#(i say when no one here knows these things)

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

nerdy boyfriend!takuma who you managed to pull by being a little weird and unhinged

boyfriend!takuma who adores your quirks. you balance his ungodly amount of “negative aura”

boyfriend!takuma who has never been with another girl besides you :( he’s a lil inexperienced and nervous, but he means well

boyfriend!takuma who’s a soft dom with a golden retriever personality. he really just loves you and wants to see you smile

boyfriend!takuma who can only be mean sometimes when you really ask for it

boyfriend!takuma who’s gotten pretty good at starting things when he’s horny… it only took a few years to build his confidence

boyfriend!takuma who only just now started to understand your “signals”.. you’re too shy to flat out start things with him, but you know you want it. this usually results in you just standing next to his gaming setup awkwardly, hoping he’ll just understand your unspoken rizz

boyfriend!takuma who looks up at you and raises his eyebrow with a small smirk. “you need something, baby?”

boyfriend!takuma who knows damn well what you need, but he likes to tease you — he loves seeing you get all awkward and shy, playing off your intentions

boyfriend!takuma who takes his headset off and hangs it up, standing up from his chair with a small stretch. his shirt raises up a bit so you can see his sinful happy trail seeping down into his boxers

boyfriend!takuma who merely chuckles when you try to turn the tables on him by saying, “oh, you think that you’re going to get some every time i come in here and just stand here?”

boyfriend!takuma who responds with, “yeah princess, i do.” before he bends you over the bed, yanking your pants and panties down to rail you from behind as mean as you want him to <3

boyfriend!takuma who can go for hours, holding your pretty face into a pillow as he gives you just what you need — a good fucking to fix your attitude

boyfriend!takuma who presses kisses all over your face, doting on you after you both have finished multiple times. aftercare is one of his favorites because then he can yap to you about how he shit on a whole lobby of 13 year olds in cod

[pucksandpower]

Drunk in Love

Max Verstappen x fiancée!Reader

Summary: in which Max gets drunk, forgets that the two of you are literally engaged, confesses his love for you, and then gets reminded that his ring is on your finger … in that order

Based on this request

The lights from Jimmy’z spill out onto the sidewalk, a dizzying kaleidoscope of reds, purples, and blues. You stand just outside, arms crossed, as your phone buzzes for the third time in five minutes. It’s Daniel this time.

“Hey,” he says, voice just slightly too cheerful to be innocent. “So, uh, Max is-”

“I’m already here.”

“Oh, perfect. He’s …�� Daniel hesitates, and you can practically see him scratching the back of his neck. “He’s just a little … spirited tonight.”

Spirited. That’s one way to put it.

You hang up before he can add anything else and glance toward the club entrance. Max stumbles out a few seconds later, propped up by Lando, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Max’s head lolls to the side, and when he spots you, his entire face lights up like you’ve just walked out of a movie.

“Hey!” He yells, voice loud enough to make a couple passing tourists glance over. “It’s you!”

You sigh, stepping forward to take him off Lando’s hands. “Thanks,” you mutter to the younger driver, who just grins.

“Good luck,” Lando says, clapping you on the shoulder before disappearing back into the club.

Max leans heavily on you, his arm slung over your shoulders. “You came for me,” he says, slurring slightly. “You’re like an angel. My angel.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, guiding him toward the car. “Let’s get you home, Max.”

He stops abruptly, digging his heels into the pavement. “No, wait.”

You look up at him, exasperated. “What?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait until we’re in the car?”

“No!” He insists, voice rising. “It’s important.”

You glance around, feeling the curious stares of a few people lingering nearby. “Okay, fine. What is it?”

Max wobbles slightly, gripping your arm like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes are glassy but serious as he looks at you. “I’m in love with you.”

You blink. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats, louder this time. Then, almost conspiratorially, he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Like, really love you. You’re … you’re perfect.”

“Max …” You hesitate, unsure how to respond.

“No, listen!” He says, pulling back to look at you. “You don’t understand. I’ve been in love with you for … forever. But I didn’t know how to say it, and now it’s too late, because you probably think I’m some idiot who-”

“Max,” you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. “We’re engaged.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“We’re engaged,” you repeat, holding up your left hand where the ring glints under the streetlights.

Max stares at it like he’s never seen it before. “No way.”

“Yes, way.”

His face splits into a grin so wide it’s almost childlike. “No. Way.”

“Yes, Max. We’re literally engaged. Have been for months.”

He takes your hand in his, squinting at the ring. “Holy shit. That’s a nice ring.”

You snort despite yourself. “You picked it.”

“I did?” He looks genuinely astonished.

“Yes, you did. And you cried when I said yes, remember?”

“I cried?”

“Like a baby.”

He lets out a delighted laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and bubbles all the way up. “I’m a genius,” he declares, throwing his arms in the air. “I got you to say yes!”

“Yes, Maxie. You did.”

He pulls you into a hug, nearly knocking you off balance. “I’m so lucky,” he mumbles into your hair. “Like, stupid lucky.”

“You’re also stupid drunk,” you point out, but there’s no bite to your words.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes wide and earnest. “Do you love me?”

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Of course I love you, you idiot.”

He beams at you, his happiness so pure it’s almost contagious. “Good. That’s good. Because I’m going to marry you.”

“Yes, Max. You are.”

“And I’m never going to mess it up.”

“Not if you keep calling me to pick you up from clubs at two in the morning.”

He looks horrified. “Wait, did I call you?”

“No,” you admit, “Daniel did.”

Max groans, burying his face in his hands. “That traitor.”

“Come on,” you say, tugging him toward the car. “Let’s get you home before you pass out on the sidewalk.”

As you help him into the passenger seat, he grabs your hand again, his grip surprisingly firm. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says, his voice softer now.

“I know,” you reply, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

He closes his eyes, a contented smile playing on his lips. “I’m going to marry the hell out of you,” he murmurs as you buckle him in.

You shake your head, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You already are.”

And as you pull away from the curb, he’s still grinning like he’s just won the championship all over again.

[kateschi]

back in action

synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine

you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.

not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.

no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.

the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.

the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.

the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.

and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.

each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.

so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.

“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.

he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.

a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”

he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”

“well, I mean it every damn day.”

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”

“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”

“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”

“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.

“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.

your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“it’s a back,” he deadpans.

“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.

he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”

“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”

“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.

it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.

"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.

he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"

“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."

katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."

"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"

he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.

you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”

later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.

it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.

the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.

it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.

you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.

“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.

you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"

"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"

you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."

his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."

you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.

but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.

so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.

he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."

and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.

for all the wrong reasons.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

um... who is this?

IN WHICH after being dared to prank call one of the hottest sophomores on campus pretending to be a woman he met at a party, you're unexpectedly roped into the life of lee heeseung as you're forced to keep up the role.

PAIRING     ⟡     player!heeseung x fem!reader

UNIVERSE     ⨯     college/uni au

WARNINGS     ⟡     fake dating au, but was it ever really fake?, prank calls, hot boy!heeseung except he’s actually a loser, one (1) suggestive scene, cursing, smidge of angst, jay’s highkey an asshole, depictions of smoking, depictions of drinking and doing drugs

WORD COUNT     ⨯     16.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE     . . .     inspired by the one and only, francesca stugot

Contrary to popular belief, Truth or Dare doesn't stop being fun after middle school. If anything, with higher stakes and getting rid of the PG-13 limitations, the game only becomes more intense as you get older.

Or so that was how you explained it to your friends in hopes to convince them to play a few rounds instead of studying for your midterms. But hey, it worked.

You laugh and clap your hands as you watch Yunjin complete her dare. She's surprisingly good at juggling, if you ignore the two failed attempts splattered on the floor. Why did Ryujin have to suggest using eggs of all things is beyond you.

"Okay, okay!" Yunjin catches the last few eggs. "I'm done, my hands are covered in yolk. Ew!"

The other girls echo her cries as she runs off to the bathroom to clean it off.

"It's Y/N's turn!" Ryujin calls out. You playfully glare at her from your side, pretending as if you haven't been impatiently waiting for your turn since the last round.

You hear Yunjin agree from afar. She asks you the impending question: "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"Ooh, I've got a good one~" Her sing-songy tone is never a good sign, but you're too giddy to care, even with the girls ooh-ing and ahh-ing at their own recognition of it.

When she finally comes back, her hands free from eggshells and yolk, all eyes are on her. She looks from side to side for dramatic effect. Yunjin leans in. So does everyone else. She opens her mouth as if she'll start to speak, but nothing comes out before she closes it again with a teasing smile. Everyone groans.

"Out with it!" You say, throwing your arms up for emphasis.

She laughs. "I dare you to prank call Lee Heeseung acting as if you're some girl he met at the party last Friday."

Your face drops.

The girls cheer.

"Oh my god!" You hear Yizhuo yell. "You're a genius!"

"I didn't even go, though," you protest.

Yunjin shrugs. "Makes it even better." Just as you're about to rebut, she raises a finger and interrupts. "Ah! And don't say you don't have his number 'cause I know you used to send him the notes when he missed class last semester." She holds up your phone tauntingly, and you can't help but wonder when she took it away from the speaker, where it was paired to your playlist.

Curse her and her impeccable memory.

"Urgh, fine!" You give in, extending your hand for your phone.

As you type away your passcode and scroll to find the phone app, you reluctantly punch in his name (simply saved as "Lee Heeseung (SNU)" — nothing crazy!) The girls giggle to themselves about the heartthrob since high school.

Everyone and their mother knows about Heeseung. Almost everyone and their mother has been with Heeseung. Yourself excluded, obviously. And, unfortunately for them, excluding most of the girls here, too.

Yizhuo had the grace to spend a night with him and “came back a woman”. (Her words.)

Now, she's scooting closer to you, leaning her ear near the phone you're bringing to your ear.

It rings. Ring!

Once. Ring!

Twice.

"What if he doesn't—"

"Hello," a groggy tone questions from the other side of the line.

The girls all fail to cover their squeals.

Heeseung makes a confused noise. "Um... Who is this?"

"Uh...." Your eyes widen. You didn't really think this far ahead, hoping deep down that he wouldn't pick up at all. Eyeing Yunjin, screaming "Help Me!" with your expression. "This is... Hana..."

"Hana?"

"Kang. Kang Hana," you clarified. "We met at the, uh, party last Friday. At Jay's."

There's a moment of silence through the phone. Then some shuffling noises from his side. You sit patiently waiting for his reaction.

"Kang Hana," he repeats slowly. You hum to him.

"Yeah, we had a good time together, didn't we?"

He pauses. "I guess? Can you remind me?"

You begin to tell a tale about your encounter, barely keeping track of the details, letting your imagination run wild, stopping to listen to Heeseung hum in hesitant confusion.

Kang Hana arrived last out of all guests, immediately running to the kitchen for her first drink of the night. Then, she found herself swaying to the music on the living room dance floor, where she met Lee Heeseung. He had his arms placed respectfully on her hips, letting her guide his moves. He whispered that they should get out of there. She agreed.

They spent an hour or two engaging in conversation about anything and everything on the front patio, ignoring the smokers around the corner.

Hana not only arrived late, but also had to leave early. And so, she left Heeseung stranded, left to drink his grief away in hopes of forgetting all about her.

Yizhuo leans a little too far, enjoying the story too much, her head knocking over your hand, making you both tip to the side. You let out a squeal into the phone.

"Woah!" Heeseung yelps, pulling his phone away from his ear. Or you suppose, hearing his voice fade a little in the distance. With the phone away from him, it's able to pick up on the surrounding sounds better, and you realize he isn't alone either.

"Who is it?" You hear from the phone. The voice sounds familiar and you can almost make it out. Must either be Sunghoon or Jay, his best friends, you assume.

Heeseung doesn't miss a beat before responding, "Y/N."

Your heart does a flip. Yunjin's eyes widen. Ryujin chokes on the juice box she'd been sipping on. Yizhuo is still lying on the floor, only her mouth is significantly more agape.

"You knew it was me?"

He chuckled. "Obviously," he says matter of factly. Heat rises to your cheeks. "Took me a second, I'm a little tipsy, haha."

"Oh." Your eyes dart to the girls again. "Am I interrupting?"

"You're never a bother, babe."

Babe? "Huh," you let out unintentionally.

The girls furrow their brows one by one. Although they probably can't hear every word, they can clearly hear the weird turn this conversation has taken.

"Are you with the girls?"

You shake your head in confusion. "Um, yeah, I am." You're still trying to figure out what he meant by the pet name.

"I don't want to keep you if you're having fun." The smile on his face is clear as day in his flirty tone. "Text me later though, okay?"

"Okay?" Slowly, you pull the phone down and end the call. The second it hits your lap, it buzzes again.

Ping! New message!

이희승 (SNU) Kang Hana? 23:04

"What was that about?" Ryujin asks.

You don't respond yet. Focusing on the typing bubbles at the bottom of yours and Heeseung's no-longer-blank messenger.

이희승 (SNU) ik you weren't at Jay's last week 23:04

ME and i know you don't call random people 'babe' ?? 23:05 

이희승 (SNU) can i call you later? 23:05

ME i wasn't lying when i said i'm with my friends 23:05

ME tomorrow? 23:06

이희승 (SNU) let's meet up at the café on campus 23:07

"Hello, hello, Earth to Y/N?" Your head snaps up as you click off your phone. Yunjin waves her hand dramatically across your face to catch your attention. Ironically, it works. "You're still in there? Or did Hana take over?”

You blink up at her, then offer a small smile. “Sorry, that was weird,” you laugh. They all look at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to explain or give more details, but you’re not sure what to give them. “Alright, who’s next?”

You manage to drift the topic away from Heeseung and Kang Hana’s encounter. Yizhuo nearly fails her own dare, but succeeds in getting the neighbours number. After Ryujin answers her Truth (”If you had to kiss any of the girls in this room, who would it be?” “Well, I already have, but I’d say Y/N.”), you all decide to call it a night.

Ryujin and Yizhuo head out together; their rooms in the same dorm-building across the road. Meanwhile Yunjin begs to stay the night, opting to sleep on the floor because she can’t be bothered to pay for a cab ride to her apartment off campus.

Your thoughts keep coming back to Heeseung calling you babe, for some reason. Rubbing at your cheeks to snap yourself out of it, you sigh when you realize that it doesn’t do anything to help the blush that spreads further up your cheekbones to the tips of your ears the more you think about him.

Monday mornings have a bad reputation, and you completely understand why.

The sunlight creeps through a slip in your curtains and shines right in your eyes as you startle awake from a dream starring your party-animal alias and the campus heartthrob. Checking the time, you groan as the bright numbers ‘06:27’ glare back at you.

Your promise to a rendez-vous last night pushes you up and out of bed. You carefully side-step to not wake Yunjin, who’s still sprawled out on the floor.

You grab yourself some cereal and a cold glass of orange juice to fuel yourself before hopping into the shower. When you get out, it’s 6:44, a minute before your alarm rings loudly. You’re convinced everyone on this floor can hear it, but luckily you haven't gotten any complaints thus far.

Yunjin stirs finally. “Dude…”

“Wakey wakey, Sunshine,” you tell her, standing above her with a cheesy smile. “I have cereal and oatmeal.”

She rubs at her eyes, still laced with tiredness. “I’ll just grab something at the café after classes. I should get going, anyway.”

It doesn't take long for Yunjin to get dressed and leave the room promptly. She’s spent so many nights at your dorm that you took the time to clear up some space in the drawer for her stuff so she doesn’t need to rush out before even the sun’s awake.

When you’re left alone in your room, you pull out your phone again, the screen already opening into the chat room you visited last night.

ME what time do your classes end? just wanna know when i should get to the café 06:59

You wait. And wait. And wait some more for his response. You notice he hasn't even been online since you sent your message and decide to give him some more time.

Although he definitely has classes today, you assume, he might not be as much of an early riser like yourself.

In the meantime, you busy yourself with getting ready for your own classes. You pack your bag with all its supplies, checking your phone every so often, hoping to see it light up with a notification.

Ping!

All you can think is, “Finally,” but unfortunately when you pick it up, the notification reads: @jenaissante has made a new post!

“What am I doing?” you ask yourself out loud.

Since when do you sit and stare at your phone in hopes that some guy is going to answer you? How embarrassing.

You shake it off, grab your bag, and head out to your first class.

Walking down the comfortably silent hallways of your dorm building makes you think that out of everyone, you might be the only one awake. However, you stand corrected as you’re greeted with a door almost slamming you in the face.

Coincidentally, as the owner of said door says, “I’m so sorry!” and you respond, “It’s okay! I’m okay!” your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Nearly making your bag topple out of your hands as you reach for it, your shoulders relax when you see who the message is from:

이희승 (SNU) i hate mondays 07:33

You bid your goodbyes to the door-slammer.

ME good morning to you too 07:33 

이희승 (SNU) 😑😑 07:34

이희승 (SNU) i don’t have classes today. when do yours end? 07:34

ME no classes and yet you're awake so early? i'm impressed lee heeseung 07:36

ME i have my 8AM that ends at 10, then a three hour gap until my next class 07:36

이희승 (SNU) oof three hours 07:36

ME i’m on campus so it's not too bad tbh 07:37

이희승 (SNU) 10 o’clock it is? 07:39

ME sounds good 07:40

You shut off your phone and look up to realize you've made it to the building.

You find it weird how easily you’re already getting distracted by Heeseung, even though you’ve barely interacted, much less talked in person since last semester when you shared a class.

Even then, neither of you ran in the same groups, so your conversations were very limited to assignments and bad-talking the professor.

Of course, you’ve heard a lot about him, but none of it ever involved you. At most Yizhuo was being very descriptive about her night with him, though even then—especially then—you didn't pay it or him much attention.

Deciding to push him out of your mind entirely, you pull out your laptop and set up your notes, waiting for the professor to arrive and start class.

After two long hours, you’re dismissed from class. You tell your professor goodbye and head for the door, but come to a stop when you see a familiar figure leaning against the glass on the other side. Taking quicker steps to come around, you meet face to face with Lee Heeseung.

“Hi,” he says calmly.

“What are you doing here?”

His smile falters. “I came to pick you up.”

Your eyes dart to both sides of the hallway, as if waiting for Yunjin or someone to pop out. “How did you know this is where my class is?”

For the first time in your life, you watch Heeseung lose his cool composure. He stumbles over his words before clarifying, “I asked around.”

You try not to think too hard on it, eyeing him suspiciously before humming. His shoulders relax and he claps his hands together before pivoting toward the stairwell.

“Shall we?” He turns to you, extending his arms as if he’s some royal guard leading the crown princess into a carriage.

“Yes, we shall.” You play along because what the heck. And his smile is worth it.

The two of you make your way down to the café just across campus, not really talking on your way there, but staying close. It’s not as if some sort of secret operation is going down, so neither of you make a move to act like you don't know each other.

Come to think of it, you really don't know what's the purpose of all the theatrics. He even opens the door for you when you get there. Has he always been a gentleman?

From what you’ve heard, Heeseung is a player through and through. Typical, textbook heartthrob who makes people fall for him, toys around with that idea, and then leaves them to pick themselves up. Or, he’ll spend one magical night with a random hookup he meets at one of the million parties his rich friends throw every weekend, only to leave them in the dirt in the morning.

(Literally. Stories went around about this one girl he hooked up with outside. She woke up in Sunghoon’s backyard with only her bra and panties on. Or so you’ve heard.)

He leads you to the counter where the barista takes your order quickly. Just as you're about to reach into your bag for your wallet, Heeseung waves his hand in front of you. “Don’t worry about it,” he says before taking out his card and paying before you can reply.

“Thanks.” You try to come up with something better, but run short. “I’ll pay next time,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“Next time,” he says with an unreadable tone.

You want to reply, but nothing comes out. Instead, your eyes drift back to the barista. You watch him prepare your drinks and you silently pray that he goes faster so you can move on.

Luckily, he listens. “Alright, one iced caffe latte with vanilla syrup, and one dark chocolate mocha for the couple.” The man makes a dramatic turn with the drinks, adding a theatrical wave of his hand to you two.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you,” Heeseung replies with a smile. He takes a hold of both drinks and motions for you to lead him to a table.

And so you do.

“So,” he says as he sits down. “Kang Hana—” A wink. Your drink is suddenly very interesting. “—I have a proposal for you.”

“Proposal,” you question, raising your cup along with your brow. You take a sip and set it back down. “Go on.”

He takes his own sip. For a moment, you watch him appreciate the taste. He closes his eyes for a fraction of a second in satisfaction, traces of the drink left on his lips. It takes everything in you not to reach over and wipe it yourself. So, you hand him a napkin.

He thanks you before proceeding. “Okay, fine, it's more of an ask rather than a proposal because you won’t technically—” He adds air quotes. “—be gaining anything out of this.”

