#I might go back to drawing these out but for now take this in text form

[frostbite-the-bat]

i want u to know that art u did on your ask blog of veep holding frostbite and spamtoon is legit the softest and sweetest thing ive ever seen! okay thank u for ur time

UWAAAAH thank you!! drawing that made my very happy and that whole doodle sheet is just comfy joy for me, so it makes me glad my self indulgence makes someone else happy ^^

also speaking of frost's blog, i'll get to answering the few asks i've gotten eventually but as you can imagine i've been Busy with A Certain In-game event)

stop being HOLD SIZED, assholes!!

[hackedmotionsensors]

Welcome Aoi!!!

So....my recommendation is to not...right before you're going to sleep at 2am to take an extra two hours to draw out a comic and then decide to sloppily color it bc it will come out....really sloppy LOL I'M SORRY!! I might come back later and touch this up but for now just bear with it lol

I'll write the text out if you can't read it.

BUT! Its the same Omegaverse world that Lime and Lemon are from.

I just wanted them to have one more, a girl, and she has blue hair like her great grandmother (potentially) and her great granduncle (I KEEP MESSING THIS UP LOL but yes Great Grand-Uncle) but I wanted Sanji to be a little startled by it (at first obvs. emotions are high. he just pushed a new person out of him) bc 1) he has no idea that anyone in Zoro's family has blue hair 2) since she's neither green nor yellow then the blue is startling bc what if the Germa expiraments made it through him and came out in his children NOT HIS BABY!!!!!!!!!!

But its fine and they have a laugh and all is good.

LOL ALSO LIKE. I forgot the implications that Sanji might have cheated or Zoro would think that but its fucking omegaverse lol Where's he gonna go? Zoro knows what he did. Multiple times. Like damn.

ALSO ALSO LIKE.....lol I know Zoro would KNOW Sanji has brothers bc they'd been mentioned but he never met them so he probably doesn't know their names.

Script! ⤵️

Shimotsuki Midwife: " Congratulations Blackleg-san! You have a beautiful little girl"

SanjI: "Ahh finally <3 A girl" *sob sob*

Sanji: "Oh no her hair!"

Zoro: "What's wrong?"

Sanji: *wobbly voice* "Why...Why! Why is her hair blue!? I don't want her to be like Niji! Like ANY of them!!"

Zoro: "Oh Blue? My dad and Grandma had blue hair. (My mom was green) Supposedly my Grand Uncle too but I never met him."

Sanji: "Oh........"

Sanji: "You have a dad? Thats so weird. I figured they scraped you off a wet tree"

Zoro: "Shaddap"

Zoro:"Hey who the hell is Niji?"

Nami: "Are you actually stupid!?"

Luffy running down the hall: SAAAAAANNNJIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Shimotsuki Midwife: What a lively family

Sorry this was so long LMAO Don't do a art at 3am. Go to fucking sleep LMAO

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[luveline]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side —featuring grumpy but lovelorn miguel and his head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Gàn de piàoliang!" cheers the puppy at the bottom of your screen. Well done.

You smile at him and slide your finger across a lilac candy to make another three-match. 

The music playing from your phone quietens as a text lines the top of the screen. You click it as soon as you recognise the contact picture beside it, your handsome Miguel with a filter over his face that paints rosy pink hearts over his high cheeks. 

Finished. his text says. 

Miguel is a man of little words. Over the phone he talks even less, easier to draw blood from stone than harness a conversation with him that isn't in person. His text demarcates the wall of messages you sent him earlier, not wanting for a reply but bursting to tell him things as they happened. 

You put your phone down carefully. It's one of your most treasured possessions, shimmering and high tech, you can fold it down the middle to fit in your little spider suit pockets, though the amount of charms and beads hanging from it now impedes that particular functionality.

Miguel gave it to you as a gift without any fanfare around the time you started staying in his apartment in the society, and while your bunking with him was supposed to be temporary, the phone is for keeps. You've decorated it accordingly.

The best charm is a beaded translucent jellyfish, and not solely because it's beautiful: Miguel has a matching one that he showcases shamelessly. 

You rush into his neat bathroom and lean heavily on the counter, propping your hand on the faucet to hold your weight as you assess your reflection in the mirror. When you turn your face, your nose shines in the light. 

You decide it's best to wash up. Miguel will be back soon enough. 

You get distracted by skincare, toner pads resting on your cheeks when you hear the door opening. A waste to take them off prematurely, you pat them flat to your skin and meet Miguel in his bedroom half ready. 

"I can see why you didn't text me back," he says, giving you a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he walks past the bed and your waiting phone. He beelines for the kitchenette and disappears around the corner. "What do they do, the squares?" 

"They're calming, I think," you say, following his path from the bathroom to the small kitchen. 

His apartment is big but not huge. The main room is his bedroom, with enough space for a couch and a TV he never uses that comes out of the wall. To the right is a utility closet for storage and a walk-in wardrobe, and to the left lies the kitchen and the bathroom. It takes you all of ten seconds to be by his side. 

Bottles rattle as Miguel opens the fridge. He grabs sparkling water for himself and a fruit tea concoction for you. You hadn't followed him for that, but you accept it anyway. 

He looks tired. Tilting his head back to drink, you eye the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he rolls his arm out, orchestrating an offer for a massage in your head. 

Miguel squints at you. "What?" 

"What?" you ask back. 

He doesn't explain. He screws the lid back on to his water and closes the fridge. 

With his empty hand, Miguel reaches for your face. You stay very still in anticipation of his touch, imagining how he might take your cheek in his hand and pull you close, or perhaps curl thick, long fingers behind your neck and guide your chin up. He can be rough in odd ways, as though he's unaware of his strength. 

"It's slimy," he says in disgust, pulling a toner pad from your left cheek. 

"It's going to make my skin clearer." 

"There's nothing wrong with your skin." True or not, you know it's Miguel's way of being sweet. He takes the second toner pad too, tossing them in the trash with a huff. "That's better. You look normal. Or, as normal as possible." 

"Jerk!" you say through a smile, thinking now's the moment. 

But Miguel hasn't peeled away your skincare to kiss you. He pats a spot of dampness on your cheek away with the back of his hand and turns on his heel, gunning for a change of clothes and a shower, if you know him. "Drink your tea. Did you eat? Me preocupo por ti." 

You sigh and trail after him. "I was waiting for you to come back. It's Vietnamese week in the cafeteria, they're making cá kho tộ. Do you like that? It's sweeter than hake." 

"It's fish?" 

"Catfish. Caramelised catfish." You sit down on the bed, flipping your phone open to play your game while he decides. 

That, and to ignore the inkling of doubt blossoming like mould under heat in your chest. An achy sort of worry… 

Does Miguel not want to kiss you? 

"What's the other option? I don't like sweet foods." 

You knew that already. "You could make pasta?" you suggest. 

"You'd love that." 

"Are you teasing me?" 

Miguel pokes his head out of the wardrobe, and with it comes his naked chest. His muscles are insane, lean tanned stretches of cord pulled taut as he grabs a shirt. "I'm making an observation. You like carbs." 

"Everyone likes carbs, Miguel, especially Spiders." 

"I know, but I don't make anyone else dinner." He's definitely flirting now, his voice playful and soft. "I'll make you pasta if you want." 

Why hasn't he kissed you? Offering to make you dinner, smiling at you just as soon as his face has been pulled through his t-shirt. He's acting as affectionate as a man who'd like to kiss you without pulling through. 

Well, maybe you kiss him too much. Come to think of it, you initiate the vast, vast majority of kisses, and you must kiss him twice a day at least. Miguel clearly favours you, but it's possible he isn't interested in as much physicality as you and hasn't had the heart to say. He likes watching vintage movies at night and half the time you're not interested in those. You haven't said a word about it because things between you are new and you like his being happy watching the things he enjoys. Miguel could be doing the same, allowing hugs and kisses he doesn't necessarily want in order to avoid hurting your feelings. 

A favourite phrase of his cuts through your thinking, "¿Alguien en casa?" Anyone home?

"Oh, sorry, were you not getting enough attention?" you ask him, pretending to be more nonchalant than you are as you open the match game on your phone. 

The puppy barks hello. 

"Ah, you're a cómico now." Miguel sits on the bed beside you in sweatpants, reaching across the sheets to give your arm a shake. "I said, I'll make you pasta if you want pasta." 

"I want what you want," you say honestly. 

He stares at you. You're not sure what he's confused about. "Alright. Did you want it now?" he asks. 

"Yes, serf," you say, laughing when he knocks your phone out of your hand and stands in a dramatised annoyance. 

You play a couple levels of your game to give him space. He's quiet as he washes his hands and gets out the cookware, but he appears curious in the door, rag between his hands. "You're not gonna come and sit with me? I really am your maid." 

Eager for an invitation, you join him in the kitchen. You brace yourself behind you to hop onto the counter and find his hands on your hips, helping you up. 

Miguel meets your eyes as he does, not close but enough to beckon down for a kiss. You think about doing it. He might let you, his straight lashes pointed with his gaze, his eyes a heavy weight where they trace your features unhurried. 

"How come you didn't text me back earlier?" he asks. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting me to. I'm sorry, handsome, I was kind of grody–"

"Grody? I doubt that–" 

"–I figured I'd wash up before you got back." 

"So you were busy?" he asks, returning to the chopping board at the left of the stove. He picks up a glinting-sharp knife. "Not something else?" 

"No, why? Was I supposed to do something today?" 

Miguel begins slicing into a tomato, red skin splitting to reveal greener insides. "No. No, just wondering." 

You lean back against the wall, crossing a leg over your thigh. He's being kind of off. Your first impulse is to try and kiss it better but that directly fights your new theory. Being nice physically is far from your only weapon. 

"Did you have a good day?" you ask, and here's where you'd pull him close or sidle up behind him and twist his hair around your finger. "I was thinking about you a lot. Did the strike mission go okay?" 

"Fine. You didn't come see me, but it was fine." 

You eye him from the corner of your vision. He's still cutting up tomatoes, a pan of olive oil and minced garlic simmering between you. 

"I sent you all those photos," you say. 

One of the Peter's you hang around with got his arm stuck in a window after he said, "Is that a bad idea, do you think? I really wanna try," and Hobie said, "They can't stop you." 

The 'they' being unknown, Hobie was right. No one could stop Peter once he started climbing, but the window could certainly stop him from getting down. You'd sent Miguel pictures of his dangling body up in the atrium like a dark splodge, as well as a blurry photo of your face when you'd accidentally turned the camera. He responded to that one with a heart but the rest he didn't touch. 

"They got him down eventually," you continue, "but I had to stay for moral support! And to feed him popcorn so he didn't starve. Was it peaceful without me?"

"You know I like when you visit me, right?" he asks carefully. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah?" he mimics, waving his hand at you. "Can't deal with you. Get the cream from the fridge." 

You eat dinner as you and Miguel tend to do —you talk your way through it happily, smiling and joking, and he puts extra helpings on your plate when you aren't looking. 

The alien quality of what you're doing rears its head briefly. He's trying to stop the quasi apocalypse. You're willing to help, though you'd been more interested in Miguel and getting to know his enigma than your responsibilities. Weird how love makes you want to be better. 

"What was your course like?" Miguel asks, when the dishes have been set aside for washing and you've showered for the night. 

He's talkative tonight. 

"They taught us how to wield a baton," you say, climbing into his bed with a tired sigh. "One girl was crazy about it. She kind of looked like me…" You yawn, looking for his waist as he settles in the sheets and pillows next to you. "You're lucky I got my claws into you when I did. At least I'm not murderous. Much." 

Miguel covers your hand on his ribs. He squeezes your fingers together gently like he's collecting them under his palm for borrowing. 

"You didn't get your claws in me. I'm not easily led." 

"Course not," you snort. You actually agree with him, but he said it too seriously for bedtime. 

Miguel abandons your hand to pull you in, encouraging your head and upper chest onto his, hand coasting up and down the length of your arm lovingly. Firmly, like a massage, but adoring nonetheless. You languish in his touches and rub your lips, still tingling from spearmint, against the collar of his shirt gently. As indirect a kiss as you can manage, practically sick with longing after a day unkissed. 

"Are you mad at me?" he asks into the quiet.

You pause, fingers with a mind of their own as you take a long strand of hair that curls under his ear between them, combing it flat. "Why, have you done something?" you ask, hiding your confusion with a delighted lilt. 

"I've been trying to work that out." Frustration seeps into his voice, roughened syllables drawn tight, "But you're evasive." 

"I'm evasive," you say softly, tilting your head back to meet his eye. "Miguel, why do you think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad." 

Miguel glares at you. Brows furrowed, an especially formidable downturn to an otherwise pretty mouth, he looks as though he wants to start a fight with you, and as though he doesn't believe it. 

"I'm not mad," you insist, sitting up a little. 

"Then…" 

You scrunch your brows at him. "You've been thinking I was mad at you all day? Why didn't you say something, handsome?" 

He might roll his eyes at your pet name if he weren't knee deep in relief. You didn't know being mad at him was something he'd be sad with, and yet there he is lying beneath you, blowing a big enough exhale to ruffle the hair from his forehead. 

Miguel takes your face into one hand. Your eyelashes flutter against his palm like a shuddering butterfly wing as you lean into his touch, more than happy to offer him whatever relief it is he needs while enjoying in the feeling of being close to him. 

"You haven't kissed me all day," he says quietly. "I thought I must've pissed you off, 'cos you're more piranha than girl sometimes, but you weren't acting any weirder than usual beyond that." 

You roll your eyes and hide your face in his hand. He's kidding around, and his thumb rubs over your skin tenderly to prove it. 

"You're not mad?" he asks again. 

You kiss his palm. You kiss his wrist, happy when he knows the moves like a well practised dance, his fingers sliding behind your ear to steady you as you dip down for a kiss. 

It's a good kiss. Warm mouths vying for one another but trying not to seem desperate, Miguel's hand behind your ear growing harsher as you pull a breath against his lips. You press your hand into his pec too hard. 

"Sorry," you murmur, stealing another fast kiss and pulling away. 

You barely feel how uncomfortably you're skewed, you're that happy. 

"Is there a reason you wouldn't kiss me?" he asks. 

"I'm, like, always the first one to initiate and I kinda got it in my head maybe you didn't want me kissing you that much…" You grin at him. "The whole time you're playing twenty questions with me wishing I'd lay one on you. You know you have a voice for more than yelling at people, right?" 

Miguel gets this look in his eyes then, rolling his jaw a touch at the supposed audacity of what you've said. The tip of his tongue works at his canine tooth, his eyebrows rising as he asks, "Oh, is that how you're talking to me tonight?" 

"How else should I talk to you, Miguel?" 

He doesn't bother with swiftness nor a show of strength as he rolls you onto your back. He settles above you with measured movements, a pleased smirk playing on his lips now. His eyes are dark, pupils wide as dimes.

"With compassion, mi cielo," he says.

"Have some sympathy for me," you implore him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It diffuses the tension, though neither party minds, evidenced by Miguel's easy relaxation and your ecstatic mood. Happiness bubbles up like carbonated bubbles, your chest awake with a fizzing excitement. "You really thought I was mad 'cos I wasn't kissing you?" 

He avoids the question. "You think you're the only one who initiates?" he asks genuinely. 

"Why didn't you kiss me, then? When you came home?" 

"Your face was wet." 

"And after when we were eating dinner?" 

Miguel smiles at you. No sarcasm, no stress. He leans down to kiss you chastely, pulling away to say, "I thought you were definitely mad at that point." 

"A kiss would've made me feel better." 

You realise how quiet your bubble of the world really is for that handful of seconds, Miguel holding himself above you, your hands loose behind the broad stretch of his back. 

"You know you can just ask me, yeah? You don't have to worry and wonder how I'm feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling if you want to know." 

"Cariño, I always want to know," he says. 

You breathe out slowly. Miguel takes your face into his hand for another kiss, or so you think —he pinches your cheek. 

"And I always want to kiss you," he says quickly, climbing off of you. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I need a drink." 

A break from sincerity. You don't mind that he needs to walk it off as long as he comes back. You stretch out on your back and cover your face with your hands. 

"People think I'm the weird one," you say into them.

A hand clamps around your ankle and tugs you down. You shriek with startled laughter and climb away from him as he lands on top of you, a cold water bottle held to your bare neck. 

"No!" you laugh. 

Miguel laughs in tandem and presses it further down. 

"I really am going to be mad at you if you don't quit!" You yelp as condensation wets your collar. "Miguel!"

"You're a wimp," he says with a bright smile. 

You push him with some enhanced super strength and manage to get the water bottle off of your neck, but Miguel makes up for any differences in strength with enthusiasm and muscle alike, shoving you down. 

You're laughing and pleading at the same time, "Please, Miguel, stop, it's sooooo cold." 

Miguel laughs, dropping the bottle somewhere above your head, covering the cooled stripe of your skin with his big hand. The sound is warming enough, but you let him sweat for a second, content to be doted on. 

He gives you a once over. "I'll kiss you first more," he promises. 

"Starting now, please, handsome. Mi cielo." 

Miguel groans and digs his arms under your back. You don't fight it as he drags you back to the top of the bed. In fact, you quite enjoy it. You lay back to receive his sorry pecks and his all encompassing hug, forgetting what you'd been worried about one damp crescent moon of a kiss at a time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[reidsworld]

Parties

Summary: Spencer, Reader's boyfriend, gets jealous of the Readers family friend at a party.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: fake blood, fake knife and axe, Spencer being jealous, cursing, kissing, hickeys, semi-public oral sex(m receiving), face-fucking, praise/degradation, I think that's it, lmk if I missed anything! — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!!

Word Count: 1.7K+

A/N: For the readers parents house I was envisioning something like the Mikaelson mansion from TVD. The reader is described as having longer hair w/ curtain bangs! This is also my first fic so sorry if its bad lmaoo

Masterlist

Walking onto the jet, you sat next to Penelope, across from Spencer. This case had been a hard one, Hotch had Penelope come along as you needed all hands on deck.

ping!

You sigh taking out your phone to see a text from your mom.

Mother Call me, please.

"What's wrong, Sweets?" Penny asks, concern lacing her tone.

"Nothing, my mom is just trying to call me and I really don't want to deal with her right now." You reply with a groan. You click on your Mothers profile, hitting the call button. She picks up right away.

"Sweetie, let your team that they're invited to this year's Halloween party. Your father and I agreed on the Friday- the 25th, but we would appreciate your input on the date. It starts at 8 PM" she says into the line.

"Alright, the 25th sounds good. If we have a case I might not be able to come," you say with a fake-disappointed tone, praying that a case came up on the day of the party.

"Your father and I are excited to see you so please try to be there."

"Well I can't really control when serial killers decide to strike but you know, I'll try!"

Sighing, your Mother speaks, "Don't be like that honey, your father and I are very excited to see you. If it's any encouragement to come, Julius will be there!"

"Alright fine, I'll try my hardest to be there." you say, smiling at the name.

You exchange 'goodbye's' and 'I love you's' with each other before you hang up.

“Who’s Julius?” Morgan asks with a smirk, drawing your attention to rest of the team who’s staring at you. Spencer couldn't help but feel jealous at the way you smiled at this ‘Julius’ person.

“How did you-? And you’ll meet him at the Halloween party my parents are having on the Friday 25th at 8 PM. No extremely scandalous costumes or my parents will probably never invite you guys back.” You say with a laugh.

Luckily, on the day of the party there was no case. Even so, you had asked Hotch to get off early as you needed to get ready for the party and be there early, as per your parent's request.

Once he agreed, you rushed home and showered before getting ready. You wore a black velvet strapless body-con dress that cut mid-thigh. You had fishnet stockings and black gloves that reached just below your elbows. There was a knife strapped to your leg as well. You had your hair down, styled with curtain bangs.

Once you finished getting changed, you put on dark red lipstick, mascara, and did cat eye eyeliner. Finally, to complete the look, you grabbed the scream mask and rested it to sit securely on top of your head as if you had pulled it up to reveal your face.

You grabbed a small black handbag and put on some Doc Martens, heading out the door to your parents mansion.

Once you got there, their mansions was decked out with Halloween decorations. You parked your car in the garage and went inside.

"Y/N, sweetie, we missed you so much!" Your mother greeted as her and your father hugged you.

"I missed you guys too. And I love the costumes." You said when you pulled away from the hug, referring to their matching Gomez and Morticia Addams costumes.

"Thank you," your father smiled.

It was 8:45 and most of the guests had arrived, so you decided to go and mingle.

You were standing by the food when you heard a voice come from behind you.

"You look good, baby," Spencer said, giving you a kiss on your temple. You looked up at him. He held a fake bloody axe in the one hand and he was wearing a suit with a clear rain coat on top of it. He had his hair slicked back and fake blood splatter covered his face.

"Thank you, you make a hot Patrick Bateman," you winked.

"Well hello gorgeous." You turned to see someone that you hadn't seen in years.

"Julius! Hi, oh my gosh, don’t you look handsome. It's so good to see you." You smiled, hugging him. He was dressed in a orange jump suit with handcuffs on one hand. When he pulled away, you could see him check you out.

"It's good to see you too, love," He grinned.

Spencer would deny being jealous of how low Julius had his hand on your back, of how you smiled and hugged him. But who was he kidding, he was incredibly jealous. So, he stepped forward, wrapping an arm around you, smirking.

"Aren't you gonna introduce me, baby?"

You smiled, knowing exactly what Spencer was doing, "Spencer, this is Julius. Julius, this is my boyfriend Spencer."

Julius stuck his hand out for Spencer to shake. "I don't shake hands, too many germs. But it's nice to meet you," Spencer said, leaving Julius hanging.

"I'll be back, Spence, I gotta go to the washroom."

With that you walked off into a hallway, Spencer following quickly behind you. When he caught up, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the laundry room, locking the door behind you.

“Spencer what are you—”

Your words were cut off as he pushed you up against the door, smashing his lips on yours. His hands roaming all over your body as you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging on it and earning a soft groan from his lips.

He tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan, before breaking the kiss moving his lips down your neck. He lightly bites down on a spot before soothing it with his tongue. He repeats this all over your neck, surely leaving multiple hickeys.

"Fuck, you see what you've done to me? Walking around with that pretty little outfit and flirting with some other guy who would never be able to make you feel as good as I do," he speaks with a low tone, pushing your hips against his growing bulge as his hands grope your ass.

His words make you weak at the knees, the pool in your panties building with every passing second. Spencer's eyes are filled with hunger and lust as he pulls you in for another kiss.

"On your knees," he says into the kiss, lightly pushing you down by your shoulders. You get on your knees, making quick work of taking off his pants.

You slide off his boxers, freeing his cock, precum leaking out of the tip. You grin before licking a stripe up the underside of it, making him groan.

You spread the precum around the head of his dick before taking it in your mouth and swirling your tongue around the head. Spencer's breathing picks up and you start taking more of it into your mouth.

