoulders tense as she disappeared into the crowd.

you stared at heeseung, surprised by how easily he had brushed her off.

heeseung, who had spent so much time with her recently, was now acting like she didn’t even exist.

“was that necessary?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

heeseung shrugged, his expression softening as he looked at you. “what can i say? i’m done with all the games.”

you felt a warmth spread through your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but smile.

the possessiveness, the way heeseung had stood by your side without hesitation—it all made you realize just how much had changed between you two.

as the day went on, the whispers and curious glances from your classmates only grew louder.

everyone seemed to be talking about you and heeseung, but you didn’t mind.

in fact, you kind of liked it. for once, the focus wasn’t on your rivalry—it was on something else, something sweeter.

at the end of the day, as promised, heeseung was waiting for you by the school gates.

you spotted him leaning casually against the fence, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but the moment he saw you, his face lit up with that soft smile that made your heart race.

“ready to go?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you started walking together.

you nodded, glancing up at him. “you know everyone’s talking about us, right?”

heeseung chuckled, shrugging. “let them talk.”

you rolled your eyes, but there was a lightness to your steps as you walked side by side.

it felt easy, natural—like this was how things were always supposed to be.

and for the first time in a long time, the space between you and heeseung wasn’t filled with tension or competition.

it was filled with something warmer, something that made your heart feel full.

as you walked, you noticed heeseung’s hand brush against yours, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out and intertwined your fingers with his.

heeseung glanced down at your hands, a look of surprise crossing his face before his smile widened, his grip tightening around yours.

neither of you said anything for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence and the feeling of walking together.

but eventually, you cleared your throat, glancing up at him with a teasing smile.

“so… are we, like, official now?”

heeseung slowed his pace, looking down at you with an amused grin. “official?”

“you know what i mean,” you said, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “boyfriend and girlfriend.”

heeseung’s expression softened at your words, and he stopped walking, turning to face you fully.

he gently cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “i want us to be official. if you do, too.”

your heart swelled at the tenderness in his eyes, and you felt a soft smile spread across your lips. “i do.”

heeseung’s eyes sparkled with something like relief and joy, and before you could say anything else, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

it was slow, gentle, and filled with all the unspoken promises of this new chapter you were beginning together.

when he pulled back, you were both smiling, a quiet warmth settling between you.

“good,” heeseung murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “because i’m not letting you go.”

you laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “i’m not going anywhere.”

with that, the two of you continued walking home, hand in hand, your steps perfectly in sync.

and as the sun shimmered down lower in the sky, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful—something that had been building for far longer than either of you had realized.

heeseung was no longer just your rival—he was your boyfriend.

and honestly? it felt perfect.

❝ PLEASE REBLoG AND LiKE .ᐟㅤ 💌

𝒯aglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @shawnyle @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @pockyyasii @iluvnikism @wonsprincess @rikibwn @niawonn @nineooooo

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chris-hallelujah · 22 days ago

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Have You Ever Tried This One? | m.s.

Summary: The triplets attend singer!reader's concert and Matt gets catches her eye from the crowd.

Part 2 Here!!

Warnings: insinuating sexual acts, talks of sex positions

Word Count: 640 words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @delilahsturniolo . Thank you for letting me use your work as inspiration! Also thank you to @chestersturniolo for helping me find her piece. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted, rewritten, or shared on this platform or any other.

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened around the group standing at the barricade. Matt, Nick, Chris, and Chris' girlfriend cheered along with everyone else as you appeared in a spotlight on the stage. "Boston! It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed into the microphone causing the crowd to roar. Matt practically had hearts for eyes as you sauntered around the stage in small, sparkly outfits. Sure, he had heard your music and seen you in photos before, but there was something different about seeing you in front of him. Chris and Nick quickly took notice of Matt's in awe state and chuckled.

After a few numbers you had reached the interactive section of your concert. Oftentimes you chose a person in the crowd who was dancing the most or seemed to be having the best time. It was never actually based on your physical attraction to someone, until this time. You had been eyeing the three identical boys in the front row. One specifically caught your eye. You'd seen these boys online before and while you didn't know much about them, you knew which one you wanted. He seemed a bit more quiet than the other two and was staring at you like you were glowing. "Girls, girls, come here!" you spoke into the mic, gesturing for two of your dancers to come over. "Do you see that guy right there? Yes, the triplet but that one, with the pink t shirt," you pointed in Matt's direction. He froze as the camera panned to him for the crowd to see on the big screen. Everyone went wild causing Nick and Chris to bust out laughing. The lights throughout the arena flashed red and blue as a siren sound played throughout the stadium. You knelt down in front of him, "hey there, what's your name?" You cooed into the microphone, batting your eyelashes.

"M-Matthew!" he stammered nervously as Nick filmed the interaction.

"Oh Matthew, I'm afraid you're under arrest. You are just way too hot!" You giggled into the microphone, "Will you take these sweetie?" The security guard took the fuzzy pink handcuffs from your hand and held them over the barricade for Matt to grab. His blush was iminent as he took them with a smile and a nod. You stood back up, winking at him. "There are so many thoughts running through my head, Matthew. Dirty, dirty - oh! my clothes are falling off for you, Matthew!" You laughed stepping out of your dress revealing a shiny pink body suit. The intro of the song began and you danced and sang with your crew. "Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics," You sang, gesturing to the triplets with a giggle. Every once in a while throughout the song you'd shoot Matt a look or a wink. "You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah. Wanna try out some freaky positions? Hey Matthew, have you ever tried this one?" You sat on your knees with one arm in the air doing a lasso motion to represent cowgirl. Matt about fell over and Chris was a laughing mess next to him. His brothers could not believe what they were witnessing.

That song ended and the show continued. A few songs later, the triplets and Chris' girlfriend were approached by someone from your team. "Matt?" Your manager asked, "You've all been requested backstage after the show." She smiled handing them all passes and getting back to work.

"No way!" Chris' girlfriend jumped up and down.

"Dude, your charm got us connections!" Nick laughed patting Matt on the shoulder. Matt stood staring at the backstage passes in awe. He couldn't believe that you had noticed him in the first place but also to invite him backstage??

#christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt stuniolo fanfic #Spotify

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hasnomoxxie · 3 months ago

Note

Could you tell us more about Dan from Levity Rises?

YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME AB LEVITY RISES

I recently updated the designs for them so I'll talk ab them all if you don't mind :]c

I'll add the most information on Dan though just for you bbg!

I do plan on making a few screenshot redraws (and potentially an intro animatic because an awesome person actually made a theme for this au)

THE MYSTERY TWINS ⇆ THE ORIGINAL MYSTERY TWINS

Stanley and Stanford Pines take on the roles of Dipper and Mabel! Stan's curious and is the more mystery focussed one whereas Ford is more energetic and active than his base counterpart.

Stanley is an adventurous young boy, looking for the next interesting trip to go on, initially thinking spending the summer at Levity Rises was going to be a waste of time. Though after arriving and finding the scrapbooks alongside the anomalies happening across Levity, he and his brother quickly became obsessed with finding out the secrets of the Rises, as well as who the mysterious Smile Pup(swapped with bill cypher) is.

Ford (often going by 'Six' or 'Sixer) is a happy go lucky and optimistic young child who is alot tougher than his base counterpart was at his age. Since it's typically only just been him and his brother, so he's eager to make the best of his summer by meeting new people, though he hides his polydactyly with gloves he changes frequently.

DIPPER ⇆ STANLEY

Dipper takes the role of Grunkle Stan in this au!

Owner of the mystery shack, Grunkle Mason- or (Big) Dipper to people around Levity Rises- is the resident faux scientist of the town. His personality is more eccentric, tending to get hyper fixated on paranormal paraphernalia, to the point in where he does lock himself away for periods at a time.

Not much is known about his origins, he just kind of always existed on the outsidea of the town, but after opening the shack to the public, people quickly accepted his presence due to his quirky personality.

MANLY DAN ⇆ SOOS

Dan actually takes the role of Soos in this au, being the resident handyman of the mystery shack! Though often the lines blur between his role and Wendy's from the original. Wanted to keep it flexible yk?

Dan's a real dude's bro, pretty dim witted and blunt but often chill and level headed- Unless he's challenged- dude's competitive as hell, it's actually crazy. His mother, dubbed 'womanly wendy', is the toughest lady in town, owning a diner, aptly named 'Wendy's'.

Dan enjoys working at the Shack as it's one of the few places that'll let him freely experiment with his logging with the nearby trees for his own projects and adding fixtures onto the shack, which Dipper is pretty thankful for since he can focus his efforts on other things. It's also because of this reason that Dipper puts up with Dan's outbursts and semi airheaded personality. So it's safe to say, he's there the majority of the time.

Stan admires Danny alot and the events of 'Into the bunker' happens with Dan in place of Wendy. This does mean Stan had a passing crush on Danny during the episode, but even afterwards Stan kind of puts him on a pedestal. Ford enjoys Dan's company often being called 'little man' and playfighting on occasion. The twins act like his little hype men and he enjoys hanging with them.

As for Soos in this au, he initially built the mystery shack and is frequently seen around Levity Rises taking on odd jobs and making people as happy as they can be, though it's implied that he hasn't found his true calling yet.

LAZY SUZAN ⇆ WENDY

Lazy Suzan takes the role of Wendy in this au! Hazy Jane is a part time worker at the mystery shack, and is stan's first crush upon arrival to the Rises. She's a bit of an odd soul with a less than perfect memory, but is incredible at making a homely environment for the shack. Despite that, she can be extremely co-dependent in some situations, especially with her boyfriend. Otherwise she's earnest and does her best at her job. The events of 'Soos and the real girl' occur with Jane instead of Soos (and Rumble instead of GIFanny). Despite wanting to help, Stan is incredibly pouty throughout the episode.