Now you’re very curious. You let him speak.

“There’s this girl…” he starts. His eyes drift away to the other tables, almost trying to deduce if anyone would want to eavesdrop and spread gossip of what he says next. “I really like her.”

Oh god. You’ve heard this before. Usually it only happens by boy best friends, but basically complete strangers work too, you guess. You prepare yourself.

“And, I just don’t know how to tell her—”

“Listen, Heeseung,” you cut him off. “We barely know each other. I don’t think you’re really thinking this through. How can you even trust your feelings when you barely know me?”

He blinks at you. “What?”

Your heart drops. “You’re not confessing to me.”

Heeseung lets out a short breathy laugh. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and answers. “No… Not exactly.”

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.” You let your head drop into the palms of your hands, but when you feel his hand on your arm, you snap your head up.

He rapidly retracts his hand of reassurance and lets it float above your arm for a second. “No, no, that’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed,” he assures you, only with his hand now in his lap. “I’m actually a little embarrassed about what I’m trying to ask you—If you’re up for it!”

“Can’t be more embarrassing than I feel right now,” you reply between small sips of your drink.

“Can we date? Wait, this isn't a confession, I meant like can we fake date? Like date, but not actually date. Not that that would be an awful thing to do! I just like this girl and…” His eyes are comically large as he rambles the same reformulated question. The embarrassment slips away as you watch his cheeks redden. “If you’re comfortable,” he finishes more quietly.

You take a moment, both to see if he’s really done, but also to consider your options. “Why?”

“Right.” He nods. “So, as I was saying… There’s this girl I like, and I want to get closer to her and ask her out, but we’ve talked before and she hates that I’m—” More air quotes. “—A player.”

You raise your brow at his words. “Put down the air quotes, then we’ll be on the same page.”

He rolls his eyes imperturbably. “You know what I mean…”

“How would fake dating help you start actually dating? Sounds counterproductive ‘cause doesn't that just make you unavailable?”

“I want to prove to her that I’m more than just—” He waves his arms around to search for the word. “—more than just some guy that goes from girl to girl as if nothing.”

You nod. “But… Isn’t this, kinda, lying? Since you haven't actually been in a long term relationship.”

“I mean, yeah, if you think about it like that.” He takes a sip of his drink, and when his lips part from the straw, you notice he bite it as he drank. You shake your head. “I’m just showing her that I’m capable of being in a long term relationship. I’m a serious guy looking for something serious.”

The snort you let out is entirely accidental. He looks faux-offended as he wipes off the drops of your drink that fell out of your cup. “Sorry,” you say, also wiping your arm. “You’re a serious guy. For sure, for sure.”

“I am,” he protests. “I take things very seriously. Like this rendez-vous. I’m normally still in bed at this time.”

This catches your attention. “Wait, why did you get up so early though? We didn't have a set time ready, you could've slept in.”

He shrugs timidly. “I knew you mostly take morning classes, so I wanted to be up when you were…” His sentence goes quieter by the end of it, with no help from him reaching for another sip of his drink, which is practically empty at this point, so the tension in the air only grows thicker with the ear-piercing sounds of him drinking air through a straw.

“Oh,” you say slowly. “I stand corrected.”

He nods.

You bite your lip out of habit. “So, shouldn't we discuss the, like, rules to this… Scheme?”

“Wait, you’re gonna do it?” He seems genuinely surprised. And cutely excited.

“Yeah,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “What’s there to lose, I guess. But—” You raise a hand. “We need to figure out these ground rules and I need to get something out of this.”

He agrees easily. And you settle on asking him to put in a good word to one of his friends, Jay, who happens to be the son of the man who owns one of the most respected law firms in the country—you want in on it.

“So, you’re going to be a lawyer?”

Heat rises to your cheeks bashfully. “Yeah, it’s always been my passion.”

Heeseung’s eyes widen in astonishment. “Does that mean I should be more careful with how we set this up? Should we sign a contract to make it official?”

You laugh. “Do you have a printer? We could write one up if you want.”

He plays along with the joke, which eventually leads to him opening his notes app and writing down the rules you settle on together:

You cannot tell ANYONE that this is a set-up. If [REDACTED] finds out it’s a lie, how is Heeseung supposed to find love 💔

Stick to the same story: We met last semester and have been keeping it lowkey. We got together during the break.

Hang out in public at least twice a week. (Heeseung will make plans to make sure his crush will see them.)

Hand holding is a must while out together.

No kissing. Not on the cheek, and not on the lips.

Y/N has to attend all some do you want to make a good impression or not FINE all of Jay’s parties. 

Fake relationship must last AT LEAST two months. Further discussion of whether or not the (FAKE) relationship continues will take place then.

“Now…”

“What’s wrong?”

You watch Heeseung look from right to left, reaching down into his pockets for something, but he comes up with nothing. “How are you going to sign it?”

As unexpected as it is, you have to laugh. “Here, let me,” you respond between laughs, reaching out for his phone, which he hands you swiftly.

At the bottom of the page, you add:

I, Y/N L/N, accept these terms and conditions.

“Your turn.”

And he does the same with his own name.

I, Lee Heeseung, accept these terms and conditions.

“Perfect, so it’s settled.” He claps unceremoniously. “Here’s to the start of Kang Hana and Lee Heeseung’s fake relationship.”

He raises his cup toward you, and you get the memo to clink! your own against his. It’s silly considering they’re plastic cups that make nothing but a wsh! sound when bumped together, but the sentiment is there.

You spend a few more minutes sitting together in silence as you finish your drink.

You’re not sure why Heeseung hasn't left yet. Your business together is done for now, and he’s long finished with his own drink. You decide, however, that you’re glad he stayed.

As you’re stuck in thought, you don't notice that you're staring. You don't see the sly smile that creeps on his lips. And you certainly don't realize Yunjin is watching this scene go down from behind the window.

The front door’s bell snaps you out of your trance, when you finally feel the eye contact you're making with Heeseung. You pull your eyes away shyly, sipping on your drink until it bottoms out.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunjin makes her over to you and Heeseung with a confused expression painted over her features.

“Y/N,” she says. Your eyes widen at your friend leaning over the table to look at the two of you. “What’s going on here?” She teasingly points between you and Heeseung, wiggling her eyebrows all-knowingly.

Suddenly, you forget all your words.

Luckily, Heeseung smoothly takes the lead, already playing his role. “We’re on a date.”

This takes Yunjin by surprise, if her gasp paired with widened eyes says anything. “A date?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing out the syllable. He looks at you with telling eyes, as if asking if you want to add on. You slightly shake your head only for him to see. “We were actually just finishing up. Right?”

Your cue. “Right, yeah.” You clear your throat awkwardly.

Yunjin raises her hands defensively. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt any more than I already have… So, you two have fun….” She leans over to whisper into your ear. Heeseung raises a brow from his side, but turns away to pretend he isn’t listening to it. “You’ll have to tell me all about this later.”

She bids you goodbye and makes her way to the counter, making no effort in acting as if she’s not staring at your table, watching your every move, as if to assess the situation.

Your hand comes up to the side of your face to subtly cover your mouth from her prying eyes. “We should really get out of here.”

Heeseung nods. “Slowly, we don’t want her to think anything.”

“Is it really so important to keep it from my best friend, though?”

“Yes!” Heeseung says in a whisper-yell. He smiles over to Yunjin who’s blissfully unaware of his outburst, probably thinking the two of you are joking around. Turning back to you, his voice lowers. “We can’t let anyone know the truth, not right now.”

You wonder what you’re getting yourself into now that it’s in play.

He ends up walking you back to your dorm, making his way into the building and all the way to your floor, walking you to your door, even after you insist he doesn’t have to. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make sure you got back safely?”

“Fake-boyfriend,” you point out.

He nods. “Fake.”

While opening the door, you have a weird urge to ask if he wants to stay for a little. You brush off the feeling and turn back to him. “See you…” You stray, not really sure when you’ll see each other.

“Tomorrow,” he finishes. “For our first official date. Fake date.”

You nod your head, and that’s it. He walks backward into the hall, waving to you, before he turns to watch where he’s going. You only wave back when his back is turned.

Too caught up in whatever the hell you’ve agreed on, you spend the rest of the day burying yourself in studies. Midterms are around the corner, so may as well get some work done now. You also can’t bear to spend another minute with Heeseung’s stupidly pretty face, and smile, and everything stuck in your head.

Throughout the afternoon, then into the evening, your phone buzzes over and over again. You don’t even bother checking in fear that it’s Heeseung.

When you head off to bed, you quickly scroll away from your notifications and open Yunjin’s chat, where you see she’s been spamming you pretty much until you passed out. You note the time and feel the relief wash over you as you realize she must already be asleep by now. You start typing away.

ME i’ll tell you everything tmrw 01:47

ME meet me at the quad in the morning 01:47

As opposed to Monday mornings, Tuesdays have a different, much more optimistic air. It’s as if everyone’s realized that maybe this week won’t be so bad, so might as well put on a smile before heading to classes.

You don’t have early classes today, so you head down to the quad as promised, a knot forming in your stomach on your way.

There’s nothing you hate more than keeping things from your friends, especially Yunjin. Trust is something you really value in your friendship, as you’re both very open with each other, this feels like breaking it, even though it isn’t necessarily a bad lie to tell.

Taking a deep breath, you convince yourself that it’s for a good cause and she’ll understand once you tell her the truth.

You’re surprised not only by the fact that Yunjin is already sitting at one of the tables, wide awake and ready to hear your tale, but also the fact that she is with company: Yizhuo and Ryujin, respectively.

“Well, well, well,” she says with jokingly menacing crossed arms. She adds to the character a dubious expression. “What do we have here? Lee Heeseung’s girlfriend?”

Yizhuo laughs. “Are you serious? When were you going to tell us?”

From the other side of the table, Ryujin adds on. “Yeah, this seems like a pretty big deal!”

You sit down next to Ryujin, facing Yunjin’s excitedly curious eyes. She leans over the table and grabs your hands. “Tell. Us. Everything,” she enunciates every word for emphasis.

“Um,” you start oh-so confidently. You think back to the contract you “signed” and the storyline you decided with Heeseung. “I’ve been, kinda, seeing Heeseung since October—”

“October!?” Yizhuo yells. “Why’ve you been keeping this from us?!”

“We wanted to keep it lowkey before we decided if we were really serious about this.” The lies slip off your tongue easily, but they leave a bitter aftertaste. “I was talking with him about telling you guys, at least, right when Yunjin walked in on us.”

Ryujin raises a brow. “Walked in on you? Were you…?”

You slap her arm playfully. “Nothing like that, nothing like that! I meant at the café yesterday.”

“We’ve never even seen you two together… How lowkey were you keeping it?”

Yunjin looks at you expectantly. You avoid direct eye contact, afraid she’d be able to see the truth through your eyes. “We text a lot and facetime pretty much every night,” you explain, hoping it’s convincing. “And he’d sometimes come over, but we always made sure none of you would find out.” You make sure to slip in an apology at the end of the statement.

Yizhuo’s the one to wave her arm and deny your apology. “Girl, you got yourself a man, how could we be mad at you?” Her eyes widen in realization. “The prank call, oh my God!”

“Yeah, that took some explaining… But he thought Kang Hana was pretty funny.”

“Speak of the devil,” Yunjin teases, nodding her head behind you.

You turn around and lo and behold is Lee Heeseung himself, followed by Park Sunghoon and Park Jay. If this were a 90s romcom scene, their walk would be in slowmo, the camera would pan to girls and boys fanning themselves as they walk by, some would be fainting in their path. Sunghoon would have to step over someone’s unconscious body, Jay would pick a rose from the bush and hand it to one of his followers and they would blush until their whole face is as red as a tomato.

Instead, they’re walking at a regular pace, but you notice the way seems to run through their hair perfectly. That’s what you get when you’re jaw-droppingly attractive, you think. And then you furrow your brows at your thoughts.

When the boys get closer, Heeseung smiles. “Hi, you.”

“Hi,” you say in return. Your heart beats faster.

“So,” Jay, the one on his left, says. “You’re Y/N.”

You nod. “Nice to meet you—”

“Y’know, it’s funny ‘cause Heeseung never mentioned you?” The question throws you off, more than the smile he has plastered on his face. “Keeping it hidden from us like we’re Dispatch, or something.”

Heeseung places his hand on Jay’s shoulder, taking the lead. He sends you a reassuring look before speaking. “It was my idea, mostly,” he explains. “Let’s not take it out on my girl.”

My girl. You smile shyly.

Addressing your friends, Heeseung smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“You too,” Ryujin says.

“You better be treating her right,” Yunjin says teasingly, but with a touch of seriousness, if you know her right.

Heeseung raises his arms defensively. “She’s the one to decide on that front.”

You laugh. He’s really good at this. “Don’t worry guys, he’s been good to me.”

The two of you share a moment in silence, just watching each other. Heeseung’s the first to break it, not necessarily looking away, but ending your silent conversation. “I take it you dressed for our date, right?”

You blink at him in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“So you really didn't see my text?” He pouts. You’re almost convinced he means it. Wow, I’m going to have to step up my game.

“Sorry, I was really busy studying, I shut off my phone for the day after you left.”

He tuts at you jokingly. “Well, I guess it’ll have to be a surprise.” He extends his arm and offers you his hand. Automatically, you take a hold of it, letting him pull you up in the process. Heeseung turns to your friends and smiles politely. “Again, it was nice to officially meet you all, I’ve heard so much. And—” Facing his friends, he says: “I’ll text you later.”

Then, you’re off, holding hands as he leads you to the parking lot.

The car ride isn’t too long, luckily. You find yourself anticipating what Heeseung has planned, only for you to crush that anticipation when you remember what this is all for.

Her, not you.

Although, you still don’t know who she is.

“Will you ever tell me who this girl is?” you ask as he takes another turn, arriving in a parking lot. Finally in view, you realize you’re at Plus One Games as you watch the big, bold glowing sign. “The arcade?”

“She works here,” he says, promptly ignoring your first question. He pops the keys out of the ignition and turns to you. “Are you ready?”

You hum and the two of you make your way to the comically large front doors. He holds it open, and you thank him as you walk past him, staring in awe at the decor.

Plus One Games is known for its grandeur in the gaming world. You didn’t grow up in these areas, but you’ve heard all about it. It’s expensive and you wonder how Heeseung is able to afford it—He must really like this girl.

The lobby is decorated like a gameboard, the stands where the employees greet the customers resembling game pieces, meanwhile there are signs pointing in every direction to where you may want to go, which look like signs straight out of a Super Mario Bros game.

Unbeknownst to you, you begin to wander while you’re looking at the set-up of the entrance, entranced by the level and precision of the design. Heeseung notices, however, and grabs ahold of your hand, spinning you on your heels and leading you to the cloakroom.

“Can’t let you get lost,” he teases, his head nodding to your hand in his which he raises to eye level.

You flush in your spot, unable to get yourself to pull your hand away.

After depositing your coats and changing into the shoes the staff hand the two of you by the door, you’re quick to let Heeseung guide you through the games and stations. He clearly has a map set up in his mind by the way he easily glides through the place, your hand still tightly in his hold.

He brings the both of you to the bumper cars first, wearing a cheeky grin as he handsomely gestures for you to step into the rink before him. To play along, you bow gratefully like an heiress guided by her guard. He laughs, placing a hand by your lower back to help direct you.

How could someone forget how fun bumper cars are? Because now you’re reminded of the joys of ramming your rubber-ringed play car into the people around you. Luckily, it’s not too crowded, so you have plenty of room to strategically avoid Heeseung’s attempts to knock you over, only to turn around and get him instead.

You’re full of laughter, and so is he. In fact, his face is completely red and you can only assume that yours is a similar shade.

Your laughter doesn’t even die down when the dispiriting buzzer sounds in the mini-arena, prompting the cars to stop in their place and the employee to safely instruct you and the other customers on how to get out.

“So, where to next?” Your smile transcends into your words, but you don’t care enough to be self-conscious about it.

Heeseung pretends to be in deep thought, plastering a dramatic pout of curiosity. “Where to… Where to…” he repeats. He lifts a finger in the air in perfect timing with the music blaring through the speakers above. You laugh at the movement. “Let’s try to win some prizes, hm?”

You assume this is probably some kind of way for him to say that the girl he likes is working the counter. Either way, you agree.

“Ice ball,” he suggests.

“I’ll have you know—” You flick your hair behind your shoulder for character. “—I’m kind of a pro at this.”

He raises his brow. “Oh, are you?”

Instead of responding, you grab the keycard and swipe it across the gamepad, watching as the game’s sign lights up as it starts up. Balls roll out from the dispenser and you grab your first one. You pretend to give it a kiss before rolling it up.

It does not go on.

Heeseung laughs.

You clear your throat and try again. The second does not go in.

Nor does the third. Or the fourth.

“Maybe I should try,” Heeseung proposes playfully.

“Fine,” you grumble, though not seriously. You go on to say he has no shot, the game is rigged and—

His first try goes in.

And his second. Then his third.

The game rings “Winner! Winner!” and tickets begin pouring out of the gamepad.

Heeseung ends up beating you in every game you play, always winning a ridiculous amount of tickets or a silly prize that comes with it. Pinball, mini-basketball, Spin-It-To-Win-It, you name it. He even beats the claw machine which is famously rigged in these kinds of places. You suggested it just to see Heeseung lose, yet here he is flaunting his little stuffed turtle he pulled out of it.

He waves the turtle in your face and you swat it away from you. “Aw, c’mon, Y/N, you don’t want Mr. Turtle?”

“You named him Mr. Turtle,” you deadpan.

He smiles cheekily. “It’s a fitting name.” He then takes your hand by the wrist, flipping it over so your open palm faces upward. Gently, Heeseung places Mr. Turtle into your hand, closing your fingers around it. “Here, you can have him.”

As much as you want to keep up your stingy role of a sore loser and throw it back at him, you shyly thank Heeseung for the gesture and place Mr. Turtle comfortably against your bag, so he can look out into the world without you needing to worry about him falling off because he’s safely attached to the strap.

After a match of laser tag—which you end up winning with Heeseung because you were against another couple—a couple of PEOPLE!—and then racing up to the top of the rock climbing wall, you grab a couple slices of pizza together and call it a day.

The pizza is greasy and frankly a little gross, you’re convinced it’s leftovers from yesterday, but it’s just what you need.

Heeseung comes back to the table with two bottles of pop. “Which one?” He raises both for you to see your options. You point to the red one, probably some off-brand strawberry or raspberry flavoured soda, and he passes it to you.

Chugging down the mystery drink, you find yourself content with the day's events.

When you get to the car, Heeseung holds the door open for you once again. You thank him quietly, getting in at the same time. You force your head down to stop yourself from watching as he makes his way around to his side.

It’s silent for a moment as he turns on the ignition and pulls out of the parking spot. The way he places his hand against the back of your seat, his arm in full view, makes your heart stutter. You take a second to compose yourself.

“So.” You look up at Heeseung with telling eyes and a teasing smile. “Did you see her?”

His mouth opens in a mute ‘ah,’ but he shakes his head, keeping his gaze on the road ahead. “I guess she wasn’t working today.”

And honestly, you can’t even be mad about it because it went so well. You tell yourself this is just a stepping stone in the fake relationship. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

He drives you back to campus and follows you all the way to the building before you tell him he doesn’t need to come up with you. Although he tries to push it, it’s hard to ignore how tired he is from the way he drawls.

As you walk back into your dorm, you’re greeted with your phone buzzing to infinity with messages from the girls’ group chat. You laugh at their bickering as they wait for your updates and you almost opt to stay silent to see how far it goes.

The following days go on similarly. Between hanging out with your friends, attending classes and studying for midterms, you’re going out on dates with Heeseung. Fake dates, but you soon learn he’s a really good actor.

Then you update the girls on the happenings of the date, steadily avoiding the parts hinting at your deal.

Your first date following the arcade is at the library. At first, you don’t see how Heeseung would consider this a date, until he shows up at your dorm with roses and chocolates. “Bring these with you,” he says. “She should be studying there for another hour, or two if she’s really into it.”

You abstain from commenting on the fact that if she’s “really into it,” is he even sure she’ll notice either of you, because you’re in need for a good study session with a friend, and as much as you love your friends, they have a hard time focusing when you’re all together.

It’s nice. Heeseung is as hard of a worker as you remember from the previous semester. Every now and then, you’ll look up and find his eyebrows furrowed at the paper in front of him, so you ask to help him out if you can. He does the same to you, you realize. As you look down at your notes, biting your lip at the same phrase you’ve been staring at for a while now, Heeseung taps the table right in front of your book with his pencil. “Need any help?”

You only remember once he brings you back to your dorm that you never asked about the girl. You’re not even sure if she was there since he didn’t say anything.