He takes the mask off the top your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. He grips your hair, making a make-shift ponytail. You hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head.

You swirl your tongue around his dick as you suck harder. He groans and throws his head back, "shit, baby." As you take more of his dick into your mouth, his hips buck, hitting the back of your throat.

You gag around his dick, making him let out a low groan. He looks down at you for approval before he starts thrusting into your mouth.

He fucks your throat, making you gag and moan around his dick. Tears begin to fall at the feeling and restriction of air flow. He pulls back a bit, letting you get some air.

Once you give him a small nod, he resumes his motions. "Fuck Y/N you take my cock like such a good little slut.”

You feel his dick begin to twitch in your mouth, indicating that he’s close. You look up at him as he pushes in and out of your mouth, moaning so loudly, you're sure people can hear you.

"I'm close," Spencer moans, sloppily thrusting into your throat, hitting the back every time. After a couple more thrusts, he pushes his dick as far into your throat as he can, making you gag. The vibrations send him over the edge. He holds your head still, sending warm ropes of cum down the back of your throat.

He pulls out and looks at you, your mascara is running and your hair is a mess, "you look so pretty like this baby." He caresses your cheek before helping you up onto your feet. He pulls his boxers and pants back on before kissing you on the forehead.

"I love you," you smile at him.

"I love you too."

He picks your mask up off the ground and hands it to you. You take him to the washroom and take out makeup wipes from the cabinet. He helps you take off your make up so you can reapply it.

You both walk out of the room and into the hallway. Just as your leaving you bump into Julius. His eyes flicker down to the dark marks scattered across your neck and Spencer smirks.

"We're leaving now, it was good to see you," You smile at him, holding Spencer's hand.

"Yeah, you too."

As soon as you got home, Spencer pulled you onto the couch to straddle him. His lips were on yours, engaging in a heated kiss. His hands roamed to the back of your dress, pulling the zipper down and sliding the dress down to your hips.

He unclipped your bra, freeing your breasts. he pulled back, looking down and grinning.

"Are you just gonna stare or are—” You were cut off by Spencer's lips on your nipple making you moan. He swirled his tongue around the bud as his other hand kneaded your other breast. You were moaning, running your hands through his hair.

Just as he was about to move to the other nipple, your phone pinged. You groaned and got off him. you walked over to your phone and unlocked it.

Mother Your car is still here...?

Y/N I'll pick it up in the morning, I went home in someone else's car

With that you put your phone down and walked over to Spencer, swaying your hips.

"Now, where were we?"

A/N: chat I’m rlly debating posting this rn. I wrote it in 2022 and now, 2 years later, I found it in my drafts. I decided to edit it and fix it up a bit. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out, when I first found it, I expected it to be a lot worse lmao. lmk what you think of it!! if no one reads this I’m taking it down cause I’m kinda out of my criminal minds phase lol. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[just-some-trans-nobody]

(Nsfw)

Orc boyfriend who's really into breeding kink, but his human mate don't want/can't have children, so he just keep filling up his mate anyway

December Christmas Monster stories

December 4.) Orc Breeding

Orc boyfriend x gender neutral reader

Thank you for this request! Hope you and everyone else enjoys. This gave me way to much trouble, for some reason everytime I went to save it, it just wouldn't save.

Warning: NSFW, breeding, cream pie, unprotected sex, no prep before sex, mention of pregnancy, small amount of alcohol

Minors don't interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Wanting to do something romantic for your boyfriend on christmas you kicked him out for a few hours so you can set everything up. He left with friends to go get drinks, promising you he would be back in two hours giving you plenty of time to set everything up. 

Spreading flower petals down on the floor from the front door you made a trail of them to the bedroom you shared with your large hunk of an orc you loved oh so dearly. Next you set up candles here and there letting their sweet aroma fill the air. Turning on the stereo you put on a long playlist of songs to get nasty too, you knew to put on an extra long one, Grogmar loved to take his sweet time having his way with you and you loved that. The last step was to put on sexy Christmas lingerie. It was lacey with fuzzy white trim, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

Picking your phone up you shot him a text to check and see when he would be back. Playing it safe you sent another text telling him to come alone for his surprise, you didn’t want to risk his buddies seeing you like this. You didn’t get a text right away so you set your phone down on the nightstand walking away just as you got a text back from him saying he had just parked. Going to the kitchen you pulled out two glasses and poured some champagne into them.

Hearing the door unlocking you picked the two glasses and stepped out of the kitchen right in time for Grogmar to open the door. His eyes looked to you and widened as he went stiff taking in the sight of you dressed like that. Grinning you struck a pose popping your hip out lightly. “Merry christmas~” You purred while holding up one of the glasses for him. Stepping inside he closed the door not breaking his stride as he approached you. With one hand he took the glass from you, his other hand going to your ass. His hand covered all of your cheek with it’s large size. “Now this is a merry christmas. Might be my favorite gift so far.” He chuckled, leaning in catching your lips with his in a heated kiss. Moaning against his lips you pressed your body against him feeling that he was already growing hard. Pulling away he trailed kisses down to your neck, his tusks rubbing against you as he kissed you like a desperate man. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” You moaned as he continued to attack your neck in kisses. 

“Can’t wait that long.” He mumbled against your neck before he hosted you up in one arm. Carrying you to the table he set you down on the edge before setting his glass down next to you. Watching him step back you brought your own glass up to your lips taking a long sip as he fumbled with his pants. “So eager to use your gift hmm~?” You teased watching as he finally got it off. “Always eager when it’s with you.” Grogmar said as he stepped in between your legs going back to kissing you neck drawing a moan from your lips. His hands gripped your thighs rubbing them at a rough pace as he gave them a squeeze. Moaning he grinded against you wanting any sort of friction. “Grog please.” You whispered, leaning your head back. “Please fuck me, fill me up with your cum.” You knew how exactly to push his buttons, you knew just how much that would rile him up and it did. Groaning against your next he pulled your legs open wider as he pushed his wide tip into you earning a moan from you. Grabbing onto his shoulders you had to hold onto him for support as he pushed more of his cock into you. No matter how many times he had taken you he was always just so damn big, he had to be careful at the start.

Panting you pressed your head against his chest, a soft whine leaving you as he stretched you open wide. “Doing so good for me baby, gonna fill you up so much. Yer gonna look pregnant once I’m done with you.” Grogmar knew that was impossible but the thought always got him hot and bothered. It rubbed a more feral part of his brain so nicely thinking about breeding you. Hearing your loud moan brought him back to reality, he was getting easily lost in the pleasure already. “You take me so well.” He moaned, thrusting into you harder causing you to cry out. “Oh fuck! Grog! Yes fuck just like that.” You screamed out not caring how loud you were getting, you couldn’t care less at that moment. His cock just felt too good, you didn’t think you could hold in any sounds even if you tried to. The wet sounds of his sloppy thrusts were barely covered up by the music playing in the background. “You love it when I pound you like this don’t you? You love when my cock stretches you so well.” Grog moaned, lifting your legs up onto his shoulders. Leaning down he pressed his chest to yours. His cock reaching into you deeper with his new position. Trying to answer him your words came out as moaning gibberish unable to talk as he fucked you stupid. “Gods look at you. The devinines would be jealous of your beauty.” He praised kissing your jaw. “Fuck! Grog!” Was all you were able to say as you let out a choked moan. “F-fill me up… Need it… please please!” You whined as you started to claw at his back. Grogmar groaned feeling your nails on his back, it was a good kind of pain he was more than happy to feel. He would gladly show them off if you managed to leave a scar from it, though it was unlikely to happen. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you as he grew closer to his orgasim, you were close too. “How could I say no when you're asking so nicely?” He asked as he started to thrust faster slamming his hips into in a unrelenting pace. Throwing your head back against the table you let out a scream of pleasure as you tightened around him cumming. Your tightness drove him to the edge causing him to cum inside of you. “Yes of fuck Grog fill me up with your cum!” You moaned encouraging him. Bending over you he grunted and groaned as he kept thrusting, riding out his orgasmism making sure he got every drop of his seed into you. Panting his hips slowed to a stop as he pressed his head against your shoulder. “Haa~ felt so good.” He mumbled gently rubbing your thighs. “You're always so good for me.” Grogmar praised placing gentle kisses all over your shoulder and neck. “Mm you do too Groggy. Now let's get cleaned up and unwrap the other gifts.” You said trying to sit up a little. “Did you forget what I said?” Grogmar whispered tusks grazing against your neck as he spoke. Confused and a little dazed, you looked down at him. Opening your mouth you began to ask what he meant when you let out a sudden moan feeling a harsh thrust. “You're going to look pregnant once I’m done and you don’t look pregnant yet so I ain’t done yet.” He explained, his grip on your thighs tightening again as he continued to thrust into you. Moaning you laid back down on the table more than happy to keep going. This definitely was your best Christmas yet.

[riality-check]

DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2

"I have to open it."

"Nope."

"Gareth. I need to open it."

"The vault is sacred," Archie says.

At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."

Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"

"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.

Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.

"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.

"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.

Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."

Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.

It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.

He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.

Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.

Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.

(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)

From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.

Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.

"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.

"Is that how we ask?"

"I could always yank the key off you."

Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.

Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.

Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.

And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.

But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.

Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.

Or maybe Steve was just that hot.

He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.

His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:

I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.

Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.

"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.

"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."

"What did he say?" Archie asks.

Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.

Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.

"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.

"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.

"What do I say?" he asks.

Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."

"I don't know how!"

"You ground against a guitar-"

"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"

Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"

"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.

Jeff barks out a laugh.

"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.

Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?

"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.

"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.

Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.

"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.

"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.

"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."

"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"

"He might be ace."

"Archie, shut the fuck up."

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.

Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.

He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.

This is. So bad.

And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.

Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.

I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.

"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.

"He's single!" Gareth cheers.

"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.

"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.

They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.

But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.

He writes back, once he's calmed down:

Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.

[zreamy]

won't let you go (this time)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

summary: back home for good after a semi-unsuccessful first year at university in a new city, you’re looking forward to getting back into the routines of your old life in the town you grew up in but the one person you’d been desperate to see doesn’t seem too pleased about your return :(

genre: angst.. ......... fluff, smut, college au, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slow burn

warnings: minors dni, british in a way that's not vague (might be vague.. it's hard to tell when ur british), so so long, sad heeseung, long paragraphs..

word count: 36,007 .. (apparently, i'm in a competition with myself to see who can write the longest fic)

playlist: seasons wave to earth, understand keshi

author's note: writing this fic was like pulling teeth and then cooking pasta out of it.. bUT IT'S DONE !!! also one of these scenes is smth i reworked from a fic i posted to wattpad in 2021.. thanks @asahicore for the beta u rock ! and as always be lmk ur thoughts (positive/negative/anything) 🤍

fic taglist: @enhastolemyheart

Lee Heeseung had often imagined what it would be like when he saw you again. 

Sometimes, he envisioned you standing on his doorstep, playing with the cuffs of your sweater. Other times he’d dream up a chance encounter at the local grocery shop, where you’d be distracted and bump the end of your trolley into his. He’d even pictured a sun-soaked vacation, a gorgeous white sand beach where the temperature would be inching past the thirties. You, laying out on a patterned towel, lost in the pages of a book, and your pretty face obscured by its cover. Yet, even with the sun in his eyes and his poor vision, he’d recognise you without a doubt. 

Regardless of circumstance or setting, in all of his hazy daydreams, you’d look up at him with unbridled love in your eyes and say the words he wanted to hear all those months ago: I choose you. 

Heeseung had always imagined that his heart might glow in his chest, through his shirt like something from Jane the Virgin, and you’d know you made the wrong decision. 

But sometimes, typically when in an alcohol-fuelled state of despondence, these images would be rougher around the edges. Heeseung would be hot, with bleach-blond hair and thick dark brows—a walking, talking beacon of sexual energy when you’d see him. In his head, it would happen at a party or a club somewhere, and he’d be too busy talking to another girl to notice you, his arm hanging off of her, lust clear in his eyes. Somehow, even in sweatpants and an old hoodie of his, you’d still look as beautiful as always. 

“Heeseung,” you’d say, completely crushed with tears welling up in your eyes under furrowed brows. “I choose you.”

Reluctantly, he’d draw his eyes away from the girl and notice you, finally, and a smile would spread on his lips, a mean one, condescending. He’d shrug, wrapping his arm tighter around the girl and say, “You’re too late.” He wouldn’t mean it, but he’d say it just to drive you crazy. Make you beg him to take you back for months until he felt you’d suffered enough—as much as he had. 

These thoughts were few and far between and mainly followed by hot, guilty tears rolling down his cheeks because he knew it was his fault. After all, he was the one to let you go.

For now though, the little round table in Mark’s backyard seats four, and, in the arms of a balmy summer night, Heeseung chooses the seat closest to the fence. The garden light is still busted so in his seat of choice, furthest from the kitchen door, he’ll go completely unnoticed but still see anyone who might join him outside.

His phone is freezing when he takes it from his pocket and unsurprisingly holds no notifications beyond the outsiiiide text he’d gotten from Jake before the party started. Through Instagram stories, Heeseung watches the night play out from the perspective of people who are enjoying themselves while ignoring the voice in his head that tells him he could be one of those people if he tried. 

Maybe he was a fool for believing that tonight would go differently and that the boys would keep their ‘bro’s night’ promise for longer than it took to cross the threshold—but it’s not like he blames them. Maybe he was a fool for believing he would find more company than his somewhat abandoned bottle of Peroni that watches him mockingly from the glass table. 

He grimaces after taking a sip from it, remembering that he was only ever carrying it around so his friends wouldn’t feel the need to load him with shots. Now he’s not so sure that would’ve been a bad thing, seeing as he’s completely sober and aware of the tightness in his chest as he scrolls through the text thread he’s had pinned for years. Its end came abruptly; revived only by an ignored blue bubble saying: i heard you’re back home for the summer.. 

Seeing it now, he regrets hitting send even more than he did two weeks ago. Heeseung hates himself for believing the boys when they said it was a good thing that you opened the message right away. “Means she’s thinking of u 2 dude,” was Jake's message to the group chat (along with four bicep emojis and two red exclamation marks). Jay replied: i hope you guys can talk things out! And Sunghoon didn’t say anything. 

All your conversations bring up memories that hurt more than the last but he has to take a break when he reaches a text you sent last January: i had so much fun tonight, hee, idk how to thank u enough :((( i hope ur not in too much trouble.. i love you i love you and i’ll love you forever !!!

He ended up getting grounded for three weeks and lost car privileges for months after staying out four hours past curfew, but he’d do it a million times over if it meant he’d get to see you as happy as you were that night on the two-hour drive back, running your fingertips over the Sharpie autograph of your favourite author on the book’s front page—“Heeseung?” 

His jaw falls slack and his whole body stiffens. If you don’t count old videos in his camera roll, Heeseung hasn’t heard your voice in over a year. The back door slides shut and when he finally lifts his head, he wants to throw up. Even without the glow of the kitchen lights on your face, he’d still be able to make out the cute point of your nose, and the slight curve of your soft lips. Unfortunately, the breakup only seems to have made you even more beautiful and he hates himself for wishing you were having a hard time too. 

“Hey,” you say. “Can I sit?” 

Regaining his mobility, he moves his shoulders in a stiff shrug. The sound of your chair scraping the concrete makes him cringe and he hates that you chose the seat closest to him. 

“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.” 

Heeseung scoffs, his brows furrowing defensively. “You didn’t think I’d be at my friend’s party?” 

You set your jaw. “Okay.” 

An unbearable silence follows, so heavy he can feel it sitting on his shoulders, weighing him down. There’s no way to know how much time has passed but he feels less tense when you start to hum, drumming your fingers against the table to the beat of whatever song the kitchen door is struggling to muffle. If he doesn’t think too hard about the lingering quiet, it feels like everything is okay between you two. 

His heart races when you giggle. “You still do that?” 

“Do what?” 

You smile before mirroring his expression, puffing up your cheeks and exhaling dramatically a few times. Due to the heat, nothing comes of it but you laugh anyway. “You always liked when it was cold enough out to see your breath. I remember having to nudge you every night of summer to get you to stop.”

To Heeseung, there’s something sinister about the fact that you can so easily bring up a memory you share with him. About the fact that even after what happened, his cheeks heat up just from seeing you grin. He deflates, unable to look at you, finding interest in the label on his bottle instead. It’s slightly curled up at its edge, and he runs his thumb over it a few times before peeling it off completely—with some struggle, leaving a sticky patch in its wake. Under your loaded stare, he folds it a little to make a square before trying to craft a swan or a crane (you were the one who knew these things) from the sticker. 

Your hands are just as soft as he remembers when your fingers touch his, though it shocks him so much he drops the label, immediately withdrawing his hands and, for lack of a better option, sitting on them. Even softer than your hands is your voice when you say, “I don’t want things to be so tense between us.” 

It must be easy, he thinks. For you to say something like that after dumping him. Heeseung wants to laugh, to let his head fall back and cackle from sheer disbelief; you really must have some nerve. Instead, a bitterness, raging and sour, works in his chest, choking the laughter into silence. It pushes his lips into a scowl as he lifts his head to look at you. You’re shivering with your arms crossed over your chest and Heeseung softens. Without thinking, he shrugs off his flannel to drape it over your shoulders, almost regretting it when he fixes his tongue to scold you playfully like he used to. Still too hot for a jacket, right, baby? he wants to say. This is the last time I’m doing this for you, next time you’re on your own. Heeseung figures that somewhere, in another reality where you’re still together, a version of him says these things but continues to give you his flannels and jackets anyway.

He’d give anything to be that Heeseung instead. 

Over the last year, he’s been replacing the clothes in his wardrobe. He noticed that during your time together you steadily wore every t-shirt, flannel, and hoodie he owned. Now, as you thank him with a sincere smile, he realises he’ll have to donate his new favourite shirt too. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask, reaching in to find out. A bleak carton of cigarettes sits full in your hands as you look over at him with wide eyes. “You smoke now?” 

“No.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Never.” 

Back and forth between your hands, the box and its contents rustle. “Really? Because this—” You pause to pull a lighter from the same pocket. “—and this tell me something different.”

“Sunghoon’s quitting again,” he explains, with air quotes around the word quitting. 

“Oh.” You let out a laugh, nodding fondly. “He’s on, like, five weeks or something by now, though, right? Surely you don’t still need to carry these around for him.”

His head tilts so quickly he hurts his neck. With knitted brows, he inspects you. Nothing about your expression seems like you’re trying to hurt him, in truth, you look like you’re being quite sincere; your eyes are wide, curious, and your lips are quirked up at the corners with an amusement he adores. “Six,” he corrects. “How do you know?” 

“He told me.” 

“You guys still talk?” 

A shoulder-dropping sigh falls from your mouth as you put the cigarettes and lighter back in his pocket, raking a hand through your hair. “You’re the only one who doesn’t talk to me anymore,” you say in a small voice. 

The five of you stuck together in high school — where he and Jay first met you, Jake, and Sunghoon — and he knew it would be unreasonable for him to expect your shared friends, especially the youngest two whom you’d known longer, to turn on you. He also figured, given how close you’d grown to Jay, and his undying rationality, that his best friend would outright refuse to shun you on Heeseung’s behalf. Even though they didn’t need his permission, he told them that he didn’t want them to feel like they had to pick sides and that he was perfectly happy for them to keep talking to you. On one condition: that none of them tell him anything about you or your life without him unless you’re hurt—a condition they’ve clearly carried out more faithfully than Heeseung expected them to. 

Bile rises in his throat thinking about all the things your friends have kept from him about your year away. His heart twists over mundane details like your class schedules and favourite things to eat for lunch, and his eyes sting with tears over the important stuff like new friends and, worst of all, new partners. 

Heeseung jolts out of his chair, knocking the table so hard with his thighs that his bottle tips over. You’re quick to catch it. “My mum’s calling,” he blurts out, overwhelmed. 

“Heeseung.” 

“I really have to go.” 

“Heeseung!” you call out, but he’s already back inside. 

You don’t follow him. 

But that was in June, and now it’s September. 

While his friends complain about the chill of autumn, Heeseung’s just happy he can comfortably wear hoodies everywhere again. In a cool lecture hall, home to his Ethics and Responsibility class for the next few months, he relishes the feeling of soft cotton against his ears as he copies the course reading list into the first page of his notebook. 

“Is someone sitting here?” 

Heeseung’s stomach sinks to the floor. Reluctantly, he lifts his head, and through the gaps in his bangs, he sees you and the way your face falls when you see him, instantly looking around the room. 

“Oh,” you say, eyes blown. “I’m sorry, I’ll just..” you trail off.

He scans the room, chewing his lip when he realises that, despite the lecturer not having arrived yet, the seat to his left, with his backpack on it, is the only empty one. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to seem nonchalant as he takes his bag from the chair and puts it on the floor. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, frowning a little as you sit down. 

In the light of day, he really sees you and a lone butterfly, one he was sure had died with the rest last year, flutters lazily in his stomach—wings buzzing against the lining, tickling him. Even with messy hair and tired bags under your eyes, you’re just as beautiful as the first time he saw you. It’s unfair, he thinks. That you could be dealing with this and still manage to look presentable. Jealousy kills the butterfly, stirring a pit in his belly at the thought that you were able to break up with him and continue with life as normal on the other end of the country, making new friends and new memories as if nothing happened. 

Even when Dr. Kim comes in and starts the class, Heeseung can’t take his eyes off of you. You haven’t lost any of your mannerisms, he notices when you stick your tongue out a little while typing notes as the lecturer says them, barely looking up from your laptop to see the slides. 

At the end of the lecture, all he has to show for it is the reading list and a couple of bullet points that seemed important as he copied them from your screen. Side by side, you silently walk down the stairs to leave the room, and the sight of Sunghoon through the doorway pulls a relieved sigh from Heeseung’s chest. 

Sunghoon’s brows raise seeing you together and he clears his throat when you’re close enough. “Hey, you two! My little study buddies,” he says in a strained voice. “First day back! First day for you, YN, what was that like?” He sounds like he’s reading from a script as he walks between you. 

Heeseung lets you answer, listening to your voice as he walks behind you down the stairs. He wonders if things will be this way forever, briefly contemplating throwing himself over the bannister so he doesn’t have to find out. If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t show it, talking excitedly with Sunghoon about the class, mentioning things Heeseung hadn’t even heard, despite having sat through the same hour-long introduction lecture as you. He trails behind the two of you all the way to the library, where Jay is sleeping with his chin on his arms and Jake is staring at the table of contents in his textbook. You cut yourself off, jogging over to the table they’re sitting at to wake Jay. As soon as you wrap your arms around him, he flinches, waking up with his brows pulled together. 

“What are you doing?” Jay mumbles, trying to shake you off. 

As Heeseung sits beside Jake, he skims over the front page of the textbook, trying to remember what tensile strength means. Sunghoon stands at the end of the table looking at his phone, and you sit next to Jay, pulling your seat a little closer and letting him rest his head on your shoulder. Heeseung looks away, trying to bury the unease building in his stomach. 