Here's the design line up as well as initial notes I made when redoing them!

Hope this answered your question about Dan :]

RAUGH THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING THOUGHHHHHH

(EDIT)

SOMEONE SUGGESTED A BETTER SWAP FOR BILL, I JUST HAD TO ADD IT!

(EDIT EDIT)

I'm fixing wording and stuff so it's easier to read soz :p

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ephemii · 2 months ago

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˙⋆✮Grace Alexander, INTRO✮⋆˙

(finally lol)

. INFORMATION; .

.°⭑ ͙͘͡★ ⭑°.

✶ class: 1A

✶ birthday: January 18 (capricorn)

✶ age: 17

✶ height: 163 cm

✶ dominant hand: right

✶ from: ???

✶ club: gargoyle studies club

✶ favorite subject: history of magic

✶ hobbies: painting, reading

✶ pet peeve: gossipers

✶ favorite food: shrimp soup

✶ least favorite food: yogurt

. TIDBITS; .

.°⭑ ͙͘͡★ ⭑°.

✶ by the time she was told that NRC was an all boys school, she had already been found out by Ace and Deuce. The very next day, she gave herself a haircut, procured a makeshift binder out of old scraps she found in Ramshackle, and the few friends she made adamantly referred to her as a guy. It was almost as if everyone else had imagined her feminine origins.

✶ that being said, it didn't take long for the staff to find out. Crewel tailored a proper binder for her, and even went as far as brewing her a special potion as an extra precaution. She was told to "never get used to this type of hospitality", yet by the end of every month, a prim little box tied with a sleek black ribbon would always be sitting at her front door.

✶ she keeps to herself, and is seldom known to get into trouble. That being said, when being around Ace and Deuce, it's always hard not to get into all sorts of trouble despite her best efforts. Despite the image she projects, she can be quite the brute— sheer force of will is both a terrifying strength and an awful weakness of hers.

✶ fiercely loyal as a friend, and isn't afraid to show her appreciation for others. Her first year friends find it off-putting sometimes, but it does strengthen their bond, if even by a smidgen. Grace once told Deuce how thankful she was to have him as a friend and that he was one of the first to shed some light on her grim situation, and he had to turn away to hide his misty eyes.

✶ huge, and I mean massive crush on Malleus. It took her friends a long while to connect the dots, but their reaction to the newly acquired information was nothing short of hilarious and maybe slightly offensive. The nocturnal fae is none the wiser to their unfaltering stares as he passes by their group during lunch.

✶ has a bit of a lack of personal space. More often described as a curious cat, she likes to peep and slot herself once something or someone catches her attention. It becomes a quickly known fact that she has no qualms over sharing, even if others do. One time, Leona stayed awake for an entire lecture for the first time since his freshman years— not to listen, but to stare vehemently at his golden rings wrapped around Grace's fingers during an elective class. She merely grinned mischievously once she caught his eye.

There's a lot more I could add, but maybe I'll leave those for fics and drabbles lol (which I also need to start working on.. I have like 10 drafts already 😵‍💫) but if you've read this far, thank you! 🩷🩷🩷

#Aaaand here we have it!!!!#Finally lol I put this off for way too long #I tried really hard to get Yana's style down... Not sure how well I did lols #twst #twisted wonderland #mal draws #twst malleus #malleus draconia #ace trappola #deuce spade #leona kingscolar #twst deuce #twst ace #twst leona #twst oc #twst yuu

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kuiinncedes · 2 years ago

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welp

#final season upon us 😭#first final done big 🤡🤡🤡 is fine lmfao #big clowning over the weekend not studying at all (i had reason on sunday lmao but)#big clowning yesterday not studying (i did have glowstick club things i was doing tho and also socializing bc balance or something lmao 🤪😭)#clowning staying up late last night to study but not very well lmao #clowning not paying that much attention in lectures recently #ugh anyway . this was like a non major related class and in the past i have #elected pass/fail for a few classes that were kinda like that #but i got an A in the classes i did pass fail which was a waste of pass fail 😭#but now i feel like i might not get an a in this class LMAO but like that’s how i felt for the other classes i did pass fail #and then i did get an a so idk snfchdjdjd oh well #i don’t think my gpas surviving this semester unscathed XD looking at my ‘intro’ to probability class i got no fucking clue what’s happening #lmfao thank prof for generous fuckin g curve bc i’ve gotten Bs on the exams that i’ve just fucking BSed my way thru lol #final coming up on monday and i’m 🤡 haven’t started the hw for this week #i also have a hw due thursday this week that i have to start nowwwww 🤡#also a final project that i have to figure out what the fuck to do for lol #anyway why am i like saying all this everyone else going thru the same thing lmao #GOOD LUCK ON UR FINALS AND STUFF EVERYONE WE’LL ALL FUCKING GET THRU IT ❤️#jeanne talks #for this one i just took was online and multiple choice section was 60 points and i got 45 😭😭😭#there’s still a like free response section that i didn’t do especially well on 🤡 but that hasn’t been graded #but the way it showed me 45/100 bc that hasn’t been graded lmaoooooooooo #how did i fuck that so badly 😭#idk if the pass/fail policies or whatever are the same as they have been but honestly #might have to do that lmfaooo 😭😭😭#i don’t think this one will be curved and my probability one def will #so maybe i can manage something reasonable in that class but idk lmao bruh the fucking reckless pass/failing lol #like i could have three As to anchor this gpa a lil bit but 🤡#but yk idk what the fuck i’m doing and i’ve accepted that XD #we’ll see what i end up doing w this class im looking forward to finding out lmfao 😭

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schoenpepper · 3 months ago

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It's Okay to Play Favorites (Vice Housewardens)

Intro: You accidentally get sucked into the world of Twisted Wonderland, your favorite game, like, ever. And uh, you may or may not have teleported with a plushie of your favorite character…

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, self aware au but not god, your card collection is just you being freaky and taking pictures of them, google translated French be warned, ortho’s is platonic and if u take it any other way i ban u, lilia’s is also platonic but if u see romance crumbs i won't stop u, ik ruggie and ortho aren't vice housewardens but get this idgaf

A/N: Bro college got me fucked (second day in i know i'm a fucking whiner i hate it all). Not a request, just some random stuff I wrote during my 3 hour round-trip commute jfc. If my Jade favoritism is acting up, no it ain't.

Masterlist

Trey Clover is a man often overlooked, whether in the fandom or the world of Twisted Wonderland.

So when you get transported in during orientation, you, the player, were holding a plush form of him?

He blanks out.

Sorry Riddle, your vice housewarden kinda crashed maybe you can reboot him or something.

Trey’s never thought of himself as anything special, but he must be if he’s your favorite character, right?

You befriend him with a giddy smile, he can almost see the hearts in your eyes as you fan[redacted] so hard you actually hug him in your excitement.

The player? Hugged? Him?????

“Crazy bro that’s like super nuts so jealous of you.” - Cater Diamond

Hm, he gets a bit bashful when you take so many pictures of him.

Do you really like him that much?

He…likes you too.

“Cringe.” - Cater Diamond

I’m just a normal person, you know? At least, the closest someone can get to normal in this place. You still want me? Are you sure?

…Okay.

If you’re sure.

Unfortunately, to date a dad is to put up with dad jokes.

Do you mind though?

Makes you the most delicious pastries and confectionery known to mankind. You’ll probably get 5 lbs fatter and a sugar addiction.

But your teeth will be beautiful because he teaches you how to brush your teeth properly.

(Ten kinds of toothbrushes…)

Picnic dates.

Tea party dates.

Baking dates.

You might need to go on a diet to stay in shape because Trey doesn’t mind fat. He will probably love you more if you’re chubby.

But he loves you regardless.

Rest of the cast is like, vaguely jealous because why Trey?

But also he has a generally good rapport with other people so it’s cool.

Maybe.

Ruggie Bucchi wasn’t really paying too much attention at the ceremony but you definitely drew his focus.

Is that a plushie hyena beastman?

Does not register that it’s him until someone calls it out.

What? Why? How? When? Where?

He probably has major self esteem issues because, you know, the school’s filled to the brim with rich kids and people with status.

He has neither money nor power. So when he finds out he’s your favorite character? Boom.

He lets out his cute (im not biased) laugh but it’s because he doesn’t know how else to react.

You want to be his friend? Why not?

(Laughs again because he’s exploding on the inside)

You hug him???? Crazy. You owe him a donut for that, bro.

Thinks the picture thing is a bit weird but who is he to argue with the player?

You’re weird, y’know? There’s like princes and moguls and stuff in NRC, why me?

You like me? You find me charming?

That’s not something I’d really use for myself but hey…knock yourself out. Shishishi.

Floof.

You get to scratch his ears and kiss ‘em and watch ‘em twitch while he tries to get away from you.

Insane bro wish I was you.

Cuddly and surprisingly clingy, loves loves loves being pampered.

Are you indoctrinated by my subby Ruggie vibes yet???

His love language is sharing food.

(Have you ever tried passing candy through a kiss? No? Wanna try?)

His grandma will love you <3

The other characters will be giving him major stink eye. The scrappy hyena? Really?

Yes really.

“Whatever, good for you.” - Leona probably.

Jade Leech is amused.

Rather childish, is it not? Well, he’s flattered that you think so highly of him and even have this stuffed toy in his image.

Unfortunately, he does hold enough respect for you as the player to not immediately use your infatuation with him for nefarious purposes.