Yizhuo is offended that you find your girls-only study sessions unhelpful. Ryujin playfully slaps her shoulder.

For another date, he takes you to the movies.

“And this is helpful… how exactly?”

He shrugs and raises a hand to sheepishly scratch the back of his neck. “I may have told her I wanted to see the movie. And then I may have panicked buying them in front of her, I don’t want to risk her seeing me bring someone else when I said I’d bring you.”

“This could’ve been your chance to invite her to the movies!”

“And make her think I’m a cheater?” He shakes his head twice. “Besides, this is what we’re fake dating for. You and I can still go as fake-boyfriend and fake-girlfriend, if you don’t mind.”

Of course you don’t mind.

The movie is okay. It’s not really your style, nor is it Heeseung’s, if his distasteful grimace as he’s walking out of the cinema says anything.

“You didn’t like it,” you tease with fake concern.

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. “No,” he defends. He even raises his hands to wave them around as he searches the air for an explanation. “It was—You know—When they—Right?”

You laugh and place your hand on his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I didn’t really like it either.”

Heeseung places his own hand on top of yours and you feel your heart stutter. In a panicked moment, you try to rip your hand away, but it gets caught in his shirt, so you have to awkwardly pull it out from underneath.

Yunjin asks you about the movie itself, and you can’t seem to remember much about it besides Heeseung’s face at the end of it.

One of your favourite—fake—dates with Heeseung is when he takes you rollerblading. (You never ask how this is related to the girl he’s trying to impress. What? You’ve always wanted to go rollerblading.)

You both invite your friend groups and get to see them bond, which is both weird and endearing.

Yunjin holding onto Sunghoon and Ryujin’s hands for dear life as they’re the only two that are decent at roller skating and she’s on the verge of face planting whenever she steps on the rink on her own.

On the other hand, Yizhuo and Jay are equally bad. Yizhuo has horrible coordination and Jay… just can’t move. He can’t even take a step forward, just waves his arms around as if he’s swimming and it’ll somehow propel him. So, Yizhuo just keeps magnetically crashing into him, causing them both to fall down and need to recalibrate themselves from the boards.

Heeseung is a champion at it, as anyone would’ve expected. Though, he falls back to follow your pace, which is slow, but not agonizingly so, or so you hope.

You haven’t had the chance to go rollerblading in a while, and you end up tripping up over your own feet. Luckily, Heeseung is still there by your side to hold you so you don’t fall.

“Thanks,” you say to him, harshly gripping onto his arm to make sure you don’t.

At the end of the night, when your friends have already called it in, catching an uber or taking their own cars back, you and Heeseung stay a little while longer.

You’re sitting by the bleachers on the outside of the rink, Heeseung still freely skating on his own. He’s skating much faster, now, you notice. And he’s doing it with a big smile on his face which you can’t help but mirror when you’re watching him.

Later on, you notice he wears the same, but more subtle smile when he’s with you in the car, laughing and chatting while music blares from the speakers and the windows are rolled all the way down.

After a few weeks of date after date, midterms come up.

You and Heeseung made an agreement not to go out during this time. It gives the both of you time to recharge and focus on studying. It’d be useless to go out anyway, since his girl would probably be doing the same, you think but avoid saying.

When you make the modifications to your arrangement, you assume this means less frequent texting or calls, but those stay the same. Heeseung texts you good morning and is the last to say good night before you fall asleep, just as he’s been doing the past few weeks. You come to think that you’ve become really good friends over this time together.

You also assumed this would give you a break from acting like a couple, but Heeseung once again has other plans.

One afternoon when you don’t have classes, someone knocks at your door.

Normally, if someone’s at the door without texting you beforehand, it means it’s just another one of those door-to-door students campaigning for whatever new project they’ve come up with. Or, occasionally, it’s your next-door neighbour who’s going to warn you about being loud while working on their next project, whatever it is they’re doing.

This time, however, you’re met with a bouquet of flowers and an otherwise empty hallway. The bouquet comes with a note, that reads:

Good luck on your midterms! My two-lips will be ready to reward you once they’re over… (Sorry, Sunghoon told me to write a pun.) (Fuck why’d I write it in pen? There aren’t even tulips in this bouquet???) (This is from Heeseung BTW)

You laugh at the extra scribbles and smudged half-written words on the rest of the paper.

And it’s like magic, the way his words encourage you to keep studying, keep working harder. You pass your midterms with flying colours.

Heeseung invites you to the café on campus to celebrate, and said you needed to discuss something. When you arrive, your chocolate mocha is already sitting in front of him, on the opposite side of the booth.

He smiles when he sees you come up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you say back. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Well, first—” He raises his cup. “To passing midterms!”

You clink yours to his, smiling. “To passing midterms!” You both take a sip of your drinks before setting them down and looking at each other intently.

“So,” he says firmly. “I still haven’t given you your end of the deal.”

That’s right. You agreed on this whole shenanigan as long as he gives you an in on the Park family business. If you’re truly willing to become a lawyer, getting Jay to give you a good word to his father would mean a lot of doors opening, some that you’d never open otherwise.

It’s funny that something so big and important to you slipped your mind over these past few weeks.

Then you remember how you’ve discussed this would be happening. “There’s a party?”

Heeseung nods into his drink, getting a bit of foam on his upper lip. You almost lean over the table to wipe it off yourself, but instead you hand him a napkin, avoiding his eyes as you laugh nervously. “Thank you,” he whispers. Once the napkin’s down, he returns to business. “Tomorrow night at Jay’s actually. His dad won’t be there, unfortunately for you and fortunately for, like, everyone else attending.”

You nod. “So, this’ll be our first big event as a, albeit fake, couple?” Nerves begin to feed in your stomach and suddenly you’re not so thirsty. Your hands naturally start fidgeting with your cup.

The last time you went to one of the campus parties was the first week in the new year, last semester. You remember it all too well, meaning not at all. You’ve never been the best at calculating your tolerance, but that time you really went overboard.

For one, it’s embarrassing, but you also don’t want to do anything with Heeseung.

“Yeah,” Heeseung agrees nonchalantly, but he leans lower in concern, looking to meet your eyes. “But it’ll be okay, just like any of our other dates. Fake dates. Just pretend that you’re the infamous Kang Hana.” Then he adds: “But don’t be late this time.”

There he goes, making you laugh so easily.

Over the next few minutes, you agree that Heeseung will pick you up and drive the both of you to Jay’s not too early, but not too late. Jay isn’t big on wanting his friends to help him set-up, so he’s fine with whenever they decide to show up.

And when you do, you’re struck by awe, your mouth hanging agape at the… everything.

You’ve known Jay was rich, but you never considered he’d be this rich.

The black front gates leading up to a long driveway. The pillared entrance archway. The enormous garden wrapping around the household. The fountain. The white walls which are interrupted by full length windows looking into the modernly decorated mansion.

Jay stands by the door holding a blunt. Wispy smoke draws circles in the air as he exhales. “Look who it is,” he says with open arms, tossing the rest of his joint to the ground.

The boys dab each other up and Jay nods his head at you as a greeting. A chill passes through your body. You hug your body tighter underneath your jacket.

Heeseung places his hand comfortingly on your waist, pulling you closer to him so he can whisper in your ear. “If you want to leave, just say the word.” And when you shake your head, he leans in again. “Are you ready, Kang Hana?”

You decide that you are.

The party is nothing remarkable.

As promised, Heeseung makes sure to give you a chance to talk with Jay and perhaps get an ‘in’ on his father’s company. It seems to go well enough, although Jay mostly just agrees with what you’re saying, trying to move on from the topic of his dad and law.

But other than that, it’s just like any of the other parties that you’ve been to with your friends.

Music. People making out in every corner. Loud music. Couples dragging each other upstairs not-so-secretly. Decent food, despite Heeseung telling you about Jay’s personal chefs being top tier. And did you mention agonizingly loud music?

You still manage to have some fun with your fake-date, though.

The one thing that really stands out is the fact that most girls are keeping their respectful distance from Heeseung.

Usually, he would be surrounded by a dozen, at least. A couple hanging off his arms, some standing behind him, others even kneeling in front of him. They create an entourage around him like he’s some king they worship, and yet today you don’t even see a speck of that lifestyle.

It dawns on you that word really did get around about you and Heeseung.

You even lean in to tell him this much. “Your girl definitely knows,” you tell him. “Is she here?”

Heeseung looks around almost half-interestedly in the others, turning back to you with a smile. “No, I don’t think so,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too bummed out. Maybe it’s the drinks. “Do you want another drink?”

Only later on do you realize you really haven’t learned your lesson on your tolerance.

After your probably fifty-something-eth song on the dance floor, Heeseung calls it quits, having drank just as much, but clearly being able to hold himself together better.

He bids goodbye to his friends, letting you wave at them in your drunken state and gets you in the car to drive you back.

You stumble into Heeseung’s arms as you make your way out of the elevator on your floor. “Oops,” you laugh.

He makes a nervous sound before adjusting his arms to hold you properly with his hand holding onto your waist. “We’re almost there, Y/N,” he whispers, gently tugging you forward on your wobbling legs.

However, he freezes in his tracks when he’s met with your friends waiting by your door.

“Oh,” Yunjin says. “We thought—”

“God, we thought she died or something, she wasn’t answering our texts,” Yizhuo interrupts. “Are you guys gonna…”

“No, no,” Heeseung answers quickly, waving his free hand. “I was just making sure she made it safely back to her dorm.”

You cheer out of the blue, just glad to be there.

Heeseung reaches into your jacket pocket for your keys, the jingling sound making you laugh some more. He tosses the keys to Ryujin. “Here,” he says. “I’ll just bring her to bed—Uh! Not like that, I meant, like, make sure she sleeps.”

Yunjin shakes her head reassuringly. “Here, let me take her. We’ll take care of her, if you don’t mind.”

He doesn’t respond for a second, turning to look at you. The drunk-flush on your cheeks makes your eyes pop, he notices. Unknowingly, a soft smile creeps up on his lips. “Sure, sure,” he eventually says.

When he’s out of sight down the hall, the girls tug you into the room. They bring you to bed, helping you kick off your shoes and take off your jacket, but not bothering changing your clothes—who knows what kind of a struggle that would be.

The process proceeds in a comfortable silence, but not for you. You’re itching to speak, say anything. Something about the drinks in your system makes you feel chatty, so you say the first thing on your mind. “Heeseung’s so pretty.”

“I hope you think so,” Ryujin jokes. “He’s your boyfriend.”

You laugh, turning over to face away from the girls. “No he’s not.”

“Yes, he is,” Yunjin reassures, trying her best to get the blanket over your body to properly tuck you in, but you keep rolling away from her touch.

Watching you shake your head back and forth, Yizhuo curiously pushes. “What do you mean he’s not your boyfriend?”

“It’s just, like, a scheme,” you whisper the last word mischievously, wearing a cunning smile and waving your hands mysteriously. Laughing to yourself, it takes you a moment to notice your friends’ confused expressions when you look over at them again. “What?” You look up at them with a dazed smile.

“So… You and Heeseung,” Yunjin starts with furrowed brows, trying to assess the situation. “You’re not even dating?”

“Nope!” you say with a laugh, enunciating the ‘p’ with a pop of your lips.

From behind you, Yizhuo lets out a sigh of relief.

This time, Yunjin frowns at her. “What’s that about?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says hurriedly. “It’s just that if Y/N and Heeseung were actually dating, the whole reveal would’ve been really awkward.”

“What reveal,” you ask.

She pulls her lips in, suppressing a laugh, before waving her hands and starting to confess. “So, remember how I said I slept with Heeseung at a party last semester?” Memories of her flaunting her newfound womanhood and maturity swarm your mind. You nod, yeah, I remember. “Well—” She tilts her head  guiltily. “I lied.”

You blink slowly at her. Once, and twice, before shaking your head out of pure confusion. “Wait, what? Why would you lie about that?”

Yizhuo looks over at Ryujin and Yunjin as if they’ll help her. From the less than expressive faces, you can tell they already knew. She scratches the base of her neck awkwardly. “I don’t know, I guess for status, or whatever.”

This sobers you up instantly. “Status? Like sleeping with Heeseung’s some kind of badge you get to wear around?”

She laughs nervously. “Well, no. But like, I don’t know, Y/N, I was just fucking around. I told you guys that when I was, like, really high.”

“Doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re treating him like some kind of object?” You’re always one to try to see the best in a person, in a situation, but you really can’t find it in yourself to defend Yizhuo right now. “He’s not just some fuckboy, Ning, he’s sweet, and kind, and cares about the little things, and—”

“So, you do like him?”

You sputter confusedly. “What are you even talking about?”

She stares at you dumbfoundedly. “You like him. You’re, you’re defending him,” she explains matter of factly. “Do you know how many girls he’s hurt ‘cause of his little hobby of hooking up and leaving them in the dust?”

“That has nothing to do with what we’re talking about. Admit it, Ning, you fucked up.”

She raises her arms defensively. “Fine! Maybe I did! But so did he. Multiple times with so many people. It’s weird that you’re on his side with this.” Sighing, she rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’m sorry for what I lied about when I wasn’t right in the fucking head, if that’s what you want to hear.”

You truly don’t know what’s gotten into her, but you also can’t be asked to bother caring. “Real mature,” you deadpan, realizing that that in itself is immature, too. “Get out of my room.”

She doesn’t even say anything to you. Just rolls her eyes again, mutters under her breath and tells the other girls they can come over to her place if they want. Yizhuo leaves with her jacket over her shoulder, not looking back.

“Go after her, it’s fine,” you tell Ryujin and Yunjin.

“Y/N—”

“Just go.”

They file out of the room in a hurry, and only when the door shuts do you let your tears of frustration fall. You slide down to the floor and cry into the palms of your hands with your knees up to your chest.

You’ve never had a fight like this with your friends. Sure, you’ve argued every now and then about stupid things, but something that left your chest heaving? All of this over a boy?

Your hands shake as you reach for your phone, your finger gliding past the group chat and your private messages with the girls—tempted to call them again, but you refuse—rushed to find the contact you've gotten so familiar with.

The line rings a few times, before you hear the click!.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” His voice is laced in concern, which warms your heart. And when you tell him you want to see him, he doesn't ask questions and simply tells you: “I’m on my way.”

Heeseung gets to your dorm surprisingly fast.

Then he reveals that he never left the parking lot, not specifying why, and you’re blushing all over. You avoid eye contact, but he reads it as you avoiding the topic.

He tells you as much that you don’t need to go into detail if you don't want to, simply promising to be here. “It’s been a long night, you should rest.”

You lay down in bed, lifting the covers as an invitation.

He lays down next to you. “Is this okay?” And all you can do is nod.

Your curtains are ajar, you notice, watching the way the moonlight traces Heeseung’s features. His eyes shine in the dark, but yours drift down to his glistening lips.

He lightly bites his lower lip as he holds a strong gaze on your face, studying.

Just when you think he’s about to lean in and close his eyes, Heeseung surprises you with a whisper. “I think we should go to sleep.”

Disappointment runs through your body, but you agree nonetheless.

Your dreams are plagued by the shadow of a touch and big brown eyes.

The following morning, the first thing you think is, “I slept next to Hee—Ow, my head hurts really bad?!”

You groan as you push the blankets on the side, when you notice the other half of the bed is empty. The sight of it makes you frown, but then you hear rustling the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re up?” Heeseung peers his head around the corner of the bathroom. His hair drips onto the flooring and evaporated hot water trails behind him. “I hope you don't mind. I took a shower.”

Not finding the words, you wave it off. Shaking your head proves to be a bad idea because you’re left clenching in your fists from the pain.

Heeseung frowns. “Headache?” When you nod, he points to your side table. “I left a glass of water—I hope you don't mind I took it from your filter—and an ibuprofen—which I took from your cabinet, I really hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s okay, Heeseung,” you tell him quietly, wearing a pained, but genuine smile. “I really appreciate it, thank you.”

He smiles shyly before returning to the bathroom. And then it dawns on you that he might not have been wearing clothes during your exchange. Your face flushes, again.

When he leaves the bathroom, it’s your turn to freshen up. You try not to think about it too much.

“What should we have for breakfast?” he asks casually, sitting by your desk and is still working hard at drying his hair.

Your eyes are stuck on Heeseung’s movements. The way he fiddles with the towel to dry his hair, his face scrunching as he swipes rapidly. You smile in silent laughter at his cute expression, but you don't say anything about it.

“I’m really craving a croissant.”

That’s how you find yourself, hands inching away from Heeseung’s as you walk, making your way down to the café.

He tells you to find your regular table, assuring you that he’ll order. There’s no point in protesting, plus your headache still hasn't completely dissipated, so you willingly agree.

It only takes a few minutes for him to come back with a caffe latte and a dark chocolate mocha as per usual, as well as two croissants in paper bags.

“How’d you know I wanted a dark chocolate croissant,” you ask, peering into its bag. It’s glorious, you note, taking it out, careful not to spill the freshly drizzled still-hot chocolate.

Heeseung shrugs. “You’re always ordering the dark chocolate mocha, so I figured you'd like it on your croissant, too. It’s good right?”

You nod and hum into your food as a response, too enthralled by the taste and Heeseung’s attention to detail.

Your outing together goes well, as they always have.

He doesn't bring up your tear-stained cheeks from last night or the sudden call, to which you’re glad. The conversation is light, but natural. Every now and then, he makes you laugh and forget all about last night's events—almost all of them. Lingering at the back of your mind is the moonlight across his face, his soft lips and the feeling that you imagined when looking at them; the feeling of them pressing against your own.

Heeseung insists on walking you back to your dorm, again. You’ve learned by now that it's useless to argue with him, as stubborn as he is. “It’s on my way,” he lies. “Really, it's for me, mostly.”

That second statement is less of a lie, you can tell.

“After you,” he says, gesturing toward the elevator.

You lean against the elevator wall, closing your eyes. “I’m so tired,” you say with a muffled voice.

After pressing the button to your dorm with no hesitation, Heeseung’s eyes darken with a serious air. “Are you sure you're okay?” He’s not really asking about right now, more so about everything that happened last night. Everything he doesn't know about.

You’re afraid of admitting to him that you drunkenly spilled the truth to all of your friends, and caused a fight because of it. Not to mention he was the center of it.

Internally, you decide not to tell him about Yizhuo’s damage. That’s something between her and him, and you're not going to push it onto either of them.

“You can trust me—” Then, he reassures. “Only if you're comfortable.”

You are. So, you start to put together how you’ll tell him in your head, but your thoughts are interrupted by a loud—

THUD!

“What was—”

THUD! THUD!

And then, you’re falling.

Shit. We’re           falling.

Your brain stops working, completely freezing in your spot, the noise of the elevator screeching against its reins echoing in your head. Your heart pounds against your chest.

“On the ground!" a distant voice yells. Heeseung.

Right. That’s smart.

You follow his movements and lie down next to him, spread eagle. Your arms are practically on top of each other.

Heeseung grips onto your shoulder, shaking it. “We’ll be okay,” he says, though you're not sure if it's to you or himself. His eyes stay open widely, bloodshot. 

Suddenly, the elevator stops in its movements. The unexpected stop makes your chest bounce, but altogether, you're okay. You’re okay. “Is anyone in there?” The voice is muffled from behind the closed doors, but you think you recognize it as one of the janitors from the building.

Hurriedly, Heeseung rushes to the door. “Yes, yes, we’re in here!”

“Stay there—Er, I mean, stay still—Or, just don't worry we’ll get you out of there. Soon.” The ending of his sentence doesn't bring much reassurance, but from your spot still on the floor, you force yourself to believe his words.

Heeseung doesn't seem convinced either, but he lets out a sigh and extends his hand to help you up. You take his offer and try your best to ignore the fire his touch alights in your stomach. “I guess we have some time.”

“I guess we do,” you say with an awkward laugh.

He doesn't say anything in response, giving you the chance to lead the conversation. If you wanted to completely ignore the subject at hand, you don't think he'd mind. This gives you the confidence to do the complete opposite.

You take a deep breath before sputtering, “I told my friends about our deal. Drunkenly, so like totally an accident, but I did and now they know and—”

“Oh,” is all that comes out of his mouth at first. You worriedly lift your eyes to meet his, though now they're glued to the ceiling, with his back leaning against the wall. “That's—That’s okay. What harm could they cause? Unless you're telling me they're planning on going around campus exposing us… But that's not your fault.”

This time, you say “Oh,” standing in silence and staring at Heeseung’s favourite spot on the ceiling, too. The panel twitches from above, and you can imagine the elevator crashing has something to do with it. “I also got into a huge fight with them, or maybe not all of them, but it was, it was bad. We've never fought like that.”

“What was the fight about?”

You, you want to say. How Yizhuo did something stupid and it somehow turned into being about your complicated feelings for him. But you can’t tell him all of it, that’d be too much for such a tight space.