Sunghoon breaks the silence. “Can we go get food?” And suddenly, you all stand up, filing out of the library towards the Tesco Express down the road. 

Jay and Sunghoon take the lead, picking up their lunch without much thought before waiting in line at the self-checkout, while you, Jake, and Heeseung spend an ungodly amount of time weighing up options in front of the meal deals. Heeseung gets the same thing every time but looks at every single sandwich, drink, and snack option just in case before picking up his food. 

“Just cheese is crazy, bro,” Jake says, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Heeseung shrugs. “It’s reliable.” 

“It’s absurd.” 

You hum between the two of them, tilting your head thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I think it’s cute.” Your shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug, almost as if you haven’t just paid Heeseung a compliment for the first time in a year and three months. 

Jake’s eyebrows raise, a grin playing on his lips as he glances between the two of you when you step forward, pulling a just cheese sandwich from the shelf too. “Cute,” he repeats. “Sure.” 

Outside, Jay and Sunghoon are sitting on a half-finished brick wall, and while normally, Heeseung would say something to interrupt Jay’s never-ending lecture series on making the most of your meal deal, he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself or the small smile he’s struggling to keep off his face. 

“Hoon, think about it,” he says, resting his giant can of Red Bull on the stepped brick next to him. “A meal deal costs £3. You get a sandwich, a drink, and a snack, all for £3. You, foolishly, bought a sandwich, a snack, and a bottle of water, you gave them money.” 

“Yeah, man, anyone who shops anywhere gives money, that’s, like, an entry-level requirement.” 

“But I’m taking money from Tesco, you get it?” 

Jake sighs, taking a seat next to Sunghoon. “You’re technically right, but you still paid for your food under a promotion Tesco created. If you really wanted to take from Tesco, you should be stealing your lunch. Also, the sandwich he got was £2.85, and there’s more water in his bottle than Red Bull in your can, so I actually think Hoon got the better offer today.” 

Beside Heeseung, you roll your eyes, wrestling with a packet of crisps while juggling everything in your hands. Seeing your struggle, he reaches over, taking hold of your drink and sandwich. “Thanks,” you mumble, smiling. You glance towards Jay and Sunghoon, then back at Heeseung. “Are they always like this?” 

He nods with a slight frown. A tiny laugh comes through your nose as you nod too. 

During the walk back to campus, as you split your sandwich with Sunghoon, Heeseung has an unsettling realisation. If he wants to get you back, he’ll have to start out being your friend. He’s not too sure what that will look like, seeing as the two of you were friends for six weeks — that he spent hopelessly in love with you — before he asked you out. All he knows is he wants to be the one you share your lunch and link arms with unthinkingly. While he assumes that your shared friend group and three out of four classes will naturally lead to friendship, things might go better if he makes an effort.

He doesn’t.

Not today at least. The second and last class of the day ends much like the first, with a heading in his notebook, and slowly reviving butterflies in his stomach every time your knee bumps into his under the desk. Again, neither of you says much as you leave the class to go meet Jay in the library. He’s awake this time, grinning at the girl across from him. 

“They’re so cute!”

“They’re talking.” 

“Yeah, in a cute way. Look at the smile on his face,” you say as if anyone could miss Jay’s grin or the way it widens when he notices you and Heeseung staring. 

Yunjin immediately looks over, waving before getting out of her seat to come over. She greets Heeseung with a hug before flinging her arms around you, gushing about how it’s been so long. Heeseung feels his brow raise when you giggle and  say, “We hung out two weeks ago.”

She loosens her hold on you, looking down into your eyes with a shocked look. “Yeah, two weeks too many. What are you doing later?” 

It feels like Heeseung skipped a chapter and his stomach hurts when he realises he has—a whole year's worth of the contents of your life. Of course, Jay already introduced Yunjin to you, of course, you’re already friends. 

Leaving you with Yunjin in the library, Heeseung and Jay walk back to their flat. They take the long route home, through the winding bike path and over the creaky footbridge by Sunghoon’s old apartment. Jay is eerily quiet, only responding in nods and hums—this silence means one of two things, he’s either too exhausted to speak or he’s saving his words to reprimand Heeseung at home. 

Outside their flat, Jay hesitates, gripping the handle tightly before turning to Heeseung. In his eyes is a familiar look, the one he typically wears before telling someone off and Heeseung bites his tongue lest he pisses Jay off even more. A few times, Jay opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, exhaling a deep sigh as he rests his head against the door. “I want you to know I’m on your side, sort of,” he says. “If it’s too hard being around YN, we can always hang out together instead, just us.” 

Jay’s key clicks in the lock and Heeseung watches, shocked. He didn’t expect that at all. 

“It’s not like it’s hard, just weird, you know?” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, leaving his shoes by the door while Jay locks it before following him into the living room and sinking into the couch. “We have the same friends, so I can’t avoid her, but I don’t think I want to.” 

“Like I said, we can just hang out on our own if we’re on campus.” Jay pauses for a beat, clearly pleased by whatever he’s thinking about as a smile spreads on his face. “It might do you some good being around her though, like, to see why none of us want to date her.” 

The offer is generous and Heeseung spends a while considering it. But as Jay said, it probably would be a good thing to hang out with you if he wants to build the friendship he finds himself craving. 

“It might also do you some good to, you know.. start looking nice again. It’s been a year, dude, and she’s back now, don’t you want her seeing what she’s missing out on?” 

Heeseung cocks his head to the side, surprised and honestly a little offended. “Are you saying I’m ugly now?” 

“No, I’m saying it probably wouldn’t hurt to put some essence in your hair, touch up your roots, and, you know, use deodorant.” 

Reflexively, he grabs the pit of his hoodie, bringing it to his nose and sniffing furiously. The only thing he can smell is fresh detergent and he looks at Jay with a frown. “So you think I should change everything about myself basically.” 

“I hate to be the one to say it..” Jay trails off, head falling back in contagious laughter. “Seriously though, if you want her back or, at least, want her to miss you, start putting some effort in.” 

Heeseung’s eyes are wide as saucers. “She doesn’t miss me?”

“You spent the whole day together, why would she miss you?” 

“So she doesn’t.” 

“I didn’t say that.” Jay shrugs. 

Outside, a cloud moves away from the sun, letting it shine right through the window and into Heeseung’s eyes. He squints a little, groaning before bringing his arm over his face to shield himself. Jay laughs and Heeseung flips him off. “You didn’t really say anything.” 

“Are you crying?” Jay coos. 

“Sure.” 

“Too bad, I’m taking a nap. Club later?” 

Heeseung grunts in response, considering taking a nap too. 

A dramatic sigh tugs its way from Jay’s chest. “Look, it’s not my place to say, but she told me a few months ago she was miserable in first year, something about wanting to see some guy she dated in high school.”

“You knew she was coming back?” Heeseung practically jumps in his seat, sitting up straighter. “You knew I’d see her today and you let me leave the house looking like this?” It’s not like he looks bad in his oversized black hoodie and sweatpants but he might have taken the time to do more than run a hand through his hair this morning if he knew.

Jay holds his hands up defensively. “You said you didn’t want to hear anything about her unless she died. I was just doing what you told me to.” 

“I think it goes without saying that that would’ve been a nice thing to know.”

“Noted.” Jay nods. “Club later?”

Despite saying no, Heeseung finds himself at the club anyway, having a friendly dance battle with Jay while you hype them up, filming blurry videos with your finger over the camera lens. Jake and Sunghoon came out too but went off to find girls. 

Heeseung spent all of pres and the journey to the club worrying about being drunk around you. Or rather, worrying about being drunk around drunk you. Drunk you who typically gets clingy and oversentimental just looking at a bottle of vodka, or brings up old memories and uses pouty, gloss-coated lips to say things without thinking of the consequences. For better or for worse, you haven’t done any of that yet. 

Between knocking back drinks and rivalling the club photographer, you find time to make a look of disgust every time a guy comes near you, immediately shaking your head and pressing yourself against Heeseung before mumbling an apology in his ear each time, even though he tells you it’s okay. Your admirers start to dwindle when he dances with you to a song you like, letting you hold his hand and pull him closer, all while wishing he’d stayed asleep on the couch. 

It’s only when the fifth guy shows up with a stupid smirk on his face, that Heeseung speaks up. His arm finds your waist and he holds you close as he looks at the stranger. “Dude, leave her alone,” he says, angling his shoulder to him in an attempt to shield you. “She’s not interested.” The weight of his words is lost on him until the guy rolls his eyes, shrugging and mumbling whatever as he leaves. 

He saw how uncomfortable you looked after being approached and hated how long it took for you to start enjoying yourself again, so in the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. To look after you. But now, as he stands with his hand on your waist, his skin touching yours at the hem of your shirt, he’s starting to feel like he’s crossed a line. It’s the worst possible time to freeze in place but there’s nothing he can do about it, and Jay staring at him, with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, isn’t exactly helping. 

With embarrassment burning his cheeks and neck, Heeseung finally looks down at you. You look almost as shocked as Jay for a split second before letting your hand rest on his chest, smiling. The moment feels endless until you lean up to his ear and Heeseung has to bend down a bit. “Thank you, Hee,” you say, still smiling when you pull back. 

All he can do is nod, smiling too.

Over your head, he sees Jay grinning and the heat returns to his cheeks. As if suddenly aware of your position — your hands now resting on his shoulders, chests held together by your grip on each other — the smile falls from your face as you take a huge step back, bumping into Jay while Heeseung’s hand slips from your body. 

“Let’s get more drinks!” you yell to Jay, slinging an arm over his shoulders to pull him away. 

On his own, Heeseung dances to three whole songs, only stopping when Yoo Jimin wraps her arm around him, holding him in the world’s tightest hug. “Lee Heeseung, did I just see you all over a girl?” The interaction takes him by surprise, seeing as he hasn’t actually spoken to her since before summer. “Let’s go for drinks soon, to say congrats on finally moving on!” 

This, of course, is when you and Jay finally return. Jimin notices before he does. “Be good to him,” she yells, smiling, and never letting go of Heeseung. “Bad breakup!” 

You stand there, holding two drinks so tightly your hands start shaking, causing one to spill over your fingers. A strained smile spreads over your lips as you nod. “Right! I’ll try!” 

As quickly as she appears, Jimin vanishes with a smile on her face, pleased with herself. You visibly relax, handing Heeseung his drink and swaying to the music again. Just like at high school parties, you let Jay sling his arm over your shoulders as you dance together. Back then, you’d dance with all of your friends while waiting for Heeseung to return, usually with a cup of water for you to drink, but tonight, with Heeseung standing there, it seems like he’s as good as dead according to you. 

It’s around 2 a.m. when you and Jay decide you’ve had enough, with Jay struggling to keep his eyes open. After failing to locate Sunghoon and easily finding Jake with his cap on backwards and makeup all over his mouth and cheeks, the three of you let him know you’re going home. 

As seems to be the unspoken rule amongst your friends, Jay walks between the two of you while trying to convince you both that if you had fun tonight, there’s no reason to regret having gone out. Even if it means you’ll be sitting in class holding your eyes open. Heeseung ignores him, conspiring out loud about Sunghoon’s whereabouts—getting lost on his way to the restroom or finding an ice rink out back. 

For a while, you entertain him before sighing. “I saw in the chat, he said he’s out talking to a girl he saw wearing a band shirt—Nirvana.” 

The notion is so surprising that Heeseung almost stops in his tracks. Jay voices his shock with a raised brow and an incredulous tone. “Hoon listens to Nirvana?” 

“No, but she’s pretty. I had to send him a screenshot of their popular songs on Spotify when one of her friends came over looking for a lighter.” 

At Jay’s request, you and Heeseung spend the rest of the walk back to your flat trying to name fifteen Nirvana songs. By the time you reach the lift in your building, you’ve successfully listed nine and the three of you stand inside while you look for your keys. On your doorstep, you pull Jay into a tight hug, whispering something in his ear that makes him laugh as he pats you on the back and says, “You probably could.” 

Pathetically, Heeseung hopes you’ll hug him too. With no hesitation, you do, arms locking around his neck, leaving him with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. “Thanks for looking out for me,” you whisper, lingering by his ear before burying your face in the base of his neck. 

Heeseung holds his breath, counting to twelve before you lean away from him, your arms in place as you look up into his eyes. “I’m always going to look out for you,” he manages to say. He can already hear Jay teasing him about it when they’re alone, but the smile on your face is worth it. 

In your doorway, you wave goodbye and they wait outside until they hear your lock clicking before heading home, where Jay doesn’t tease Heeseung at all. 

Turns out, getting home at 3 a.m. when he has a class at 10 o’clock doesn’t fit in amongst any of his better ideas, but still, he gets out of bed and gets ready, heeding Jay’s advice and scheduling a hair appointment on his way to class. 

As soon as he sits down, he gets a text from Jay: thinking of getting smth pierced later, come with? 

Heeseung: what is smth.

Jay: cartilage probs

Heeseung: im getting my roots done at 5

Jay: okayyyyyyy good shit man !!! tmrw? 

Heeseung: 👍👍👍

It shouldn’t surprise Heeseung that you look good, but the sight of you walking through the door in your zip-up hoodie and jeans almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re holding your notebook to your chest, stopping in the middle of the stairs and sighing when the white strap of your tote bag slips from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. You apologise to the people behind you before rushing up the stairs to Heeseung’s row, putting your things down and slumping into the seat beside him. The room suddenly feels warmer when you take off your hoodie and next to you and your bare arms, his heart starts to race.

“Do you have, like, an interview or something?” you ask, doodling in the margin of your notebook, filling the space with pretty butterflies that make his heart race.

Heeseung, who hasn’t looked for a job in two years, panics. “No?” 

“Oh.” You nod slowly, looking away from him. “A date? Maybe?” There’s something in your voice that makes him want to say yes and see your reaction, but the look on your face makes his stomach turn. 

“No, ne—just no.” 

“You can tell me if you’re going on a date.”

“Why would I go on a date?” 

You shrug, gesturing to his outfit. Heeseung looks down at himself and the cream-coloured cardigan he’s wearing. “You just look nice, that’s all,” you mumble after a while. Suddenly, Jay’s Prada loafers squeezing his toes doesn’t seem so bad and Heeseung sits through the whole lecture with a smile on his face. 

The leaves yellowed on October first, and unfortunately for Heeseung, the last two weeks didn’t play out how he hoped they would. Of course, he knew that you flinging your arms around him and confessing your love was probably a far stretch. But this is torture. You only talk to him when the rest of the boys are around, and even then, you only say things like, what time does class start? and do you have a pen I can borrow? 

His nice outfits don’t let up, but his hair is so long these days that you don’t take any notice of the throbbing hole through his cartilage that Jay somehow convinced him to get. Or so Heeseung tells himself because his ears stick out as far as his shoulders. 

Today marks the first time he’s sat in the library during the day for more than ten minutes, and it’s surprisingly busy. Most of his library trips take place in the early hours of the morning, playing his way through the Papa’s Gameria franchise on the computer next to Jake, who spends several minutes at a time staring at his fancy engineering software before clicking the mouse and staring again. So seeing the steady flow of students come in and out, setting up camp at their tables with headphones and thick binders, while groups of friends whisper amongst themselves, leaning back in their seats and gasping every now and then feels like a culture shock.

There’s about an hour until your class finishes, and he’s been sitting here for two hours already since his Music and Identity class ended, wondering if he’s making a mistake by waiting for you. Especially because he knows you’re not expecting him to. He’s at a table right by the library’s entrance, so you’ll see him on the way out and it can feel like a chance encounter. Uncharacteristically, he’s used this time quite wisely, deciding to go through the reading he was given on the role music plays in maintaining cultural identity among diaspora communities and making notes in the margins of his handout until your class is done. 

Impatience starts to settle in after thirty minutes so he texts you to see to ask if your class is over yet. Immediately, your response lights up his screen: yeah about an hour ago but i stayed home lmao what’s up :) 

Staring down at the message, he sighs, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he tries to come up with something to say. This goes on for a while until he realises what he’s doing and his heart clenches. How did you go from spending every waking moment texting each other to clutching at straws for a valid reason to talk? 

At the very least, the smiley face you sent is doing wonders for his declining mood. 

Heeseung settles on, “i just left office hours and wanted to know if anyone was still around haha,” before hiding his face with his hands. 

oh nooooooo :( sorry dude, you reply. how’d it go? 

In the six years he spent by your side, he’s never known you to use the word dude—at least not with him. By the looks of things, it seems like your time away was spent studying Jake’s texting patterns or a secret other thing that makes his head hurt when he thinks about it. 

Sighing, Heeseung types back: good! had a couple questions after sem but it went well! 

You react to the message with a heart but don’t reply. He doesn’t have enough time to think about what that might mean because Mark approaches the table, clutching the straps of his backpack with a grin on his face that makes Heeseung feel at ease, like a wide-eyed first year riddled with anxious excitement. 

“You look good, man. You going somewhere nice later?” Mark asks, dapping him up. 

Heeseung shakes his head. “Just home.” 

“Nice.” Mark nods, gasping after a beat. “Did you hear? I made captain!” 

“That’s major, dude, congrats! I knew you would.” If anyone deserves to be team captain, it’s Mark Lee. He was captain of the basketball team in high school and vetoed his spot to Heeseung when he graduated. Two years later, when Heeseung came to college, Mark had been enthusiastic about him joining the team too. 

“I’ve been thinking that my first official act as captain should be getting you back on the team?” Mark’s voice tips up at the end, his brows raising hopefully. 

The last time Heeseung was on the home court, he cried with the ball in his hands because he overheard someone in the crowd saying they didn’t think he could make the shot—they were right. He laughs, shaking his head. “Way too much pressure in uni basketball. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“I’m not giving up on you,” Mark says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I hear your birthday’s coming up, can I host?” 

“Host what?” 

Mark’s hands clap soundlessly as he laughs. “A party, obviously! Twenty’s a big one! I’ll text you the deets, alright?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like Heeseung has a choice because Mark’s already walking away, still laughing to himself.

In Heeseung’s eyes, there’s nothing better than knocking back (more than) a few bottles of soju with friends and singing your heart out in the four walls of a karaoke room. Worried about killing the mood, he enjoys from a distance, staying glued to the booth, ad-libbing for the boys and polishing off their drinks as discreetly as he can. The table is adorned with a collection of empty bottles and buckets of feasted-upon fried chicken that still envelop the room in a mouth-watering aroma, while a green strobe light pierces the air as Jake and Sunghoon wrap up their cover of Party Rock Anthem. 

By the time Jay manages to convince Heeseung to sing something, he’s four bottles in and searching for the most heart-wrenching ballad he can find. Sofa by Crush has always been his favourite karaoke song. Even when it first came out and he was in a happy relationship; even at home, alone in the kitchen, using a broom handle as a makeshift microphone, singing until his voice went hoarse and tears stained his shirt. 

It feels like fate when the song’s title flashes across the screen in big bold letters and he knows there’s no real way to ignore destiny, so he chooses it and stands up from his seat. Weighed down by alcohol and an aching heart, he stumbles to the front of the room to stand with his back to his friends. Clutching the mic until his knuckles turn white, he takes a deep breath, letting the intro wash over him before singing. He gets through the first half of the song before practically caving in on himself, too moved by the lyrics to stay on two feet. To Heeseung’s credit, he’s always had a beautiful voice, so he’s not exactly tanking in that respect, but if he was even a tiny bit more cognisant, he’d scrape himself up from his knees and finish the rest of the song in the same light-hearted way everyone else had.

The lights shift through red and blue, casting a pretty glow over the dim space and streaking purples and pinks all over the walls—aesthetically, the room is as moody as Heeseung feels. If he had eyes on the back of his head (or picked himself and his dignity from the floor) he might notice the way everyone else in the room is struck by his sadness, with all three boys sitting in solemn silence as a drunk Jay records the whole thing. 

Tired of watching his friend fall apart, Sunghoon gets up from his seat, muttering dick at Jay for filming before taking the phone from his hands and cutting off the recording. He lifts Heeseung at the armpits like a baby and takes the mic. Clearing his throat, Sunghoon half-heartedly finishes the rest of the song while Heeseung cries into his shoulder. Their duet scores them 63 points and Jay spends the next few minutes texting. Heeseung appreciates Sunghoon’s efforts, crying more as his emotions oscillate from love for his friend to yearning for you, all while Jake attempts to lift the mood with a genuinely moving performance of Highway to Hell. From the way he’s air-drumming and bouncing his leg to the song, anyone could tell that Sunghoon is desperate to join in, but holding back for Heeseung’s sake. With a hiccup, Heeseung wipes his tears with his sleeve and throws himself out to the front, accompanying Jake with an air guitar. It’s only during the start of the second verse that Jay and Sunghoon join in, and a full-fledged rock band moment falls upon them as if gifted from heaven. 

After another hour of singing and drinking, Heeseung and Jay race up their apartment building’s stairs. Panting heavily, with his heart beating in his throat, Heeseung’s knees ache when he reaches the top — though caught up in catching his breath and the sight of you sleeping against the doorframe — he can’t even celebrate his win. 

“Huh,” Jay says when he joins him. “How’d she get here?” 

Heeseung can only shrug in response. 

Suddenly self-conscious in your presence, he stands up straighter, pushing some of his hair off his forehead. Jay moves from behind him, approaching you, but Heeseung’s too hung up on the way you hold your jacket tight around your body to do the same. He wants to though—wants to help you out, pick you up and hold you in his arms, kiss your forehead and lovingly scold you for staying out in the cold. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well. 

Instead, he remains glued to the spot, watching Jay wake you up, only mobilising when you’re on your feet, stretching your arms above your head. To you, the sliver of skin peeking out where your shirt ends and your jeans begin is a fleeting detail, lost entirely under a veil of just-risen drowsiness. Yet, to Heeseung, it’s everything. It’s enough to make him want to beg you for a second chance right then and there. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well either. 

You’re talking with Jay and there’s a crease in your brow when Heeseung reaches you. Your voices were too quiet to make sense of with the distance but now he hears you loud and clear. “You told me almost two hours ago that you guys were leaving soon,” you sigh, rubbing your neck. 

Jay snorts, missing the keyhole a few times before catching it. “Should’ve just joined in, stupid.” 

“It was boy’s night and you made it very clear that I don’t count. And when I asked what bar you guys were at, you just said doesn’t matter, leaving in ten, and, by the way, none of it was spelt correctly. It felt like you were using code.” 

“Caesar Cipher, perhaps?” 

“Pig Latin, more like,” you scoff, leaning against the wall. 

A mischievous grin spreads over Jay’s lips and Heeseung already hates whatever he’s about to say. “Ixnay on the Eeseunghay.” Yeah, Heeseung hates it. He glances between the two of you, picking up on the smile you can’t hide as you roll your eyes. 

Your gaze finds Heeseung’s and your lips curl into a frown as you look back at Jay. “Otgay ityay.” You nod firmly. 