Not to say he doesn’t tease you though.

You are the flustered one here.

He’s your favorite? Oya, how interesting. He’s never seen himself the way that you do, but who is he to argue with the player?

Please, what do you like so much about him? Do tell.

(His systems crash when you hug him but you’ll never know)

You seem to enjoy taking his pictures. If you let him [redacted] you can take as many as you want.

If you don’t take him up on his offer I will!!!

My, I never expected to be your ‘favorite character’, was it? Well, I don’t mind.

What do I think of you?

Fufu, wouldn’t you like to know?

Loving a sadist means you’re probably a masochist.

You like it when he ‘unintentionally’ makes you do something stupid? Toys with you? Teases you with his annoyingly adorable super cutie pie grin?

Bro you have weird taste I could like, never~

If you didn’t like mushrooms before you do now.

You wish he’d look at you the way he looks at his terrariums.

You know that silly, happy, dopey little look he gets? The lab coat groovy one? Yeah.

Hiking dates if you’re physically able to. If not, he makes like the fanciest dinner dates ever.

He does love you, promise.

The other characters are highkey judging you.

Jamil Viper is inside his hoodie and is very unlikely to ever come out.

You’re kinda embarrassing but what is he supposed to do?

You’re the player. You have a plushie Jamil. Tiny and cute.

Jamil doesn’t see himself as cute. Wouldn’t it be better if you had a different one? Someone sunnier, someone warmer, someone like…Kalim?

Jamil’s your favorite character?

Yeah he’s not leaving his hoodie.

When you’re so happy and excited that you hug him, his soul leaves his body through his lips.

Rip Jamil Viper.

I don’t think Jamil’s very used to the camera, considering he’s technically Kalim’s servant and servants stay in the background.

But since you adore him the way that you do, well, he won’t stop you.

You’re strange. Is this a prank?

No, I don’t mean to doubt you. It’s just that…

No, nevermind. Since you want me, I’ll—love? You love me? Fine, I can work with that too.

His favorite kind of date is one where you two sleep and cuddle together.

He needs a break.

It’s not too often that he can carve time out of babysitting, so any time spent with him you’ll cherish like gold.

You can help him with chores if you manage to persist through multiple rejections.

He’d really prefer not to make the player do chores with him, but when you smile so wide like that, he can’t refuse anymore on the grounds of you not enjoying it.

Kalim can lend you guys the carpet though, you wanna fly?

While the cast doesn’t generally approve of the snake, you’re very loud about your infatuation.

They can’t stop you.

Rook Hunt is a lover of beauty, and you, the player, are the most beauté of all! (full points :D)

Qu'est-ce que c'est? A soft and fluffy copy of himself? How wonderous! Marvelous! The adorable cotton-filled blah blah blah (insert soliloquy here)

While there’s a tiny thought in his mind that perhaps the poison apple or the queen would be more befitting of a nui plush, he still takes your fascination with him in stride.

(It’s not often that he’s in this role.)

To be your favorite, it is an honor!

He shall dedicate a poem to your inner and outer beauty!

Accidentally tosses you to the ground when you try to hug him.

Desolé, instinct. Try again?

He’s not used to being the one in the spotlight, but please, take as many pictures as you need!

Love? Love is the most beautiful indeed. Comme toi, tellement adorable. Lovely.

You’re asking if I have someone I love?

Je suis un lâche de ne pas exprimer mon amour pour toi.

Either you get what he’s saying or you remember it so you can translate later.

Anyway, have you ever wanted to hunt for sport as a date?

No?

How about getting hunted for sport?

Still no? Shame.

Rook settles for little camping trips in the woods, just you and him and the forest (and his bow and quiver of arrows and his hunting knife and his dagger and—).

He makes very good roasted meat.

You’ll enjoy it as long as you remember not to ask where it’s from.

Uh, ignore how every other cast member is judging you. Love is love, right?

Ortho Shroud is very happy! Very excited! Yay!

You’re a legendary figure, and you’re treating him so nicely!

Is that a toy made to look like him? You like Ortho? He’s your favorite character?

Yay!

Robo baby is very happy.

Since you like Ortho, do you like Idia too?

Can you be Idia’s friend?

Can you be a new older sibling? Please?

(Say yes or I will [redacted])

Hugs? Hugs!

Forehead kisses?

Yes!

You seem to enjoy taking many pictures of Ortho. Why is this? You like him that much?

If so, maybe you two should take pictures together instead of always taking pictures of him alone. He’d love to take lots of pictures with you!

Can Idia come?

I am your favorite character? Like in a video game? This world is also a video game?

That’s great!

What kind of character am I?

Lilia Vanrouge thinks you’re funny. But also totally correct.

He must be sinful because even you, dear player, find him absolutely adorable!

Hehehe…

Is that a tiny Lilia? Good taste! It’s almost as adorable as the real one.

When you hug him in your excitement, he just laughs and pats your back.

Grandpa vibes.

A picture? Why not?

A selfie, as you kids say. (bro you’re not even detached from modern technology???)

Really likes taking pictures with you.

Since you like him a lot and he’s your favorite character, be a dear and forgo your sleep schedule to game with him.

I’m your favorite, right? Surely that means you’d love to taste my cooking?

No? Why, I’m saddened by your rejection…

There we go. It’s not so bad, is it? I made it with effort, onions, garlic…are you alright? Oh dear.

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arjudy224 · 8 months ago

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Gotham is an environmental NIGHTMARE⚠️

This may be a really niche topic, but my degree is currently in Environmental science, so this is on my mind constantly.

Think about it:

The Joker is constantly messing with the air quality with his "laughing gas".

Poison Ivy's pheromones are definitely going to end up in the water supply.

Killer Croc lives in the sewers? Imagine having to deal with a sewer emergency and your boss goes "Dammit Waylon. Again?"

He's not even the only person who lives in the sewers canonically.

Bruce Wayne is constantly flying private. Don't even get me started on Batman and the Justice Leagues carbon emissions...

The Joker is constantly crashing planes/ cars into Gotham Harbor. You know that water is polluted beyond repair. Imagine having Aquaman step in because all the fish are in Gotham are dying...

Not to mention, Batman's rogues are constantly poisoning that water supply.

The Rogues' are also poisoning themselves by working out of old abandoned buildings that are riddled with asbestos....

On the topic of my girl Poison Ivy...

Can you imagine having this woman in class? Freshman year she teaches the hardest intro level botany course offered. You spend every week going to her office hours hoping to pass her class, then a decade later she is bullying you for not remembering the exact equation for photosynthesis while you clean up the mess SHE MADE. The drama.

Might write a fan fic about this in the next couple months. Comment if you would be interested!

Edit: I started writing a fic similar to this called The Intern if y’all are interested! Check it out!

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mikkomacko · 1 month ago

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Him and I - Lovesick

Pairing: Nico hischier x reader, mob boss Nico

Warnings: Little bit of smut, whole lot of Nico being down bad for his girl. (Not proofread at all so bear with me for a couple of days)

A/n: I decided to split this into two because it was really getting away from me so prepare for our last chapter in Switzerland coming soon. Other than that, happy reading!!!

____________________________________________

When you were fifteen, you had your first real injury. It wasn’t anything traumatic that still keeps you up at night or anything life altering. But it did make you realize a few things about yourself.

Freshman year, your first year on a real soccer team that required try outs and everything. Nothing like your intro league years. You’d been pulled up to the varsity team. Not starting or anything, but filling in on wing for the backup of the junior that had gotten sick.

It was fun. It was also your chance of proving yourself to be varsity ready.

You remember running down the left wing, pushing yourself to pass the center that was taking the ball up. You remember looking over, locking eyes with her and yelling “give and go!”

And she had. A slick pass directly to your feet. All you had to do was get around the defender in front of you, pass across and catch the center again for a toe-in goal.

The only thing is that you didn’t get past the defender. Instead the two of you collided into a heap that sent to ball out of bounds and sent you flying into the grass.

Your arm burned. It was almost immediate. No numb feeling, no adrenaline. It was like someone lit a fire under your skin, dead center in the middle of your forearm.

You had broken your arm in the end. A break so bad that it required surgery to realign and months of healing and therapy to get back to normal.

It didn’t matter though. All that mattered was the defender you had tackled. In the fall, your cleat had caught her in the thigh, made a gash so deep it soaked the grass beneath you. Her shorts were stained, your jersey was wet and sticky, and your cleat was the culprit.

It was terrible. You felt terrible. Of course it was an accident, but it was still caused by you. The girl had cried when you and one of her teammates helped her up, carried her limping over to her bench.

And then the ref directed you to your bench because your arm was hanging a bit odd and already turning purple.

A few weeks later you found out the girl quit soccer. After your surgery, you did too. Not because your mama insisted or because you thought you couldn’t play anymore with a bum arm.

But because you felt guilty every time you saw your cleats. Every school dance or homecoming game when you saw that girl, you felt guilty.

You learned that you don’t have a hard time moving past the things that hurt you, but rather the things that hurt those around you.

That’s what you think about as you finish reading the messages on Lena’s old phone. You can feel Nico’s gaze on you, waiting for you to react. He knows you’ve finished reading them, was watching you scroll through the thread and reach the bottom.

“Look through it all, if you want,” he had said when he handed it to you. “Photos, social media, whatever. But the texts are what I wanted you to see.”

You don’t need to see anything else. It doesn’t matter if she had a thousand followers on instagram or a high snap score. It doesn’t matter what gossip and plans she had in her group chat with her friends.