Shrugging while trying to look unconcerned, you decide to confess a half-truth. For some reason, you can’t get yourself to lie to him. “They think our plan is a bad idea because you’d be supposedly ‘using me,’ as if I like you, or something…”

He’s silent, at first. Heeseung considers what you’ve said, neither comforting nor arguing against you for it.

“Do you?”

You turn to him. “Do I what?”

“Like me,” he answers. “Do you like me?”

“I…” you start lamely. Your eyes avoid his, but they always seem to find their way back to his gaze, your face flushing underneath it. “I can’t answer that.”

And neither does he.

Instead, he turns so his body is completely facing yours, coming much closer than he was before. You tilt your head toward his where your breaths fan against each other. Your eyes make the mistake of drifting down to his lips again, and you instantly lose all composure.

You lean in first, but he’s quick to follow your lead, placing his hands onto your waist, while yours find their way to the base of his neck.

The kiss is delicate, but sparks fly all around. Your stomach does a flip when you feel his tongue tracing your bottom lip, but you don’t deny him access for long. 

Heeseung’s hands trail down your torso to your hips, where they inch backward to pull you closer into him. You follow his movements until he’s pushed against the wall with you tightly pressed against him. He flexes his arms around your body and flips you so your back is against the wall instead, with him hovering above you.

His knee is drawn between your legs pressing against your core, eliciting a moan, but it doesn’t go further than that. Soon enough, your movements are slowing down, though your heart is still racing in your chest.

When you separate, your mouth hangs open. “Heeseung…” you whisper, but before you can say anything more, the doors slide open.

“Are you okay?” The janitor that you predicted would be there is standing by the buttons, holding a handy-man suitcase for the electrician kneeling in front of the panel. “Anyone get hurt?”

You brush off any dust from your back, adjusting your shirt and hair to be more presentable. Also to erase the memory of whatever just happened. Did we really…? “No. No, we’re okay. Thank you.”

“Yes, we’re… okay,” Heeseung adds quietly.

You don’t even wait for Heeseung, rushing toward the staircase on the other side to get to your floor. For a moment, you hear his footsteps behind you, but once you’re up halfway, you realize he’s given up and you let out a sigh of relief.

You don’t really want to face him now, not after what just happened.

Luckily for you, you don’t need to face him for a long time afterward.

You stare at his latest text (”assignments are pretty crazy atm let’s reschedule our next fake dates”), trying not to focus on your heart tightening at his word choice, and quickly reply:

ME sounds good! see u :) 10:11

The week goes by slowly and quietly.

With Heeseung mostly M.I.A besides the occasional short-worded answers to your texts and you actively avoiding running into your friends, you’ve had a lot more time for yourself and you notice how much you hate it.

So, you pluck up the courage to text the ghosted group chat, asking the girls to meet together at the café. You all need to talk, whether any of you like it or not.

Though, the reason you even have the motivation to do this at all is because you know the girls have been making an effort to talk. Although not in the group chat, your messages have been spammed daily with apologies and questions about your daily life, to keep it casual. You also received a note during the class you share with Ryujin which read simply: “Love ya xx”

You smiled at it before crumpling it and stuffing it into your bag—What? You were trying to make a statement.

Now there’s no need for theatrical note crumpling, with the three girls surrounding you at your regular booth. Yours and Heeseung’s, you mean. It’s the comfiest there, you convince yourself when making the natural choice to sit there.

The space is filled with awkward silence as you sip on your mocha, feeling even more stuffy when the girls don’t make a move to drink their own orders. You’ve had enough of this. “Guys… Let’s talk, or something. We’re still friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Yizhuo says out of the blue. “Seriously. That was really messed up and I shouldn’t have said it. And I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, you had every right to be mad.”

You smile softly. “Thank you,” is all you say, taking her hands in yours and squeezing them. You lean your head against her shoulder and the two of you stay like that for a while.

“You really like Heeseung, don’t you?”

Your head shoots up at Yunjin’s sudden question. You stumble over your words, trying to suppress the blush from spreading up to the tips of your ears, but you feel the heat anyway. “No, no, I—I don’t. No.” You shake your head for emphasis, but Yizhuo looks at you with telling eyes.

“Sure, I believe you,” she says, completely meaning the opposite.

“I just—” you start, not really knowing how you feel. “Our whole set-up, it’s—it’s fake. He doesn’t feel the same. I don't even know why he kissed me—”

“He kissed you?!”

Before you have the chance to respond, your phone buzzes, drawing your attention thankfully away from your accidental reveal. It’s Heeseung. Great.

희승♡ there’s a party at sunghoon's, you wanna come? 14:23

ME when is it? 14:23 

희승♡ tonight @ 10 14:23

You look back up at the girls to find them staring at you with knowing smiles. It’s not hard for them to notice who you’re texting, or the way your eyes glint at the messenger.

“So,” you tell them. Yizhuo and Ryujin lean in, while Yunjin raises a curious brow. “Who wants to go to a party?”

Sunghoon’s house isn’t as grand, but it’s just as prepared for a party as Jay’s. Music blares into the driveway as you, Heeseung and the girls make your way to the door. Nobody is standing by it with a blunt, but the wide-open entrance is welcome enough.

“You guys go in,” you tell the girls, making a sign for them to not protest. They don’t, understanding your unspoken signal and heading inside. You turn back to Heeseung who looks more nervous than he’s known to be nonchalant. “Hey…”

“Hey,” he says back.

“It’s been a while.”

He hums, looking off to the cars spilling out into the street, nodding at nothing. “I’m sorry, I was, uh, busy,” he clarifies.

A chill passes between you, but you’re not so sure if it’s the wind or the awkward air. Either way, you’re happy to have brought a jacket to bury your hands in.

“You made up with your friends,” Heeseung notes suddenly.

“Yeah, we talked earlier.” He’s not going to bring up the kiss, you conclude, and neither are you. Maybe you can go on and forget it happened altogether. “We sorted it all out.”

Heeseung gives you a genuine, albeit small, smile. “That’s good.”

Scenes from the elevator rush through your mind. His hands around your waist, his lips against yours. The way it all felt, how consumed you were of him. How good it was. You blink it away and gesture to the door. “Should we…”

“Let’s go,” he says, then adds, “Kang Hana.”

You laugh. Okay, you think, we’re okay.

And with Heeseung by your side, the night is one to remember.

With the music ringing loudly throughout the house, after a few light drinks, you and Heeseung spend your time dancing with your hands on each other, rhythmically guiding each other to the melody. You almost forget there are other people in the room at all, closing your eyes and only thinking of the man holding you in his arms.

When the fourth or fifth song ends, you separate, only for him to run his hand down your arm to grab your hand on his own. He leads you to one of the rec rooms.

“There she is!” Yunjin’s drunken voice makes you giggle, the buzz getting to you, too.

“Hi, hi,” you tell her and the others.

Yizhuo is busy steadying her aim, holding onto a ping pong ball just past her nose with one closed eye, to greet you, but Ryujin waves sleepily from her place. She’s leaning against someone you recognize from one of her study groups. They nod to you, too.

“Hey,” Heeseung whispers, leaning into your ear.

You giggle at the feeling of his words against your skin. “Hey, back.”

“I’m gonna go get another drink, you want one?”

You nod eagerly, letting your fingers fiddle with his even as he begins to walk away. When he’s gone, your hands linger in the air for a moment more, missing the warmth of his hold.

Suddenly, the warmth comes back, though it’s different.

Turning around, you’re faced with Jay. “Can we talk?” he asks.

Wordlessly, you nod and let him guide you through the crowd of people to a more secluded area.

“What’s up?” You try to steady your voice, but it comes out higher pitched and perky out of instinct, still feeling the adrenaline of the buzz.

“Heeseung told me you wanted an ‘in’ at my dad’s firm?”

Your eyes light up. “Yes, yes I do!”

He chuckles at your excitement. “Well… I can give you his details so you can get into contact with him. I’m also technically not supposed to tell you this, but—” You lean in expectantly. “—they're picking out students for a co-op over the summer. Maybe I could put in a good word, slide your application at the top of the pile…”

“You can do that? Seriously!?”

“I can’t guarantee it’ll be with my father himself.” He raises his arms in defense. “But I can definitely get you some connections on the inside.”

Your hands come up to your mouth, holding it from going agape in honour. “Thank you, oh my God, thank you,” you repeat for good measure. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The air shifts as he moves closer to you. Jay’s hand lands on the wall not far off from your head. He leans in, his breath tickling your skin, making your cheeks flush. “Maybe you could thank me by letting me take you out?”

For a moment, you’re frozen in your spot. How are you meant to react? Heeseung’s best friend hitting on you? What would happen if he saw? Wait, does it even matter? You’re not actually dating. Right?

But the elevator…

“Hey,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you. Heeseung steps forward, the lights of the party illuminating his features dimly. His face wears an uncharacteristic anger in his furrowed brows and hardened jaw. “Back off.”

Jay simply laughs, retracting his hand. “Why do you care,” he taunts.

You try to keep your composure. Jay hasn't been the nicest out of the group, but you never expected him to sound so mean.

You watch as Heeseung refuses to reply, not wanting to push Jay even more as he’s clearly too buzzed to have a coherent conversation. He tries to grab onto his arms and lead him away, but Jay’s quick to push them off.

“You don’t even like the girl,” Jay slurs.

Heeseung gets closer to him, grabbing his arm and talking into his face to make sure he listens. “You’re drunk, Jay, back off.”

Jay isn’t having it. He tosses his head back in a laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually fell for her?” he asks in a venomous tone. Your stomach churns as you watch their interaction. A smirk grows across his lips. “You owe me.”

“Fuck off.”

“What?” You weren’t going to step in, already feeling shaken up enough from tonight’s events. But Jay’s words ring in your mind. “What does he mean you owe him? What, what is he saying?”

Heeseung’s eyes lock with yours, pity and sadness ghosting his expression. “Y/N, I can explain—”

“We made a bet,” Jay cuts in. He shrugs Heeseung’s hands off of his shoulders. “He had to get any girl on campus to fall for him, leave her in the dust and watch her crawl back.” He turns to Heeseung with a mocking pout, his steps wobbling. He’s really drunk. “Doesn’t matter that she won’t come crawling back, ‘cause you’re too soft to leave her.”

“What’s your problem,” Heeseung shuts. “Are you jealous? That’s fucking low, even for you.”

You can’t even see him properly, your vision blurred in tears. Your breath catches in your throat as you want to say something to interrupt, come between. But you can’t even stand being by Heeseung right now. “A bet? This was all a bet?”

He turns to you quickly. “Y/N, please, let me explain.”

You shake your head, tears running down your cheek, surely ruining your mascara. “I have to go.”

Maybe it would make sense if you let him explain. Maybe he could somehow salvage the situation, but you can’t hear it. Not right now. Not after everything you’ve felt for him, everything you still feel for him despite the ache in your chest.

From behind you, Heeseung calls your name. “Wait, please!” You ignore him and run out of the house.

Your body shakes. “Should’ve brought a sweater..” you mumble bitterly. Then you remember that you did, but you left it inside. You also realize that you left all of your friends behind without a word. “And my phone,” you groan. You could easily turn back around and get them, but you’re already halfway down the road, you can even see your building in the distance.

It’s too humiliating to go back now, anyway.

How could I be so stupid? you think to yourself. Lee Heeseung, going out with you out of his own free will? Stupid. Impossible. Just a dumb fantasy. 

It starts to rain. You curse at the sky.

When you finally make it to your dorm, stumbling up the steps because of course the elevator still hasn’t been fixed, you go straight to bed without washing up. You’re too tired for this. And, you realize, you drank too much to care.

You try to fall asleep. You really do.

But your head keeps replaying Jay and Heeseung’s conversation. The way Heeseung lips parted when Jay revealed it all. The way he looked at you, begging for you to listen to him. It’s all stuck in your head and in fear of it following you into your dreams, your body refuses to fall asleep to ignore everything.

Just as you’re about to take your pillow and scream into it, you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone.

희승♡ i’m right outside your door 02:23

희승♡ you have every right to slam the door in my face 02:23

희승♡ or not open it at all 02:24

Staring at the messages, you bit your lip in consideration of your options.

You could, A. Not get up. Keep the door closed and never speak to Lee Heeseung ever again. Or, B. Get up, open the door and see what he has to say to explain himself. You’re liking the former, but your feet move on their own toward the entrance.

You lift yourself up to peer through the peephole. Heeseung is standing there, fidgeting anxiously in his stance. He looks from right to left a couple times, down to his phone, back up, and closes his eyes. After a deep breath, you watch him begin to walk backward, slowly.

Something snaps in you. You open the door.

His eyes widen at the sight of you. You’re probably still a mess, eyes red from crying paired with tear-stained cheeks and running mascara. You don’t even want to begin to picture the state of your hair. Yet, he looks at you in awe. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

Wordlessly, you step back to motion for him to come in.

Heeseung follows you onto the couch, where you sit down to look past the TV in front of you and stare at a blank space on the wall. You feel his eyes on you.

“I’m sorry,” he then says.

You don’t reply.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he starts again. “But can I tell you everything from the start? I need you to know what really happened. Then, you can go on to hate me.”

I don’t hate you, you want to say. You don’t speak, nodding for him to go on.

Ironically, considering he was drunk out of his mind, Heeseung remembers the moment he got your call.

He and the boys were hanging at Sunghoon’s, originally just planning on playing video games and getting high, but then Sunghoon mentioned his dad’s stash. “Whiskey and lemonade, anyone? Rum and coke? Dirty Shirley? If you’re feeling creative,”

Who was Heeseung to deny?

And so, soon enough, they were drunk enough to forget the weight on their shoulders and act more carefreely. This is when Jay decided to come up with a brilliant idea.

“So we all know Heeseung’s a whore—”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I haven’t gotten some in, like, four months.”

Jay laughed, taking another swig of his drink. He grimaced as the liquid burned down his throat. “You’ve basically fucked half of the campus, but it’s always one night and that’s it.” Heeseung nodded, not sure where he was going with this. “Bet you can’t get someone to fall in love, or some shit.”

He couldn’t help but raise a brow challengingly. “What? You think someone wouldn’t fall for me if I gave them flowers and took them out?”

“Have you ever even actually dated?”

The answer was yes. Technically. If you count middle school relationships. Otherwise, fine, he’ll admit to himself that he hasn’t ever dated anyone seriously. That’s just ‘cause he hasn’t found anyone he’s really interested that he knows would be into him, too.

Of course, there was you. You were the first person he ever fell head over heels for. Heeseung didn’t even know he was capable of falling so hard, but he did.

Though you would never like him back. You’ve already confirmed it.

So, Heeseung clapped his hands determinedly. “You wanna bet on it?”

But before Jay could answer, his phone rang.

The contact felt familiar—Note Giver—but his mind couldn’t register. “Hello,” he said confusedly.

Some commotion on the other side took him by surprise.

“Um… Who is this?” Sunghoon looked at him curiously, wondering what could’ve interrupted their moment.

The girl, he presumed, on the other side hesitated for a moment. There was more noise before she said: “This is… Hana…”

“Hana?”

“Kang. Kang Hana,” the girl clarified. Y/N. He finally realized it was you. “We met at the, uh, party last Friday. At Jay’s.”

Heeseung considered your words, wondering where you were going with this. At the same time, he accidentally spilled his drink. “Shit,” he whispered away from his phone. Sunghoon tossed him a towel with a big smile on his face. When the mess was mostly cleaned, Heeseung brought the phone back to his ear, cleaning the rest of it with his other hand. “Kang Hana.”

“Yeah, we had a good time together, didn’t we?”

He paused. “I guess,” he said slowly. He wanted to have a little fun with this, listen to your voice a little longer. “Can you remind me?”

You began to tell the tale about your supposed encounter, spinning the story into something that genuinely impressed Heeseung. Every now and then, he hummed, trying to suppress a laugh at your creativity. He doesn’t even want to know why this was happening.

“I’m so sorry, I left you in the dirt and—” Your voice was cut off by a squeal, shocking him.

“Woah!” he yelped, pulling the phone away once again. Jay couldn’t hold his laugh at Heeseung’s reaction.

“Who is it,” he asked.

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat before responding without really thinking. “Y/N.”

He practically hears your heart drop. “You knew it was me?”

“Obviously,” he replied with a chuckle. “Took me a second, I’m a little tipsy, haha.” He didn’t want to throw you off by admitting he was more than buzzed, so he told a white lie. As long as he was coherent enough to have a conversation, he thought it was fine.

“Oh, am I interrupting?”

“You’re never a bother, babe.”

Why did I say that? Maybe he’s more drunk than he thought. It just slipped past his lips, he doesn’t know why. Were his fantasies meshing with reality that he couldn’t help himself? Heeseung tries not to watch Jay’s face morph into something mischievous.

“Huh,” you said, which made Heeseung cringe.

Jay mouthed something in his direction. He tried to read it, but it must've been something along the lines of “Her. She’s the girl.”

Heeseung knew what he meant and mentally hurled the empty chair to his right at him. Back to the phone conversation, he tried to change the subject. “Are you with the girls?”

You told him you were, and he took this as an opening.

As much as he wanted to keep talking with you, since it’s been so long, he needed to get away from this conversation to recover from the embarrassing slip-up. “I don’t want to keep you if you’re having fun. Text me later though, okay?” God, when does he stop talking?

You confusedly told him “Okay?” before you cut the call.

He was already typing a message to apologize to you for his behaviour, but Jay was already telling him to play along with it some more. The bet was on and he decided that you were going to be the girl.

Heeseung felt a knot form in his stomach.

“I should’ve just come clean when we met at the café, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He ends his retelling at that, you fill in the rest with your mind.

You’re not sure what to say. You have so many questions and comments spiralling in your mind, where do you even start? “There was never a girl?”

“No… Just you.”

Stuttering, you just have to ask. “Why me?”

“Jay told me to go for you, said it would be a challenge. I was stupid enough to go along with it. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I… I really like you, Y/N, I didn’t think you’d want to be with me if you knew the truth.”

“You called me babe.” Is all you say.

“What?”

“On call. The first time. You called me babe. I thought that was you playing your role.”

Heeseung lets out a shaky sigh that sounds more like a breathy laugh. “I was drunk,” he explains. “And I…” You look at him expectantly. “I’ve liked you since we met, and I guess it slipped up ‘cause I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

This shocks you. You blink up at him. “Since we met?”

“Well, pretty much.” He rubs the base of his neck awkwardly. “Obviously you’re really pretty, but it was more than that. You were always the first in class. You only answered the professor when no one else would, even though you definitely always knew the answer. You’re so well spoken, too.” You blush at his words. You never realized he had been so observant. You never thought anyone would notice so much about you.

However, you shake your head. “But you never said anything?” This truly astounds you. The everknown Lee Heeseung never made a move to even at least try to be with you. You can’t even know if you would’ve said no to him because well… he’s him. If you knew him the way you know him now, you know you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.

“Remember what I told you about the girl I liked?” You nod. “You’re her.”

You furrow your brows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Last semester, I went to one of the campus parties and you were there. You were drunk out of your mind,” he laughs. Oh, God, he remembers, too? “At first I was just admiring this new side of you. So carefree and so unapologetically you.” His eyes glint at the memory. You can almost see it replaying in your head. Almost because you truly can’t remember much of that night. “And then you ran off to the bathroom at some point ‘cause you got sick. I followed you to make sure you were alright, but you pushed me away.

“You told me to fuck off ‘cause you didn’t want to sleep with me. You called me a player and said you didn’t want to get roped up in that, or something. I think you insulted me some more, but your words were kind of all mashed together.” You flush. “I left you alone, but made sure to get your friends to check on you. And, I don’t know, I kind of lost interest in hooking up with random people after that.”

Your eyebrows raise, impressed. “You quit cold turkey?” He nods. “For me?”

He nods again.

“Wow… You really like me?”

“Y/N, I think I’m in love with you.”

You find yourself teetering on the edge of disbelief and joy, uncertain about how to respond to this unexpected revelation. Heeseung looks at you with such tenderness that you’ve never had directed toward you, to which your heart flutters with warmth.

His eyes shift from adoration to concern as you sit there in shock for a moment. “I know you probably don’t like me back, but—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

Driven by a surge of emotions, you lean in, pressing your lips against his.

As you kiss him this time, there’s a greater sense of assurance. Your first kiss carried an air of uncertainty, with both of you unsure about each other’s feelings. The way you felt when pulling away left your stomach in knots, thoughts of insecurities and worries running through your mind.

You let go of your hesitation, now, focusing solely on this moment. The way your lips connect to his, the way he smiles into the kiss and the way you pull away to look at him with telling eyes.

“I love you, Kang Hana,” Heeseung tells you.

You reply with a laughing smile. “I love you, too, Lee Heeseung.”