From context — and memories of numerous private conversations the two of you used to have in his presence — he figures it’s Pig Latin, a linguistic puzzle more intricate than any the English language has ever thrown at him. 

After a beat, you nod towards the open door. “Get inside.”

You follow the boys in and lock the door when Jay hands you his keys. He quickly heads to his room, leaving Heeseung shifting his weight from one foot to the other in the living room, staring at you. Save for Jay’s bedroom, all of the lights are off. The only light shines through the open blinds, a vivid orange beam coming from a streetlight outside, casting a harsh shadow over the room. The terminator line is stark—a clear partition between Heeseung, who’s standing in the shade, and you, who stands in front of the window, backlit by the warm light. You’re glowing. Or, at least, the lighting makes it look like you are—outlining all your edges in soft orange. 

Absently, he plays with the zipper on his jacket—unsure of what’s going on or why you’re here at all. It takes a while, but the words finally escape him. “What are you doing here?” Simultaneously, you ask if he’s okay. 

Even in the dark, your smile warms the room. For you and Heeseung, speaking in unison like that isn’t anything new, so it’s not enough to rouse a reaction from him—nonetheless, he smiles too. Whether by way of drunk optimism or his own sudden acceptance, Heeseung’s starting to feel as though maybe just being by your side, making you smile, might be enough for him. 

“Jay texted me, and I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.” 

“What did he say?” 

“That you were having a hard time.”

Heeseung nods slowly. 

“Actually, he said—” You pause to check your phone. “—Jay said, worried but hyung he is m let down. I think he meant meltdown?” 

“Hyung,” Heeseung repeats, tilting his head as if the word is foreign to him. A crease runs along his brow, Jay is way drunker than he let on.

“Huh,” you utter, tilting your head too. “I actually thought m let down would’ve gotten a bigger reaction out of you.” 

A moment passes, and then another before Heeseung says, “You can sit if you want. I don’t know if you’re going to stay long or anything, but you can always sit here.”

You smile and he can hear it, watching you take your coat off before sitting on the couch. It’s a bit of a stretch from where you’re sitting but you reach over to turn on the lamp in the corner and Heeseung sits too, as far away as he can. You look comfortable, like you’re supposed to be there and the thought warms his heart.

“You didn’t have to come here. I’m happy you did but you didn’t have to,” he says after too long. 

A frown tugs your lips down. “Of course, I did. I care about you, Heeseung, you know that.” 

Now doesn’t seem like the time to argue, so he makes a mental note to mull over this later. “I know,” he lies, his voice nothing more than a mumble as he nods. 

“Did you guys have fun?” 

Deciding it best to pretend his Crush cover went well, he nods again, smiling as he thinks about the nice parts of boys’ night. With your encouragement, he talks happily for a while about their song choices and the way they all came together in the end. “I feel like we’d get on pretty well as an AC/DC tribute act.” 

“Do you know what room you were in? There’s got to be a way for me to pull the security footage and see for myself.” 

“I actually think Jimin works there, she might be able to hook you up.”

“Jimin?” you repeat in a different tone. The shift is so subtle that Heeseung barely picks up on it, never mind placing it or knowing what it might mean. If he were any more delusional, he might think you’re jealous, but the curiosity in your voice tells him to get out of his head. 

“Yeah, this one girl in the year above,” he explains. “She transferred to humanities so we had a couple classes together last term.” 

“Oh, cool.” 

He really can’t work out your tone and it’s disconcerting. Maybe he should talk about Jimin some more. “She’s like mega smart, and really nice too. She was actually at the club that night! The girl I was talking to when you and Jay went to get drinks,” he says, suddenly remembering. 

“Good for Jimin.” 

“I think you’d like her.” He smiles. “You know, if you’re looking for friends or anything.” 

You only nod, pressing your lips together and leaving Heeseung at a complete loss for words. He watches you chewing on the inside of your cheek, playing with the thread bracelet on your wrist. “I’ve always loved your voice,” you mumble, looking down.

“I know.. You used to beg me to stay up on the phone singing for you.” Heeseung presses his lips together after speaking, mentally locking them and throwing away the key.

You nod with a smile on your face that makes his stomach flutter. “You’re, like, the best guy ever.” 

That makes sense. That Heeseung could be like, the best guy ever but not quite good enough to stay with. He mulls over your words and contemplates setting himself on fire. Standing up from the couch, he goes over to his room. From the doorway, he says, “You can share Jay’s bed, it’s too late to go home by yourself.” 

Heeseung closes his door with plans to stay inside the whole night, but only manages an hour before he gets sick of the stale taste in his mouth. He leaves quietly, and in the light from outside, he sees you sleeping on the sofa with your hands tucked under your head. His heart sinks. Without much thought, he carries you to his room, tucks you in and runs away before doing something stupid like kissing your head to go and brush his teeth. Unlike you, he’s not afraid to wake Jay up, pushing the boy over to make room for himself on his bed, where he lays awake for hours trying to figure out what went wrong with you two until his head starts to hurt. 

In the morning, Heeseung doesn’t see you before you leave, but he spends the better part of an hour with his ear pressed against Jay’s door, eavesdropping on your conversation. If you weren’t talking about him he might feel guilty about this, but you are, so.. 

“I just feel bad, you know? I don’t know how to fit into his life and I feel like I’m only making things harder for him by being here,” you say. “Harder for everyone.”

Heeseung grips the doorframe until his knuckles turn white. He’s spent too much time thinking about how to be your friend without actually trying to be, too caught up in his own feelings to see how he’s affecting everyone else. The corners of his lips droop at the thought. 

“We’re happy to have you back, Heeseung too. He’s just.. hurting, you know? I’m not sure if you heard but he kind of got blindsided and dumped by his high school girlfriend,” Jay says. 

You laugh drily and he pictures the way you roll your eyes. “Hey, uh, random Q, what do you know about Jimin?” 

Jay’s quiet for a bit. Or he’s whispering. Heeseung presses his entire body to the door as if it’ll help. “Yoo Jimin?” he asks. 

“Probably. Heeseung’s friend.” 

“She’s cool,” he answers simply. “You’d like her.” 

“So I keep hearing. What’s going on with them?” 

“Nothing really. They met at some party last year, both pretty drunk, and somehow ended up in a random bedroom where she tried hooking up with him.” Jay’s words strike Heeseung like a jolt, his heart pounds and his stomach twists. It takes a lot for him and the knot in his stomach not to burst out of the room and clear things up. The main thing stopping him though, is that Jay’s telling the truth. “But he misread the whole thing and ended up detailing your entire relationship for two hours,” Jay adds after a while. 

“And now?” 

“Why do you care?” Jay’s tone is teasing but the question makes Heeseung spiral. 

His mouth starts to dry up at the thought of you admitting that you don’t care, that you’re over him and just being nosy. Panic swells in his chest and he jumps away from the door as if it’s red hot, scrambling back under the covers of Jay’s bed and falling back asleep. 

In the following two weeks, Heeseung finds himself mastering the art of avoidance. He fills his evenings with pick-up basketball games with Mark on random courts in the neighbourhood and rushes out of class before you have the chance to talk to him. Playing with Mark is fun, but he can’t ignore the regret festering within him, a persistent thorn in his side. Fortunately for him, Jay, whether knowingly or not, presents him with a potential turning point. He’s invited you and the boys over for pres before his party, instructing Heeseung to get his shit together and acknowledge your existence. 

On the night before his birthday, the apartment echoes with your voice, yelling at Jake to get off the floor. Sunghoon’s cackles only get louder, filling the space. Behind his closed bedroom door, Heeseung catches a panicked glance of himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his bangs. He lingers in his room as long as he can, trying to put off seeing you.

Jay opens the door without knocking, a lazy grin on his face and a slight sway in his stance that tells Heeseung he’s drunk already. “What are you doing? We’re waiting.” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. 

Rolling his eyes, Jay lets out a tired groan. It’s an unspoken scolding that Heeseung heeds immediately, following him into the kitchen, where Jake is messily pouring shots on the counter. He doesn’t see you anywhere, but Sunghoon distracts him, cheering and wrapping his arms around him—also drunk already. “She’s in Jay’s room, Yunjin called,” he says. “Oh, yeah, happy almost birthday, man. Twenty is crazy.” 

By the looks of things, Sunghoon’s on a mission to kill Heeseung. Twenty shots for his twentieth birthday doesn’t sound like as much fun as Sunghoon thinks it does, it sounds like a punishment or a death sentence. Heeseung — put off by the smell of vodka — manages four shots before tapping out, deciding that he’d quite like to remember tonight and wake up on his birthday without a headache.

Heeseung’s eyes widen when you show up in the doorway, a confusing sense of surprise washing over him. It’s not like he didn’t know you were here; he heard you earlier. It’s just that your sudden presence catches him off guard. His heart skips a beat and a sudden rush of nerves courses through him. He takes in your appearance, his eyes tracing every inch of you before meeting your eyes. As you run your hand through your hair, you smile at him, so pretty and genuine that he can’t help grinning back.

Your dress is beautiful, of course—black satin, he thinks, with pretty pink ribbons tied into perfect bows on the top, and you’re the only girl Heeseung’s ever wanted in his life. 

A whispered whoa falls from his lips, which seem to rest in an ‘o’ as he stares at you. You’re looking away from him now, focused on the tequila puddle Jake’s left on the counter, grabbing some paper towels to mop it up. Jay snorts beside him, nudging his ribs hard. “You’ll catch flies, Heeseung. Come on—decorum, please.” 

Heeseung clears his throat, running a hand through his hair and wiping his palms on his pants, but he doesn’t make any moves towards you. 

“Do something,” Jay mumbles. 

He nods in response, repeating do something, over and over in his head until he finally approaches you. “Hey,” he says, breathless. His heart hammers in his chest when you look up at him, beaming. 

“Heeseung,” you say. “Happy almost birthday. How’re you feeling?” 

Before he has a chance to respond, you wrap your arms around his waist, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arms fall around your shoulders, holding you close. It’s perfect. Some combination of your warm scent and alcohol causes the butterflies in his stomach to rage, fluttering so frantically he thinks he might be sick. 

“Insane,” he admits. 

He can hear you laughing, feeling your chuckles against his chest. “You know, what?” You lean away from him, arms still around his waist, eyes locked on his and a soft smile on your lips. “Me too.” 

An odd weakness settles in his knees, a dizzying flutter alighting his entire body as he nods. Over his shoulder, Sunghoon calls for him, chanting, “More shots! More shots!” For a while, Heeseung ignores him, watching you until he feels his ears heating up at the top. 

“I think I have to go,” he mumbles, eyes locked on your lips. They curl up into a crooked grin, and you use a hand to pat his chest. 

“Good luck.” 

Heeseung takes a deep breath when you let go of him, taking shaky steps towards his friend, who’s grinning widely enough to show his fangs. “Sorry to interrupt, I think you could use the help though,” Sunghoon says, holding out a shot glass to him.

He shakes his head at the shot, taking it from Sunghoon’s hand and placing it down on the table. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon only shrugs, taking the drink himself, knocking it back with no visible reaction, and Heeseung thinks he must be a monster. “I really think you could fix things tonight,” he says afterwards, pouring another. 

Instead of taking this in stride, Heeseung decides to pretend you don’t exist after hugging you—it’ll be easier that way. To him, this looks like staring at you in your pretty dress and snapping his neck in the opposite direction when you look over at him. 

To appease Sunghoon, he takes another three shots and has to sit down, overwhelmed by the way his cheeks burn and how the kitchen starts to tilt around him. His mouth is oddly dry; a sensation that has nothing to do with you or the way you look in your dress. This time when you catch him staring, he smiles. 

Even in his beyond-tipsy state, Jay manages to ensure everyone leaves the flat before requesting an Uber. Heeseung finds himself sitting cross-legged on the pavement, for some reason, scrolling through his camera roll. 

“Car’s here, get up,” Jay eventually mumbles, nudging his back with the tip of his shoe.

With some stumbling, Heeseung stands up, dusts off his pants and heads to the car. Jay holds the door open for you, and as you slide across the backseat, your dress rides up. Heeseung screws his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, like resetting an etch-a-sketch. Jay’s hand claps his back as he instructs him to get in, which he does. Hesitantly, he slides into the middle seat, glancing to his right to see who’ll be joining you. 

“You’ll thank me later!” Jay calls out, closing the door. 

Before he even has a chance to shift over, your hand lands firmly on his knee, silently urging him to stay put. With a pounding heart, he complies. The back of his hand brushes against your thigh as he fastens his seatbelt, and the feeling of your soft skin against his leaves him breathless. He feels afloat when the car starts moving. A few minutes pass before you take your hand from his knee, mumbling an apology as you place it on your lap, idly playing with your fingers.

Mark lives about twenty minutes away, leaving Heeseung with something close to sixteen minutes to think of something to say. R&B from the early 2000s rumbles through the speakers in the car, vaguely explicit lyrics alluding to something he’s craving fill the space around the two of you, wrapped up in your warm vanilla scent and the fresh peppermint gum you’re chewing. To put it simply, there’s not a coherent thought in his head he could express that wouldn’t get him into trouble. 

“I didn’t know you were on the basketball team,” you say after a while. “Well, I did know, but you know.” 

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly because he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

A beat passes before you speak again. “How was your day?” 

The first thing on his mind is what falls from his lips. “You look beautiful,” Heeseung blurts out, trying to ignore the tinge of anxiety that’s irritating his stomach. “Your dress is.. It’s really pretty,” he adds, feeling as though he won’t lose anything by putting everything on the table. 

“Thanks.” You smile. “You look beautiful too.” 

Heeseung’s breath hitches in his throat and he looks down at his outfit in the dark. If Jay hadn’t interfered, he’d be wearing a hoodie and sweatpants right now, but he’s happy with the simple striped shirt and loose pants Jay suggested, even if it leaves him a little chilly. “It’s, uh, it’s actually my birthday party tonight,” he supplies uselessly.

You laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “I kind of just meant in general.” 

“Me too.” 

The car falls silent as he lets his head fall into the space between the headrests and closes his eyes. When you reach Mark’s house, he opens them and finds you staring with a smile. “I thought you fell asleep,” you say.

He shakes his head, sliding over the backseat and opening the door. He didn’t expect you to leave from the same side as him, but he likes the heat on his cheeks as he closes the door for you. Wordlessly, the two of you go through the gate and join Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon who are sitting cross-legged on the porch, giggling around a shared joint. He has no idea how they arrived before you did. 

Heeseung isn’t sure how he loses you guys but it’s not until his third round of beer pong that he actually notices. Lee Jeno and his red eyes are a poor shot, barely managing to throw the ball without hitting Heeseung’s chest or dropping it before he gets to aim. He almost feels bad for the guy when he sinks another one of his cups, watching Jeno frown before pinching his nostrils shut and taking a big gulp. 

Jay’s sudden presence startles him, though he’s quick to grin at his best friend. The smile isn’t returned. Instead, he leans up to Heeseung’s ear, yelling that YN’s crying before nudging his way out of the room. His heart sinks and he offers no explanation to Jeno, following Jay upstairs and into the bathroom where he finds you, sitting on the floor, crying into Sunghoon’s shirt while Jake watches with a frown, picking at his nails. 

“What happened?” 

Jake talks with a hushed tone while Sunghoon helps you up before leaving. “She didn’t say anything, she just asked us to go to the bathroom with her and started crying.” He opens his mouth to continue but Jay yanks him out of the room, closing the door. 

“I’m not, like, upset or anything,” you say after a while, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to ruin tonight for you so I told Jake not to say anything, but obviously, he didn’t listen.” 

“Jake did the right thing telling Jay, none of us want to see you upset.” 

“I’m not upset.” You hit Heeseung’s chest with a weak fist, crying more. “Why does everyone think I’m upset?”

“It might be the tears,” he offers, feeling good about making you smile. 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

“Are you using a new liner? Mascara? You still look good.” 

You take a look in the mirror, resting your hands on the edge of the sink. “Yeah, I discovered waterproof makeup in first year.” 

“Is it harder to take off?” 

“Definitely, but it’s worth it, I think, for nights like this.” 

“Yeah, right.” Heeseung nods, watching you carefully as he sits on the edge of the bathtub. It’s like being in high school, seeing you like this. Most of the parties you went to were spent in the bathroom, with Heeseung holding your hair back and trying to calm you down after throwing up. He misses all of it except the vomit. “Are you okay?” 

Catching his gaze in the mirror, you nod but look down at your hands when he says your name. “It’s just a little harder being back than I thought it would be.” 

“Oh.” 

You sigh, playing with your hair as you sit down next to him. “Obviously it’s great seeing the guys all the time, seeing you all the time, but everything’s fucked and we act like strangers and it’s killing me not being able to just..” you trail off. Heeseung is clearly drunker than he feels because it looks like your eyes are stuck on his lips. After a beat you slide away from him, moving until your back hits the wall. A mixture of frustration and something else colours your face. “I just don’t like treating you like a stranger and I don’t know how to fix it.” Before he has a chance to think or to say anything you ask him for the time. 

“It’s 12:23.” 

“Happy birthday!” you say, smiling. “Am I the first to say it?” 

“You’re always first.” Even last year, you sent a text at midnight, so Heeseung’s not sure why there’s a surprised look in your eyes or why it’s making him want to kiss you more than usual. “You don’t have to treat me like a stranger if you don’t want to,” he says carefully, trying to get you both back on track. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.” 

His voice is soft when he says, “Honestly, neither do I.” 

“I wish I never left.” 

“Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” Despite the small smile on his face, he’s still trying to understand what reason you had. 

An exhaled laugh comes from your nose and you nudge him. “Were you secretly trying to get rid of me?” 

“You caught me,” he sighs, holding out his hands in defeat. “I had this whole elaborate plan. I was going to fake my death, but you saved me the trouble. Thanks for that.” 

Both of you share a genuine laugh and the tension in the air eases up a bit. Heeseung’s eyes meet yours; a brief moment of silence follows. You clear your throat. “I’m sorry for leaving. I really wish things could’ve been different.” 

It can’t be your intention to hurt him by saying that, but you do, leaving Heeseung feeling the full spectrum of his emotions. A pang of hurt, of longing—hurting himself even more as he thinks about the could-have-beens. He purses his lips, looking down at his shoes. “Me too.” Sick of the tension, of his feelings, he glances at you, sitting up a little straighter. “How about we start fresh? Clean slate?” 

“Clean slate?” you echo, raising an inquisitive brow. 

Heeseung nods, determined, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Heeseung.”

“YN,” you chuckle, taking his hand in yours. 

He holds onto it, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Funny, you look just like my ex.” 

Your eyes widen, amused. “Wow, Hee, you always know just what to say.” 

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, but Heeseung’s just glad you’re not crying anymore. He feels lighter now, hopefully you do too. Standing up, he holds out a hand to help you get to your feet which you take, smiling up at him as you straighten out your dress. 

“You know,” he says, clapping his hands together. “For a second there, I thought I’d need a manual on how to talk to you again, but I think we’re doing pretty well.” 

Heeseung feels pleased with himself when you laugh, rolling your eyes and nudging his chest with your hand. “Shut up,” you say, light and playful. 

“Are you ready to get back to the guys?” 

You smile at him, nodding before quickly turning back to the mirror. “Do I look okay?” 

It doesn’t make sense to Heeseung that a girl as beautiful as you could ever look just okay. Even with the slight swell to your glassy eyes, you’re the most perfect person he’s ever seen. But he can’t say that. So instead, he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth, tilting his head a bit and raising his hand in a horizontal gesture, his fingers wobbling as if balancing an imaginary scale. A  non-committal sound escapes him, a soft eh before he laughs at the way your jaw drops. 

You punch his arm. “Heeseung!” 

“Come on, you know you look great,” he mumbles, looking away to hide the flush in his cheeks. The sound of your lips spreading into a smile makes his stomach flutter as he opens the door to find Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon sitting cross-legged in the hall in front of it.

“Birthday boy!” Jay yells, springing to his feet and flinging his arms around Heeseung. 

“And YN!” Jake adds from his seat. 

Heeseung hears you saying thanks to Jake before sitting next to him. 

“So, did you two kiss and make up or what?” Jay’s attempt at whispering is futile and somehow Heeseung’s cheeks burn even more as he frees himself from his friend’s hold. 

“Kiss, no. Make up, yes.” 

“Playing the long game, I like it.” Jay grins, patting Heeseung on the back. “Sit down, let’s talk.” 

Heeseung sits in the space next to Sunghoon, holding his legs awkwardly to his chest. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening and he feels like he’s not drunk enough anymore to fully relax into it, until you leave Jake’s side, crawling over to Heeseung and resting your head on his shoulder. In the dim hall, the boys shuffle around but it’s too dark to see what they’re doing—not that he cares much at this point, letting his head rest on top of yours and closing his eyes. It almost sounds quite pretty when they start singing Happy Birthday, and Jake has a tiny lunchbox cake in his hands when Heeseung opens his eyes. Its purple-frosted TWENT-HEE is disrupted by a half-smoked joint stuck in the centre which the flash on Sunghoon’s phone provides a makeshift flame for. 

“Make a wish!” you squeal, clapping your hands. 

It takes three attempts for Heeseung and Sunghoon to coordinate the timing between his exhale and Sunghoon turning the flash off, but the candle is blown out, and, right now. Heeseung has everything he’s ever wanted. 

Almost. 

Heeseung wakes up pressed against the wall with an arm wrapped around his waist. An embarrassing surge of excitement courses through him as he thinks about your conversation and puts his hand over yours. What he’s met with is less of the softness he’d anticipated, and more of the coarse skin and defined knuckles he’s come to recognise as Jake’s hand under the duvet. It only takes a look over his shoulder to make sense of why Heeseung’s nose is grazing his bedroom wall. Behind him is Jake, who’s being spooned by you, and behind you is Sunghoon who’s clinging onto your frame for dear life, even in his slumber. Evidently, Jay’s had a successful night and with his unwavering loyalty to Yunjin, it’s not hard to figure out what happened in the room across the hall.

With his eyes pressed shut, desperate to clutch some more sleep, he hears you mumbling. “Park Sunghoon, if you don’t wake up and let go of me, I’ll kill you,” you say with a tone that frightens Heeseung and sets off a flutter in his stomach. The yelp and thud that follow seem to wake Jake up and he crawls over you to get out of bed, stretching his arms out above his head and making no effort to step over Sunghoon on the floor. You roll over in the bed, wrapping an arm around Heeseung’s waist and pressing yourself into his side. “Happy birthday,” you say through a yawn before getting up. 

He manages to mumble a thanks, butterflies running wild in his stomach and a flush creeping up his neck as he watches you leave the room, eyes stuck on the way your hips move in last night’s dress. He gets out of bed, sighing, untucking his shirt to cover the tightness in his pants before joining his friends in the kitchen. 

Hungry but unmoving, you and the boys occupy the three seats at the small kitchen table, harping on about the different things as Jake whines, begging you to keep it down. 