All that matters is that she wanted to hurt Nico. She did hurt Nico and she used you to do it. You can’t believe it really. She claims to love him in the texts, she told Marcello that she’s always loved him and she deserves him back. She’s what he needs.

You’re so sick and tired of people hurting Nico and claiming it’s love.

Locking the phone, you place it on the bedside table to be trashed or tossed later. None of you need it anymore, you all know everything.

“Are you ok?”

He’s sitting at the foot of the bed, right leg hanging over the edge and left one bent towards you. His hand rests on the jean clad thigh, fingers twitching when you shift onto your knees.

Nico always looks at you so sweetly, expressive eyes so full of love, and that doesn’t change now. Even when you can tell by the pout of his lips that he’s worried about how you’ll react.

“Yeah,” you say meekly, tongue feeling dry. You knee your way down the duvet, gripping his shoulder for balance as you climb into his lap. “Are you?”

Nico’s hands find your hips, cocking his head to the side. “What? Yeah of course I’m ok.”

A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes and you twirl it around your pointer finger, tuck it behind his ear. “She hurt you Nico,” you say, a little confused.

“She hurt you baby.”

“Well yeah,” you agree, caressing the side of his neck. “But she did it to hurt you. And then she said it was out of love.”

Nico’s watching you carefully, dark eyes taking in every detail of your face. You wonder what he’s looking for, what he’s expecting you to say. Probably not this if he’s reacting so timidly.

“People like to hurt you,” you continue, hesitantly. You don’t want to say this in a way that makes it sound like his fault. Because you know he’d take the blame, he always blames himself. “People that are supposed to love you and support you, they don’t do it the way they should Nico.”

The furrow between his eyebrows smoothes out, lips parting and he makes a noise of understanding. “I didn’t love her, so I didn’t expect her to love me either. No matter what she says.”

“She did love you Nico,” you tighten your hold on him like you’re trying to physically squeeze the idea that he’s lovable into him. “I think she really loved you at one point but it turned bad.”

“I still didn’t love her though.” He insists.

Frustrated, you groan and tuck your face into his shoulder, needing a second to figure out what you’re saying to him. Nico squeezes your hip, draws your weight close into him.

“Explain it to me baby,” his breath is warm against your cheek, nose pressing into your jaw. “what are you-what’s going on, huh?”

Holding his shoulders, you sit back on your haunches and look at him. “You deserve so much love Nico, and every time I’m reminded that someone here didn’t love you the way they should, it makes me so mad.

“Love isn’t about what someone gains from being with you or can use you for. And I know you say it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care but I care for you. You’re the best person I’ve ever met Nico, and I think you deserve so much love that it makes you feel like your heart is gonna explode-“

Nico kisses you hard and desperate, right hand gripping the back of your head and holding you steady. There’s a moment of surprise, Nico nipping at your frozen lips. The action startles you and you melt into him, allowing him the opportunity to deepen the kiss licking into your mouth. It’s messy and wet, but passionate. Nico’s always been a good kisser, and he always speaks with his actions when words fail him.

“I spend,” he mutters breathlessly, words pressed into your bottom lip. “Every day of my life trying to explain what your love feels like.”

You open your eyes to find his already watching you, faces so close together that his thick lashes and chocolate eyes take up your whole view. “It feels like I can never catch my breath, like my heart is always racing. But it’s so calming, so sure at the same time.

“You don’t need to worry about anyone else trying to break my heart. It belongs to you, all of it. And I know you’ll protect it.”

It doesn’t really make sense if you think about it. That you make his heart race but calm him at the same time. You get it though, understand what he means because you feel the same way.

“That’s what we do. Protect each other, right?”

He smiles, pecks your lips softly and you know that’s him agreeing. That’s the leadership he’s always implemented into the Devs, into the family. Protect each other above all else. He’s your family, the only one you’ve got left. You’ll always protect him.

~~~~

The paper crinkles under your weight, cracking loudly in the otherwise silent room with each swing of your legs. You feel like a kid again, sock clad feet swaying in the air while Nico watches you, your clothes folded in a pile on his lap.

It’s an odd feeling and you realize that it’s because this is the first time you’ve ever actually been to a hospital or doctor since meeting Nico.

In the family, everything is done at home. Typically by you or Johnny, but Nico’s gotten pretty good at playing doctor for you too.

You look over at him, find him staring down at your clothes with a pinch between his eyebrows. He’s got the fabric of your bra pinched between his fingers, running his thumb over the lace cup contemplatively. Slowly, you stop moving your legs, not wanting to catch his attention.

It’s a moment later that he looks up, eyes widening when he realizes he’s been caught and you giggle. “Whatcha doing?”

“This one’s nice,” he shrugs, tucking the bra back into the middle of the pile, hidden underneath your sweater. “I don’t- is it new?”

You laugh again. “You recognize all my bras now or what?”

“Well yeah usually.” He bristles. “Am-“

The door to the exam rooms opens and Nico clamps his mouth shut, that boyish look morphing into one of neutrality. If anything he looks bored.

“Hello, hello,” your doctor greets, tossing a file folder onto the desk. You greet her, smiling politely for both you and Nico. “How are we feeling?”

“Great,” you answer immediately, and she steps by your knees, unclipping the flashlight from her coat pocket. You don’t need to be told what to do as she shines the light in your eyes, you following the random pattern she makes with it.

Satisfied, she turns the light off and tucks it away, hands on her hips as she smiles at you. “Well your scans came back clear, you look perfect from what I can tell, and you reported no lingering side effects?”

You nod in confirmation, smiling proudly. No soreness, no neck pain, no dizziness or vomiting, and best of all; no headaches.

“And the wound is all healed up. There’s barely a scar.”

You’re eager, you know that. Almost childlike as you sit on your hands, wiggling your toes with excitement. “So I can go home? I’m clear to fly?”

The doctor laughs, glancing over at Nico when she nods. “Yes you’re clear for anything and everything. If you feel any nausea or migraines, I’d slow down. But you seem perfectly healthy Miss. Hischier.”

It’s not a Mrs but it’s close enough, makes butterflies swarm in your gut and you warm at the thought of Nico checking you into the hospital under his name that day. If he even did check you in. You’re not sure how mob controlled hospitals run. Maybe Nico just ran in with you and told them all you were a Hischier.

Either way it makes your heart swell. You look over at him, a beaming smile on your lips so big it makes your cheeks ache. Nico neck is pink, the flush just beginning to reach his cheeks and despite the bashful smile that curls at his lips, he winks at you, something cheeky put proud glinting in his eyes.

~~~~

“Anything and everything.”

That’s what the doctor said and that’s what you think about as Nico slides the driver seat back, giving him more room to stretch his legs out.

The restaurant you’re supposed to be meeting everyone at is just across the street, Swiss flags hanging from the iced over patio. The name is French you think, but a sticker in the window reads SUPPORT LOCAL BUSINESS in big thick letters. It’s kinda funny, Swiss local but French.

Nico said it was one of his favorites when he made the reservation, so you assume he’s eaten there a lot. He made it sound popular, like the reservation was needed in order to get in but as you look through the tinted window of the SUV, it looks closed. You can’t see anyone at the tables in the windows, no guests going in or out.

The reservation isn’t for another 30 minutes. You could probably go in early since they don’t look busy, but then you’re looking over at Nico, right hand scratching at the scruff of his beard. He’s got his phone in the other, scrolling through what looks like a confirmation email but you’re not really looking at that.

No you’re looking at his hands, long and thick fingers, veins running down the backs of his hands in a way that’s the perfect balance of pretty and manly. Then you’re looking at his face, the way his eyelashes curl just enough to frame his eyes, to soften them. His dark eyebrows that make him look far more intimidating and harsh than he should with his doe-eyes and dimples.

The slope of his nose, not really curved or gentle looking in any way but when he’s off guard like this, when he’s comfortable, makes him look so cute. And his beard that he’s still yet to shave, following your whining and begging by letting it grow out far too long. But it makes him look scruffy and warm, like a teddy bear you just want to snuggle into.

Anything and everything, you think as warmth stirs in the pit of your belly. You take off your seat belt, turning to face him over the center console. Nico drops his phone in the cupholder, mirroring your actions.

“What?” He says, tucking his hair behind his ears and up into his backwards hat. You blink, biting at your lip. How long has it been? Since the day Lena took you, so a little over a week.

Which might not be a crazy amount of time, but for you and Nico it is. Especially when he looks like that.

“Did you hear the doctor?”

He looks you up and down, gaze lingering on where you’ve tangled your fingers in the fabric of your sweater. When he meets your eyes, they’re sparkling with amusement.

“I did.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking at him impatiently and expectantly. Nico makes no move, simply staring back at your begging and downright desperate glare.

“Anything and everything Nico,” you repeat, a whining edge to your voice. This would be so much easier if he’d just reach over and touch you, guide you over the console and into his lap.

You could ride him, you think excitedly. You haven’t done that in a while and it’s easy in the car. Or maybe ask for his fingers, those beautiful fingers that are resting on his thick thighs. It all sounds so good, too good.

“I heard the doctor baby,” he says with mirth, eyebrow raising when you huff in annoyance. Then he’s laughing, eyes crinkling and you cross your arms over your chest, leaning back into the door and glaring at him. Unfortunately it resembles more of a childlike pout than anger, if Nico’s ever growing amusement is anything to go by.

“Alright, what do you want from me?” He asks through a laugh, looking over at the screen to check the time. “We’ve only got like 20 minutes, and I’m not fucking you in the car when my family will be walking by any second.”

You pout even more, all begging eyes and a sweet little frown you know he can’t say no too. Especially not when you flutter your eyelashes at him, mumbling out a pathetic little “please Nico?”