A ringing phone blares in your ear early in the morning. You groan, eyelids barely awake since even the sun hasn't come up yet. “Hello,” you mumble into the receiver. “Um… Who is this?”

You recognize the chuckle from the other side. Suddenly, you’re much more awake. “I’m sorry, Love, did I wake you?”

“No! No—” you scramble but are cut off by a yawn. Heeseung laughs softly again. “Yes, you did, but that's okay. Why're you calling so early? How are you even up?”

“I couldn't sleep.” Then, he adds more teasingly. “Not without you.”

You can practically hear the wink he sends.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise, and then I thought that maybe you’d want to watch it with me?” He says it like a question, as if he's not sure. You shake your head even though you know he can't see it. “Maybe I should've thought this through…”

A giggle escapes your lips without warning. “It’s fine, Heeseung. How about you come over and we’ll watch it by my window? Unless you have a spot?”

He hums assuredly. “No, no, I was just gonna watch it from mine, too. I’m actually, uh, already inside your building.”

He’s so ridiculous. You laugh to yourself before telling him to come up—You unlock the door, only for him to appear right on the other side as you do it.

“Hi,” you tell him with a bright smile despite your tired eyes.

“Hi,” he replies quietly.

You’re lucky your window is facing the east, with little to nothing blocking your view from the clear bluish-orange morning sky, aside from some trees, but they only add to the landscape. The sunrise is beautiful, but you conclude that Heeseung is much more beautiful, especially with the way his eyes reflect the sun rays that hit through your window.

For a moment, you shut your eyes to appreciate the heat of the rays. “Beautiful,” Heeseung murmurs.

And when you open your eyes, you realize he’s looking at you.

[ventismacchiato]

17 stuck with you — jealousy jealousy !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

content warning: oblivious idiots

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT: YOUR POINT OF VIEW

When you and the others returned from the island, you walked into the dorms to find everyone either drunk or in the process of getting there. When Yae asked what everyone wanted for catering, the unanimous answer was alcohol—until Jean reminded them they’d need food too.

You’d had a drink or two and were playing a halfhearted game of cards on the floor with Venti and Aether. Nobody seemed interested in going to bed. Getting drunk was the perfect way to forget the stress of the show.

Scara sat near the door, absentmindedly pulling out blocks in the game of Jenga Fischl had set up beside him. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm…for now.

Then Mona stood up from where she’d been teaching Yoimiya how to make a drink and plopped down next to Scara. He didn’t look too thrilled by the move.

“So, Kuni?” she slurred.

You froze at the name. Scara had made it clear that nobody but you called him that.

“Don’t call me that,” Scara muttered, his voice flat.

“Aww, why not? I thought I meant more than that,” Mona teased, clearly influenced by the alcohol.

“Can you go bother someone else?” Scara shot back.

“Don’t be like that!” Mona huffed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Want a massage? You used to love my massages.” She said the last part while looking directly at you, her hand casually caressing Scara’s shoulder. You quickly looked away, trying not to make it obvious that you were listening.

Scara removed her hand from his shoulder, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Mona didn’t let it go.

“Why won’t you just pay attention to me?” she whined, leaning closer.

“Can you not?” Scara finally turned to face her, his voice sharp. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

At this point, the whole room was trying to act like they weren’t paying attention, but it was clear they were all watching

“I just wanted to talk—” Mona began, but Scara interrupted her.

“I mean, what are you doing on this island?”

“I came to win you over,” Mona said, as though the answer was obvious.

“You’re the one who broke up with me,” Scara huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Mona took a long swig from her drink, unfazed.

“I didn’t want to,” she sighed, her voice thick with alcohol. “I would’ve stuck it out if your mom hadn’t… well…”

You felt a flush of heat spread across your face at the mention of Scara’s mother. You weren’t the only one who noticed; Childe, Aether, and Kazuha exchanged glances, each looking more uncomfortable by the second.

Scara grabbed Mona’s glass from her hand, his fingers tight around it. “You should shut up.”

Mona, however, was too far gone to be deterred.

“How could I not take the contract? You know how bad my old management was. I had no choice. It was either that or you. You know how it is.”

It was only when she noticed the entire room was staring at her that a little sobriety seemed to return. She clamped her palm over her mouth and stared at Scara, wide-eyed.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to say that,” she mumbled, her voice the most sincere it had been all night.

Scara didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground, his face unreadable, while Mona rambled her apology. The rest of the room shifted awkwardly, unsure if they should intervene or just let it pass. You could feel your heart race, had that been the real reason for their breakup? You had always thought Scara had ended things on his own terms. 

Mona reached out for him, but Scara stood up abruptly, stepping over the scattered Jenga blocks on the floor as he moved toward the door. It creaked open, letting in a cold gust of night air before slamming shut behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, Mona stood, swaying slightly, and started after him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Kazuha murmured, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the door shutting once again.

“Did you guys know about all that?” Venti asked, turning to Aether.

“Since it’s out in the open, yeah,” Aether sighed.

“We need to stop giving her drinks,” Lumine muttered under her breath.

“I’m kind of worried about Mona going after him,” Childe said, rising from his seat to peer out the window. “Knowing Scara, he might drown himself… or her.”

“I’ll go be a witness to the murder then,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Childe gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as you made your way out the door.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to follow him. It had always been about trying to surpass him before. But tonight…tonight you just wanted to catch up to him. To be equals.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The bench is cold beneath him and the sea breeze is a sharp slap against his face as he stares out at the crashing waves. It’s quiet but it does little to distract him from the turmoil in his chest. His fingers curl around the cigarette, the thin paper already loose from where he pocketed it earlier. He twirls it between his fingers absently, trying to focus on the motions instead of his thoughts.

The urge to light it is almost unbearable. He can almost feel the familiar ache, the way the smoke would crawl its way down his lungs and quiet everything inside him. It would help him forget. At least for a little while. 

But he promised he wouldn’t. 

Your words echo in his head like a soft, repeated prayer, something that clings to him even when he’s alone. He knows if he takes that drag, it’s one more step back from everything he's trying to hold onto. One more thing he’ll have to explain to you, and he can’t stomach that right now.

So instead, he flicks the cigarette into the sand, watching it settle there like a tiny, forgotten thing, and then turns his gaze back to the sea. His breath hitches in his chest. If it isn’t the lack of nicotine that’s bothering him, it’s something else. Something sharper, older.

Something that happened more than a year ago. 

Mona’s slurred words made the memory hit him with the force of a slap. It wasn’t her betrayal that stung, not really. He knew the two of them were never that serious. But it was the fact that she had chosen his mother over him. The fact that his own mother had paid her off like it was nothing. 

Mona had once been sweet back when they first met. Her determination to be an idol had reminded him of you in a way. Maybe he was just searching for a piece of you in anyone he could find. 

“Scara?”

He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s her. He can smell the alcohol before he hears the soft, slurred voice, and when he finally looks up, there she is, weaving on unsteady feet, her hair tangled around her shoulders, eyes glazed.

She’s drunk.

God, what a fucking mess.

“I—uh—can I sit?” She hiccups, and despite himself, he shifts slightly to make room on the bench, the muscles in his back tense, coiled, but his body obeys the unspoken politeness he’d long been taught.

Mona doesn’t wait for a response. She just slumps beside him, her hands gripping her knees like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I didn’t mean it,” she says after a long silence, the words coming out in a rush, broken by more hiccups. “I didn’t mean to say it to everyone. I swear, I didn’t. I was just—I was just trying to make you… jealous, or something.”

Scara doesn’t say anything. He can already feel his patience wearing thin, his hand tightening into a fist. He knows where this is going.

“You know how I get when I drink,” she continues, her voice small, vulnerable in a way that makes his gut twist. She leans into him, her breath warm and sour with alcohol. “I was just trying to get a rise out of you. I thought... maybe it’d make you care more. Maybe it’d make you feel something for once, you know?”

He stares ahead, trying to focus on the horizon, trying to avoid the heat of her body next to his, the smell of liquor clinging to her like a second skin. She’s slurring more now, and with every word, the tension in his chest grows heavier, pressing down until he’s almost suffocating.

He can feel her swaying beside him, her body suddenly lurching forward as she clutches her stomach. He reaches out instinctively, used to her being like this, his hand awkwardly rubbing her back just to keep her from falling over. She feels so fragile in his touch, but that fragility doesn’t excuse the way she’s always tried to pull him back into her drama.

She leans in, too close again, her words spilling out in a rush like she's been holding them back for too long.

“You know...” she starts, her eyes dark and unfocused. “I only started acting out because you wouldn’t pay me any attention anymore. You were always complaining about YN. Always.”

She lets out a short, frustrated laugh, and then hiccups, her face flushing. “I know it wasn’t love, Scara. I’m not stupid. It was just a stupid distraction wasn’t it, from whatever you felt for them.”

He looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Even if you didn’t realize it back then, I did. Even if all we had was physical you can’t deny it worked. We were good at that. So yeah, I got a little carried away. But if you hadn’t been so busy chasing them around, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

He can’t even find it in himself to deny it. After he had started dating her you’d started avoiding him for one reason or another. Maybe you thought everyone would get the wrong idea.

But it killed him. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just run off and take the first offer my mom gives to you,” he snaps, his tone cutting. “If you really didn’t like the way I treated you that badly, you could’ve left. You could’ve walked away. No one was holding you here.”

He shakes his head, frustrated they were having this talk now of all time, “But you didn’t, did you? You stayed. Because you knew being with me—even if it wasn’t love—would give you the eyes on you that you wanted so damn badly.”

“You’re right,” she admits, the words coming out quietly. “ But I didn’t know what else to do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

Scara scoffs at that. 

“It didn’t look like it. All I saw was someone who was more interested in being the center of attention than me,” He shakes his head, turning his back to her for a moment. Honestly, he could keep going. But they were only having this conversation because she was drunk. There was no point, he was over it. 

He exhales sharply, his tone flat when he speaks again, as if he’s just given up.

"Yeah, okay," Scara mutters, voice distant. "It's fine. It’s not like you’ll even remember this tomorrow, anyway.”

It’s the only thing he says, just to make the whole thing stop. He knows she’s looking for something else. An apology, maybe, or some kind of validation. But he’s too fucking tired to give her that now. And it’s not like he’s going to receive one.

"Really?" Her voice rises in a way that makes him want to shove her away. "You're fine with it?"

He doesn’t respond, though now he’s just waiting for her to puke all over him. The sound of the ocean lapping against the shore is the only thing filling the silence, until she’s leaning in closer, her breath hot on his ear, her face too close.

“You know,” she whispers, her words slurred and soft, “I wouldn't mind going back to what we had. Just for a night.”

Before he can stop her, she’s pressing her lips to his, soft and insistent, her body leaning into his as though this is what she’s been waiting for all along. Her mouth is warm, her hands finding their way to his chest, and for a moment, Scara’s heart stops. 

Not because he wants it, but because he doesn’t.

He’s frozen, a quiet alarm ringing in his head. This isn’t real. This isn’t what he wants. Not from her. 

Even if it was only for a few seconds, the moment stretches too long until he can finally pry her away from him. And when he does finally pull back, his hand is shaking. 

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice tight with something: frustration, anger, confusion, maybe a little bit of pain. “Don’t try to fix this with... that.”

She blinks at him, confused, the haze of alcohol still clouding her eyes. "But... but I thought... we could—"

He stands up abruptly, cutting her off before she can make this worse. "Just... don't." The words hang in the air, heavy with finality.

She looks rather pitiful sitting on the bench like that, and he almost feels bad. Almost.

“You should just go,” he says, his voice flat, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

But then, as he turns to leave, he sees you.

In the distance, walking towards the kitchens, your figure framed by the fading light. Seeing you makes something inside him twist. He starts to wonder why you’d come out soon after he stormed off. The idea of you coming back, walking over to him like you actually care. Just that thought is enough to loosen the tight knot in his chest. He didn’t even realize how much he was holding his breath, waiting for it. For a moment, he lets himself imagine you doing it. He almost expects it, but the longer he stands there, the more he realizes it’s just a fantasy. He watches you for a moment, then his stomach drops when he realizes if you were out there you must’ve walked by him. 

You had seen the kiss.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Your feet moved before your brain had a chance to tell you no. It was a strange instinct, one you didn’t quite understand. You’d never been one to comfort Scara. You’d been at odds with him for as long as you could remember, enemies in every sense of the word. 

But after what you’d learned about his mother just the thought of him being alone, struggling with it, gnawed at you. You wanted to check on him. You needed to check on him. 

The island was massive, and Scara wasn’t exactly known for his athleticism, so you figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find him. Still, your mind raced as you walked, trying to come up with something, anything, that would make him feel even a fraction better. What could you say to him that wouldn’t sound patronizing, or worse, awkward? You weren’t even sure you could help him, but you had to try.

And then, there it was.

The beach. The bench. The figure slumped against it. Scara. The cigarette in his hand. You’d found him.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to steady yourself. This wasn’t a time to lose control. But before you could take another step, your eyes caught the familiar outline of someone else. Mona. She was walking toward him, wobbling a little as she approached, and suddenly the moment felt off.

You stopped in your tracks, half hidden by a few tall bushes nearby, your body suddenly rooted in place. You should’ve turned around and gone back to the party. Scara was clearly occupied. He would be okay, right?

But no. Your eyes stayed locked on the two of them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away.

Mona was standing next to him now, her chest heaving slightly from hiccups, and her words were slurred as she spoke. Scara wasn’t saying much, but his hand moved, almost instinctively, it seemed, to rub her back, slow and careful. As if he was...comforting her. You felt your pulse quicken, a strange sense of something building up in your chest, something like a heavy weight pressing down on your ribs.

A normal person would’ve walked away, turned around and walked back to the party, chalking it up to nothing more than two people talking, nothing more than Scara being himself. But you were never normal when it came to Scara. So instead, you stayed rooted in the shadow, just watching like some creep. The words you had rehearsed in your head seemed meaningless now, overshadowed by the confusion swelling inside you. What was happening?

And then, without warning, you saw it.

Mona leaned in, her lips pressing against Scara’s.

The world tilted on its axis. You didn’t even know how to react at first. A cold knot of jealousy, something sharp and unexpected, wrapped around your chest, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. 

Scara, someone you’d considered your mortal enemy, the person you had spent years fighting against, was kissing Mona. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, her hands clinging to his chest. Just the sight was enough to leave you standing there, paralyzed. 

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

It was a mantra you were repeating in your head. But the jealousy gnawed at you in a way you didn’t understand, the sting in your chest a sharp reminder that maybe you cared a lot more than you’d ever let on. You’d always been jealous of Scara throughout the years, that feeling was something familiar. But this was something different. Your stomach is twisting with something you couldn’t name. Something that hurt to acknowledge.

Oh.

Oh.

Without even thinking, you turned away, stepping back into the shadows, your feet felt heavy beneath you. You had no idea what you were feeling anymore. Or you did, but you couldn’t even voice it. 

Scara was kissing Mona. Your Scara. Your Kuni. And you were standing there, like a fool. 

If you had run after him a bit faster would you be the one he’d be kissing? That wasn’t the problem, though. No. The thing that bothered you the most was the way it made you feel like an outsider. The way it reminded you, in an almost painful way, that you weren’t the one he turned to for comfort. 

That was how it had always been. Always. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he was angry, or the way he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. Maybe it was the constant back-and-forth, the challenge. Maybe it was the fact that he was always there, whether it be to hit you with a snarky remark or laugh at you when you fell second to him again. He’d always been there.

But you cared. And that made you want to punch something, or scream, or both. You’d never imagined a day when you would care about Scara in any way other than annoyance, or the irritation of seeing him always one step ahead. 

Suddenly, your feet moved as fast as they could to get you out of there.

The walk from the beach to the kitchens feels like it takes longer than it should. The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off. 

You step into the kitchens, the cool air inside a sharp contrast to the warmth of the night outside. The lights are low, casting shadows over the countertops, still littered from the dishes from earlier. A clink of glass catches your attention first, and then a familiar voice. 

“You finally made it in here.”

You stop, looking up until your eyes land on Heizou. His casual smile is the same one he always had, though there's something softer in it tonight, like he’s been waiting. He’s got a glass of water in his hand, and you realize he must’ve been looking for you. He’s the last person you want to see right now, but he doesn’t seem surprised by your presence.

“You didn’t go back to the party,” he continues, setting the glass down on the counter. “I figured you might be hiding in here. You don’t look like you’re in the mood for another drink.”

You’re about to reply, but he catches you off guard by speaking up.

“Are you okay?” 

You pause. It’s a simple question, but for some reason, it feels heavy. Before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out.

“No, I’m not okay,” you start, your voice a little more brittle than you intended. 

“I just... I just watched him. Scara. I saw him with Mona. It’s like everything I’ve been trying to avoid came crashing down in front of me. I don’t even know what to feel. It’s just... why is everything so complicated? Why does he have to make things so complicated?”

Heizou doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t look at you like you’re insane for spilling everything. He just watches, his calm expression making the chaos in your head even more prominent.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” he asks softly, the faintest hint of concern in his eyes.

You blink, realizing that you’ve been ranting and completely unaware of how you’ve been projecting everything onto him. Heizou seems to sense it too, because next thing you know, he’s stepping closer, his presence warm and steady as he leans a little into the counter beside you.

“Hey,” he says, his tone gentle. “Come on. You need to relax.”

Before you can protest, Heizou wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. He places a hand lightly on your head, urging you to lean into him. You hesitate for a moment before giving in, resting your cheek against his shoulder. His body is a familiar comfort, though you didn’t expect it to be this comforting tonight. In the quiet of the kitchen, you realize how exhausted you are. 

“You know,” Heizou says, his voice quiet but teasing, “I have no chance now, do I?”

You blink, not fully processing his words. “Huh?”

Heizou laughs softly, caressing his hand over your cheek, “Still as oblivious as ever, huh?”

You feel your brow furrow. “What are you talking about?”

Heizou’s fingers brush through your hair gently, like he’s trying to sort through his own thoughts. “It’s him, right?”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your heart beating a little faster. “What? No. I—”

But before you can finish, Heizou cuts you off, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I saw you two kiss on the show. The hot tub.” He pauses, studying your face for any shift. “It was... something, wasn’t it?”

You feel your stomach tighten, the thought of the kiss now a distant, uncomfortable memory. “You know that was fake, right?” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

Heizou’s eyes stay locked on yours for a long moment, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He nods slowly, but there’s a slight edge to his tone. “Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.”

You swallow, the words suddenly feeling sharp. Your chest tightens, and you know you have to say something. You didn’t want to hurt Heizou’s feelings after he came all the way out here. 

“No. It didn’t,” you say, your voice firm but tinged with something that feels more like a lie than you want to admit. “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

You don’t notice at first, but Heizou’s smile falters just the tiniest bit. “Yeah. Sure,” he says, his voice warmer now, almost wistful. 

He doesn’t say anything else, but the silence between you both stretches out, heavy with unspoken understanding. You feel a little stupid for saying so much, for trying to convince him, or even yourself, that it was all nothing. You knew it was far from nothing.

Heizou finally breaks the tension, grabbing the water bottles he came in for. “Yeah, sure. Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

You stand there, watching him leave, suddenly realizing you’ve just unloaded more than you intended. But before he walks out the door, Heizou looks back, giving you one last knowing look, then disappears back into the hallway.

You’re still standing there when you hear a soft voice outside the kitchen door.

“Interesting.”

You freeze. Your heart skips a beat.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat when you see Scara standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like he’s been listening the entire time.

For a second, all you can do is stare at him. And then it hits you, the way Heizou’s words must’ve sounded to him. The way you had tried to downplay the kiss. The way you’d tried to convince Heizou that it meant nothing.

Scara raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused, but his eyes were glazed over with something else. “Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

The words stick in your throat, and before you can even try to explain, the hurt in his eyes is enough to make you realize he’s probably already misunderstood.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

Scara barely registered the words Mona was slurring anymore, his thoughts still tangled in knots from everything that had just happened. The sour taste of her lips still lingered. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was the thought of you seeing him like that. Seeing him with Mona.

He had to get out of there. Fast.

His mind raced as he stormed off, barely even registering where his feet were taking him. His body moved on autopilot, following after you towards the kitchens.

When he reached the door, he paused for a moment, chest tight with a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was a soft clinking sound from inside. The low hum of voices.

And then he heard it.

Heizou. Of course. Scara narrowed his eyes, already annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

The door was slightly ajar, and without even thinking, Scara found himself inching closer, the need to know what was going on outweighing the nagging voice in his head telling him to turn around. To leave.

What he saw made his stomach churn in a way he hadn’t expected.

You were standing there, your face softer than he’d ever seen it, as Heizou pulled you into his side. The way your body melted into him like it was second nature to be close to him was unsettling, like something sharp had just slid under his skin.