Heeseung’s first intense emotion as a sober twenty-year-old is betrayal. There are used dishes lying in the sink, plates, mugs, and pans — two of each — staring up at him, wafting the scent of a cooked breakfast, with no leftovers in sight, up to his nostrils. He sighs, wondering if it’s his responsibility as host, and eldest friend, to make more food for everyone, or if, as the birthday boy, he should sit around and wait for someone else to take action. Settling on the latter, he sights up on the countertop, sure to keep his back to you so he doesn’t have to see the low neckline of your dress.

Finally, Jay comes back, whistling an unfamiliar tune and twirling his keys on his finger when he reaches the kitchen. “Hello,” he says simply, leaning against the doorjamb as if he hadn’t single-handedly ruined Heeseung’s birthday. 

Sunghoon rubs his eyes, looking in Jay’s direction. “So now, if I want a nice breakfast after a night out, do I have to fuck you?” 

Jay’s cheeks flush as he looks at his feet. “I mean, I planned to cook for you guys when I got back.” 

“I don’t want your sloppy seconds,” he scoffs, slumping in his chair. 

“I do, Jay. Cook for me,” you say, gesturing toward Jay’s general direction making grabby hands at him.

With a gentle smile, he crosses the room and pats your head. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything,” you mumble into his shirt. 

Jay nods, going over to the fridge. He stands in front of it with his hands on his hips, completely still for almost two minutes and Heeseung only approaches him because he’s worried about the outside heat getting on all the food through the open door. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, uttering his first sentence of the morning. 

Jay clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck as he leans towards Heeseung. “I, uh, finished the eggs, milk, and bacon.” A nervous look covers his face before he continues. “And we ate your Hello Kitty pancake mix,” he adds, mumbling like he doesn’t want to be heard. 

Unfortunately, he is, and Heeseung’s mortified. “My Hello Kitty pancake mix?!” He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “YN got that for me, we were supposed to make those together.” His voice is as whiny as his volume will allow, and he struggles not to stomp his feet. 

“Oh, you were? How’d that work out?” Jay’s words are cutting. 

“Okay, ouch.” 

“Dude, it was expiring next week. Plus, Yunjin just looked so cute when she saw it—I had to.” 

“What if I wanted to make them this week?” 

“You’ve had the box for two years,” Jay reminds him. “Think of Yunjin.” 

With a sigh, Heeseung actually does think of Yunjin. Although the girl he envisions is different from the one Jay wants him to imagine. 

They met on the first day of university. She had a guitar strapped to her back, and a huge amp in hand when she approached him. Her eyes were wide with nervousness or excitement; Heeseung couldn’t tell which. Immediately, she extended her free hand for him to shake. “Yunjin,” she said. 

“No.” He shook his head while pointing at himself. “Heeseung.” From the way she laughed at his stupid joke, he knew she was the next girl Jay would fall for.

Jay had a habit of falling in love with the first girl to do something nice for him on any given day. And then the next girl. But after hearing Yunjin talk about her gap year, spent learning guitar seriously, Heeseung had a feeling things were going to change for his friend. He was right. 

The memory, along with the satisfaction of having figured those two out from the beginning, brings a warm smile to Heeseung’s face. “You owe me.” 

“Yeah, whatever. I owe you,” Jay scoffs, though the slight furrow in his brow suggests genuine remorse. “Just so you know, they weren’t special or anything.. just pancakes, you know?” 

Heeseung chuckles despite himself. “Are you trying to make me feel better?” 

“Maybe a little,” Jay shrugs. To his credit, it works. 

At least until Heeseung’s stomach grumbles, a noisy reminder of why they’re standing there in the first place. He also learns the hard way that the fridge starts to beep when you leave it open too long. Jay laughs through his nose, closing the door with his elbow. 

“What are we eating?” 

Jay seems to think about this for a minute, tilting his head and suggesting McDonald’s. 

If asked, Heeseung probably wouldn’t have said he pictured spending the morning of his twentieth birthday squished between Jake and Sunghoon in a sticky booth, but he’s here and can’t find anything to complain about as he inhales his breakfast. Too caught up in the way his hoodie drapes over you, he listens half-heartedly as you all quiz Jay on his night. It seems like he’s being pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing but the dreamy grin on his face is hard to miss. 

Eventually, you all pile back into Jay’s car, with Heeseung sitting shotgun as a birthday gift, that he doesn’t get to fully enjoy because he falls asleep as soon as the car starts moving. He sinks into the front seat, a contented smile playing on his lips as the warmth of the sun and his full stomach lull him into a peaceful nap. 

At home, he thanks Jay before crawling into bed where he replies to messages before letting his head fall into the pillow.

His eyes don’t even close all the way before you come into the room. “Can I nap in here?” 

Heeseung nods, watching you get comfortable under his duvet. In a matter of seconds, you’re just an arm’s reach away, softly snoring with your back to him. Meanwhile, he spends four hours laying completely still, trying to convince himself that the heat radiating from your sleeping form doesn’t make him miss you more. 

At around 3 p.m. when everyone wakes up, you and the boys hurry away for various mumbled reasons, leaving Heeseung home alone, trying to practise his surprised face for whenever you’re all back with cake and a gift. 

You don’t return until Heeseung’s hair has started to dry after his shower, but you waste no time shuffling around the kitchen before coming back with a pretty cake and real candles with a real flame, singing for him again. With the way Jake’s rushing him, Heeseung can’t come up with a wish in time, so blows out the candles with a clear mind. 

“Woo!” Jake cheers, clapping around a wrapped present that he immediately thrusts into Heeseung’s hands. “Open it!” 

He barely gets to peel the first piece of tape before he jumps off the couch and kneels down next to him. “It’s LEGO! The Infinity Gauntlet, you know? And the best part is..” Jake pauses dramatically. “You get to put it together with your best friend, Jake! Right now!” His excitement is endearing even though he’s ruined the surprise. “The others can help too, I guess.” 

You frown at him. “I paid for the kind lady at the LEGO store to gift wrap that for us.” 

“Yeah, and she did great!” Jake grins. “Can I help you open it? Please, Heeseung, please. You’re taking forever.”

With a smile, Heeseung hands the box to Jake, letting him open it carefully before Sunghoon joins in, tearing the paper to shreds all while Jay records the whole moment like a proud father. All five of you are sitting on the floor now, covered in wrapping paper while Jake holds the LEGO set up like it’s his, blinking hard at the camera with a smile on his face, and it’s Heeseung’s favourite birthday yet. 

my girl: who wants to take me on a date?

Heeseung knows he should probably change your contact name but the notification still makes his cheeks burn in a way he thinks he likes.

jake: heeseung probably 

jake: idk tho

my girl: ok heeseung come to the museum with me for class

sunghoon: next time open with the museum thing holy shit.. i almost fucking volunteered

heeseung: when?

my girl: i would have rejected you hoon

my girl: whenever ur free !

Heeseung’s schedule always has a way of clearing up when it comes to you, and he skips pick-up with Mark to pick you up at your door that evening. You answer right when Heeseung knocks, sliding some rings onto your fingers with a smile on your face, saying, “Hello.” 

“You..” Heeseung swallows, nodding his head. He’s doing his best not to check you out but he really can’t help it when your jeans seem to fit like they were made for you. “Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hey.” 

He clears his throat, finally managing to unstick his gaze from your thighs and gestures in the direction of the stairs. “Shall we?” 

At the train station, you don’t object when Heeseung pays for your ticket, he didn’t mean to, his finger just clicked through for two tickets instead of one. He’s happy when you don’t make a big deal about it, only smiling and thanking him when he hands you the ticket. He stands close behind you, protective, letting the peak-time commuters nudge past him instead of you as you wait in line for the only working ticket barrier. You go through first and Heeseung quietly follows, trying to keep his eyes off your ass and praying that the rest of the day goes by more comfortably than it’s started. 

The train is packed too, so you stand by the doors and, again, Heeseung stands maybe a little closer than necessary, his arm above his head gripping the yellow handrail. “Why did you want to go to the museum anyway?” he asks, gulping when you look up at him. 

“I’ve always liked museums.” You shrug, playing with the buttons on your cardigan. 

“I know, it’s just.. You said earlier you wanted to go for one of your classes.” 

“Right. It’s a requirement for one of them. Visualising Culture,” you explain, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly nervous, he doesn’t trust his voice to speak so he nods, keeping his gaze fixed on yours. “Museum and Exhibition Studies.” 

“Cool.” 

“Yeah.” You nod and turn your head from him, looking through the window. 

Your eyes are stuck on the trees outside, blurring into each other, and his eyes are stuck on the side of your face, staring shamelessly for the rest of the journey. A tinny voice announces the name of the station you’re approaching, and you nudge Heeseung gently, a silent signal that it’s time to leave. Silence seems to follow you out of the station and into the museum, but he tells himself he doesn’t mind. 

For the last hour, you’ve been looking at artwork without taking note of anything or making comments, all while Heeseung observes you, wondering what you’re supposed to be doing for class. “What’s the point of this trip?” he finally asks. 

Without backing away from the painting, you turn your head to look at him, raising a brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, what’s your task?”

You chew on your lip for a bit before looking back at the painting. He can’t help but wonder if in all your time away you’ve been flexing some sort of elitist muscle, or if it’s come about as a result of your fancy exhibition studies class that you had to take a test to be accepted into. Finally, you lean away from the painting and use your phone to take a picture of the blurb before looking at him again. 

“I wanted an excuse to get someone to come to the museum with me and I wanted it to be you.” 

Your words are so cute and so honest that his heart warms in his chest, even as he ignores his sadness about the fact you felt like you needed an excuse to hang out. “You could have just asked me.” 

Considering his words, you frown, tilting your head at him. “You make it sound so easy.” 

“It is easy, or it should be, it’s us,” he says unthinkingly. Clearing his throat, he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, that’s, like, the whole point of having friends, right? To hang out with them?” 

“Well.. yes. I just.. I don’t know.” 

Somehow, this makes perfect sense to Heeseung who only nods his head, moving on from the frame when you do. It’s nice watching you admire the art, to watch the soft smile that develops as your eyes scan the canvas. 

You like looking at the paintings when no one else is, to get up close and try spotting the brush strokes. You like imagining the artist and how they might have felt as they painted, and when the paint is thick, protruding from the canvas, when you can see streaks of yellow peeking through a sludgy green. You have a lot to say about the paintings and how they make you feel, and how they don’t make you feel, finding something you like in all of them.

After a while, you grab Heeseung’s hand and excitedly pull him through all the Ancient Egypt stuff, and he’s too happy that his fingers are locked with yours to worry about his aching feet anymore, and you’re so cute with your wide grin that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d like to sit down. He hates you a little when the two of you take turns writing your names in hieroglyphs, and you somehow manage to maintain your neat handwriting. But you make up for it by writing his name too, drawing a pretty butterfly at the end that makes his heart race.

You start rambling about shabtis and how people were typically buried with a few, depending on their wealth and status, but Tutankhamun was buried with something like four hundred, and some of them were even painted to look like him. “Look at how pretty this one is,”  you say, grinning while holding your phone in his face with a picture of one. Your excitement peaks when you reach the big sarcophagus, and you let out a squeal when you open it and three kids run out, bursting into a fit of giggles. You’re excessively cute when you ask him to take a picture of you, and then make him take a video opening the front while you're ‘dead’ inside it. Which takes a few attempts because you’re laughing each time.

You tell him to delete those takes. He doesn’t.

Right when he’s expecting you to get out, you grab him by the wrist and pull him in with you, closing the front of it before letting go of him. Heeseung is certain he’s lived this exact moment before, but he was seventeen and you were giggling like crazy, feeling around in the dark for his shoulders to wrap your arms around before kissing him. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do or what you want him to do, and the feeling of your breath fanning his neck in the tight space isn’t helping. 

Silent minutes pass by like hours until a kid pulls the sarcophagus open. The light is blinding but Heeseung steps out, relieved, almost thanking the kid for saving him. You’re fiddling with your necklace and struggling to meet his eyes. When you do though, you shoot him an easy grin, laughing to yourself about nothing. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Drinks maybe?” you ask after a while, playing with the zipper on your jacket. 

Heeseung takes you to a restaurant where university students he’s only seen on Instagram walk around like they own the place. A tired-looking guy comes to take your orders before you even have a chance to take your coat off so Heeseung asks for a minute and the waiter leaves. There’s something in his demeanour though that makes it seem like you only have one full minute to make up your minds. 

“What do you want to drink?” you ask, holding the drinks menu out to him. 

Heeseung closes it, sitting it on the table. “Probably a beer.” 

You laugh at this. “You don’t have to act all manly in front of me.” There’s a soft look in your eyes like you mean it. 

“I actually like beer these days.” 

Your brows raise and your jaw drops before you utter the word whoa. 

“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious. 

You shrug, collecting yourself. “You’re just.. different now.” 

The very prospect of being different is shocking to Heeseung who prides himself on being pretty consistent with his behaviour. His brows knit together as he tilts his head. “Because I like beer?” he asks, scoffing slightly at the mere suggestion. 

“I mean, that’s part of it.” To his dismay, this seems to be the end of your sentence. He gives you a little nod, hoping you read his mind and elaborate like he wants you to. “You bleached your hair, pierced your cartilage, what’s next? Are you going to tell me you have a tattoo?” 

Heeseung feels his breath catch in his throat when you say the word tattoo but you don’t seem to notice. “It’s been a year,” he points out, folding the corner of his napkin, pressing his thumb against it with enough pressure to leave a defined fold and have it stick up a little when he lets go. 

“I know, it’s just.. weird, you know?” Your voice is small when you speak, soft and quiet, barely anything above the noise around you both.

Heeseung nods. He does know. 

“You’re weird too.” 

“How?” There’s a defensive tone to your voice that makes him chuckle. 

“You’ve always been weird.” 

A dramatic frown curves your lips and the waiter is back before you can object. Leaning forward slightly, he orders for both of you, the sharing platter of fried chicken, your French Martini, and his controversial draught beer. He doesn’t miss the way you raise your brows when he orders the beer, as if you’d been waiting to catch him out or something. After the waiter leaves, Heeseung meets your gaze briefly, matching the gentle smile on your lips before looking away. 

The drinks only take a few minutes and you thank the waiter before looking over at Heeseung, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you slide your cocktail over to him. “Do you want to try?” 

He nods, lifting the glass and moving the straw out of the way to take a sip from the rim. Nodding his head, he hums in approval, eyes widening. “It’s good.” 

You lean back in your seat, twirling the straw when he hands the drink back to you. “Yeah?” you ask, smiling triumphantly as if you made it yourself. “A normal person would’ve used the straw.” 

Heeseung can’t help but roll his eyes, liking the way you laugh. “Are you acting out because I called you weird?” 

“A little.” 

The waiter places the platter at the centre of the table with a small smile, that you match, clearly hungrier than you’d been letting on as you lick your lips at the sight of the chicken. Heeseung’s stomach grumbles quietly as the scent hits his nose and he feels like he hasn’t eaten in days when a plate lands in front of each of you. A comfortable familiarity settles over him when he lets you pick first, and he knows you feel it too from the sweet smile you give him before eyeing the food. You take a while considering every wing, even though all of the pieces are scarily identical, before picking one and Heeseung follows, choosing with much less care than you, but enjoying it nonetheless.

Under your light-hearted scrutiny, he orders a cocktail the next time the waiter comes around. It’s much better than his beer, and so quickly, one cocktail turns into two until both you and Heeseung are four drinks in, laughing over nothing and putting in an effort not to slur your words together. 

Time seems to pass at the same rate as your drinks, though neither of you seems to notice until you check the time on your phone and your mouth falls into a gasp. Heeseung does the same when you show him your screen, you only have ten minutes to make the fifteen-minute walk back to the station so you can catch the last train. 

He gets up to settle the bill as quickly as humanly possible before you grab him by the hand and book it out of the restaurant. Though breathless, he knows he can’t let up, running as fast as his legs will carry him as he tugs you along behind him. Somehow you still have it in you to cackle every time either of you trips up. 

Out of breath, you both slump into the first seats you find, sobering up a little after the run. He looks at you and feels his heart snag in his chest. “You okay?” he asks, huffing out a breath that pushes his bangs into the air.

“No,” you whine, pouting and resting your head on Heeseung’s shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours reaching his hand out to grab your own. He squeezes it gently, in a way he hopes is comforting. You lock your fingers with his before he can pull away and Heeseung’s heart starts pounding again. 

He doesn’t realise you’ve fallen asleep until the train reaches your stop and you don’t react. He doesn’t want to wake you up, nor does he want to let go of your hand, but he knows he has to. Heeseung nudges you gently, rousing you from your sleep. “Let’s go,” he mumbles. 

Stretching your arms above your head, you nod while yawning. 

You take tired steps alongside him on the short walk back to your apartment, not saying anything until you reach your doorstep when you yawn once more, looking up at him. “I actually had fun today, thanks for hanging out with me.” 

“Actually?” Heeseung raises a brow. “Did you think you wouldn’t?” 

You shrug, chewing on your lip. “I thought it might be awkward.” 

“It kind of was.” 

“Maybe,” you admit with a nod. “It was a pretty successful first date though.” Your eyes are like saucers as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “Not in that way. I’m only saying ‘date’ because that’s what I said in the chat—I would’ve called it a date if Hoon came with me, you know? I didn’t see this as a date if that’s what you’re thinking. Because it wasn’t. And I didn’t.” 

“Mhm,” Heeseung hums with a sceptical look on his face, finding amusement in watching you scramble to correct yourself. “First dates are always awkward, baby, don’t worry.” The endearment slips out before he can help it, his heart stopping in his chest until he sees you smiling. 

“Well, yeah, but this wasn’t a date, baby.” 

“Are you sure? I mean, you made me pay for your train ticket, I paid for dinner and drinks. As far as first dates go, I’ve been a perfect gentleman all night.” 

“That you have.” You nod once, firmly. “I’m not going to pay you back or anything. And this is hardly our first date.” 

Heeseung grins despite himself. “Is this your way of saying I can bill you for our other dates? Do you have savings?” 

Your head falls back in laughter, the sound infectious as it falls from your lips. You sigh softly, straightening up after a beat and nudging his shoulder with your fist. “Stop making me laugh or I’ll do something stupid like kiss you.” 

His heart races in his chest, caught between your laugh and the thought that maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “I feel like if we pulled up a typical date timeline we’d be right on track for that, don’t you think?” 

“Heeseung,” you mumble, face softening. It doesn’t seem like you’re finding this funny anymore. Your gaze locks on his lips — a hyper focus that makes him press them together nervously — before snapping up to meet his eyes. You gulp. “Goodnight, thank you for today.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Don’t say that or I’ll take you up on it.” 

Heeseung shrugs. “You say that like I’d have a problem with it.” 

“You wouldn’t?” 

“Never.” 

A small laugh comes through your nose as you smile up at him. “I’ll see you, let me know when you get home.” 

“Got it.” 

Wordlessly, you open the door, crossing the threshold before saying goodnight again. Heeseung says it back, watching you shut the door and waiting for the lock to click before he leaves. 

He’s never drinking with you again. 

Heeseung feels like he’s settling into the role of your friend quite well. So well that he can spend time alone with you without the discomfort he felt in September. Maybe he’s taking liberties, bending the word friendship to suit him, but as you lie in his bed together, your head on his chest as you nap, he can’t bring himself to care too much. He knows he’ll get hurt by this at some point, but for now, he’s just happy to play with your hair and try his best to fall asleep too. You don’t stir when Jay opens the door, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight before him, tilting his head before closing the door quietly. 

Sleep never reaches him, but he pretends to yawn, rubbing at his eyes when your alarm wakes you up, making a point to stretch his arms over his head and only respond to you in a lazy mumble when you speak. “Whose idea was it to nap between classes, again?”

“I think it was yours.”

“Damn,’ you mumble, yawning again before laying back down, head returning to his chest as if drawn by a magnet. “I think ten more minutes, fifteen, and then we wake up and go back.” 

“Or we could skip?” 

The suggestion makes you jolt upright, fully awake now. You let your eyes drag over his face, and maybe Heeseung’s being hopeful or straight-up imagining things, but your gaze lingers on his lips for more than a few seconds before you gulp and meet his eyes. “Lee Heeseung trying to skip class? I never thought I’d see the day.” A smile spreads over your lips, turning into a laugh as you throw your head back. “That was funny, Hee. Let’s go.’

Heeseung’s brows furrow, watching you stretch your arms out in front of you. Was it so hard to believe he would skip class if it meant spending more time with you? His lips settle into a pout. “I’m serious.”

“No, you’re scaring me. Come on, let’s go,” you say, making no attempts to get up. 

To prove a point, Heeseung shifts under the covers, lying on his side with his back to you. “You go ahead, I’m staying.” 

You sigh but don’t get out of bed, only lying down next to him and draping an arm over his waist. “Ten more minutes.” You press yourself against his back and he feels his heart racing. As quickly as he feels it, you stiffen behind him. “I’m not crossing a line, right? Holding you like this? It’s always been easier to sleep if you’re next to me,” you say into his shirt. 

Remembering the way you would cuddle into his side during sleepovers, his heart aches, wondering if you had endured the same sleepless nights as him. Heeseung only lifts your arm to turn onto his back, pulling you onto his chest like you had been earlier. “Fifteen,” he says. 

Seeing as neither of you bothered to set another alarm, you sleep through class, only waking up when it’s dark out and Jay comes back. “I bought dinner, come eat,” he says, leaving the door open on his way out. 

Wordlessly, you both peel yourselves from bed, dragging your feet to the kitchen to wash your hands before joining Jay in the living room. Heeseung sits cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table while you and Jay sit on the couch. He’s not awake enough to fully register your conversation over the rustle of plastic takeout bags and his sudden overwhelming hunger, but you’re telling Jay to shut up, mumbling something and he lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest when Heeseung turns around to hand over your food. 

With his elbows on the table, he takes a bite from his burger and has to suppress a moan. Most of your conversation with Jay goes over his head and he doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until you’re standing at the door pulling on your shoes. Given the way Jay’s lying on the couch, Heeseung assumes he’s on walking-you-home duty and grabs a jacket before stuffing his feet into Jay’s slides. 

The conversation is light as you walk together, Heeseung making sure he’s on the edge of the pavement the whole time and letting you talk about your friends. The walk has become so natural now that he only realises you’re approaching home when you take out your key to open the door to your building. 

“Do you want to meet before class tomorrow? To go over the slides we missed today?” you ask, with something behind your eyes that Heeseung sleepily interprets as hope. 

He nods, smiling at you and waiting for you to lock the door before he leaves. 

Jay’s awake when Heeseung gets back home; he can’t say he’s surprised. Heeseung only nods at Jay, who sits on the couch, but he knows his flatmate well enough to know there’s a conversation coming because the TV is off and his laptop is shut. Heeseung makes it all the way to his door before Jay says anything. “You’re in way over your head.” 