He groans, head falling back against the window and he squeezes his eyes shut. Without word he blindly grabs his phone, opening his eyes back up to look at you sternly.

“You do what I say and you don’t whine about it, got it?”

You’re already agreeing, nodding your head like a bobble head and sitting up straighter to follow whatever lead he gives you. Much to your surprise, he kills the engine and takes the keys out of the ignition, reaching for the door handle.

“Backseat,” is all he says before climbing out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Following blindly, you scramble to climb over the console and into the backseat, awkwardly collapsing onto your elbow with your legs still tangled in the front seat when Nico tugs open the back door.

He pauses, looks at you for a second and then chuckles. “Oh this is so sexy,” he jokes, slipping into the car and shutting his door. You shift, somehow managing to get your feet into the backseat and then you’re settling onto your knees beside him.

“Shut up,” you reply, forcing your hands to sit patiently on your knees even though they’re aching to touch Nico, to hold his face and kiss him.

He’s still smiling, thoroughly amused, and nods towards the drivers seat in front of him. “Pull it forward for me.”

He couldn’t have asked you to do this before you crawled back here? You know he’s messing with you, having a good time with the fact that you’re so desperate you’re willing to break your neck crawling around the car. It’s a little embarrassing. And yet you do it anyway.

Huffing, you lean back over the center console, balanced on one elbow and stretching your hand out to the side of the drivers seat.

“This is dehumanizing Nico.” You complain, fingers finding the button. The seat starts inching forward and suddenly a large hand is grabbing at your ass, fingers palming you through your jeans.

“I think you look good.”

You fold under Nico’s hands, muscles going slack and slumping into the console. The seat is as far forward as it can go, you think, so it doesn’t really matter now. You hear Nico move behind you, feel the warmth of his body get closer and then his other hand is reaching around your waist, deft finger finding the button of your jeans.

“Nico…”

He chuckles, breathless, and drags the zipper down. Then he’s taking a hold of your hips, tugging you backwards until you get the hint to push yourself up and slip into the backseat again.

You collapse into the middle seat, feeling hot and stuffy in your sweater and jeans, Nico leaning over you. He looks so good, dark eyes and pink cheeks, that stupid hat that always makes him look so handsome.

Then he’s kissing you, cupping the back of your head and slipping his tongue into your mouth. The whole world goes fuzzy around you, the only sound in the car are those little noises and breathes that Nico lets out into your mouth. All you can feel is his hands and his lips, turning you into mush and then remolding you however he pleases.

He gets you laid out on your back, one foot on the car floor and the other hanging over the seats. You knock the hat off his head, tangle your fingers in his hair instead and he’s moves to your neck, mouthing over your pulse. His hands shove your sweater up, run over the warm and sweaty skin of your stomach and ribs before he’s grabbing the edge of your jeans and yanking them down your thighs.

It’s awkward and messy, you accidentally kick him as your pants tug your leg down from the seats. Nico just grunts, pulling back to sit on his haunches and he’s rough and annoyed as he wrangles your boots and pants off, tossing them into the front seat.

You want his jacket off too, you think hazily, blinking to try and focus. All you can look at are his bitten lips, bright red and swollen. The car is so hot, he’s so hot. You don’t know how he’s wearing all those layers so you reach out for the hem of his top, not even getting close to touching him before he’s shuffling into the space you made when you slid the drivers seat forward.

He barely fits down there, hunched forward uncomfortably and legs tangled under him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Nico licks his lips, dark eyes settling on the pair of cotton panties you’re wearing and he’s pushing your leg up onto the front seat, parting your thighs around him.

The noise that leaves you is pathetic, a mix between desperate and embarrassed because you know he can tell how wet you are, how the image of him doing awful things with his mouth and hands has been torturing you all day.

“I know baby,” he soothes, fingers rubbing tenderly at the inside of your thigh. His thumb finds the damp spot on your underwear, dipping in until the pad of his thumb is teasing at your hole.

“Please,” you gasp, eyes screwing shut. His touch burns under your skin, pulls every muscle in your body so tight you feel like you could explode. “Please Nico.”

It sounds more like a sob than an actual sentence, your voice whining and desperate. But Nico likes that, you can see it in the little smirk on his face when your eyes flutter open just long enough to meet his over the dips of your body.

Nico’s thumb tugs your underwear to the side. You lean back into the seat, staring up at the closed sunroof of the car and then Nico’s diving in. His tongue licks a flat strip up your pussy, nose swiping up your clit as he moves and you grab at his hair, arching into his face.

The thick hair of his beard is scratchy against your thighs, the hair long enough that it’s more soft than prickly and it feels so good. His tongue settles against your clit, making soft little circles that have you digging your fingers into his scalp.

He’s sloppy with his work, dripping spit from his mouth all over you, gently teasing your clit until your wound all the way up and then sucking it into his mouth. It’s too much, so good that you’re crying out for him but not coming just yet. And he knows that, knows that he has to be sweet and soft on that sensitive spot if he wants you to come.

Which is why he isn’t doing it. Letting you get close once, twice, and then a third time before starting all over. You huff, frustrated and knowing that the two of you need to hurry if you want to make him come too.

You pull at his hair, just enough to make it sting and he grunts into your pussy, digs his nails into your thigh until it hurts. But he’s slowing down after that, replacing the rough nips of his teeth with his plush lips.

A fingers swipes at your hole, has you desperately clenching around nothing and you make another embarrassed noise at him. Lifting your head, you look down at him through wet eyes but he’s not looking at you. Baby hairs stick to his damp forward, flattened under your palm. Crease between his eyebrows, eyes closed in focus and those long eyelashes of his tickle the flushed skin of his cheekbones. His nose is pressed into your mound, so close to you that you can’t see much. But you can see the way his jaw moves and ticks which every flick of his tongue.

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you think achingly. You wish he would talk to you, say something in that deep, raw voice he gets when he’s turned on.

Nico’s finger eases into you, thick and warm, and you flop back into the seats, whining desperately. You try to form the words in your head, hear his voice like you have so many times before.

“Sweet girl.”

“Taste so good, baby, doing so fucking good for me.”

“Make me feel so good,”

He curls his finger, prods at the sensitive spot of your walls and you hear him groan, feel it against your clit. You can practically hear what’s he’s thinking.

“You’re so wet, all for me.”

The rubber band in your belly snaps, all the orgasms that he built up before and then took away suddenly hitting you. Hard and fast. You clench around him, thighs tightening and twitching and Nico’s pets you through it. Wiggles and curls his fingers, lazily licks at your clit.

You hear him more than actually feel him pull away, sensitive and throbbing still as he wiggles his way off the floor. It’s his grunt of annoyance, the sound of his knee cracking as he gets up that makes you open your eyes, hands dropping from his hair onto your stomach.

Nico’s above you, hair hanging over his forehead and eyes bright. The whole bottom half of his face is wet, lips shiny and red but he’s smiling, teeth pearly white.

You tilt your chin up, puckering your lips and he easily obliges. He kisses you, soft and sweet with those swollen lips of his.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles into your lips, and chills run down your spine. He sounds exactly like you knew he would, rough and husky. You peck his mouth again, humming in appreciation as you reach for the front of his jeans

Your fingers have just found the button of his jeans when he grips your wrist and pulls your hand back.

“Nico,” you whine in protest, pulling back to frown at him but he’s already shaking his head.

“Don’t have time,” he mumbles into the skin of your cheek, kissing at your smile lines.

“That’s not fair! I wanted-“

He interrupts, tone not angry but definitely not up for debate. “I told you I wasn’t fucking you in the car.”

You look between where he’s leaning over you, mouth watering at the bulge in the front of his jeans. Nico takes your chin between his fingers, squeezes just once in warning and makes you look up at him.

“You’re gonna be good for me,” he instructs, “we’re gonna get cleaned up and get out of the car. And then we’re gonna go inside and eat lunch with everyone, and you’re gonna be the sweet girl I know you are, ok?”

“Ok,” you mumble, sad eyes blinking up at him.

“We’re gonna have a good time, Timo’s excited for you to meet his mom.”

You perk up at that. “I am too.”

Nico smiles, lets go of your face and presses a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. “Can take care of me later at home, ok?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, kissing him again. His beard is so soft, he’s so warm and snuggly you never want to let him go.

“One more kiss and then we gotta go.”