For a second, Scara froze. His thoughts were clouded with the absurdity of it. You with Heizou? Who didn’t know you like he did? Absurd.

It wasn’t like you owed him an explanation. Yet the sight of you resting against him, affectionate, something Scara hadn’t seen you do with him made him... unseen. Like he didn’t belong in your life at all. The knot in his chest pulled tighter.

His breath caught, and before he could do something stupid he stopped himself. What was he even supposed to say? He wasn’t entitled to anything from you. He wasn’t yours. 

So he stayed outside, watching. Listening. 

He could hear Heizou’s voice, low and teasing, and then yours, soft but firm.

“No. It didn’t,” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet kitchen, and Scara’s chest clenched painfully. “You know that was all fake, right? It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

His heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. His stomach churned, and the weight of them hit him harder than any punch. 

It wasn’t supposed to matter. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

Scara’s fingers dug into the frame of the door, his knuckles white. The words rang in his ears, repeating over and over. He tried to steady himself, tried to remind himself that it was all a game. The hot tub wasn’t supposed to mean anything to him, until it did. 

But hearing you say it, hearing you so casually dismiss the kiss, made him feel like he was choking on something sharp and heavy. It was all fake. He had no right to feel that way.

The worst part was, he didn’t even know what to do with it. With you.

You’d both made it clear from the start that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. A show, a performance. The kiss was meaningless. Just another part of the script. He didn’t expect anything different. But hearing you say it so coldly and without any hesitation made something in him snap. 

Before he could take a step back, Heizou’s voice drifted through the door again, a quiet laugh in his tone. “Yeah, sure.”

Scara could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.” The burgundy haired nuisance continued. 

Scara's breath hitched, his chest tightening even further as he leaned in closer to the door, his pulse quickening. He felt an uncontrollable wave of frustration crashing through him. He could feel the words hitting him, one after the other, like Heizou’s voice was a punch to the gut. But worse was the feeling that came with it. The one that told him Heizou was right. That it had meant something. That he had somehow allowed himself to believe that the kiss between you and him had meant something beyond a simple game. He hadn’t realized how stupid you were making him. 

But then your voice came through, clear and harsh, “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

Scara’s fingers trembled at the doorframe. The knot in his chest was tightening, twisting around his lungs. You were denying it. Denying him. The kiss, the heat, the rush of it. You were dismissing it like it had been nothing more than a convenient illusion. You weren’t wrong, the rational part of him knew that. That didn’t mean he had hoped you’d thought otherwise. 

Everything he had been fighting so hard to bury flared back to life, hotter than before.

Heizou chuckled, a lighthearted sound, but it only made Scara feel more exposed. “Yeah, sure.” Heizou’s voice grew quieter, and Scara heard him getting ready to leave. “Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

The kitchen door creaked as it swung open, and Heizou left without a second glance, his footsteps fading down the hall.

He was about to turn and leave, he had too. But just as always with you, he couldn’t help but fight back. 

“Interesting.”

You stood there in the doorway, looking caught between embarrassment and something else, your face pale, your eyes flicking nervously between the open door and him.

Scara stared at you for a long moment, his throat tight, before he spoke, his voice low and strained.

“Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Scara lets out a dry chuckle, sharp and almost bitter, before walking off. Your heart is still racing, adrenaline surging through you. The confusion is all still a blur.

And yet you follow him. 

Something you’d never do, especially with him. But a part of you still wants to make sure he’s okay. And a bigger part of you doesn’t want him to walk away with the wrong idea. 

“Why’d you follow me here?” you ask, your voice louder than you intended, still thick with that adrenaline.

He stops abruptly and turns around, eyes dark, but there’s something else there, too: vulnerability. 

“Why did you follow me?” he shoots back, his voice low, taunting almost, but you can hear the frustration beneath it.

You stand there for a moment, trying to find the right words, but your thoughts feel tangled. “I just... wanted to see if you were okay,” you say, quieter now, your shoulders sagging. “I know your mom sucks, but...it seems like you were occupied.” You didn’t mean it to come off as bitter as it did.

Scara freezes for a split second, his gaze narrowing into something hard. “She’s the one who came onto me, okay?” His voice is biting, “I shoved her right off. And you can’t say shit, you were all over him back there.”

For a second, you can’t say anything. You feel a hot flush rise to your face. You take a breath, and then the words spill out, almost before you can stop them. “That didn’t even mean anything,” you mutter. “He was just... comforting me. I said that so he wouldn’t feel bad.” You don’t want to explain why. You’re glad he wasn’t there for the entire conversation.

Scara’s eyes flicker with something sharp. “Fine,” he spits out, hands gesturing in exasperation. “It’s all fake, then. Fine! It doesn’t matter. Whatever, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

You feel the words sting, and before you can even think, you’re snapping back. “Fine! Fine, Scara. If that’s what you want to believe, go ahead.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, glaring at each other, neither of you willing to back down. And then, just like that, you both start walking in the same direction.

You glance at him, a little incredulous. “You go first.”

Scara doesn’t even look at you. “No, you go first.”

“I said it first!” you protest, taking a step forward.

“No, you go.”

A beat of silence. Then, in unison, both of you groan.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. “This is stupid.”

Neither of you says anything else, but you both start walking again. Side by side, but without speaking. The tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, but now it’s more muted, like you’re both too tired to keep fighting.

By the time you reach the door to the dorms, the adrenaline has started to drain away, leaving only the residual ache of whatever you two just went through. You both stop at the doorstep, standing for a moment in the cool night air.

Scara's eyes drift lazily over to a bottle resting on the corner of the porch, a forgotten drink from earlier in the evening. Without a word, he picks it up, twists off the cap, and offers it to you, his face impassive.

“Want some?” His voice is quieter now, a little less sharp, though the remnants of the earlier tension still hang in the air.

You take it without thinking, your hand brushing his as you grab the bottle. Your throat feels dry, like you’ve just run a marathon, like everything from tonight has left you parched. He’s always left you out of breath.

You take a long sip, the alcohol burning down your throat, and pass it back. Scara drinks, then hands it back to you with a quiet gesture. You both settle onto the steps, the weight of the night pressing down around you, but the silence feels somehow comfortable now.

You’re not sure why, but with each sip, you feel a little less tense, a little less angry. It’s still there, but it's somehow quieter now. Maybe because it doesn’t feel like you need to have all the answers, not right now. Not with him sitting next to you like this.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore and the occasional sip from the bottle between you. You pass it back and forth like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The weight of the argument is still there, sure, but somehow it doesn’t matter so much anymore.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The quiet hum of the night surrounds you both as you sit on the porch, the sounds of crickets and the occasional hum of the waves filling the spaces between breaths. The bottle you’re passing back and forth feels less heavy now, unlike the unspoken things still floating around like ghosts between you and him.

You break the silence first, your voice quieter than you intended. “So, what were you and Mona talking about?”

He doesn’t answer right away, taking a slow swig from the bottle, his eyes fixed somewhere off in the distance. His lips press together in a tight line, but he finally turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Well, she was talking at me, really. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was asking if I was ever in love with her…”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, “Well, were you?”

Scara’s gaze shifts. His body is tense. He doesn’t meet your eyes immediately, instead looking off to the side, like he’s searching for something. 

He feels the precipice you're both on. 

He wants to jump. 

“No.”

The word hangs there, and for a moment, everything is still. He can feel the air between you both shift, like the ground beneath your guys’ feet has tilted slightly.

“Really?” you ask, more quietly this time. “How did you know you weren’t in love with her?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He shifts on the step, his foot tapping idly against the wood. He wants to say he just knew, as cliche as that sounds. His eyes are fixed forward now, knowing if he looks at you his words won’t leave his mouth. He takes a swig.

The words come out slowly, like he’s still figuring them out as he speaks.

“I don’t know... I just knew, I guess.” He hesitates, then adds, “What I felt for her is different from what I know love is.”

The silence stretches, and he feels like you’re standing at the edge of something with him. 

He’s waiting. He thinks he’s always been waiting for you.

“And you… know what that feels like?” you ask, voice softer now, almost hesitant, like you’re testing the waters.

His eyes finally rake over you.

“I do now.”

You opened your mouth, and he’s hoping something, anything, comes out of it. He felt like he’d just sliced his chest open and was bearing his heart to you with bloodied hands.

His words hang in the air for a long moment, strange and heavy. Your gaze catches his, and for just a second, there’s a flicker in your eyes, something guarded but knowing. Scara holds your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it’s like everything in him stills. The air is thick, as if the words you’ve both danced around are hanging just out of reach. His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat creeping up his neck.

He knows this feeling all too well. The way his chest tightens when he realizes something he’s been waiting for will never come. His mother’s attention. You. It’s a feeling he’s all but accustomed too. But there you were, just out of his reach. He doesn’t expect you to understand. Hell, he doesn’t even understand himself half the time. But in that moment, sitting next to you, he wants you too. 

The weight of your unspoken words presses on him. But maybe that’s all this will ever be, a weight. The knowledge that he’ll never feel the same way about anyone else and that you’ll never feel the same about him. That thought stabs at him like a shard of ice in his chest, cold and sharp. He wants to say something, but the words aren’t there. Not yet. Not ever, maybe. 

“We should go inside,” he murmurs, breaking the silence, his voice almost a whisper against the night’s stillness. 

His voice drops further, and he shifts slightly on the step, his leg brushing against yours. It’s an unconscious motion, but it feels deliberate somehow. Like he wants to be closer but knows better than to ask for it. 

“Yeah,” you pipe up from beside him, “We should.”

Yet you both sit there for a few more minutes, passing the bottle until nothing is left in its wake. He doesn’t look over at you again, doesn’t dare too. Instead he gets up and goes inside, leaving you behind. 

Something you’ve always said he’s good at.

[00:00:00] POST PARADISE DATE TAKE ONE

YAE: So, do you want to talk about today?

SCARAMOUCHE: Talk about what?

YAE: The kiss, obviously. What else would we talk about?

SCARAMOUCHE: What happened to "Hi, how are you?"

YAE: [LAUGHING] This is a safe space.

SCARAMOUCHE: It absolutely is not, but you want to talk about the kiss? Fine. It wasn't real. I didn't even kiss her back, she was drunk and I don't love her. And I'm not that much of an asshole to take advantage of someone drunk. I'm a terrible person, but not that bad.

YAE: [SPEECHLESS]

SCARAMOUCHE: This is fucking stupid. Why did l even have to explain myself? I have nothing to prove to anybody. [GETS UP]

YAE: Scaramouche, wait—

SCARAMOUCHE: [WALKS OFF SCREEN]

stuck with you!

materlist — prev | next

(typos) *slide 6: feelings wheel / *slide 8: i just had this realization

first update of the year wow!

sorry guys i’m scared to do the keep reading button so…😛

after typing oh. oh. i was like ooh bitch i ate

also ignore how scara lowk littered uhm he picked up his cig after dw! environmentally friendly king!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🤗

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — four updates during break ur welcome! my break ends in two weeksish so idk if ill be able post another one before then so let me rest xx

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

[ssahotchnerr]

how do you think Aaron and reader who are married, react to both being called ‘Agent Hotchner’ and they both answer? That’s so cute, I could just imagine Derek smirking and Rossi having a proud dad moment

the hotchners

AHHH I LOVE THAT cw; bau!reader, established relationship, typical cm case talk, playful banter/fluff 🥰

"The unsub is devolving, they’re getting more reckless," Derek thought aloud, clicking his pen in hand. "He dumped the last victim in a public place, rather than the usual, secluded spot."

"They're losing control." You inputted in agreement, your eyes darting across the conference room table to him.

Aaron leaned down on the table, still standing, but with his palms pressed against the surface. He was next to you, and this stance allowed him to be ever so slightly closer. Your heart warmed by his proximity, as any displays of affection were at a minimum when in the field. You were happy he was just close by. "The next victim will probably be someone they can’t control-"

"Agent Hotchner?" A voice came from behind, hindering the conversation.

"Yes?" Both of you answered swiftly, out of habit, though it was a new habit for you. Your tickled eyes met Aaron's, your nose scrunched up slightly in amusement.

Derek grinned, swiveling back and forth in his chair in observance. Rossi raised his hand to his mouth casually, concealing a chuckle.

The voice in question, one of the local police department's officers, even hesitated himself, as if he didn't know which Hotchner he were to rely the information to.

As soon as you and Aaron got engaged, the discussion of whether or not you'd take his last name was on the table. To avoid confusing situations like these, or to prevent any reputable prejudices. It was rare, but every so often you received grimaces from bystanders, both in the field and in the office back home. Marrying your boss? Either tremendously romantic or something to be frowned upon.

But in the end it was unanimous; you wanted his last name, and as did Aaron. It was even more important to him. A symbol of a bond he couldn’t wait to share with you; an acknowledgment of the life you were about to build together. You and him. The Hotchners.

"Uh- sorry to interrupt. The victim's fiancé is here for their interview. They're waiting in interrogation." He stammered, his gaze switching between the two of you.

"Thank you. We'll send someone in shortly." Aaron replied, politely dismissing the officer. He kept his trained demeanor, but you could hear the laughter underneath his voice.

As his footsteps trailed away, you nudged Aaron, humorously bumping your shoulder into his upper arm.

He kept his gaze on the files laid on the table, his lips spread in a soft smile as he slowly shook his head.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Dave." He didn't even need to look up.

"Hey!" Dave commented, his tone light as he spoke. He held up his hands in surrender, but that didn't diminish from the proud gleam in his eyes; it also happened to be the same one he had adorned on your wedding day. "I didn't say a thing."

"Oh, but it's written all over your face." You quipped also, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"Just when I thought the two of you couldn't be any more married." Derek rolled his eyes, playfully as his lips pulled back into a grin. "What's next? Have you mastered the art of the ‘yes honey’ yet, or is that still a work in progress?"

"Please, that was perfected before we got married." Aaron remarked as he relaxed his posture, straightening up. He flashed a smile in your direction, speaking over Morgan's cackle. "Isn't that right, honey?"

[rqnarok]

old man logan is not used to this.

fem!reader. suggestive themes. old man!logan is so complex! 

after the incident in the mansion, the bloodshed and tragedy that results in you cradled in his arms,

he took you in as if you were a stray. wet in the rain, he protects you from the terrifying droplets. 

it came to a realization that—

logan’s not used to this. the everlasting devotion shining in your eyes. how, when you are scared, you look to him for guidance; for help; for a calloused hand on your back as he carries you through a tornado above.

he’s not used to being the divine—the one being worshipped—the one wholly.

but here you are, before him, shaking and faithful. eyes filled with tears, yes, but your chin tipped upwards. staring and waiting for his blessing. 

fuck. he cursed, cupping your cheek and swiping just underneath your eye. like this, he feels like someone: a hero.  

“i know, i know,” he’d say. “‘ve got you, sweet’art. i’ve got you.”

you close your eyes and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, mewling, breaths hitching, and so, so trusting. 

a hero. 

how could someone see his scars, his anger—see the blood on his hands and still find comfort in his mayhem?

next thing he knows is that he has pushed himself against you and claimed your lips in a spit-slicked kiss. his greyish beard crowds the feel of your face as he picks you up. breathless.

old man logan devours every sound you make—every hiccupped breath, every gasped-out mewl, every stutter of his name—he devours it all.

”logan,” you whisper, voice sweet like honey. overwhelming him, making him fragile. 

years before, he’d say he’s not a fuckin’ hero. never meant to be in any world-saving team-up. x-men, what a joke, he’d say.

though, now, you see him as a hero, your hero—

he gets to understand how good it feels to be needed. what people really mean when they say humans are social creatures.

"fuck," logan groans out, hard underneath his slacks, the weight of his cock rests heavy, "look at ya’, pretty girl."

[bluem1lls]

✧₊⁺ forget about everything for a while

se-mi x fem! reader

✦ synopsis: you find your ex in the place you least expect it, and then again in the bathroom. she wants to say sorry but she doesn't know how..so maybe eating you out helps?

tw: minors dni, smut w a little plot, bathroom sex, fingering/oral (r!receiving), sub!reader, dom!se-mi, degradation (a little?), a bit of choking

authors note: hi! this is my first time writing (and in english) so im trying my best! tysm for reading and i hope u like it!

of course she's here.

you would've thought that after years of trying to get over her, the next time you'd see her, it would be at the coffee shop, where both used to go frequently. maybe even at the gas station, where she bought cigarettes and (per your request) a slushie.

you never thought you'd find your ex at the games where everyone was getting killed.

but of course you did.

so when you saw her standing there, wide eyed, being left alone to basically die as her entire group left her, the only conscious thing you could do was run to her and grab her hand.

se-mi stares at you, taking a double look to see if she was mistaken but nop, that's just her luck. it was you.

she would recognize that hair everywhere.

"what the fuck-" se-mi said, like she'd seen a ghost.

"no time to talk, maybe later" you said, dragging her into one of the rooms and closing the door behind.

she leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in front of her chest, she wanted to say a lot and at the same time, she had no words.

"why are you here?" she asked. her eyes searched for yours.

"my dad, he's.. extremely i'll and i couldn't let my mom carry with all that" you spoke, trying to regain your breath from the adrenaline of minutes ago and ignoring her pleading stare.

se-mi stares at the floor, trying to find the right words to say. what could she say to make it better.. after all these years?

"i didn't know. he's a really good man... i'm sorry"

"yeah." you reply, bitter "how could you know when you've been declining my calls and ignoring me?" you roll your eyes as you leaned against the door.

"i can't do this here, i really can't" se-mi said, putting her hands over her face trying to supress the wave of sadness that washed over her everytime she thought about you.

you bite your lip with rage. she was still avoiding you, after all this time.

"yeah no worries. i wasn't planning on staying here talking to my ex either" you mumbled.

she glanced over you trying to keep her cool facade as they open the doors

hell. you couldn't wait till this was done.

as you stirred in bed once. two. three times without being able to sleep, you decided that maybe the best would be to splash some water on your face, at least to be somewhat alert.

knocking on the door asking for the bathroom, the guards weirdly enough allow you without a lot of resistanse. maybe they're in a good mood.

you open the bathroom door and stand in front of the mirror, taking some water in between your hands to splash on your face.

you let out a sight when se-mi steps out of one of the stalls, closing the door behind her.

she looks a bit surprised when she sees you standing there. she stays in silence as both lock eyes from the mirror, her gaze softening as she roamed all over your face.

after a few seconds, she spoke in a soft and quiet voice.

"can't sleep huh?"

you nodded, turning around to look at her.

"it's been hard here. i just don't know when it's gonna be the last game" you spoke. she nodded in agreement.

there's an expression that you can't read on her face. it feels like guilty, pity and sadness all at once. you can see a hint of concern in her eyes.

"i really am sorry, you know...for not calling." she says.

you nod, getting closer to her, taking her scent. almost forgot the way she smells.

she looks at you with a frown on her face. deep down, you know she's sorry.

"i tried so hard to let you go..." you whisper, looking into her eyes.

"i tried too." she says, leaning an inch closer. "it never worked"

her eyes slowly reading all your features, as she took a deep breath and slowly placed a hand on your cheek, gentle. leaning into her hand, you sure missed her touch.

she bit her lower lip and gently cupped your face in between her hands.

"it's up to you se-mi. i've already said everything you needed to know. you were the one who was never sure" you whispered, feeling her breath on your face as the distance kept closing.

before you could even register what she was doing, you hear her mumbling a soft "fuck it" before she closed the distance and pressed her lips against yours.

the moment your lips touched, it felt like something snapped inside of both. one of her hands slid down to grab your thighs, encouring you to wrap your legs around her waist. so you did.

she pressed your body against the wall from behind while bitting rough on your lower lip. the kiss going from slow and loving to a rough, deeper one. both tongues fighting for dominance, you let her enter in your mouth as one of her hands slides from your thighs to your neck, softly squeezing for a few seconds, making you break the kiss to whimper for air.

her eyes scanned your whole face, eyes and pouty lips, basically begging her to fuck you. she let out a low groan as she kissed you again and again, going harder each time. her mind filled with nothing but the taste of your lips and the feeling of your chest pressed against her. little moans escaping from your lips, making her wanna ruin you right then and there.

"i missed this so much" you mumble in between kisses. the words sending a small pang to her chest as she pulled away from the kiss to lean her forehead against yours. her voice slightly shaking from lust, replies.

"i missed this too"

you pulled her by the neck, enough for her to kiss you again. you could feel yourself throbbing only from the kisses. grabbing her hand that sat on your waist, you lowered it down to where you needed her the most.