Heeseung sighs, not in the mood. “Okay. Night,” he says, opening the door. 

By the time November arrives and Jake’s birthday approaches, everything is back to normal again. Turning nineteen, Jake celebrates with a modest pub crawl that spirals into a three-day bender, leaving him bedridden for nearly a week due to dehydration and fear of a test he’d forgotten to study for. 

In standard Jake fashion, he manages to bounce back and sits across from Jay at his favourite restaurant only six days after his actual birthday. Considering the state he was in, it’s a wonder he can stomach the smell of alcohol, let alone down four cocktails without a pause. Jay and Sunghoon exchange sighs, each supporting one of Jake’s sleeping arms on their shoulders to carry him home. 

“Cover the bill and let me know the amount. I’ll transfer you in the morning,” Jay mumbles before they leave. 

You shake your head when Heeseung asks if you want to go home as well. “Unless you want to,” you say, all of your words blending together. “If you want to go home, we can. I don’t want you sitting here bored or anything.” 

Heeseung smiles. “I’m not bored, we can stay as long as you like.” You seem to take this to heart, nodding and flagging down a waiter to order more drinks. “Let’s maybe slow down a little though,” he suggests. 

He pours you a glass of water and makes you drink the whole thing, withholding your alcohol until you’ve finished the cold tteokbokki in front of you. Gradually, you become more coherent, wiping your face with your hands and sitting up a little straighter. You thank him when he pours soju for you and take tiny sips from the glass here and there, telling Heeseung about some of the friends you made while you were away. There’s Yizhuo—sweet, funny, and down-to-earth. And Minjeong—a quiet girl who needed a while to warm up to new people. You tell him about meeting her for the first time, how unsure she seemed when Yizhuo introduced you two, but by the end of the night, she was falling asleep next to you in bed with her arms and legs tangled around you. 

“Do you miss them?” It’s a stupid question, anyone could tell from the fond smile on your face that you do. 

A beat passes while you think about it before shrugging. “Not as much as I missed being here.” If he wasn’t watching you, or looking you straight in the eye, he probably would’ve missed the longing in your gaze. 

He’s never known you to be subtle after a drink, and Heeseung knows he needs to nip this conversation in the bud before either of you says something you can’t take back. “How are you getting on with your research task?” he asks, while at the same time you say, “I’m so happy to be back.” 

A short laugh slips out of you, a hand falling to the table before wrapping around your glass. You bring it up to your face but don’t drink, only looking down into it as if it’ll tell you what to say. “Are you happy I’m back?” 

“Sure,” Heeseung says noncommittally. 

You sigh, sinking into your seat a little. “I loved you. I still love you,” you mumble. “Even after all that.” 

He’s not sure what to make of this, of anything you’re saying. It’s not like you had a messy breakup or anything. At least, he wouldn’t describe his long-term girlfriend breaking up with him and asking if they could be friends after as messy. Even in heartbreak, Heeseung was a reasonable person, and any reasonable person would’ve said no. Like he did. 

“I still.. You’re still the one for me.” 

His stomach lurches violently. “Don’t say that.” He gets out of his seat quicker than he means to and leaves you at the table, tapping his foot as he waits in line by the bar to pay the bill, praying he’s right about the two of you sitting at table ten when the cashier asks. With a folded receipt in his pocket and too much to think about, he returns to the table, only putting on his coat and mumbling, “Let’s go.” 

For some reason, you don’t seem to mirror his urgency, only finishing off the drink you had left in one go and sitting for a bit longer. He takes your jacket from the back of your chair and holds it open for you, helping you into it when you finally stand up. “Thanks,” you giggle.

Heeseung says nothing. 

The silence and fresh air outside are sobering as he watches an Uber driver through the app, very slowly moving from two minutes away to one before arriving. Maybe if you hadn’t said what you said at the table, he might have warmed to the idea of a forty-minute walk alone with you, but you did say those things and even the thought of this fifteen-minute car ride is unbearable when John (4.9 stars) pulls up on the curb outside. You thank Heeseung quietly when he opens the door for you, and against his better judgement, he walks over to the other side of the car and sits in the middle seat like he used to. 

Slow R&B murmurs through the speakers as the driver pulls off while Heeseung hums along. His thigh is pressed against yours but he does his best not to think about it, only chewing his lip when you rest your head on his shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours before regretting it.

He doesn’t move. 

It feels a little bit like the driver is playing Heeseung’s playlist, as every song he knows and loves seems to come on one after the other, steeping him in an odd comfort in the backseat of this car.

Your hand falls onto his knee so clumsily he’s sure it’s a mistake, so sure you’ll move it back into your lap that he’s genuinely surprised when you don’t. Unsure what to do, he chooses not to acknowledge it, acting like you sitting so close to him, like the feeling that no time has passed, doesn’t make his heart clench. Slowly but surely, your hand inches up his thigh—a motion Heeseung stops as soon as he realises, his hand falling heavily over yours and pushing it back to his knee. He thinks about keeping it there, but when he feels his thumb stroking your skin, he moves his hand immediately. You’ve obviously gotten the wrong idea. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve actually gotten the right idea. You have. But it can’t happen like this. After a few minutes, you move your hand again, and like before, Heeseung pushes it back, keeping his hand over yours and reminding himself not to move his thumb.

You’re drunk. This will pass. 

Finally, the driver parks outside your building, and Heeseung’s sure his “thank you so much” holds the world’s sincerity in it as he unbuckles his seatbelt and practically leaps out of the car. He opens your door and has to undo your belt for you, helping you out and thanking the driver again. 

There’s a couple leaving the building when the two of you reach the door, and with your arms wrapped around his, he thanks them when they hold it open.

The lift takes forever to come and Heeseung pushes the up button five times before it arrives. He lets the girl in fleecy pyjamas with a takeout bag in her hand go in first before following, pressing the button reading 7 before relaxing a bit. Under the protection of a stranger, he knows you won’t do anything. The journey to your floor feels like hours as the lift drags its way up the shaft—why does nothing share his urgency? 

You don’t say anything until the elevator door swooshes shut behind you. “I love you, Heeseung. You know I love you.” You’re saying everything he’s been wanting you to say for ages, but the words make his words sting. 

“Do you know where your keys are?” he asks, though you still have a ways to go before you reach your door. 

“My pocket,” you mumble. 

Heeseung finds your keys, unlocks the door and helps you in. As much as he wants to leave, he knows if he does, you won’t take your makeup off or change, so he holds your hair back for you as you brush your teeth and wash your face in the sink quietly. 

In your bedroom, you search through your drawers, pulling out something to wear. He turns his back to you and ends up face-to-face with an old photo of the two of you from school. 

“You can look, Hee.”

Drawn to the picture, he doesn’t reply. The boys are in it too, but it feels like you two are the focus. Everyone’s smiling at the camera except Heeseung, who — with his arm around you — stares at the side of your face with a lopsided smile. Happiness radiates from his being, lighting his eyes and face.

“I want you to look.” The softness and desperation in your voice tug his heart.

“Come on ba—” Heeseung sighs. “Just get dressed, yeah?” 

You don’t say anything but he can hear the rustle of your clothes as you change. 

Jealousy blooms in his chest, looking at himself three years ago. Happy and full of love for you and your friends, for life. Everything was so easy then. His chest tightens and he has to close his eyes.

Heeseung feels you next to him, hears your jewellery falling into the clay holder on your dresser and opens his eyes, looking at you. You’re in a t-shirt he’s sure belongs to Jake and struggling with the clasp on your necklace. He knows you want him to help but he feels like he can’t move.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really do want to be with you,” you say when you finally get the necklace off. “And I know I’m too late, but I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t want to be with you.” 

You’re so close the peppermint on your breath hits him like a wave. A distinct smell of citrus and summer, of Jake, comes from your body, mixed up with the scent of you in a way that makes him uneasy. 

He gets a headache trying to make sense of your words, if it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with him, then what was it? Even back then, you didn’t elaborate, you just repeated his name and the words: it’s not your fault, over and over until they sounded made up. Heeseung can’t entertain this conversation, not now. Not when you’re drunk and looking up at him with longing in your eyes. “I think we need to get you to bed,” Heeseung mumbles, taking a step back. “I’ll get you some water.”

“But I’m here now and we can be together again.”

“You moving was never the problem. You know that wasn’t the problem.” A tear slips down your cheek and he softens immediately. “I wanted to go with you, I was going to go with you.” 

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, frowning. “This university was your dream. How could I let you give up your scholarship for me?”

“You were my dream,” he admits. “And it wasn’t your decision to make.” 

“You would have made the wrong one.” 

Heeseung scoffs. “Do you think breaking up was the right one?” 

Your silence is brutally telling. You squeeze your eyes shut as if trying to magic yourself out of the conversation, but it only makes more tears fall. A realisation hits him like a truck: you’re thinking about it. A painful lump forms in his throat. How could you have anything to think about? How was breaking up with him, not the single worst decision you’ve ever made? He can’t believe you could have let go so easily if you loved him. Long distance wouldn’t have been easy, but surely if you loved him, you would have made it work. You would have tried. Heeseung wishes he hadn’t asked at all.

“I do,” you say finally, opening your eyes to look at him.

His heart is heavy in his chest. “Okay.”

“Heeseung.”

“What?” 

A stomach-churning sob falls out of you. “I don’t know.” 

Another silence weighs the room down and Heeseung knows what he needs to do. He sighs. “Let’s just.. I should go.” 

You don’t put up a fight, you don’t say anything, only letting your shoulders droop before you sigh and lead Heeseung to the front door. He says goodbye as he puts his shoes on and all you do is watch as he leaves your apartment. He waits for you to close the door and lock it before walking away.

Heeseung walks all the way home and only cries when he closes his door, sliding down the back of it like something from a movie. With tears in his eyes, and his knees to his chest, he pulls out his phone to text you. I hope your hangover isn’t too bad, he types. Let’s only talk when we need to.

The two of you manage to hold this up, with you finding others to sit with during classes, and no one seeming to question Heeseung’s skipping plans or new close friendship with Mark’s group who he spends time with between classes instead. But as always, things have a funny way of going different to how Heeseung expected them to. 

After three weeks of near radio silence, Jay barges into his room with his face scrunched up. “What are you doing?” 

“Right now?” Heeseung asks, confused. Standing by the bed with the corner of his duvet in his hand, in nothing but his underwear, he thinks his plans look a little obvious. “I’m about to jerk off.”

Jay rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what I mean.” 

“Evidently, I do not.” 

“Why don’t you hang out with us anymore?” he asks, squinting at Heeseung. 

“We’re hanging out right now.”

“Forgive me if I don’t count an impromptu circle jerk as hanging out.”

“I don’t.. want to do that.”

Jay clutches his chest. “I’m crushed.” 

Heeseung studies his expression. Serious, an inch of concern pooling in his eyes. “We dated for six years, she dumped me, I turned into a shell of myself, but she moved back home and we’re all friends again, so I think things are looking up for me.”

A deep sigh leaves Jay as he sits on the bed. “What happened at the bar with YN three weeks ago when we all left?” 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What exactly counts as ordinary for you two?”

Heeseung’s still trying to figure that out. He shrugs. “Making the right decisions.” 

“So you’re okay?”

“Never better.’

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?” There’s a sincere look on Jay’s face as he leans back on his hands.

“Which is why I’m being honest.” 

It doesn’t seem like Jay’s going to let this go, but to Heeseung’s surprise, he smiles. “Perfect,” he says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the mirror where he checks himself out. “Because she and the guys are going to be here in ten. Put some clothes on.”

He does just that, pulling some shorts over his hips and a shirt over his head before pulling the two bean bag chairs stacked next to the couch to sit in front of the TV, claiming one of them with his body by sinking into it. The cosy material is soft against his thighs and he wonders why they don’t use them more. 

Ten minutes go by like seconds when Jay gets up to answer the door, laughing at something one of you says before leading you all into the living room. He’s watching some show Jay left on, greeting you and the boys with a wave before turning back to the TV. Behind him, the four of you laugh and talk on the couch but Heeesung’s too wrapped up in an argument on screen to join in. His attention only falters when he reaches for the open six-pack on the coffee table. It’s barely out of his reach, so he turns around to take a beer, trying to ignore the way his heart sinks in his chest seeing you and Jay cuddled up together. It’s friendly, he knows that. Jay’s with Yunjin and you’re.. He’s still not sure, but it hurts nonetheless. You’re bickering over a bowl of popcorn and he only laughs when you throw a handful at him. 

The red speaker Sunghoon’s holding chimes three times when he turns it on, a Frank Ocean thudding out of it that drowns out the show he’s watching, leaving him to follow along with the subtitles instead. But he can’t focus. 

Heeseung tries to settle his heartache, comforting himself with the thought of the two of you in another reality. One where it’s him instead of Jay. Or one where you come over and sit with him, curling up in his lap, pouting because Jay’s being mean. He pictures himself stroking your hair and kissing away your pout, holding you into his chest when Jake and Sunghoon start teasing you. In this reality, however, he watches you peel Jay’s shirt from his chest and dump a handful of popcorn in the gap, cackling to yourself at the clear frustration he doesn’t verbalise. Heeseung sighs, looking back at the TV and taking a sad sip of his sad beer. 

After a while, you fall into the beanbag next to him, sprawling out over the whole thing and looking at him. “Hey, Heeseung.” 

“Hello.” 

“I’m sorry about that night.” Your voice is quiet, clearly apologetic if the way you don’t meet his eyes is anything to go by.

“Okay.” Heeseung nods and a beat passes. “I meant what I said, what I texted you.” It hurts to say but it’s for the best. He stands up out of the beanbag, making a show of stretching his arms and legs before sinking into the couch next to Jake. Over Jake’s slouched form, Jay shoots him a look, arching a brow. Heeseung only stages a chuckle, shrugging before looking at the TV again. He can’t make sense of anything on the screen. 

Sunghoon emerges from Jay’s room with a grin on his face, asking when you’re going to eat. In standard fashion, the four of you stand around Jay in the kitchen, bothering him by telling him what to do like he’s a child as he puts frozen pizza and some garlic bread in the oven. 

“The middle one’s the timer,” Jake says, pointing at the knobs above the oven door. “It’s there so you can set how long the food needs to cook for, and after you set it, it’ll go off so you know it’s ready.”

“But it’s all up to you and your discretion. You can open the door whenever you want to check on everything,” you coo, patting his shoulder.

If Jay’s actually annoyed, nothing about his smile gives it away as he nods with a clenched fist, closing the door and sitting next to Heeseung on the countertop. Heeseung’s almost too busy focusing on the way his beer heats his stomach to notice the way you watch him with a small frown from barely an arm’s length away. Sunghoon picks up on your declining mood and thrusts an open bottle into your hand. “We like to drink with—” He’s cut off by Jay taking the bottle and setting it behind you on the counter, mumbling cut it out, dude, and tugging you out of the kitchen by the arm when he notices the tears in your eyes. 

He hears Jay’s door close and nobody says anything until the timer goes off and Jay comes back alone, filling a plate with food and going back to his room. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Jake says to the back of Jay’s head, offbeat and half smiling as he washes his hands in the sink. 

Sitting at the table, he watches Jake and Sunghoon eat while pretending nothing’s wrong. 

At the end of the night, when everyone’s gone home, Heeseung gets into bed, barely managing to pull the duvet up when there’s a knock at his door. “Yeah?” he calls out. Jay appears with his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says quickly. 

Jay regards him with a frown. “I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You were going to.” 

“Yeah.” He nods, and Heeseung prepares himself for a lecture. “I was going to say, I’m going home next week, for Christmas, so I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.” 

The holidays go by in a soju and tteokguk-filled blur, with Heeseung choosing to stay at home until the day of his first class of the second semester so he doesn’t have to be around you. He tells himself it’s for the good of your friend group, as he watches you all make plans in the group chat through notification bubbles, so he doesn’t leave a read receipt. 

The commute is more jarring than he realised. What had been a twenty-minute drive turns into an hour-long journey, including a thirty-minute walk to the train station ‘near’ house, fifteen minutes on the train into the city centre, and another fifteen minutes on foot to campus. He’s drenched in sweat despite the below-zero temperature and has to make a stop to the bathroom to sort himself out.

He arrives early at least, finding the room where his Ethnography: Theory and Practice 2 class is set to start in fifteen minutes. The only indicator that he’s in the right place is the lecturer’s name and contact information written in the top corner of a whiteboard, and Heeseung picks the seat furthest from the door. It’s an elective class and, judging by the nine empty chairs next to him, not a very popular one. He’s relieved at least that he’ll be able to start off the semester without running into anyone he knows, least of all you. As seats start filling up and the lecturer arrives, he’s feeling unusually lucky. 

So, of course, you show up, running a hand through your hair as you walk through the open door, apologising for being late even though there are still two minutes until the class is scheduled to begin. Of course, the only empty seat is the one next to him, which you sit in without looking at him, making an effort to angle your body away from him. Of course, the lecturer assigns a presentation for two weeks time, pairing the class with the person they’re sitting beside. Neither you nor Heeseung say a word to each other, but you raise your hand when prompted to pick a topic to cover. He can’t help his irritation at you for making the decision without asking him, but you look so nice in your hoodie with your hair tied up that his annoyance settles before it has a chance to bloom. 

“YN YLN and Heeseung Lee, we’ll do music and cultural expression,” you say, picking the topic he wanted to do anyway. 

When class is over, you’re quick to get out of your seat, pulling on your jacket and stuffing your laptop back into your bag before leaving so quickly that Heeseung has to leave his stuff behind to go after you. You don’t stop walking when he calls out your name, and too scared to make a scene, he overtakes you, leaving you with no option but to stop in front of him. 

“We should go to the library, get the research and shit out of the way ASAP,” he suggests.

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m going to get my stuff.”

You follow him back to class, watching from the door as he puts his things in his bag before putting on his jacket. You don’t say anything on the walk to the library, when you get there, or when you browse the Cultural Studies section. Heeseung glances at you and you’re chewing on your lip, crouching a bit to read the spines of the books on the lower shelves. “Are you alright?” he asks with genuine concern. 

You look up at him, nodding. 

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t said anything in an hour.”

This makes you straighten up, your brows furrowing in an expression he can’t figure out. “Sorry, Heeseung,” you say, your voice weak. “I’m just trying to figure out if you think I need to talk right now.” 

“Obviously, a paired project is a situation where we need to talk.” 

You sigh, muttering oh, my God, before you look at him. “You know what, I’m going home. Let’s do this tomorrow.” 

“We have class in twenty minutes.” 

“Yeah, I’ll read the slides when I get in.”

Unsure what to say, he watches you walk away, deciding that he should just go home too. 

At the flat he hasn’t seen in five weeks, Heeseung feels slightly out of place, going straight to his room and into bed, not even getting up when he hears Jay coming home. Jay opens the door without knocking, his mouth falling into an excited ‘o’ shape. “Hey, stranger,” he says. “I thought you weren’t coming back, so I started advertising your room on Gumtree.” 

“Any offers?”

“No one as good as you.” Heeseung doesn’t have to look at Jay to know he’s smiling. “Move over,” he mumbles, lifting the duvet. 

Lazily, he rolls over in bed, making room for Jay who makes himself comfortable under the covers. 

“What are you doing, Heeseung?” 

“Trying to sleep.” 

“Talk to me, help me understand.” Jay sighs and Heeseung’s lips curl into a frown. “You’re my best friend,” Jay says quietly, with a tenderness that strikes him. 

“You’re my best friend,” Heeseung repeats like an affirmation. 

“So why won’t you talk to me?”

There’s a subtle hurt in Jay’s voice that upsets Heeseung, who shifts around to lie on his back. “I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that YN hasn’t already.” 

“She only told me that she fucked up.”

Hearing it from someone else’s mouth makes it sound drastic, especially considering he’s the one who left. Again. But he’s too bitter to say that out loud so he bites his tongue. “Seems to be the theme in our relationship.” The words taste rotten when he says them.

“Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you get to be a dick,” Jay says. “What happened?” 

It takes some time but Heeseung explains everything, letting Jay ask questions and make comments until the end when he looks away, pressing his eyes shut and saying, “Oh.” 

“Oh?”

“I don’t think I get it. Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Why can’t you just be together already?”

Everything sounds painfully simple when it’s put like that. But there’s too much between you both for it to go that way. It’s not like he didn’t want to be with you when you confessed, it’s that he didn’t know how he could without knowing why you left him in the first place. Without knowing what he did that was so terrible you couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with him, never mind the same area code. 

A beat passes before Heeseung speaks. “There was something wrong, and instead of trying to fix it, she just.. gave up. I would’ve done anything she asked me to. I could’ve changed, could’ve fixed things, but she didn’t even tell me.” 

“Maybe she didn’t feel like she could. I don’t think she wanted to hurt you, Heeseung.” 

“But she did.” 

“Yeah,” Jay admits, sympathy lacing the word. 

“How can I be with her knowing there’s some awful part of me she hates?” 

“It’s not like that, not really.” 

“What’s it like then?”

“I’m not sure it’s my place to say.” 

Heeseung laughs, shaking his head. “Do you keep my secrets as dutifully as you keep hers?” 

“Are you kidding? She doesn’t even know you have secrets.” Jay sounds exhausted as he speaks, and it’s the last sound to come from him until a few minutes pass and Heeseung hears him snoring. 

You didn’t reply when Heeseung texted you asking to meet in the library before class, but you show up anyway, pulling out the seat across from him and dumping your bag on the table. “I don’t know if you saw the email, but the partner work is just for the presentation.” 

“Cool.” he nods, relieved. 

“I think after that, I’ll start hanging out with Yunjin instead, so you’re not uncomfortable.” 

Heeseung frowns, shaking his head. “I’m not uncomfortable around you,” he says. “I just don’t.. get you. You dump me and move as far away as you can. Now you’re back and what? You love me again?” 

You furrow your brows, inspecting him for a moment before you speak. “I don’t love you again, Heeseung. I’ve loved you this whole time.” 

“So why didn’t you choose me? I just wanted you to choose me.” He’s too anxious to know the truth to worry about how desperate he must sound. Until he notices that the guys sitting at the other end of the tables are watching him, their brows arched sharply in a mixture of shock and curiosity. Heeseung runs a hand over his face, hoping the motion might wipe away the flush burning his cheeks.

“You wanted me to choose you over my future?” 

“I could’ve been your future, part of it. I’d never ask you to choose me over university, you know I wouldn’t. I’m saying you could’ve had both.” 

“It wasn’t as easy as that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Heeseung,” you say like it’s an answer. 

“Just tell me why you didn’t want me. That’s all I want to know.” 

The following silence makes him consider packing up abruptly and faking an emergency. He’s sure he could probably fake his death if he slumps in his chair slowly enough. 

You sigh heavily, interrupting his train of thought—now, he’s wondering if he even wants to know. “Because you would’ve put me first,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “If I stayed here or moved away, I would’ve been your top priority and I couldn’t let you throw away everything you worked for, for me.” 