You agree, pressing your lips back to his.

~~~~

Nico’s rented the whole restaurant for the day. He wanted private meal with his family and friends, something intimate and fun before you guys leave for Jersey.

They pushed tables together in the center of the room, crowded chairs around it into something that resemble the overly large dining table you have at home to seat all the Devs.

Nico takes your jacket for you when you too enter the building, hanging it with the stacks of other coats at the front. Then he’s shrugging his off, placing it with yours and you realize that while you two were busy in the car, everyone else beat you here.

They’re already sat around the table. Katja and Rino at the far end, facing the door. Luca and Nina on either side, tall mugs of frothy beer in front of them.

The four boys are after them, Jack and Luke on one side and Dawson and Alex across. Timo and a blonde woman, almost an exact copy of him are next to Luke. Meaning the two chairs next to Alex are obviously for you and Nico. You can already hear the argument Alex made to get you to sit next to him, and you can see the look Timo probably gave him.

“There they are!”

It’s Luca, chair scraping against the floor as he rises. Nico presses his hand into your lower back, guiding you around the table to say hi to everyone. You hug Luca and Katja, share an awkward hand shake with Rino before Nina is squeezing you into an embrace. She makes you try a sip of her beer, laughing when you only scrunch your nose a tiny bit before half heartedly muttering “s’so good.”

Nico hugs her, lightheartedly pulling on her braid and telling her to leave you alone. Jack climbs up from his chair, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you like he hasn’t seen you in days.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” he exclaims and you laugh as he cups your face. “Oh way too pretty for that one I’ll tell ya.”

And then Nico is swatting him away from you, pushing you along. You squeeze Luke’s shoulder as you pass, smiling widely when you get to Timo and his mother, who immediate jumps to hug Nico.

They speak in German, Nico’s tone somehow shy as she goes on and on towards him. You don’t know what they’re saying, but you smile at Nico anyway before giving Timo a hug. It feels like you haven’t seen him in days.

“Claudia, have I introduced you to my-“

“No this is my best friend!” Timo interrupts, sliding up next to you. “Budge over Hischier, we were friends before you started dating.”

Nico mutters something in German to Timo but places a kiss on your head and then moves to go sit down.

“Mom, this is y/n,” Timo introduces. “She’s the one I tell you about all the time.”

His mother, Claudia, is just like her son. She doesn’t hold back, shoving her son to the side and hugging you.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you!” She gushes in a thick accent. “Timo is always talking about you and that dog of yours.”

You laugh, hugging her back. “He’s always talking about you too.” She holds your face, blue eyes looking at you with so much warmth it makes you look away shyly.

“Oh you’re precious,” she laughs, brushing your hair away from your face and something in your heart throbs, recalls all the times your mother used to do the same.

You thank her quietly, sharing a tiny smile with Timo before moving to sit with Nico. Dawson gives you a peace sign as you get closer, sipping at a cocktail through a little straw and you ruffle his hair. Taking your seat, you lean over and press a kiss to Alex’s cheek, sharing a short hug.

Conversation picks up again, a waiter drops off two menus for you and Nico, and you sit back and watch Claudia speak with Katja and Rino in Swiss German. She has so many mannerisms like Timo, from the way she tilts her head when she speaks to the way she fiddles with her hair.

“You two were out there for a while,” Timo says, leaning into you and Nico, lifting his menu up to shield his words from everyone else. Your heart jumps, already knowing where this was going.

“Were we?” Nico says, disinterested and you mentally thank the universe for him and his ability to play aloof. An ability he performs perfectly.

Timo raises an eyebrow, not buying his oldest friend’s innocent act. “We got here 20 minutes ago and you two were parked out there.”

Needing something to do with your hands, you fiddle with the edge of your sweater and give Timo a confused look.

“It wasn’t that long,” you insist, and Nico shakes his head before adding, “You’re terrible with time when you don’t feel good.”

“Oh?” Timo gasps quietly, “you’re not feeling good?”

Clearing your throat, your frown at him, hoping to god it looks genuine. “I just felt a little funky after my scan.”

Timo pouts. “Oh no.”

“Yeah, needed a second to just chill I guess.”

“Mhm,” he nods, sipping his water and looking at you with sympathetic eyes.

“So Nico took care of me.”

“M’sure he did.”

Nico chokes on his spit next to you, caught off guard by the sudden suggestiveness from Timo. He coughs, clearing his throat as you rub at his back and glare at Timo.

“I don’t think you want me to elaborate on that,” you insist and Nico clears his throat again, his hand coming over to rest on your thigh as he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. A teasing grin takes over Timo’s face, but you put a stop to him before he can keep going. “Because then I’ll probably have to go all the way back to when I hung out alone for two hours so you could play lover boy to your teenage sweetheart?”

Timo’s face falls, eyes widening in fear and he glances at Nico, whose grip has suddenly grown stronger on your thigh.

“You left her alone?” Nico demands, and you cover his hand with yours, stroke at the veins on the back of it and over his knuckles. Knuckles that not even an hour ago were buried inside you.

Blinking away the dirty image that’s swirling in your brain, you faux smile at Timo. “I don’t think you really want to explain that one right now, do you?”

He huffs, annoyed with you for bringing up the activities he took place in that day after the ice skating rink. You didn’t even get to meet his girl before he was begging to drop you off at the house for just a couple hours so he could see her.

“You’re evil,” he mutters, and you laugh. You don’t keep anything from Nico, he knows that. If you could, you’d tell Nico about every second of every moment you’ve ever had apart from him. “You two deserve each other, really.”

It’s probably meant as some kind of insult or dig by the way he hisses it, but you and Nico both turn to each other and smile, the same sappy lovesick look on your faces.

~~~~

“What do you feel like eating baby?” Nico asks, flipping open the menu in front of him. You leave yours folded on the table, leaning into his bicep took at his instead and he shifts so you can read it easier.

Instead you can’t read it at all. The entire thing is in French, swirly cursive letters on the card stock pages, and while you can guess what a couple words mean, there’s not even photos of signature dishes or anything.

“Uh Nico,” you say quietly, looking up at him. He hums in acknowledgment, eyes still sweeping over the menu. “I can’t read French.”

An amused smile cracks at his lips, gaze flickering down to you and two dimples sink into his cheeks. “Yeah, I know.” He murmurs. “S’why I asked what you want.”

Sighing, you pinch at his elbow in retaliation before looking back at the menu. You still can’t read it, not that you were expecting to sudden be able to, but Nico gives you a moment to stare at it anyway.

“Pasta?” You ask, hopefully and he points at a list of meals on the right page. “S’got chicken and like a white sauce.” He explains. “Want that one?”

“Yeah,” you agree, lifting your head to press a kiss to his cheek in thanks. His cheek dimples again and he moves to settle his arm on the back of your chair.

Alex says your name quietly, and when you turn to him he’s looking at you with big, puppy eyes. He’s holding him menu in front of him, a shy smile on his face.

“Will you tell Nico to order for me?” He asks sheepishly, and you laugh, agreeing. And then you catch Dawson behind him with that same shy look, and across the table Jack and Luke are staring at you helplessly.

None of them know French either. Good going Nico, you think, trying not to laugh.

“Schoa,” you sing teasingly, “the boys need your help ordering.” Nico sets his menu down, raising an eyebrow as he too looks around the table. Timo is grinning at him, obviously as amused as you are. His siblings and parents seem oblivious to the conversation going on, but Claudia is looking at all of you like she’s watching a show play out in front of her very eyes.

“They’re your kids,” he grumbles, but he’s already grabbing his menu again and leaning forward in his seat. “Timo help those two clowns,” he instructs, nodding towards the brothers.

Timo sighs but doesn’t argue, him and Claudia going about translating the menu to Jack and Luke. Then you’re letting Nico lean over you to tell Alex and Dawson about the food, offering little ooh’s and aah’s when something sounds good.

You realize Nico is telling them about specific foods you know they like. Seafood for Dawson, who is always craving some kind of lobster dish or sushi or really anything that probably has scales at one point. And soups and breads for Alex, anything filling and a lot of carbs because he’s a comfort food kind of person, always.

For as much as he likes to denies caring for the boys and insists that they’re just his workers, just kids following him around, he sure doesn’t act like it. It’s sweet that he knows what they’d want to eat, that while he was reading the menu earlier he had noticed which foods they’d probably get.

It makes your heart shudder painfully in your chest, overwhelmed with feelings that you can’t even explain anymore. It’s so much more than just loving Nico. He’s…everything to you.

You look over to his parents. Rino is looking over his menu, face stoic and unimpressed. Katja has a smile on her face, but it looks more rehearsed than anything real. She’s drinking the wine in her glass, lazily listening to Nina and Luca talk.

How someone so full of life and light, so loving in everything he does came from the relationship existing at the end of the table, you have no idea. But something made him this incredible, this caring so you have to applaud Katja and Rino for that at least.

He’s still debating a meal with Dawson, huffing and sighing as he awkwardly takes up your space but you don’t mind. You reach up, smooth your hands up the back of his dark cardigan and fiddle with the soft strands of hair sticking out of his baseball cap.