"i cant wait any longer.. please" you begged her to ruin you.

she looked at you with lustful eyes. "if it was any other moment, i'd make you beg, but since i dont think we have that much time.." she said, falling on her knees.

you pulled the pants and panties all in one go as she helped to get rid of them and pushed you softly against the wall.

she placed one of your legs on her shoulder and started to kiss your inner thighs, making you let go small whimpers. se-mi could feel herself growing wetter just by your scent, it was driving her crazy.

you placed a hand on her hair, softly pulling, and quickly her kisses escalated from inner thighs to your puffy clit, as her lips wrapped around it, you couldn't help but moan.

"be quiet" she hissed. "or you want everyone to know what a slut you are? maybe next time i'll fuck you in the common room" she smirked as you replied with a desesperate moan and a nod. "of course you'd like that. want everyone to know i'm the only one who fucks you stupid, princess?

as she finished her sentence, she placed her tongue on your clit. a cold feeling left you whimpering.

oh.

is that-

thats a tongue piercing.

of course she got a tongue piercing.

you covered your mouth with one hand to quiet your moans as the other one pulled her hair.

as two fingers entered your needy cunt, you bit your lip to quiet a loud moan. she kept working her tongue on your clit while roughly doing and 'in and out' motion with her fingers that was quickly dragging you to the edge. her eyes became almost black with lust as she roamed your fucked out face, your eyes rolled back from pleasure.

"i forgot how good you are at this oh my god-" you kept moaning and whimering as her fingers became rougher and quicker inside and her tongue picked a more rapid pace "no one will ever make me cum like you do se-mi"

her mind clouded with lust as she heard your words. she added another finger and could feel your cunt clenched around her.

"gonna cum baby? you feel so thight around my fingers." she said, her words driving you closer and closer to your release. "poor baby, she was just begging to be fucked like the slut she is, i bet no one ever made you this wet" she cooed while teasing. se-mi chuckles at the way you moan senseless in agreement.

"i need you to use your words, can you do that baby?" she says, her tongue pace fastening making you clench even more. "or maybe i should stop and let you talk"

"n-no please- please. im so close, s- so close please" i begged in between whimpers.

she grunted, fucking you harder. "cum for me princess, cum in my mouth. you're such a good slut" she said while wrapping her lips and sucking around my clit.

the motion of her lips and her fingers curling against your spongy walls at the same time, hitting your g spot, was enough to have your cunt pulsing and eyes rolling back. you felt the pressure snap and a warmth spreading on your lower tummy, you arched your back.

she keeps slurping everything until youre a whiny and trembling mess.

she decreases her pace, slowly removing her fingers and standing up, making you lick her fingers clean, staring into her eyes.

she helps you get dressed again, and it feels like how it used to all over again, the soft aftercare.

after cleaning you, she softly kisses your forehead and pecks your lips, she was apart from you once, and she's never gonna do it again.

"i love you. i'm so sorry for everything" she says, still trying to catch her breath.

you nod, tired, and give her a fucked out smile as she chuckles.

"i still love you too. so this was a 'im sorry for breaking your heart, i'll fix it by eating you out' kind of apology?" you say, trying to stop your legs from shaking.

you let yourself into her arms as she hugs you tight and fixes your hair gently.

"mhm, but i'll have to keep doing it, just so i can make sure you forgive me"

"please do..."

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[sexybread-png]

hello everyone twt suspended me for a week (theres still 3-4 days left) so i have been a little bit bored but i figured i should post here anyways siiigghh

details under the cut

ok so the want of making an elphaba fashion exploration has been there since ive watched the movie but the urge really came to me after i explained to my friends how NOT masculine elphaba's outfit was in one of my drawings (i doodled the full outfit in the top right corner)

it really irked me when multiple comments were made abt how i was part of the ppl masculinizing cynthia's elphaba when i really put thought and effort into elphaba's fashion (as well as glinda's) in every drawing i make of her. like the cut of her sweater and the frills on her pants are very feminine-- pants are not inherently masculine (and neither are muscles but thats another conversation). i did want to explore her fashion with only pants to show how feminine pants outfits could be but i had admittedly not drawn her in as many skirts/dresses as glinda so i decided i should.

HOWEVER i do want to add. galinda's fashion is like. hyper fucking feminine. next to her, anyone would look less feminine... i mean she wears sm pink and bows and frills and shit... i find it a bit of a disservice to many artists for ppl to complain about elphaba's feminity compared to galinda's when they just dont wear the same kind of clothes.

okay a bit of a commentary not about my drawings at all but : theres also the comments on how ppl would never make galinda wear masc clothing when. thats simply not true a lot of ppl call her an egg even AND the movie versions of them are not the first. i suspect many ppl would use the same or similar hcs they had for other versions of gelphie and transfer them over. WHICH to be clear there is a problem of masculinizing black women in fandom and as an artist it is my responsibility to portray her with utmost respect. im not saying racial biases dont have a play in ppl's headcanons, but i do think excluding the history of the fandom of wicked from these hcs makes it... less true? less of a full truth maybe? do you know what i mean... as is the story of wicked, i think the issue is nuanced. also this might be only a twitter issue as people on twt do make things black and white often.

anyways! back to the fashion, im no expert either i just thought itd be nice to try my hand at it!!

oh and the other drawing well . shes just too effin cute man idk what else to tell u

[melminli]

I LOVEDDDDDDD your Thanos “bang bang bang” post and it made me very curious abt how they know eo and stuff and like I’d love to read more about it in general if you don’t mind. It’s so great and I love your writing <333 have a fun day / night 🫶🏻

BANG BANG BANG ll

summary - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, angst, death, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: ty so much! this turned out kinda freaky but that is because thanos is a freak so, i didn't really have a choice.

prev. | masterlist

There was an eerie silence among all the participants for the first few seconds after the first death happened. The realization of what this meant for everyone present slowly sank in, and you thought that maybe the crazy man with all his screaming, wasn't quite as crazy as you originally thought. The real madman was probably the person somewhere upstairs or - you didn't know exactly where, but you knew that they were watching you.

“Don't move!” His voice shouted again, but this time with a completely different force. It may be that this was the most logical conclusion one could draw from what had just happened, but some seemed to throw all logic out of the window as soon as the fear of death hit. It only took one person to panic to set off a domino effect and from one second to the next loud gunshots could be heard, following the fearful screams of one person after another. The participants were being slaughtered like frightened animals in a cage, what kind of sick game was really going on here?

You too began to tremble as you looked down at the floor, dissociating and trying to ignore your surroundings as best you could. You had to stop yourself from flinching when the person right next to you was killed, even as you felt his still warm blood covering your cheek, even as a small river of it started pooling around your foot. You were most likely going to leave a trace of him all over the ground as soon as you started walking again - whoever he was. It didn't take very long for everyone who had moved to be shot, maybe half a minute - and yet it must have been the worst half minute of your life so far.

“Don't you dare move,” Thanos said in a voice you weren't used to hearing from him. “I'm serious, don't make me mad.”

You just looked at his back from behind, with a tense posture while you tried to regain control of your breathing again. Finally, there was complete silence on the pitch again. Even if it wasn't an entirely welcome silence.

The voice from the loudspeakers began to speak again and you already knew that this would be a voice that would haunt you in your nightmares. “Let me repeat: You can move forward while the tagger shouts, Green light, red light. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

Ah, so that's what you meant with eliminated. A bit literal but no biggie! The game continued, but no one really dared to move a muscle even when the puppet looked away. You then saw Thanos shift slightly out of the corner of your eye and noticed that he was pulling his cross necklace out of his t-shirt. Safe to say, that you could barely believe what you were seeing right before your very eyes. You've got to be kidding me, they took everything we had from us, but he was allowed to keep that old thing? “Are you seriously going to take that stuff now?” you whispered in disbelief but didn't really judge him for it. You were this close to just laughing out loud at the absurdity of the scene, but you didn't.

“You don't have to be jealous, sweetheart,” he replied with slightly shaky hands as he stopped his movement abruptly when the doll finished talking. He just stared longingly at the colorful pills in front of him. “I don't mind sharing with you, you know that.”

You sighed inwardly at the thing you were about to do. You had been clean for maybe about six years by now and quitting drugs of any kind overnight was really fucking hard - definitely one of the hardest things you had to do in your life. On the other hand, your life was still as shitty as before, the only difference being that you were now consciously depressed and unhappy, so who cares? You could die every second anyway. “Thanks.” you just said after taking the pill out of his hand and threw the thing as quickly as possible in your mouth as soon as the doll looked away. Yeah, you were the biggest hypocrite on earth, old news.

It only took maybe a few seconds after that for you to feel the effects of the pill and then finally, all the stress started to dissipate. Your muscles relaxed, all the shouting about whatever felt like a soft pillow hugging you and the weird laying positions of the dead around you suddenly seemed incredibly funny. These were really strong pills, you could practically feel your whole body tingling. “Why are they all suddenly forming a line?” you asked with a grin and Thanos just hummed, not knowing the answer himself. “No idea, but watch this,” he said and waited until the puppet had turned towards you to push the person next to him, causing everyone in front of them to fall over too. “Ding! You lost,” he told them while wiggling his eyebrows and smirking after he watched them get shot.

You didn't even try to stifle your laughter at the scene. “You really are such an asshole.” you replied, shoving him aside this time after the doll averted its gaze. You then ran away as fast and as far away as you could so that he couldn't take revenge on you for what you had just done. However, you quickly stopped moving with both hands in the air as soon as the girlish voice emitted red light as if you were surrendering to her. You stifled your grin and pretty much failed when you noticed a slightly older woman standing relatively close to you. “Hey, are you trying to hide behind me to use me as a shield?” you spoke out without moving your mouth much and watched as she began to sweat more after you realized what she was doing. Still, she didn't pay you any further attention. “And now you're ignoring me too?” you spat out annoyed and grabbed her by the arm when you were free to move and pulled her in front of you against her will.

She tried to fight you off but you forced her further forward while she tried to defend herself. “You're older than me, aren't you ashamed of yourself?” You asked her and stopped walking before the robot's face turned towards you.

Number 57, who was still resisting your grip, stumbled a little to the side when you suddenly let go of her. She was about to howl in delight when she noticed how everyone else stood still. “No…” she mumbled out fearfully. “It's because of that bitch! I didn't -” she tried to defend herself to someone as she looked around the room, but her head caught the bullet before she could even finish her sentence.

“I may be a bitch, but at least I'm still alive.” you sang to her dead body on the floor before running past her. You didn't know how much time was left, but you had almost made it to the finish line anyway. You stopped with your back to the robot girl this time and it didn't take you long to spot the purple hair in the crowd. “Su-bong!” you shouted his name, since you had somehow gotten separated while running. You waited until he yelled back with a what?! “Last one there, gets fucked in the ass!” you yelled out without any shame or filter and saw his facial expression turn serious at the challenge. “Let's Go!”

The whole game went by relatively quickly once you took the pill from Thanos. It was actually quite fun, you thought to yourself as you both jumped around like two crazy people with grinning faces, waving your arms around wildly. I know it's not socially acceptable to say this, but I fucking love doing drugs! It was like everything around you was happening in slow motion and all the decisions you made felt foggy, like you didn't even realize what you were doing.

You loved being this person, it felt great to forget everything and just - not think. “I have won! No, really! You crossed the line two steps after me, I saw it!” you exclaimed before Thanos could object to a single thing. “Didn't anyone else see that?” you exclaimed in disbelief as if the others weren't busy staying alive while watching several others die right before their faces. You didn't care about the looks they gave you as you waved your hand. “No, they definitely saw it. I won.”

Thanos just gave in with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I'm getting fucked in the ass which is gay, very funny.” he just mumbled to himself annoyed, and continued to avoid your gaze, but couldn't help grin again when you slapped him on the shoulder laughing. “Hey, why did we stop doing all this again?” he asked you when he couldn't remember the reason. All he knew was that he hadn't had this much fun in a long time, even though he knew that he always had a great time with you - no matter what.

You laughed. “Oh, that's because you promised me that we'd both get clean together, and then you spent the money I gave you for rehab on more drugs behind my back. “ you laughed along with him, even if Thanos frowned a little at the memory and you started to smile forcedly after remembering again how he had betrayed you. “Or what was it again? Was it something about that Youtuber you told me about…” you mumbled to yourself obliviously, feeling any sense of happiness begin to fade. You finally gave up, the details weren't that important anyway. “It doesn't really matter though, right? In any case, you used the money for something else, whatever it was. Even though you knew how hard I worked for it - hell, I didn't even eat most days to scrape it together, man.” you stated while you looked him in the face, even though he averted his gaze from you. “That's just fucked up dude.”

Exactly. You actually hated being this person. You might not remember it right now, but you would as soon as the effects of the pill wore off, which hopefully wasn't soon. You really hoped it wasn't soon, because you didn't want to be aware of anything that had happened today.

[sylver-star]

⭑.ᐟ

There's a soft thud, followed by a string of quiet curses, that shake you awake from your slumber. You stir around in bed, your hand traveling to find the light on your nightstand. Once the light is on, you sit up and rub your eyes.

"I didn't mean to wake you up, go back to sleep-"

You look up to see Jihoon, his pants halfway off and his shirt already laying on the chair he usually puts his clothes on before going to bed. He pulls the other leg of his pants off and puts his sweats on the chair.

"You're home," is all you say.

"Yes, now go back to sleep. It's late."

You watch him push his hair back and go to put his watch and chain on the vanity, next to your things. Instead of following his orders, you raise your arms up and wait for him to notice. As soon as he sees your open embrace, his expression softens. Jihoon walks over to you and engulfs you in a hug.

"I missed you today," you admit against his warm skin.

"Sorry... I was just busy."

"I know. I don't mind."

"You say that..." He lets you go and crouches down in front of your side of the bed. "And then you get like this when I get home."

"I'm fine." For some reason, you feel the tears in your throat. Maybe it's because you just woke up, or because you had a hard day, but you find yourself trying to hold back tears.

Jihoon's eyes widen, but you still try to hide it. He walks around the bed and gets in beside you. Silently, he shuffles closer and wraps you in his arms again. "I can try to come home more often."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? I should be the one apologizing..." He huffs. "If it helps at all... I missed you too today. I do every day."

He's not sure if he's doing a good job at comforting you, but you can tell he's trying. You look up at him and smile. "I'm just feeling sensitive today-... night? I don't know, I'm just tired."

"It's okay, you can go to sleep again. I'm here with you." He strokes your hair out of your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I have a late schedule tomorrow, maybe we can get some breakfast together in the morning?"

"That sounds nice, babe." You adjust to a more comfortable position, and Jihoon shuffles along with you until you're comfy. "You don't have to change yourself for me, you know?"

"I want to." He puts his chin on top of your head. "I want to be a man that you can depend on."

You wrap your arms tighter around him. "You already are."

[my-castles-crumbling]

First time meeting the family - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 300

They’d decided, long before Sirius set foot in the small cottage on the outskirts of the little Muggle town, that they would be keeping their new relationship a secret. Lyall was strict and judgmental as it was, and Remus was, admittedly, terrified for his father to meet one of his friends. He didn’t want to add the pressure of something more to the mix.

So when Lyall, Hope, Remus, and Sirius sat down to dinner on the first night of Sirius’s visit during the summer between sixth and seventh year, every movement both boys made was tentative. Calculated. Remus couldn’t help but sweat a bit as he asked Sirius to pass the salt and Hope to pass the rolls. 

And then, Lyall asked gruffly, “So, boys. Any girlfriends this year at school?”

It was Sirius who broke the awkward silence that followed. 

“Not this year, Sir. Too busy with…other things, I think.”

A cool hand grabbed Remus’s under the table and squeezed. 

Lyall, however, gave Sirius a shocked look. “Really? I mean, I’m not shocked about Remus, here. He’ll never marry, who would want to deal with his condition? But you seem like you’d have girls lining up!”

Remus felt himself blushing in embarrassment, wanting to sink into his chair. But before he could think of something remotely normal to say, Sirius replied again, hand gripping Remus’s, his voice cold as ice. “I can think of at least one person who would want to marry him, actually.”

And Remus’s heart, which had all-but disappeared from his chest, suddenly soared.

Later, as he helped his mother clear the plates, Hope gave him a gentle look. “I know you’re not ready to tell your father. But just so you know…I think you and Sirius are perfect together.”

And Remus couldn’t agree more.

[harrysfolklore]

hi! can i request a little bitch blurb where oscar walks in on them 😂

FIRST LITTLE BITCH BLURB OF THE YEAR!! honestly i could never get tired of writing for them and requests keep coming so, enjoy!

READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

"You're sure Oscar won't be home for hours?" Carlos murmurs against your neck as he presses you into the kitchen counter, his hands sliding under the oversized shirt you'd stolen from him.

"Mhm," you tilt your head to give him better access. "Simulator day at McLaren. He'll be gone until evening."

"Good," his accent thickens as he nips at your pulse point. "Because seeing you in my shirt all morning has been driving me crazy, mi amor."

You smirk, running your hands down his chest. "Oh? Is that why you've been following me around the apartment like a lost puppy?"

"I have not-" he starts to protest, but you cut him off by pulling his shirt over his head.

"Really?" you trace the muscles of his abdomen. "So you didn't deliberately walk into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth? Or need help reaching something in the top cabinet that you can definitely reach yourself?"

Carlos growls low in his throat. "You're teasing me."

"Always," you grin, but it turns into a gasp as he lifts you onto the counter.

"Careful, hermosa," he steps between your legs, hands gripping your thighs. "You know what happens when you tease…"

"Maybe I want to find out," you challenge, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His eyes darken. "Dios mío, the things you do to me…"

"Show me," you whisper against his lips.

He crashes his mouth to yours, one hand tangling in your hair while the other slides up your thigh. You moan as he deepens the kiss, tasting of coffee and something uniquely Carlos.

"Mi amor," he breathes between kisses, "you're wearing too many clothes."

"Even your shirt?" you tease, knowing how much he loves seeing you in his clothes.

"Especially my shirt," he tugs at the hem.

The key turns in the lock of your shared apartment with Oscar, but you're far too distracted by Carlos' lips on your neck to notice.

"MY EYES!" Oscar's voice cracks. "IN THE KITCHEN? REALLY?"

You and Carlos spring apart, but it's too late. Oscar is standing there, one hand dramatically covering his eyes, looking like he's contemplating jumping out the window.

"Oscar!" you squeak, hurriedly adjusting Carlos' shirt that you'd borrowed. "You're… home early."

"This is MY HOME!" Oscar protests, still not looking. "Where I EAT! In THIS KITCHEN!"

Carlos has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed, though you can see him fighting back a smile. "Lo siento, Oscar…"

"Don't 'lo siento' me, mate," Oscar points blindly in Carlos's general direction. "That's my SISTER!"

"We weren't…" you try to explain.

"NO!" Oscar cuts you off. "No explanations. I don't want to know. I will never be able to unsee this. I'm moving out. I'm quitting F1. I'm becoming a hermit in Tasmania."

"You're being dramatic," you roll your eyes.

"DRAMATIC?" Oscar finally uncovers his eyes, immediately regrets it, and covers them again. "Carlos still doesn't have a shirt on!"

Carlos looks down at his bare chest as if just remembering this fact. "Ah, sorry about that…"

"Sorry about- THIS IS A COMMON AREA!" Oscar's voice keeps rising in pitch. "We have RULES!"

"Rules?" Carlos raises an eyebrow at you.

"Rule number one," Oscar recites, "no funny business in common areas. Rule number two, no walking around without clothes. Rule number three…"

"Okay, okay," you interrupt, feeling your face heat up. "We get it. We're sorry."

"I'm telling Lando," Oscar threatens.

"Don't you dare!"

"Oh, I'm daring. I'm traumatized. I need emotional support."

Carlos finally breaks, letting out a laugh. "Come on, Oscar. It's not that bad."

"Not that- mate, you're practically my brother-in-law. I do NOT need to see you trying to devour my sister in our kitchen!"

"Brother-in-law?" you and Carlos say simultaneously, though with very different tones.

Oscar groans. "Oh god, now I've given him ideas. Perfect. This is perfect. I'm calling Mum."

"You will NOT call Mum!" you lunge for his phone.

"Watch me!" he dodges, still keeping one hand over his eyes, which results in him walking straight into the wall.

"Dios mío," Carlos mutters, finally grabbing his shirt from where it had been discarded. "Oscar, I'm dressed now. You can look."

Oscar cautiously peeks through his fingers. "This is going on my therapy bill."

"Add it to the collection," you sigh.

"I will! Right next to 'sending nudes to Carlos' and 'that time in the motorhome when I thought you were going over strategy.'"

"That WAS strategy!" you protest.

"Strategy doesn't involve THAT MUCH SPANISH!"

Carlos is fully laughing now, watching the siblings' exchange with obvious amusement.

"This isn't funny!" Oscar points at him. "You! You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

"Me?" Carlos tries to look innocent. "I'm very responsible."

"Responsible people don't seduce my sister in shared kitchens!"

"To be fair," Carlos grins, "she seduced me."