“I loved you, of course, you were my top priority.” He can’t believe he even has to say it, can’t believe you might have thought you weren’t the single most important thing in his life. 

“Heeseung, you were sacrificing your life for me. You missed your cousin’s engagement party to help me study for a history test, you deferred your scholarship entry by a year just so we could go to college at the same time. How could I keep letting you miss out on your life?” 

“Deferring my entry wasn’t just for you,” he lies. “And it’s not like I missed the wedding.” 

“But I think you would’ve if I stubbed my toe.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” 

You sigh again, shaking your head. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t keep living like that, you can’t just throw everything away. You’re such a hard worker, Heeseung, and I’d hate to see you waste that over some girl.” 

“But you’re you. You weren’t just ‘some girl’ you were my girl.” He doesn’t mean to say it but it’s true. “We were in high school and I was studying constantly; it didn’t matter back then. And you were so far away, it’s not like I could feasibly drop everything and go to you every time something happened.” 

“Heeseung.” 

“You had a choice.” 

“Heeseung.” 

The way you’re saying his name reminds him of your breakup—the pink walls of your childhood bedroom and the pictures of the two of you stuck up all over them, in frames on your desk, and stickers on your light switch. How they seemed to close in around him as he put all of his energy into staying on two feet, instead of falling to the floor and begging you on hands and knees to stay with him. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve spent the last year and a half wondering what I did wrong, I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” We could’ve tried, he wants to say. I could have changed and we could’ve tried. 

“I didn’t want you to lose that. I felt really lucky that you loved me like that, and I didn’t want to rob someone else of it, you know. I thought maybe you’d find a balance with someone someday, but I didn’t think that person would be me.” 

Heeseung has to put in an effort to stop his jaw from dropping. How could there ever be someone else? How could you ever think he could have someone else? There’s so much he wants to say, to ask, but he can tell by the way you press your lips together that you’re done with the conversation. 

“It’s not too late.” 

You tilt your head at him. “What?” 

“In your room that night, you said you were too late,” he explains. “I love you.”

“Still?” 

His heart shifts uncomfortably in his chest at the tone of your voice and the way your eyebrows shoot up. “Always,” he says. 

A smile starts to curve your lips, but it slips before it has a chance to bloom, stifled happiness that you cover with your hands, hiding your face completely. “I don’t think we should talk about this here.” Your palms muffle the words but not their impact; you’re right and he knows it. 

It’s been a year—the longest of his life, and the hard part is already over. He knows now and he’ll do anything he can to fix it. “Right.” Heeseung nods but you’re not looking at him. He’s going to fix it. For now, though, he says, “What’s our research topic again?” Despite having had Music and Cultural Expression typed into the search bar since before you arrived. 

With Heeseung’s work ethic and your commitment to being the best, the presentation goes quite smoothly. You make no mistakes, and Heeseung, distracted by how pretty you look in professional attire, manages to stumble through the script he’d rehearsed. The two of you even win the first place prize — satisfaction that you got a perfect score — and celebrate with coffee afterwards. 

Between the four walls of the campus café, you and Heeseung sip lattes that taste like temperature — still too hot to have a real flavour — and laugh with each other about something Jay said when you all hung out last night. Neither of you mentions your conversation from two weeks ago, deciding instead to fall into the patterns of your first term together: napping in his bed after class and coming up with excuses for alone time. He makes an effort to follow through with his commitments, even when you ask him to hang out, to show you that he’s different now. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t said anything about it, but Heeseung tells himself it’s a good thing while missing shots on the court with Mark, too hung up on you to focus on anything else. The only thing left is to figure out a way to be yours again and do everything he can to make sure he doesn’t lose you. 

Over your shoulder, through the window, the sun slips below the horizon, casting long shadows around the café. He takes a deep breath when he looks at you, smiling down at your phone as you take a picture of your half-drunk latte and the milky swirls still peeking through your coffee. A tangible determination settles in his chest as evening’s first stars appear in the sky, he knows one thing for sure: he has to grab the chance to be yours again with both hands, and once it’s his, he won’t let go this time. 

The café may be clearing out, but his heart is full of hope and for the time being, sitting with you as a friend is.. fine. 

You’d often imagined what it would be like if you hadn’t broken up with Lee Heeseung. 

Most of your first year was spent daydreaming about him in all of your usual hangouts. Sometimes, at drinks with your friends, you envisioned him showing up, a smile on his face as he apologised for being late. He’d slide into the booth next to you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and kiss your cheek. Other times you imagined him showing up to surprise you, sitting on a bench in the quad and grinning when he saw you leaving. He’d run up to you with open arms and a bouquet in his hand, wrapping you in a hug and whispering that he missed you too much to wait another day to see you. You would even fall asleep thinking about FaceTime calls that stayed on overnight or drunken texts after the club, misspelt I love yous and can’t wait to see yous filling your text thread. 

You didn’t tell your new friends much about him, briefly mentioning a partner you’d watched some film with or an artist he liked if they came up, and most nights were spent begging Jay to send you Heeseung’s social media posts and tell you every detail of the day they had without you. Based on accounts from Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon, it seemed like he was getting on well, a fact that — while hurtful — pushed you to try and do the same. After a month of avoiding your flatmates, you finally managed to connect with them, going to various social events around campus and rolling your eyes any time a drunk guy complimented you. 

This is why it took you by surprise to see him at Mark Lee’s party in the summer—sitting alone in the garden, in sweatpants and a flannel, looking at his phone with a deep frown etched over his lips. When you think about it, it feels like so long has passed since then and it’s hard to believe it wasn’t even a year ago. 

Being back in Heeseung’s life has been more challenging than you thought it would be when you filled out your transfer application. Especially in the weeks since you finished your presentation together, since you suggested the library might not have been the right place for the conversation you were having and never followed up on. 

Now doesn’t seem like the right time either—you’re sitting on the floor in Jake and Sunghoon’s living room with your back against the couch, sharing a blanket with Heeseung. Jay left about an hour ago to go to Yunjin’s, leaving the four of you to your own devices. You know you can’t bring it up with Jake and Sunghoon around, but you’ve had plenty of opportunities to over the last month. 

When you finished your celebratory lattes, Heeseung walked you home. The sky was a perfect inky black, and it was cold enough to see your breath, just the way he liked, so cold he offered you his jacket to wear. He didn’t say anything about it, only shrugging it off and setting it gently over your shoulders, shocking you so much that you stopped walking. The scent of his cologne, dark and woody, was overwhelming as you slid your arms into the sleeves, zipping it up and after three paces without you, Heeseung turned his head with wide eyes. You could have said it then, you wanted to say it then, but you bit your tongue and thanked him instead. He smiled, gulping when you closed the gap, you should have kissed him, he was close enough, his lips just a tip-toe and tilted head away, but you hugged him instead. 

After that, the two of you had all the time in the world together. Between your shared classes and going for meals alone. All the time you’d spend in his living room together, cosy on the couch when Jay would go to sleep. So many moments to talk, to get back together, but the words would die in your throat every time you thought them. It all seemed too cheesy or not cheesy enough, too dramatic or too casual, you couldn’t strike a balance and had no idea how to even find one. 

Last night was probably the most jarring occasion. Yunjin and Chaewon had been trying to convince you to go the club all week but you just weren’t in the mood. They seemed happy enough when you suggested hosting pres—but now you think they’d been hoping you’d be so drunk you’d just agree to go out. Yunjin brought half a litre of vodka and Chaewon brought a soup flask with enough murky cocktail in it to feed a small family. Together, the three of you drank and gossiped around the small table in your living room, with Chaewon’s phone in a glass to amplify her playlist. After taking a whiff of whatever she brought, you and Yunjin decided — for everyone’s wellbeing — to hide her flask and take shots of vodka, finishing off the cider you had left in the fridge. 

“Please come out,” Yunjin begged. “I’ll feel bad leaving you here, all pretty and drunk by yourself.” 

“I’ll feel bad too!” Chaewon added, clasping her hands. “Not bad enough to stay with you, but I’ll probably have less fun.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t even have an outfit.” The words were like music to their ears and you regretted them as soon as you said them. Both girls grabbed you by the hand, tugging you to your room and flinging open your wardrobe. Yunjin looked for a top and Chaewon for a skirt, though both of them gasped when they saw the dress you wore for Heeseung’s birthday. Chaewon pulled it from the rack, holding it out in front of her. 

“We won’t pay for anything if you wear this,” she squealed before she and Yunjin started chanting: Free booze! Free booze! 

You sighed, thinking of Heeseung and shook your head again. That dress, though beautiful, hadn’t been enough for him to lose all composure and skip the party in favour of fucking you into the mattress, and you didn’t love the idea of guys that weren’t him ogling you all night. “Anything but that dress.” 

Yunjin and Chaewon seemed sad, but you were able to distract them by bringing out the disaster cocktail the oldest girl brewed earlier, pouring each of them half a glass and ordering an Uber to come and take them away. You promised them you’d go out next time, locking your pinkies with theirs and closing the door behind them. 

Alone in your room, with nothing but thoughts of Heeseung to keep you company, you called him. He answered right away. You can’t remember exactly what you said but you remember the soft sigh he let out when you said it. You could practically see him tilting his head, weighing his options. 

“I’m trying to get a paper finished, it’s due Monday,” he said finally. 

“But it’s Thursday.” 

“Yeah, and I want to have my weekend free. If you’re still up when I’m done, I’ll come over, okay?” 

You nodded. “Okay.” 

Heeseung hung up after that and you got out of bed to clean up, hoping the time would fly. It didn’t, but your flat was clean again so you pretended not to mind. 

He called you after midnight. “Do you still want me to come over?” he asked, breathless. 

“Please.” There was a knock on your door after you spoke and you mumbled hold on before going to check it. Warped by the peephole, you saw Heeseung standing there, holding his phone to his ear and playing with the zipper on his jacket. He hugged you when you opened the door, asking if you were okay. “Perfect,” you said, looking into his eyes. 

His pretty face scrunched up and he pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers, turning his head. “Well, you smell like a distillery.”

Heeseung stood in the doorway of the bathroom while you brushed your teeth, grinning every time his eyes met yours in the mirror. Tell him now, you thought. You have to tell him now. Those thoughts nagged you as you gargled mouthwash, plagued you when you hugged him again and tortured you when he carried you to bed. 

He stiffened when kissed his jaw. “You can’t do that,” he mumbled, setting you down under the duvet. “Not now.” 

Then when? you wanted to say. “I’m sorry,” you said.

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s just.. It’s okay.” 

Neither of you spoke after that, you made room for him on the bed and he lay down next to you, let you rest your head on his chest and played with your hair until you fell asleep. He was gone when you woke up in the morning but he left a glass of water and some paracetamol on your end table, along with a note. 

I had to go to class and you wouldn’t wake up :(  We’ll talk about everything soon, we have to. See you at Jake and Sunghoon’s later? 

— Your Hee. 

If you hadn’t been drunk he might have been okay with the kiss, he might have looked down at you and kissed you properly. You might have talked last night, fixed things—you’ve never regretted drinking so much in your life. 

Things are better tonight at least. You’ve been nursing the same can of cider since you arrived a few hours ago and Heeseung’s only had two sips of his beer, so hopefully, if you get some alone time, the two of you can finally talk. You’re still not sure what you should say, if you should apologise for waiting so long, for leaving in the first place. It seemed like a good idea at the time, applying elsewhere. You didn’t even think you’d get in but you knew you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least take the chance. It seemed like a sign when the acceptance letter reached your inbox before the term had finished, an unconditional offer to a high-ranking university, you couldn’t pass it up. And knowing Heeseung as well as you did, you knew he’d do anything to be by your side when you needed him, you knew he’d drop everything to move with you if you let him. You’d owe him forever. It wouldn’t be fair on either of you. 

You called Jay in tears after a month away, telling him you made a mistake, that you needed to come back and had already filled out a transfer application. He convinced you to at least stay until the end of term, to actually make friends with the girls you were living with and see how you felt. A week later, he, Jake and Sunghoon showed up on your doorstep with chocolate and booze, hoping your room was big enough for all of them to stay for the weekend, it wasn’t, not really, but for three nights, the four of you slept head to toe in your bed after eating your body weights in pizza and ice cream. There was no talk of Heeseung, even though you begged them, and by the time they left, you felt much better. At the end of your first year, you quietly submitted your transfer application and shared a tearful goodbye with Yizhuo and Minjeong before finally flying back home. The boys seemed happy to have you back, even if it meant sneaking around to hang out with you—A nudge pulls you out of your thoughts, Heeseung.

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

When you look at him, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. His eyes are brimmed with concern, wide and beautiful, a deep brown you’ll never get sick of. His lips are curved into a soft pout, a crease running along his brow that you want to smooth out. 

Heeseung relaxes a little when you nod, but he seems unconvinced. “You sure?” 

You reach up to poke his cheek, grinning when he turns his head, trying to fight a smile. “I’m good,” you say, pressing a dimple into his cheek anyway. 

He holds your finger in his hands, unclenching your fist and locking his fingers with yours. A wide grin stretches over your lips as you plead with your cheeks to stop burning. Jake’s hand interrupts the moment, falling from the couch, limp and curled into a fist that smacks the back of your head. He’s fast asleep, not stirring at all even when Heeseung laughs. 

Unfortunately, you lose rock, paper, scissors and have to wake Jake up. He shifts a little on the couch when you shake him, whining at you to stop and scrunching up his face at you. Heeseung and Sunghoon eventually sigh, grabbing him by the arms and legs to carry him to bed. 

Both boys return, laughing about something and Heeseung sits down next to you again while Sunghoon leans in the doorway, yawning. “You two can have my room,” he says, cutting his eyes at you. “No funny business though, I just changed my sheets.” 

You chuckle nervously and Heeseung makes a show of hiding his face in the crook of your neck, much to Sunghoon’s visible dismay. He clutches the doorframe so hard you see his knuckles paling and uses his free hand to point a stern finger in your direction. “I mean it,” is the last thing he says before leaving. 

“Sorry,” Heeseung mumbles when the door closes. “It’s just so funny teasing him.” He’s grinning when he lifts his head and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me about your group project.”

A sigh curls out of you, dramatic and loud as you let your head fall back against the couch at the thought of it. You brought it up in passing on Monday after class and spent the rest of the week pretending it didn’t exist. 

“Damn,” he mutters. “That bad?” 

You don’t have many friends in your Archaeology class, but you always look forward to it — because you’re covering Ancient Egypt — and enjoy it. But this morning, you slept in, arriving late, to find your lecturer assigning groups for a project weighing 25% of your final grade. She put the groups together based on where people were sitting, which left you, standing in the doorway fighting for breath, being added to a group of boys you shared a seminar with last term. They never contributed, and rarely showed up, constantly sending messages in the class Whatsapp group to ask if anyone had the tutorial answers. The sinking feeling that your project was doomed before it began plagued you throughout the lecture and all the way to lunch with Yunjin afterwards. Even though it doesn’t have anything to do with the story, you tell him in meticulous detail about your time with her that day. Thankfully, you’re sober so don’t admit that you spent a lot of the meal exchanging increasingly ridiculous ideas to get him back. 

Heeseung is just as beautiful and good at listening as always, nodding his head and uhm-ing and ah-ing at all the right parts. Until his gaze changes for a split second into something so soft and so sweet that it leaves a mark on your heart. “I was pissed about it earlier, but now I’m here, with you, and I want you to be my boyfriend again,” you say, jaw hanging open as soon as the words come out. 

His eyes widen, lips parting in shock. Then his brows furrow, pushing a crease into his forehead. 

“I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry.” You start running damage control and pray that Jake or Sunghoon will wake up and come back. “I really didn’t mean to say that, especially not now when we haven’t talked about everything. But you looked at me, Heeseung. You really looked at me just now and I can’t pretend I don’t want to be with you. I’m sorry, really, but it’s your fault I said that.” 

Mortified, you cover your face with your hands. “Can you say something now?” you ask, mumbling into the heels of your palms. 

All he says is your name and a pit forms in your stomach. “God, anything but that,” you groan. 

Heeseung chuckles, which you think is a good thing. “Would it be better if I called you baby?” 

“In what context?” 

Holding your breath, you watch as he presses his lips together, humming as he tilts his head. “Term of endearment between a girlfriend and her boyfriend.” 

You lift your head, separating your fingers to see him properly through the space and the pit in your stomach dissolves into something live, butterflies fluttering in a frenzy from the look on his face. The gentle curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, and the slight flush on his cheeks all make your head spin. 

“Really?”

Heeseung nods so hard his hair follows the movement. “Yes, baby.” 

“Can we kiss now?” 

“Maybe if you move your hands out of the way.”

“I don’t like maybe.”

“Definitely if you move your hands out of the way,” he corrects. 

You can’t bring yourself to move, worried that the sudden motion might disrupt something, might knock you out of the moment. Heeseung laughs, so softly it sounds like an exhale, as he takes your wrists in his hands, tugging gently. With your face in full view, his eyes flit over your features for a beat before he cups your cheek in his hand, dragging his thumb over the soft skin of your lips. 

You don’t even realise he’s leaning in until his lips touch yours. There’s a rush of something in your chest, an intense warmth surrounding your heart. His lips are softer than ever, gentle as he kisses you like you might break—you think you might. Nothing is better than this, better than having Heeseung’s lips on yours after all this time. You lean into him completely, pressing your body impossibly close to his and twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you,” he whispers, barely pulling away. “I love you so much.” 

You can’t bring yourself to reply, emotions too close to the surface, tears too close to spilling. Instead, you smile into the kiss, somehow holding him closer and hoping he’ll understand. He pulls back, just enough to gaze into your eyes with a look of pure affection. He doesn’t press for words, a reassuring smile tugging his lips. 

He understands, Heeseung always understands. 

Sunghoon’s sheets are soft against your skin when you wake up, tickling your nose with the scent of detergent and Heeseung’s shampoo—fresh and light. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers curling around the strands as Heeseung watches you with a soft smile, eyes scanning your features, taking you in. He lets his hand rest on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there and his eyes flick up to meet yours. You feel like a teenager, a giddy smile gracing your lips, giggles tumbling out at the tickly feeling of lovestruck butterflies rumbling in your stomach. Heeseung beams, nuzzling into the touch of your hand as his eyes flutter shut. 

“If we’re going to work out this time—I want us to work out, but we need to talk,” you say after a beat. 

Heeseung’s brows raise like he can’t believe what you’re saying, his lips pushing into a pout. “We are going to work out, of course we’re going to work out.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a deep hoarseness that’s too sexy for the cute way he’s chewing on his lip, doe-eyed and sweet as his eyes scan your face.

“I know, baby, I want that.” You nod, using your hand to push his hair out of his face. It’s so long now it’s starting to cover his eyes, the soft blond strands curling into his eyelashes. “But you have to say no to me, you know? I want you to have a life of your own, we both should.” 

“No.” 

“No?” You press your eyes shut, sighing. “What do you mean, no?” 

“I’m starting now.” 

“I’m serious, Hee, this is serious.” 

He pouts for a second before nodding. “I’m serious too. I can say no to you, I will say no to you.” 

You can’t help your scepticism, raising your brow at him as you inspect his face. There’s nothing about his expression that suggests he’s not being serious, nothing in those huge eyes seeming insincere. But you know Heeseung, you’ve been with Heeseung, and you know better than anyone, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do if it meant spending time with you, so you have to ask. “So from now on, if I text you when you’re in class or out with friends, and I tell you I want to see you, what are you going to do?” 

Heeseung sighs. “I’m going to text back and say that I’m.. busy.” His lips curl into a frown. “My heart will be super heavy though.” 

“But you’ll do it? You won’t see me until you’re free?” 

“I’ll do it, I won’t leave or anything.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“Yeah, baby, I promise.” When you smile at him, Heeseung leans in to seal his promise with a kiss, his lips meeting yours softly. 

You flinch when the door opens and Heeseung chuckles against your lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. Over his head, you see Sunghoon standing in the doorway, hair dripping water on the floor with a towel wrapped around his hips. 

Sunghoon sighs, loud and dramatic, his head falling back. “I specifically said no funny business,” he mutters. “Quit looking at me.” He comes into the room and lifts the duvet over your heads. 

Under the covers, Heeseung pulls away, poking his head out and laughing. “We’re just kissing.”

“Yeah, with your shirt off. Why is your shirt off?”

“She wanted to wear—”

Sunghoon cuts him off with a gasp, pulling the duvet back. “Wait, why are you kissing?”

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” 

The word makes your cheeks burn and you hide your face in Heeseung’s chest. His lips find the top of your head, kissing you as he wraps his arms around you. 

Sunghoon groans at the sight. “I haven’t missed this at all,” he says. “Who else knows?”

“Just you so far.”

You can hear Sunghoon grinning when he drops the duvet back over your heads and shuffles around the room, getting ready for skating. Heeseung calls you cute and holds you closer. “I’ve missed you so much, missed this,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you.”

Dating Heeseung again is better than anything you could have imagined, even if it has only been two weeks. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and even the simple things he does make you smile so hard your face aches. Like when he picks up snacks for you after class or sends you pictures of sweet things he wrote about you in his old diary. Chaewon and Yunjin comment that you seem happier, that you’re glowing, and you can’t help the giggles that always escape and the flush that burns your cheeks when you mention your boyfriend, Heeseung.

Even under the pressure of taking on a group project by yourself, you find yourself fighting a grin in the library just thinking about him. Your class finished an hour ago and you’re doing research in the computer lab while waiting for him so you can go back home together. With a crease in your brow, you try to make sense of conflicting articles on the origin of the Great Pyramid of Giza, happy when your phone lights up with a text. 

hee: we should go on a date tonight !!! how does the fair sound? 

you: sounds good :D 

hee: ❤️

As if sensing that plans have been made without him, Sunghoon sends a message to the group chat asking who wants to go to the Spring Fair in the city centre tonight. 

you: hee and i are alr going :/

sunghoon: awesome i can meet u at hee’s in a few hours?

You really can’t find the heart to tell Sunghoon it’s a date so you decide not to say anything, only feeling worse when Jay replies. 

jay: sounds good :D 

hee: it’s a date dumbass, you’re not invited.

sunghoon: ok.. i can still go

jake: time?

With your date set and whatever else the boys are planning in the group chat, you manage to finish up your work in time for Heeseung to show up with a grin on his face as you pack up your notebook. Excitement stirs in your stomach when he locks his fingers with yours and you’ve never looked forward to the sticky heat of a night in spring as much as you are right now. 

“How was class?” you ask, squeezing his hand. 

Heeseung grins at you, swinging your hands between your bodies as you weave through tables to leave the library. “Turns out I focus really well when you’re not sitting with me.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Mm.” He nods, biting his lip. 

“I can sit with other people if it’ll help you focus.” 

“No!” he whines, loud enough to draw side eyes from the students around you before the tips of his ears burn red and he pulls you out of the library at lightspeed. 