Nico doesn’t react, but you can feel the way his body seems to preen under your touch. Across the table, Katja meets your eye and the two of you share secret smiles.

~~~~

Listening to Nico speak French makes you feel like your bones are melting, in the best way possible. Nico’s voice in general has always been nice, deep and manly in a way that scratches at your brain just right. And it’s even more attractive when he’s speaking in Swiss German, his accent making the words sound like beautiful nonsense to you.

But in French…well he just sounds so romantic. If you had to give a voice to the storybook Prince Charming in your head, it’d be Nico in French. The words are soft and sweet, a perfect contrast to the rumble of his voice. Even if you don’t know what he’s saying as he sends the waiter off with a dessert order.

“You don’t know French y/n?”

You’re too busy trying to keep your jaw off the floor to realize Rino, who hasn’t said a word to you all meal, is suddenly addressing you. That is until Nico is looking over at you, lips curling into a smile as he takes in the moony way you’re watching him.

“No she doesn’t,” he answers for you through an amused laugh, and you blink, suddenly recalling that the question was directed at you and not Nico.

“Sorry, no I don’t,” you quickly apologize, face hot with embarrassment. The other Devs boys don’t bat an eye to you going goo-goo eyes at Nico, but you can feel the knowing little looks from Nina and Luca, both of whom have told you they’re not used to seeing Nico all lovey. It makes you feel shy for some reason, like you shouldn’t be letting them see this side of him.

Rino quirks an eyebrow, the expression looking far too similar to Nico’s unimpressed look than you’d prefer. “No German either?”

You shake your head. “My family is Italian, so I grew up speaking that at home and English at school.”

“I forget the American education system disregards languages,” Rino mumbles, then forces a smile. “Our children here learn three languages at school.”

Nico shifts in his seat, stretching his arm across your waist like some kind of protective seatbelt that’ll keep you from his father. His hand is warm and strong on your thigh, reassuring and safe.

“We can go,” he says quietly in your ear, “lunch is over if you want it to be.”

“It’s no problem,” you assure to the table, words more directed at Nico. He squeezes your thigh, eyes searching yours for a moment and when he finds nothing but certainty there, he retreats back into his chair.

“I uh I tried Spanish at school for a while too but I kept getting the words mixed up with Italian. So uh yeah, just the Italian.”

You laugh awkwardly, heart thundering in your chest and you glance at Alex who’s watching you with a furrow between his eyebrows. Then he’s pursing his lips, shoulders back and he looks to Rino.

“It’s a good thing too,” he says, conversationally. “Italian is important in Jersey, she gets a lot of deals done for us because she can speak with the clients.”

Finally, something like genuine curiosity flashes in Rino’s eyes, so quickly you would’ve missed it had you not been staring at him helplessly.

“Nico, you take her on deals?”

Your boyfriend throws an arm around your shoulders, pride glimmering in his eyes as he smirks at his father. “Yeah I do. What’s mine is hers.”

“She’s better at it too,” Luke tosses at Nico, a teasing tone to his words but underneath, you can feel how genuinely he says it. “All the planning and details, Nico’s too impatient for that.”

“Plus he’s a grump,” Jack then adds, and while you always hate when they gripe on Nico, it warms your heart to see them doing it to praise you to Nico’s family.

Dawson is the next to offer his two cents. “And he doesn’t have a college degree, unlike Miss. Ivy Leagues.”

Nico squeezes your shoulder when you shake your head at all the boys, on the verge of politely telling them that none of it’s a big deal. You turn to him, cheeks warm and smile shy but he looks so fucking happy, so proud of you that you can’t bring yourself to counteract all their words.

If Nico can love you that much, can radiate sunshine when talking about you, that’s not something you want to hide. After all, his view of you is all that matters.

“Three languages or not,” he says, “the smartest thing I ever did was getting on your nerves the night we met.”

Tucking into his shoulder, you press a quick but sweet kiss to his neck, wanting to thank him without making everyone at the table groan.

“And letting me play matchmaker,” Timo jokes, winking at you. “God knows he was helpless.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing that if he had never invited you back to the Rock after you pissed Nico off, you don’t think you’d have ever spoken to him. At the time, you were putting the ball in Nico’s court and waiting to see if he was gonna shoot. He looked like the type to want to make the first move.

You never thought he’d be a pouty, shy guy that needed meddling from his best friend. Otherwise you’d have asked him out the very first night he bought you a drink.

“Alright alright,” you interrupt, smiling gratefully at the boys. “That’s enough teasing. We all know we’re only as good as we are because we have Nico.”

The fearless leader, the man that stepped out on his own with just his name and his teenage friends, and made a family. A family that will always have each others back.

So when Claudia changes the subject, smiling at you as she asks “What’s your family like?” you already know your answer.

“Oh,” you glance at Nico, notice the way he’s biting at the inside of his cheek. He’s wanting to answer for you, wanting to field the topic but he has no idea what to say. He’s waiting for your lead. “This is my family,” you say, smiling shyly at Claudia. “Whatever I had before is nothing compared to my boys.”

Claudia looks taken aback, like she wasn’t expecting such a profound answer to the question. You wish you could tell her that it’s actually simple in your mind. This is your family, no question about it.

“Wow,” she murmurs, looking at you so fondly it makes your chest ache, the child in you selfishly wanting her to suddenly become your mother. To take away all the memories of the woman that raised you and replace them with ones of her, create a childhood in which your best friend was your family. “Smart, sweet, and beautiful. I see how you finally caught Nico.”

“Hey!” Nico whines, childishly.

“You were a bucking bronco, Neeky. We thought you’d always be.”

You laugh, leaning into him and pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. If you haven’t proved yourself to Rino yet, oh well. You don’t know what else could be better than knowing his son is safe, loved, and protected by a woman that would do absolutely anything for him.

~~~~

It wasn’t the creaking floor of the hallway that woke you up, nor was it the tiny mutters of “please, please, please” that snuck under the crack of the closed bedroom door.

It was the buzz of a text coming through, three quick blasts of back to back messages. Groggily, you slid your hand under the pillow and pull your phone out, turning it from Nico to keep from waking him.

Blinking against the light, you read the screen.

Holtzy 🐣

Are you awake?

Sorry if I woke you

Open the door?

Confused, it takes you a second to register the sounds of someone outside the door. Once you do though, you’re up, putting your phone back away and gently getting up from the bed.

Nico huffs in his sleep, digs his head further into his pillow. You tiptoe over to the door, cautiously twisting the handle and cracking it open.

Sure enough, Holtzy is quietly pacing in front of the doorway. He’s in his pajama pants and a grey shirt, hair frumpy and awkward on his head. At the sight of you he stops, shoulders dropping in relief.

“Are you ok?” You whisper, stepping into the hall and closing the door partially behind you.

Embarrassed, he stares down at his socks, toes tapping against the hardwood floors.

“Can I uh-can I sleep in here tonight?”

You know better than to ask. Sometimes Holtzy just has rough nights, he can’t sleep or he has dreams that give him anxiety. If there’s one thing you learned from the two months he lived down the hall from you and Nico, it’s better to just let him sort it out how he wants.

And if that entails him squishing in the bed with you and Nico, so be it.

“Yeah, of course.” You murmur, taking ahold of his bicep and squeezing reassuringly. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, eyes sleepy and sad. “Nico is sleeping so be quiet, ok?”

Knowing the drill he nods, and you turn to guide him back into the bedroom with you. Alex quietly closes the door behind him, the click only loud enough to make Nico shift on the mattress.

On light feet, you pad back to the king sized bed, lifting the blankets on your half and sliding in all the way to the middle. You had previously been tucked into Nico’s side right there, so to make room for the new addition you softly card your fingers through Nico’s hair.

He stirs, eyebrows pinching together in annoyance. “Nico baby, scoot over for me, yeah?”

He grumbles something you don’t understand, lips smacking as he rolls to his side and you hold the side of his face.

“Please baby, can you slide over a bit?”

Finally he moves, shuffling over onto his side of the bed and you go with him. Not that you had much of a choice when he locked his arm over your middle and took you with him.

Alex climbs into the bed, tucking into the pillow you had previously been sleeping on. You pull the blankets over him, settling back into Nico’s bicep. Your boyfriend grumbles something again, tucking his head into your neck and curling into your body.

You roll onto your side, let Nico fit himself to your back and wait a couple moments until his breath evens out again.

“Are you comfortable?” You whisper to Alex and he moves onto his side to face you.

“Yeah.” He tucks his hands under his cheek, eyes blinking sluggishly and you pull the covers up to his shoulder so he doesn’t get cold.

“Pull the blankets if you get chilled,” you say, pushing his tangled hair back as best as you can without yanking on a knot. “Nico’s like a furnace, he doesn’t need them.”

A tiny smile tugs at his lips. “I run warm too ya know?”

“I know,” you murmur, “but just in case you run cold tonight, ok?”

Alex nods, takes a deep breath and lets his eyes flutter shut as he exhales. “Thanks,” he mumbles lowly, like he’s already half asleep. “I don’t know how any of us lived without you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, his sweet words kicking it into overdrive. Smiling, you watch him for a moment to make sure he falls asleep and you can’t help but think of Nico’s mother.

How her and Rino ran Switzerland like a business, you don’t know. Because there’s no way you could look at any of the boys here, especially Alex and not love them like family.

Thank god Nico inherited some rare Hischier gene that gave him the big and sweet heart he has. He may not openly act like it, but you know he loves the boys like they’re his blood brothers.

Sleep muddled thoughts trail off and you can’t help but think of this same scenario in the future, when the boy crawling into bed with you two has Nico’s dark eyebrows and straight nose. Maybe it’s not a he but instead a she, and her eyes will sparkle like his and her lips will hold that petulant pout he has.

And they’ll tiptoe to your bed at night, wake you up with tiny fingers and teary cheeks as they whisper, careful to not wake Nico because he’s a grump. But when you let them under the covers they’ll wiggle their way over to him, snuggle into his broad chest and thick arms because he’s the safest place in the world for them to be.

As if being summoned by your thoughts, Nico stirs against your back, leaning in and planting a kiss against the side of your neck. You’re not expecting him to be awake so the movement startles you.

Even more so when he presses his mouth in close to your ear and clear as day asks, “He ok?”

You realize Nico hasn’t been sleeping, at least not since you moved him over in bed and he heard you tucking Alex in.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nudging him with your foot until he moves over enough for you to turn to face him.

His eyes are puffy and dark, framed by those permanent frown lines of his but he looks awake, alert. You trace your fingertips over his jaw, let his beard tickle the pads of them.

“He’s right ya know?” Nico murmurs, his gaze sweeping over your face fondly. “I don’t know how I lived without you.”

Shy and tired, your hand falls to the side of his neck, fingers loosely holding him. You blink slowly, feel your chest warm under the heat of his words.

“You’ll never have to again Schao,” you promise, closing your eyes to get away from the lovesick look in his eyes.

Nico doesn’t say anything, just leans in a presses a kiss to your forehead. You throw your leg over his thighs, curl into his chest and fall into dreams of him holding mini versions of you and him just like this.

You don’t remember Nico getting up. Usually you’re good at feeling him stir, forcing your eyes open when he unravels his arms from around you and gets up.

It’s not until his hefty weight is laying on top of you that you realize the body laying on his side of the bed, with their arm slung over your middle, is in fact not Nico.