"NOPE!" Oscar practically runs from the room. "NOPE NOPE NOPE. I'm going to Lando's. Forever. Don't call me. I'll be in therapy."

The door slams behind him, and you can hear him muttering all the way down the hall.

Carlos turns to you, eyes dancing with mischief. "So… brother-in-law, huh?"

"Don't," you warn, but you're fighting a smile.

"Because you know," he steps closer, "that could be arranged…"

"Carlos!"

"I'm just saying," he pulls you back against him, "maybe we should give Oscar a real reason to need therapy…"

From down the hall, Oscar's voice carries: "I FORGOT MY PHONE AND I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!"

You burst out laughing as Carlos quickly steps away again.

"I'm moving out!" Oscar announces as he retrieves his phone. "And YOU," he points at Carlos, "are paying for my therapy!"

"Fair enough," Carlos agrees easily.

Oscar pauses at the door. "And sister?"

"Yes?"

"Next time? Use HIS apartment!"

As the door slams again, Carlos turns to you with a raised eyebrow. "You know… that's not a bad idea…"

"Carlos Sainz!"

"What? I'm being responsible," he grins. "Just like Oscar wanted."

You shake your head, laughing. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly in love," he corrects, then adds more seriously, "though maybe we should get our own place…"

Your heart skips. "Yeah?"

"Sí," he pulls you close again. "Somewhere with a very private kitchen…"

"I heard that!" Oscar's voice comes through the door one final time. "I'm telling Mum!"

This time, you both burst out laughing.

Poor Oscar. Maybe you should start looking at apartments sooner rather than later…

For everyone's sake.

[hyunsuloves]

omg girl I'd just seen your "squid game women with a timid s/o" , could you do the same but for men? thanksss 💖

super shy.

synopsis … squid game men with a timid s/o ꨄ︎. (or a part two to this.)

pairings … myung-gi, dae-ho, jun-ho, thanos, nam-gyu, min-su x fem!reader (separately)

warnings … fem reader, non game au, some may be ooc but what else is new, i apologize for any typos !!

lovely notes … the post i did with the female characters did surprisingly well omg..

꩜ [ 857 words ]

myung-gi / player 333 is so similar yet so different from you. he’s not a candid person, but he doesn’t always keep to himself.

he tends to keep under wraps but isn’t opposed to speaking out around others.

he encourages you to speak up for yourself, though he’s joking the majority of the time. he likes to tease you way too often for comfort.

“you know you can speak up for yourself, right?” “myung-gi, leave me the hell alone.” “this is what happens when i try to help you. so ungrateful.”

he orders for the both of you, so even if you weren’t so shy, he’d take upon the task himself either way.

he makes fun of people in awkward social settings to ease your worries. he’ll whisper the dumbest jokes ever to make you feel less awkward around the large crowd of bodies.

the both of you just stay near one another while in public. there’s nothing better than the proximity of a loved one when in the worst possible social setting.

dae-ho / player 388 is your polar opposite. he’s very social, energetic, and forthright.

he’s a social butterfly wherever he goes, and you have the misfortune of constantly being dragged along.

he’s always ready to go when you are. even if he isn’t finished socializing, he’s saying his farewells as soon as you tell him that you’re ready to leave.

“hey, you ready to go?” “we’ve only been here a few hours. go have fun, baby.” “no, let’s go. i wanna go home with you.”

despite dragging you to every social event ever, he’ll speak for you without even thinking about it. even if you can speak for yourself, he talks for you. he always feels slightly guilty for dragging you out of your humble abode to accompany him to his affairs.

he speaks up for you every time, without fail. he defends you, orders your food for you, the whole deal.

jun-ho is your contrast, as he’s far from shy. he isn’t always outspoken.

while he has a more free-spoken personality than yours, he has moments when he’s just as reserved as you are.

he’s the first to your defense when he sees someone troubling you. even if you weren’t his partner, he’d rush to your defense nonetheless.

“hey, tell me if they say anything else to you.” “of course. thank you, jun-ho.”

the way this man is so protective over you is so nonsensical. he’d be defensive nonetheless, but especially with your timid nature.

thanos / player 230 couldn’t be more different from you. he’s the most eccentric and outgoing person you have ever met.

from social gatherings to parties, to any get-together he can find, you’ll find him there. of course, he drags you along to wherever he’s going.

he urges you to speak for yourself more often than not. although he doesn’t mind speaking for you, a lot of the time he’ll put you in situations in which you have no choice but to verbalize.

“señorita, learn how to speak for yourself.” “stop talking to me, su-bong.”

to no one’s surprise, he’d fight over you if needed. if you’re being targeted, he’d attack the individual without a second thought.

his favorite thing to do is fluster you. compliments upon compliments is all you hear from this man, and it’s all to see you act all diffident.

nam-gyu / player 124 is, like thanos, your polar. he’s a very extroverted person, opposite your timid demeanor.

he’s a very lax, social type of person. he likes to relax when he’s at get-togethers, similar to you.

he loves to flatter you. it’s not even to fluster you, he just wants you to be so conscious of how much he loves you all the time.

“you look so pretty, baby.” “leave me alone, nam-gyu.” “what? i mean it.”

he’s the first person to come to your defense, as expected. even though he’s the type to let himself be belittled, he’d never let it happen to you.

he’s the kind of person you can sit in silence with and not have it be awkward. silence with him is quite comforting.

min-su / player 126 is literally your twin. the both of you are the most reserved people known to man.

the amount of times you’ve just sat in silence, enjoying the other's presences is too much to count. the two of you simply sit in quietness.

if it comes to something like ordering food, you often take the initiative because min-su is way too shy for his own good.

“can you order for me?” “of course, love. i got it.” “thank you so much. where would i be without you?”

the only person either of you is comfortable around is the other. you’re a wreck around others, but it’s absolute tranquility when you’re with one another.

if it came to defending one another, you’d come to his defense without hesitance. he’s more tentative to defend either one of you, so it usually comes down to you doing it.

the both of you are a shy pairing and a very likely couple that surprised no one.

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Manx Norton: going over the limit

Contents: 18+ mdni, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, blowjob, deepthroating, throat fucking, swallowing, marks the end of their pre-relationship story

“We need to talk,” you say. 

Geto looks up from his journal, slow and steady like he knew you would come here and at this time. He sets his pen down. His hair is tied up completely today and there are dark bags under his eyes that you can’t bear to look at, so you don’t. Instead, you settle into the seat, without being asked, and you cross your legs and your arms. 

You mean business. 

“Good afternoon, pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

Sighing, you ignore that fluttering in your stomach. There’s no point in getting carried away by his charm; it’s his instinct to be sweet, otherwise he wouldn’t have as many clients as he does. But you’re aware, faintly and right at the very back of your mind, that his words have a bite to them — they’re complimentary whilst also accusatory. 

“I need an explanation, Geto,” you state firmly. 

His left eye twitches. It’s not a flicker or a nervous tick, it’s a flinch. You have the power, just like your sister said, when you were throwing her shoes out of the window, and she was offering advice as a means to fight your murderous intent off. It didn’t work.

There’s always something shifting between you, something unstable, and it’s been difficult to manage — you’re new to relationships, so new to venturing outside your comfort zone that you’ve relied so much on him to guide you. But you’ve also had to step up and make decisions for yourself. 

Your friends weren’t very helpful; they insisted you quit or bring a new man to the studio to make him jealous, and as tempting as it is to be petty, you know they wouldn’t solve anything. It’ll just make you feel bad and icky. 

So, you’ve chosen the high road, providing him the opportunity to share his side, to explain why he let you down once again and why everything between you had been built on a lie.

Nodding, he opens a drawer and takes out a familiar sheet of paper. Then, in a conversational tone, he asks, “What do you see?”

“It’s my CV,” you answer. Truthfully, you have no clue what game he’s playing; there’s something in particular he’s looking for but all you see is the whites of the paper and the lines of ink. 

“Look at it from the perspective of an employer looking to fill a hole in their establishment,” is his reply. 

You’ve heard that tone often, every day, in fact. It’s the tone he uses on clients when he needs to go over payment plans, or on suppliers when he needs to negotiate a new contract. But he’s never used it on you. Distant and devoid of attachment, it makes you feel uneasy. 

Fiddling with a loose thread on your sweater, you furrow your brows as you read over the paper. Geto is leaning back on the chair, hands folded on his lap, the pinnacle of confidence. That used to be so attractive. Now, you’re just a little peeved off. You were supposed to be the confident one; you came here on your own volition, even prepared a speech you practised with your sister.

You should have known he’d sweep the rug from under you. 

Frustrated, you groan and smack the sheet. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to see! I have no time for this.”

Smiling reassuringly, Geto doesn’t bat an eye at your outburst and instead, begins a lecture, “What I saw was a CV lacking in relevant work experience. In fact, you had very little experience. Your most recent job was in high school, when you worked as a librarian’s assistant for a day. The other things on there were debate club and a certificate for being a neighbourhood ‘sweetheart’, and I’m not even sure what that means.”

“Oh.”

To your embarrassment, he laughs. A blush is growing on your face and suddenly you’re very aware of how some strands of hair are sticking to your forehead uncomfortably, how the sweater you’re wearing is a little scratchy and that maybe, just maybe, you’ve overreacted terribly.

Maybe you should have confronted him sooner. Perhaps just as soon as you overheard him tell Miguel that your sister owes him a favour for hiring you. However, in your defence, you were feeling a little hurt from having been left at the restaurant — you waited for an hour, watching people pass by and give you sympathetic looks as you sent text after text to a man too busy with a client to realise time passed by. 

A week has gone by since then, and you haven’t come to work at all, you dodged every text and call from Geto and ignored him when he showed up on campus and had the nerve to get upset that you’re hanging out with a classmate. Your sister tried to defend him, and herself, but you weren’t willing to hear her out. On many occasions, you’ve told her to butt out, to leave you to make mistakes and get hurt, because it’s your prerogative. 

She can’t protect you from everything and the more she tries, the harder you all learn that lesson. 

“Okay, fine. So, my CV sucks a little,” you huff, “but you should have never hired me under the pretence that I was good enough when the real reason was because my sister asked you. It’s unfair on me. I wanted to earn this job on my own and you two went behind my back to manipulate this whole situation!”

The man sighs and leans forward. You smell his cologne and it’s muddling your mind a little, so you lean back, away from him. He notices. “I understand you’re upset. And I’m sorry to have colluded with your meddling sister. But it really isn’t what you think, pretty girl.”

You hate how patient he sounds, like you’re the crazy one. And maybe you are. You don’t know anymore. In fact, you’re starting to think you know nothing at all. 

“Yes, it’s true she asked me to give you a job. But all I promised her was that I’ll give you a chance, like everyone else. And when you came for the interview, I thought a lot of things. One was that you are so different from your sister. Different from the people that tend to come through the door, from me. You’re much brighter, much warmer and lighter than everyone I’ve ever seen.”

There’s something in his eyes, a sincerity that makes you breathless. All the air has left the room and you’re leaning in without even realising it. Everything that he says is entrancing, he’s a pied piper playing a tune that fills your soul with a fire you can’t put out, and he’s leading you closer to him, away from everything you’ve ever known, away from safety and reason. 

You’re not afraid. 

“I had a look at your CV and thought, there’s no way I would hire you, not even if she begged or blackmailed me — I take great pride in my studio, I turned it from a little backroom space with flickering lights to what it is now. My clients trust me to provide quality service from beginning to end, and I will not let a woman, no matter how beautiful, get in the way of that.”

Geto reaches for your cheek, like he can’t help himself, and you let him. His hands are slightly calloused but otherwise smooth and soft. And that smile, the polite one he always wears, is gone. In its place is something that reflects how you feel, how you’ve both been feeling for a long time now. A frustration against the distance between you, the boundary that’s erected itself between employer and employee, boss and receptionist, and a man who’s seen it all versus a girl who knows so little. 

You aren’t meant to be. Everything about this relationship is wrong, it’s inadvisable, foolish, like Hades and Persephone, or Eros and Psyche. It’s a tragic love story doomed from the very beginning, the kind people talk about centuries later with a mix sense of awe and pity. You know all about it, have read so many variations of the same story with the same individuals who think they know everything, who believe they’re different, special and that the Fates will smile fondly on them. 

Except neither you nor Suguru are under the impression that you’re different, that this will turn out differently and that the cards you’ve been dealt are from a separate, fresh deck. You both know you’re playing a dangerous game. 

Neither of you care. 

“But then I talked to you. And you were so witty, so undeterred by my unrelenting questions, and so willing to learn as you go. You had the confidence of someone who’s worked a thousand jobs, who’s met a thousand people that, despite knowing better, I wanted to hire you on the spot.”

Carefully, with your eyes fluttering shut at the tentative touch of your skin, you breathe out, “Suguru, we shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

When your eyes open, you see his gorgeous, tortured eyes fall to your lips and you know what you want. 

Your lips meet his.

This kiss is so similar to the one you shared that night, but oh so new. It seems so long ago now, and when you feel his plush lips devour yours it feels like this is new to both of you and it urges you to push in further. His tongue touches yours and you don’t hesitate to intertwine it, to explore all that he’s laying out for you. 

Gasping for breath, you pull away with little success before he’s grasping the back of your neck and urging you over the desk, kneeing the papers there and hearing the pens and stapler fall to the floor with a dull clatter, you sit onto the desk and you hear his chair slam against the wall when he stands to press himself closer to you. He kisses you again. 

“Things work differently with me,” he says in between pecks to your lips. 

Whilst his mouth moves to your jaw, sucking at the skin by your ear, you giggle. “I know. My sister says you like control. Something about Christian Grey.”

Chuckling in your ear before nipping you there, he admits, “I’m not as insane as him. In truth, I don’t really know what I am, but I know it’s more intense than what most men ask for.”

“That’s okay, Suguru. We can work it out together, step by step.”

He kisses your pulse point. You moan. Goosebumps are rising along your arms; your back is arching to press as much of you closer to him. You’re barely capable of creating a single train of thought, you feel so lightheaded you don’t register how your legs are wrapping around his hips. 

“My smart girl,” Suguru muses against your skin. 

Your legs are wrapped around his hip, pulling him close until you can feel the bulge there push against your core. With a roll of your hips, the zipper of his jeans nudges your bundle of nerves. You gasp. And you seek out that pleasure again with slow, gradual grinds. 

Breathlessly, you say, “Suguru…”

He’s scraping his teeth against your pulse point, one hand kneading your thigh and the other holding himself up. Filling your senses, all you can think about is him and how there’s a growing pressure within that’s dying to be released. 

“Go on, pretty girl. Take what you need.” Tightening your legs around his hips, you grind harder, frustrated that there are layers between you. Your arch your back, chest rubbing against his. Like he knows what you want, his hand finds your breast, squeezing and groping. “No bra? Are you sure you came here to talk, angel?”

When his thumb brushes over your nipple, you cry out, body tightening as that coil inside snaps. You spasm, grinding hastily to draw out your pleasure. It’s much better than you any could have given yourself and you’re addicted. Hand flying to his hair, you thread it through, brushing out his hair tie until his silky hair cascades down.

He groans. 

In a blink of an eye, you’re being pulled and pushed down onto your knees. You grip his thighs, blinking fast as you desperately try to regain your bearings. 

“You’re asking for trouble, sweet thing. Can you handle it?” Suguru asks, a challenge glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. 

You bite your lip, thighs squeezing to subdue the regrowing aching there. With a sudden bravery, your hands make their way up, revelling in the marble like strength in his muscles before they find his zip. 

Hesitating, you feel something holding you back, an instinct within awakening. Awkwardly, you question, “May I?”

His smile widens, surprise flickering in his eyes, and then he’s threading his hands through your hair. It’s a rewarding pat, one full of warmth, and it’s empowering. 

“Such a good girl. You’re a perfect little angel, aren’t you?” He coos. “Of course you may, my pretty girl. Go on, go at your own pace.”

Nodding, you unzip his jeans, tugging it down with his boxers. And what springs out leaves your mouth watering. It’s huge and intimidating. It’s bad enough that he’s well-endowed, but nothing about him is typical. He’s different to the average man in every way. 

Starting with the metal piercing the underside of his dick, emerging through the head. 

Seeing the horrified look on your face, he chuckles, the hair soothing your head delving down to pinch your chin. Unperturbed by your reaction, likely expecting it, he explains, “I got it done a year ago, mostly as a dare. It took around nine weeks to heal and yes, it did hurt.”

“B-but I-I can’t,” you stammer and shake your head, adding, “there’s just n-no way.”

Suguru sighs, thumb grazing your cheek. “You don’t need to. I understand this is too much too soon, but I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’re more than capable.”

You don’t want to disappoint him. And you want to prove you can do whatever you set your mind to. Recalling one of your sister’s drunken admissions, you know the trick is to pinch your thumb, so you don’t gag, to breathe through your nose and take a little at a time. 

“Okay, okay. I can do it.”

He gathers your hair and keeps them out of the way. Slowly, you wrap your hand around the base, gasping at the way your fingers barely touch. With no particular method in mind, you explore his length, thumb following a vein from bottom to top. He’s hot in your hand, almost burning, and the tip is shining with what you know to be pre-cum. 

It’s pearly white and you can’t wait to know what it tastes like; you lean in and scoop up the drop with your tongue. You both groan. 

Salty, you mull the taste over. It isn’t bad. And suddenly, you no longer feel scared. Your tongue fiddles with the bent metal barbell, surprisingly not minding the cold sensation against your hot tongue. 

“That’s it,” he groans, grip on your hair tightening. 

You widen your jaw, suckling the head, tongue pressing against the slit before it circles around, grinding the barbell back and forth. He groans louder, deep breaths vibrating through the room. 

When you push in further, you make the mistake of doing it too fast. You gag, eyes tearing up. 

“Slowly, pretty. Slowly. There’s no rush, okay?”

Coughing, you nod weakly, feeling embarrassed. Recovering your breath, you go back in, slower. Eventually, you work up a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, taking more and more of him but never quite making it further than halfway. 

Both hands on your head, he soothes your tears away with his thumb before he advises, “Relax your throat, sweet thing. I’ll guide you, is that alright?”

You tap his thighs twice in a yes. 

And then he’s pushing in, more and more until he’s filling your throat, muscles stretching to take him in. Tearing up once more, you mentally swallow that panic rising, the claustrophobia within forcing your nails into his bare thighs. 

“You’re doing so well, angel. So good -ngh- for me, hmm?”

Suguru pulls back, the piercing scraping your tongue. And then he pushes back in. Again and again, he builds up to a rhythm, allowing you to get used to it, before he gives you more of him. 

This is so overwhelming, the feeling of his piercing bumping at the back of your throat, the ache in your jaw at the stretch, and the salty taste filling your senses. All you can see and feel and hear and taste is Suguru. You can’t get enough of him. 

So, when he bottoms out, your lips tickling his skin, your eyes roll to the back of your head just as his do. 

“I’m going to cum, pretty. Do you want to pull out?” He asks, pleasure written all over his face, the veins in his arm bulging at his barely constrained urge to fuck your throat freely. Knowing that he’s so in control, so concerned over you, when he could use you how he pleased, could take what he wants makes you so wet. 

You blink rapidly. 

“No? Are you sure you -ha- can take it? I won’t let you spit it out,” he warns. 

Sucking your cheeks in, you suction him closer. His cock head is rubbing the back of your throat, piercing burning, and with a shallow thrust, he’s cumming down your throat. 

Hot liquid fills your mouth. 

Suguru pulls out and you swallow the thick cream he leaves in your mouth. Your head slumps against his thigh, gasping for breath, heaving like you’ve just ridden a rollercoaster. 

Hands tucking themselves under your arms, he lifts you onto his lap just as he sits back on his chair, boxers pulled up before you even realise what position you’re in now. 

He rubs your back, muttering encouraging words about how perfect you were, how amazing you did, and how he knew you’d do well for him. 

“Open,” he orders, bottom lip pulled down by his thumb. He inspects your mouth and smiles at what he sees. “Good girl.”

And then he’s kissing you, tasting both yours and his essence. 

“No wonder Miguel gave me a funny look when I asked how many piercings you have,” you whisper against his lips, a high pulsing through your veins. 

Suguru chuckles. “He’s a good guy, did all my piercings. Eased all my concerns every time and I knew I wanted him in my studio.”

You nod. 

Your eyes are heavy and you’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and pondering the change between you. You’ve accepted that you’re entering an unconventional relationship, that he’s going to introduce you to a world none of your friends had seen a glimpse of, but you won’t be navigating it by yourself. 

He’ll lead you just as he had when you first started working here. 

Softly, gently and with so much patience, you’ll be free to stumble as often as you need until you know who you are, what you want, and what you need to be.

“Get some sleep, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Is the last thing you hear before you fall deeper into sleep in his arms.