“Baby,” he calls, voice barely a whisper. A grumbled noise of acknowledgment rumbles out of your lips, eyelashes fluttering as you try to fight against sleep.

Nico gently shushes you, soft and warm lips pressing to yours with a feather light touch. He smells like toothpaste and aftershave, the familiar scent making you blink your eyes open.

The sight makes you gasp.

He’s crowded over your body, feet hanging off the mattress and elbows bracketing your body. Damp hair is combed back, a single wet strand stuck to his forehead. But that’s not what’s got your attention, and neither are his beautiful brown eyes or dimpled cheeks.

He’s shaved.

The full and dark beard he’d been sporting since the hospital, thick hair beginning to trail down his neck messily but hotly, is all gone.

Well not entirely, but he trimmed most of it and shaved it down. All except the stupid strip of facial hair above his upper lip. That he’s left untouched.

“You shaved?” You croak out, cupping his face in your hands. His cheeks are smooth, soft and warm under your fingertips. Unintentionally, you pout.

“I trimmed,” he defends, shifting his weight into his left elbow and covering your hand with his now free one. “And cleaned up a bit.”

You’re probably being dramatic, but you’re tired and confused and completely caught off guard with his sudden grooming. So it’s really not your fault when water collects in your eyes, sniffling through a stuffy nose.

“Oh my god are you crying?”

“No!” You argue, outraged at the entirely true accusation and your shout has the body lying next to you stirring. Both you and Nico freeze, eyes shifting over to look at Holtzy. He’s asleep in his stomach, hands shoved under the pillow and cheek pressed into the bunched up fabric.

You’re even more caught off guard when a body on Nico’s side of them bed moves too. Bewildered, you look over to find Jack taking up the space that Nico previously occupied. He’s sprawled out on his back, hands clutching the blanket to his chin and mouth hanging open.

“If you wake them I’ll kill you,” Nico mutters, a playfulness in his whispered words. You let go of his face, knuckling at your sleepy eyes and moving to sit up.

Your boyfriend follows, gently slipping off the mattress so you can awkwardly slip out from under the covers and rise to your feet. Wobbling, you clutch the headboard with a wince when the whole bed shutters.

Alex simply snorts, digging his head further into the pillow, and then Nico is leaning over with outstretched arms. You cling to him, squeezing your eyes shut and curling yourself into a ball as he heaves you over Jack’s sleeping form.

“When did he get here?” You whisper after your toes are back on the ground, gesturing to Jack.

“After I got in the shower I guess.” Nico replies, keeping his words down too. “I thought you knew.”

Blinking a couple times, you shake your head and decide to just forget about it, though it is a little concerning that you didn’t hear him come in at all.

Nico ducks his head down, catching your lips in a short but sweet kiss. You cup his face again, a small noise of protest squeaking out of your throat when you’re reminded of the nice and clean beard he’s now sporting. And the stupid mustache that’s not entirely a mustache.

“M’trying to say good morning,” Nico mumbles against your lips, “don’t be a brat. It’ll grow back.”

You scoff, pulling back just enough to have his eyes fluttering open, eyebrows pinching in displeasure. Lips parting to argue, Nico cuts you off with a nip at your bottom lip.

“Now’s not the time for arguing baby,” he says sweetly, tilting his head towards bed. “Don’t wanna wake the kids do you?”

Something warm drips onto the top of your head, trickles down your spine and all the way to your toes. You melt, heart shuddering excitedly in your chest and you have to bite your tongue to keep from making whatever pathetic noise was bubbling happily in your throat.

The kids. Nico called the boys the kids. Kids as in his and yours. Not just yours anymore. That used to be his favorite tease, telling you that the younger boys were your kids whenever they decide to annoy him.

Now, suddenly they’re his too. You can’t even begin to explain how that feels to hear. All you can really come up with is right. It feels right for him to say that.

Oh god, you need to talk to Timo right now.

~~~~

Your knuckles rap against Timo’s door, more urgent and harsh than you meant and you wince when the hasty sounds of someone scrambling on the other side squeak out from under the crack of the door.

Timo barely has time to open the door before you’re pushing in, shoving him back by the chest. Glancing around the lower hallway for Nico, you close and lock the door when you’re certain he’s still outside getting more fire wood.

“Jesus warn a fella would ya?” Timo cries, rubbing at his shoulder as he plops down on the rolling desk chair.

“You would say the word fella.”

He tilts his head, unamused. “What do you want?”

Remembering why you’re here in the first place, you sit on the edge of his bed, folding your legs over each other. “Nico called the boys the kids.”

Timo laughs softly, resting his elbows on his knees and shrugging his hands out. “He does that all the time.”

“No like our kids.” You clarify, eyes widening as you emphasize Nico’s words. “Not my kids, he said it like they were ours.”

You expect Timo’s jaw to drop, his eyebrows to raise in shock, maybe even throw his head back with surprise. This is Nico, who has never in life let anyone get away with joking about the boys being his kids. He ignores Luke and Jack when they call him papa or dad, he calls you a single mom when the boys refer you to as mother figure. Sure it’s said in a joking matter, but Nico has never given the impression that he wants to be seen as a father figure right now.

Timo’s face scrunches into a wince, leaning back in his chair and you stare at him in confusion. “What just happened here? Why are you making that face?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, sighs. Struggling for something to say, he finally settles on “you didn’t see that coming?”

“This is Nico we’re talking about.”

“Yeah but it’s also you, and Nico wants to be a part of everything you’re a part of.”

Of course you knew that. You know he’d do anything, follow you anywhere to always be with you. Just like you would and have done for him. But this is different. Every conversation you’ve ever had about kids and a family with him was spoken about in the terms of the future. Not tomorrow or a week from now or even months. It was always years.

Nico bringing this up now is just….

You don’t even know. It’s not like a family with him isn’t something you want, but you definitely don’t want it right now. You want to be his fiancée first, live in a bubble of knowing he loves you enough to marry you. And you want to be his wife first too, see how the role fits and your relationship changes.

You have to learn how to be a good wife before you can even think of being a mother with him.

“He’s just-I mean he hasn’t even proposed yet and now he’s doing this? Is he like trying to see if I freak out or something?”

Ironically, now Timo’s jaw drops and he blinks at you like you’ve just uttered some unspoken or forbid secret. “He told you he’s gonna propose?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you examine his body langue. He doesn’t look surprised at all, not caught off guard by your words one bit.

“You knew!” You accuse.

Timo points a finger at you, exclaiming, “How do you even know?”

“Well he kind of already asked.”

“What? How? When?”

You shrug, trying to act casual and innocent. “After we had sex on the living room rug when you went to spend time with your mom.”

It’s comical the way his nose scrunches in disgust, eyebrows pinching together. It’s however, quickly wiped away with a look of utter disappointment.

“Oh god, he asked you during sex didn’t he?”

“After? Kinda?”

Timo shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut like it actually pains him to hear that, like he physically can’t stand the idea of that being his proposal.

“I swear for being so smart he’s fucking stupid,” you try not to laugh even though it’s true. “I mean tell me he at least wasn’t still-ya know?” Timo makes a motion with his hands, thrusting them outwards.

You blink, confused and unamused by this turn in conversation. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Oh for fucks sake was he still inside you?”

Thinking back, you try to recall everything that happened that day but it was a rough one for you. Particularly the fighting with Nico and then the whole getting kidnapped thing and not having any memory for a bit there.

You can picture him clear as day though, laying next to you when he suggested marriage. No matter how many times Lena hits you in the head, you don’t think you’d ever forget that.

“No he wasn’t, he was just…holding me.” Your tone softens at the end, lips fighting to curl up and you grab the throw pillow from his bed, hugging it to your fluttering stomach.

Timo’s smile is sweet. “You two are disgusting.”

And that kills the mood. Frowning, you throw the pillow at him. “Come on, you’re supposed to be helping me with this!”

“I am!” He laughs, chucking the pillow back. You catch it easily, setting it in your lap and picking at the corners of it

“You’ve said nothing of note.”

“Ok, ok,” he relents, running a hand down his face as he thinks. “First of all, never say yes to a proposal if you or anyone in the room is naked.”

You roll your eyes, motioning for him to move on.

“Second, just give him a break ok? He’s-there’s a lot he’s trying to figure out right now.”

Bristling, you frown at him. “What does that mean?”

Timo groans, exasperated. “Look his-and don’t say I told you this-“ he waits for you to nod in agreement before continuing. “-his proposal to you kinda got hijacked and he might be freaking out trying to redo it.”

Redo it. Timo didn’t know about Nico asking you that day you were taken. Which means he knew of another plan Nico had, one that failed.

You think of how much Nico begged you that day when you were fighting, how even came off angry when asking you to just let things go for now. He didn’t want to fight with you, he didn’t want space from you.

And how upset, how unlike himself he was the day after. Where he’s usually strong headed and solid, he was stubborn and unyielding in a way that made you want to yank your hair out. He was freaking out and the only way Nico can show emotions he’s not used to having is by taking control.

He was going to propose, you realize, fingers finding the metal of your pendant, tracing over the metal of the ring. Nico must have one, an engagement one. One that he picked out and bought himself. Not the family heirloom ring, the one that he didn't care about because even without it he was going to marry you.

This whole trip was about him wanting to propose. It wasn’t a one off, heat of the moment thing when he asked you. He had been thinking about it, planning it, and most importantly trying to do it in a place that means so much to him.

How are you ever going to fix the mess that you know is spinning around in that pretty little head of his?

#nico hischier #mob boss nico hischier #him and i #nj devils #fluff #smut #Nico hischier smut

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