When you reach his flat, Jay’s sitting on the couch grinning at something on his phone, so distracted he doesn’t even realise you’ve arrived until you sit down next to him. He’s got a lot to say about his mock trial and tells you everything, all while you’re cuddled up to Heeseung, with your head on his shoulder. 

You blink and the sun’s gone down, Jay isn’t around anymore and Heeseung’s arms are around your waist, holding you close. “Hey,” he says when you stir. “The boys left already, you just looked so cute sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you.” 

There’s a wet patch on his sweater where your mouth was that you try to wipe away. It doesn’t budge. And a burning flush attacks your cheeks and neck when Heeseung uses his thumb to wipe some of the drool by your mouth. “So cute.” He chuckles. “Should we get going?” 

You spend the whole journey to the city centre with your hand in Heeseung’s, trying to fight the butterflies in your stomach every time he smiles at you. It’s weird. To have been with him for so long, yet still feel giddy when he looks at you. This is new though, you suppose, to live away from home and see him whenever you want. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder and you can’t help the grin on your face at the thought of spending infinite nights like this, with him. 

The Spring Fair is alive with laughter and squeals of delight that you can hear from around the corner. Winking lights spill onto the pavement in rapid succession, somehow showing the whole spectrum at once. Heeseung is bursting with excitement, running down the street with you in tow, desperately trying to keep up with his stride and regulate your breathing. His eyes are huge when you reach the gates, scanning the area for the churros he’s been talking about for the entire walk and he gasps when he sees the stall, pulling you along with him. You have to weave through the crowd, dipping and dodging tired locals and excited tourists as you call out apologies to everyone Heeseung bumps into. The first night is always packed like this, so full it’s hard to believe the fair runs for six whole weeks. 

You share a heart-shaped churro and pose for the photos he wants to take, your heart swelling with affection as you pretend to be embarrassed when he buys matching character headbands for you both. Two years ago, Heeseung would’ve told you that headbands aren’t a good use of your money and bought them anyway, but today, he spent fifteen minutes trying on and taking photos with each character before finding the perfect pair. You can’t help but grin as he puts the headband on for you, a sense of excitement blooming inside you, so great it’s overwhelming.

Heeseung buys a blue raspberry slushy in an obnoxiously large reusable cup with two straws, and as he clutches his head with each brain freeze, chuckles pour out of you, only increasing when he pouts. 

At every opportunity, the two of you take selfies, and the grin on his face in each one warms your heart. He posts his favourite to his story, showing you all the compliments he’s getting in his DMs, all aimed at you. He seems so proud and excited to be with you, and butterflies go mad in your stomach as he reads some of them out to you, agreeing with and adding to the messages.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I think I might delete the picture,” he says, frowning as the story replies pour in. 

The look on his face makes you laugh, struggling to talk but trying anyway. “But I love it.” 

Heeseung puts his phone away, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I love you,” he says, using his free hand to tip your chin towards him. He grins when you say it back, tracing his thumb along your jaw. An odd stillness hits you, in the midst of vibrant chaos. Flashes of multi-coloured LEDs dance in orange and purple strobes over his face and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are pretty and wide, flicking from your eyes to your mouth a few times as a flame starts to burn in your stomach, low and scorching. 

“I love you,” you repeat, tip-toeing to close the gap. 

You kiss him, slow and sweet to savour the sugary taste on his lips as they move against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss and the taste of syrupy artificial fruit, leaving you craving more, craving him. A pop goes out in the air and you flinch in Heeseung’s arms. He chuckles against your lips before he pulls away, looking up. Trails of pink and gold paint the sky above, vibrant sparks spreading everywhere as a few more go off. If you weren’t so busy trying to catch your breath, you might appreciate their beauty, but you are and the next pop only startles you too. 

Heeseung looks down at you, his slightly swollen lips curving into a grin. “How are you so cute?” he coos. “And don’t most people want fireworks to go off when they kiss someone?” 

“It’s probably a sensation thing, Heeseung.” You know it’s a sensation thing. The first time he kissed you, it felt like you were floating on air, as if Sunghoon’s basement, cold and dark, was the most romantic place on Earth. You were sweaty and nervous, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Heeseung while the boys were sleeping. He was the one to lean in and he kissed the tip of your nose by accident.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Come here.” His voice is so deep and raspy that it spurs the flame on, burning higher, hotter, until it’s the only thing you can think about. His hand finds your jaw again, pulling you towards him to kiss you. Of course, you can’t resist; he’s Heeseung. 

The kiss is rife with neediness, whether from you or Heeseung you can’t tell, but you’re tugging at his hair and he’s clutching at your t-shirt, both of you struggling to get enough of the other. You nip at his bottom lip with your teeth and a heady sigh falls from his mouth into yours, brewing a storm in your mind, a thick fog obscuring everything but thoughts of him.

At the sound of a forced throat clearing, you break away from Heeseung, seeing an elderly lady with a steaming cup in her hand and a disgruntled look on her face. She extends an arm, gesturing behind you. When you follow the direction of her hand, you see a bench that you’re standing right in front of. Heeseung grabs your hand, mumbling an apology and tugging you as far away as possible. You struggle to stifle a laugh at the redness of his ears against his hair. 

A huge ride swings and spins into the air, catching your attention, though Heeseung seems to be more interested in the way Jake stands by the entrance with a scowl on his face. Jake waves you over when he sees you, grinning and hugging you both like it’s been years since he saw you. 

“Jay and Hoon are..” he trails off, using his arm to vaguely gesture towards the sky. 

“Man,” Heeseung whispers, pointing a reverent finger to the sky, “R.I.P.” 

Countless fireworks shoot up noisily, painting the dark sky, and Heeseung’s arms fall heavily around your shoulders, his body warm against your back. If not for the way Jake’s flinching next to you, covering his ears with his hands and ducking slightly at the bang of each one, it might feel like the two of you are alone in the moment. Alone despite the chatter, the laughter and squeals. Just you and Heeseung. 

And Jake. 

Heeseung is amazing at fair games, especially the ring toss. But a tired-looking man in a business suit wins the Hello Kitty plush you’d been eyeing for the snotty toddler wrapped around his leg, so you settle for the Kuromi plush instead. Heeseung says it’s cuter. You agree. 

His voice is soft when he asks, “Maybe we can go on the Ferris wheel later?” This is a far cry from the boy of sixteen who fainted at an amusement park just from seeing the drop on the biggest ride there. When you look up at him, his eyes are wide, boring into you, holding the stars in his pupils with a grin across his blue-stained lips, and how could you say no to that face? 

The platform by the Ferris wheel is sticky under your shoes, making you cringe with every step you take towards the front of the line. Heeseung’s grip on your hand is tighter than you think it’s ever been when he realises that you’re next to get on. This might be the most scared you’ve ever seen him, your poor boyfriend with his overpriced Kuromi headband shivering beside you. 

You frown at the sight, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We don’t have to do this, Hee,” you say.

He tries to play it cool, shrugging with a nonchalance that doesn’t match the fear in his eyes. “I want to,” he assures, though his voice lacks conviction. 

“Are you sure?” The way he flinches when the ride operator opens the gate gives you his answer, but Heeseung is firm in his words as he pulls you towards the cart, despite wincing when the operator locks you in. “Baby,” you whisper, touching his cheek. “It’s not too late to get out.” 

In what appears to be a display of his bravery, he makes a show of rocking the carriage — only to be told off by the operator (who can’t be older than sixteen) — and cheering (with no conviction) about nothing in particular. You can’t help but laugh, the cart shaking slightly as you let your head fall back and you only laugh harder when Heeseung gasps because of it. 

He flinches again when the ride starts moving, an unsettling creak sending you forward just enough to allow the next victims — according to Heeseung — to get on the ride. When the last of them board, the wheel sets off in a slow spin and he spends the entire first rotation with his eyes clamped shut, only opening them after a while when he thinks the ride is over. 

The wheel creaks more than what you think is necessary and he only grows more and more outwardly uncomfortable, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and gripping the safety bar above your laps until his knuckles turn white. 

“Would it make you feel better if I held your hand?” you coo, holding your left hand out to him. 

He rolls his eyes but takes your hand in his, holding it between his palms. Seemingly at ease, Heeseung shifts slightly in his seat to close the tiny gap between you, pressing his knee into yours. 

Even in the distance, the fair’s LED lights are beautiful, melting away into flashing bokeh before your eyes as the carriage inches higher and higher. You almost forget your company, leaning over the edge to get a better look, only for Heeseung to put his arm on your arm, mumbling, “Stop it.” 

His skin is warm despite the slight chill that comes with your increasing altitude, and you wish the carriage was smaller—cramped even, forcing the two of you together so tightly that you have no choice but to become one. You sit in the quiet of the night, excitement on the fairground growing quieter as the wheel spins, agonisingly slow, until eventually it’s just the two of you—you and Heeseung: the only people in the moment. 

The only people in the world.

“Why are we even on this thing?” you whisper, squeezing his hand. 

Heeseung shrugs his shoulders as gently as he can manage so as not to rock the carriage. His eyes are big when he looks at you, holding your gaze intently. “I wanted to be romantic.” 

Oh, Heeseung, you think, pressing your lips into a frown. He’s the sweetest person in the world and just the thought of it makes your stomach flutter. “You’re plenty romantic,” you say sincerely. 

He scoffs. “Yeah, because pretending you didn’t exist for a year is romantic.” 

“Yes! Very!” You chuckle, nodding your head. 

Again, he rolls his eyes at you but he uses his hand to hold your face, pulling you in. His kiss tastes like candy floss and the blue raspberry slushy you shared earlier, lips soft, relaxed against your own. Your hand reaches for his thigh, meeting instead with the squished plushy between your bodies and you can’t help but laugh. 

With your presentation out of the way, you and the guys are all sitting in Heeseung and Jay’s living room for the first night of Spring break. You’ve just about reached your limit, cuddling into Heeseung’s side with your eyes closed, sleepily listening to the conversation. It’s unintelligible, more laughter and wheezes than anything else. 

You shift your way into Heeseung’s lap after a while, moving around to get comfortable. It only takes two movements for him to grab you by the waist, holding you still. You try again, and his lips catch the shell of your ear. “Relax, baby. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you admit, moving around again until he sighs, relieved, you think. A wicked grin spreads over your lips when you feel him getting hard, grinding down on him a little and liking the warmth that spreads in your stomach from having him pressed against you. 

“Stop it,” he whispers, kissing the spot behind your ear. 

You heed the warning but can’t help the thoughts filling your mind, though you try to ignore them, laughing at something Sunghoon said about Jake’s ugly hat and shoes. Jake doesn’t find it as funny as the rest of you seem to.

Another hour passes by in the same way before the boys stumble into Jay’s room, calling out a slurred goodnight to you and Heeseung on the couch. You stand up first, holding out a hand for him to take and giggling when he presses a kiss to the back of it. 

In his room, he stares at a spot on the wall as you close the door, a contemplative look on his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, but he doesn’t look at you, only nodding his head with a crease along his brow. 

You kiss him, a featherlight touch of your lips against his. It’s soft for a while, sweet and sincere until he clutches your shirt like his life depends on it. Heeseung’s hands are all over you, stroking and squeezing every part of you he can reach. Overwhelming heat burns your skin under his touch. He inhales sharply through his nose when you reach for his waistband, tugging the drawstring free but he grabs your wrist, stopping you. He keeps kissing you, keeps trying and frowns when you pull away. 

“You don’t want this?” 

He tilts his head, looking down at you with concern flooding his wide eyes. “Do you think we’re going too fast?” His voice is quiet and he chews on his lip after speaking. 

“We’ve been together for six years.” 

“A month,” he corrects, looking at his feet.

As badly as you want him, you don’t want him doing anything he’s not ready for, so you wiggle your arm free from his grip, dropping it at your side. He lifts his head to look at you, brows knitted together, the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with wide eyes. “I just don’t want us doing anything you’ll regret.”

“I’m not going to regret this, I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Heeseung,” you say, holding his face in your hands. 

He closes his eyes, nodding. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“Never,” he whispers and the word has you falling to your knees. 

It’s hard to see his exact expression in only the dim glow of the streetlights outside, but you can clearly see the way he’s watching you. The way his eyes are lidded as he chews on his bottom lip, watching you reach for the buckle on his belt. Heeseung threads his fingers through your hair, groaning, and for a few seconds, you’re hypnotised. Too wrapped up in tipsiness and lust to move your fingers, completely focused on the way his breath starts to pick up before you’ve even done anything. You’re starting to think it might be enough for him just to see you like this, on your knees for him, wide-eyed and eager. 

Whether on purpose or not, Heeseung tugs on your hair gently, pulling you from your trance. His blunt fingernails scratch at the back of your head as you undo his belt, tugging his jeans down. He steps out of them as soon as he can, smiling when you toss them behind you. Too worked up to wait, you push your face against him. You take a minute to hold his covered cock between your lips, shuddering at the feeling of the damp spot at the top of it. Heeseung grunts, bucking his hips. He looks like sin when you lock eyes with him, licking a strip to the top of his waistband, sucking and nipping at the skin and coarse hair there. 

“Quit teasing,” he says, still keeping control of his voice. 

You blink up at him sweetly, shaking your head. “I’m not,” you mumble, pulling his underwear down. 

Heeseung’s dick smacks his stomach with a wet sound that makes you clench around nothing, and you sit back on your heels to admire him. Maybe it’s from time, or your unbearable desire, but he looks bigger, thicker, and much prettier than you remember. When you finally drag your eyes from his dick, you notice a mark on his hip, right above where his thigh starts. It’s a smudge of something dark, inky almost. You furrow your brows, licking the pad of your thumb to try and get rid of it. He practically flinches when you touch it, moving away from you. The increased distance between you and the low lighting only further obscures it—when you rub at the mark it doesn’t budge. 

“What is this?” 

“It’s nothing,” he says, sitting down on the bed and covering it with his hand. 

If it was anyone other than Heeseung, you might have thought it was a tattoo, but you can’t make sense of the thought so it slips your mind as soon as it occurs. You reach for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on, losing your breath at the sight of his skin glowing golden in the light, and the tip of his cock is a tempting, glossy red. You can’t help but take him in your hand, stroking him slowly. 

“Tell me, baby.” 

“It’s a bruise,” he manages through a gasp, licking his lips.

Your thumb swipes over his slit and he crumbles. “Heeseung.” 

“Butterfly, it’s a butterfly.” 

A fuzzy warmth starts to bloom in your chest, overwhelming you. “Lay down,” you say, voice as soft as it’s ever been. 

Heeseung obliges, linking his fingers with yours when you move his hand from his thigh. Under the light, you can see it clearly, dark strokes of ink forming a pretty butterfly, tiny, and heart-achingly familiar. 

“Is it..” You trail off, moving your lips around words that you can’t get out as tears sting your eyes. “Did I draw this?” Leaning over him, you get as close as you can, using your finger to trace the shape. 

Sitting up on his elbows, he looks down at you with a worried look on his face as he nods. “Do you hate it?” 

“I love it.. it’s perfect.” You let go of his hand, using the back of your fingers to wipe at your eyes. 

Heeseung sits up, letting his hand cup your cheek and looking at you. He uses his thumb to wipe some of the tears you missed before leaning down and kissing you. His lips move slowly with yours, he’s being gentle, so gentle that you hear your heart thudding in your ears. 

“Come sit,” he mumbles against your mouth, helping you up and guiding you into his lap, a whine falling out of him when you sit on his cock and you mumble an apology that you don’t mean.

“When did.. Why did you..”

His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “My first birthday I spent without you. I just wanted to have something for you.”

You’ve seen it and you’ve heard it from him, but you still can’t make sense of it. “But you’re.. you’re Heeseung. You’d never get a tattoo, you told me that.” 

“I’ll probably never get another tattoo, it hurt like hell,” he says, frowning. 

“You’re such a sweetheart.” You cradle his face in your hands, gazing into his eyes, your sweet Heeseung. So different yet so incredibly similar. “You’re, like, obsessed with me.”

There’s a loud adoration in his eyes that makes your stomach turn. “How could I not be?” His smile is wide even though his lips are smushed a little by the way you’re holding his face. 

Heeseung tilts his chin towards you so you kiss him, the two of you passing moans and whines between your mouths as you grind on him, his hands gripping your waist under your shirt. He shudders under you, rutting his hips against yours with a groan. He’s harder than ever underneath you, his cock hot between your thighs, pressed up against your core in the most maddening way. It can’t be comfortable for him, the friction from your underwear but he seems like he’s enjoying it just as much as you, maybe more, you think, when he starts throbbing. 

Conscious of the boys across the hall, you try your best to be quiet, though Heeseung doesn’t share your concern, his lips parting too wide to keep kissing you and his head falling back as he lets a whine out into the air. His nails dig into your skin, hips speeding up more than you can keep up with as he trembles, clearly so close to the edge that you moan at the sight of him all fucked out in front of you. You chew on your lip, watching his whole face scrunch up before falling to your shoulder, his cum leaking out all over your panties and the tops of your thighs. A grin covers your lips while your pussy aches from the heat of his release and the feeling of his staggered breath hitting your skin. When he finally sits up, sweat slicks the column of his neck and chest, a nervous look in his eyes that he can’t quite bring to meet yours. 

“This is j—” Heeseung cuts you off by covering your mouth with his palm. 

“I remember. You don’t have to say it, baby, I remember.” 

“You were so cute that day,” you say when he moves his hand. Butterflies fill your stomach when you think about it, the first time you ever did anything with each other, with anyone. He was fifteen, with cute round glasses perched on the end of his nose and teeth too big for his mouth, finishing in his jeans with you in his lap.

“You don’t think I’m cute anymore?” he asks, frowning. 

“You’re always cute.”

Heeseung grins at your words, so wide and sweet your heart races. He kisses you gently and slips his hand into your underwear, his finger trailing the length of your pussy slowly, groaning into your mouth at how wet you are. You whine into the kiss when he strokes your clit and gasp when he pushes a finger into you easily. Gradually, he adds more fingers, fucking you open on his knuckles and watching as you fall apart.

His lips move from yours, falling to your neck so he can kiss and suck the sensitive skin there. “You feel so good, baby. My sweet girl,” he mumbles, breath searing your skin. The words make you clench, your stomach fluttering relentlessly as he uses his thumb to press on your clit, the pressure enough to make you spiral. It’s all too much too fast and before long, you’re squirming and mewling in Heeseung’s arms, finishing all over his fingers. 

Immediately, an excruciating flush burns every inch of your body as you hide your face in his neck to catch your breath. His arms wrap around you and he whispers sweet nothings into your hair while stroking your back.

Ever since that night in his room, all your senses feel heightened when Heeseung is around. 

And it doesn’t help that you spend every waking moment with him. Whether in his flat or yours, you’re joined at the hip and it’s near impossible not to pounce on him. In your stomach blooms a heat you haven’t felt in years. An all-consuming flame that makes you hold your breath when he cuddles you; makes you look away when he strips before showering.

He’s taken a liking to shirtlessness, only seeming to remember that the garments exist when he has to leave the house—which isn’t often now that classes have ended. This sudden cotton allergy plagues you, burning the image of his ever-increasing muscle definition and the tattoo on his hip into your memory, so deeply they’re the only things you see when you close your eyes at night. 

Even when Heeseung’s being romantic, cooking dinner for the two of you and almost burning his finger with a match while lighting a candle, you’re thinking about him fucking you. When he goes out with the boys and stumbles into your flat, drunk, with a crushed bouquet in his hands, you’re thinking about what might have happened if you’d gone out too. If he’d finger you in the back of a taxi or take you against the door when you got back. 

Weeks go by like this until you finally reach your limit. 

There’s nothing overtly sexual about the way Heeseung’s sitting. About the way his lashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks, or the way his hair sits in a sleepy mess on his forehead. But it’s Heeseung. So these things existing on him drive you crazy. 

Given the lack of privacy in your family homes — by way of an open-door rule when visiting each other — you and Heeseung didn’t have many opportunities to have sex that didn’t involve being tangled around one another in the backseat of his car. And even those occasions were few and far between. 

With the only three brain cells that seem to function around your shirtless boyfriend and your head on the doorjamb, you begin to scheme. It doesn’t have to be elaborate—just a way to get Heeseung to fuck you without you having to bring it up. 

“What’s up, baby?” he asks, finally looking over at you. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, with a raspiness to it that makes your thoughts run wild. From head to toe, his eyes drag over your body, his tongue coming out to run over his lips. 

Clearly, a very delicate, well-timed conversation is in order and the gears in your mind scrape against each other, turning egregiously as you try to figure out how to start the conversation. “I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out. Not the most delicate approach, but the way Heeseung’s eyes widen suggests you might be on the right track. “I didn’t mean to say that,” you admit sheepishly. 

He chuckles deeply in a way you haven’t heard in years. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a challenge in his question, evident from his raised brow, the setting aside of his phone, and the way he sits up straight. The movement forces the duvet to slip a little, falling from above his belly button to his hips in one fell — effortlessly sexy — swoop. 

In spite of this, you can’t help but roll your eyes at him. How could you be standing there, in nothing but his t-shirt, asking him to fuck you and he’s caught up on semantics? “That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“What are you saying?” When you don’t say anything, Heeseung lifts the duvet from his body entirely, grinning when your gaze locks on his hips. His pyjama pants are sitting low enough to show off the waistband of his underwear, and they don’t do anything to hide the way his hard cock pushes against them.

Heeseung towers over you, overwhelming you and the space of the doorframe as his mouth quirks up at one corner. “You want it, baby?” he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face in his hand, using his thumb to trace your lips. 

His face dips down to yours and you can’t resist reaching up to kiss him, whining at the contact as you move your lips in sync with his. The sounds he’s making are dizzying, deep groans you feel in your chest. His hand grips your waist, pulling you as close as possible so you can feel him, hard and thick, pressing against you. 

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing his kiss, but Heeseung only chuckles. “Say the word and I’m yours,” he whispers, looking down at you with those big eyes. 

“I’m not going to beg.” 

He smiles sweetly, a soft curve of his lips summoning butterflies. “Suit yourself,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of your neck and leaving the room. 

Flustered, you follow him, flinging your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back. “Okay, I’m going to beg.”

“I’m listening.” 

“I need you,” you mumble into his skin. 

“You have me.” 

Even though his words and the way his lips audibly split into a grin make your heart race, you can’t help your frustration. “Heeseung,” you say, pleading with him. 

He frees himself from your grip, turning around. When you look up at him, he’s watching you closely through lidded eyes, his lips parted in a soft pout that makes your heart melt. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close enough to feel him pressing against you. “I’m all yours, baby. What’s up?”

“Why are you torturing me?”

This makes him smile as he shakes his head. “I’m not.” 

“Please.”

He brings a hand up to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and you can’t help but nuzzle into his palm. “Please what?” 

“You know what I need and I can’t go any longer without it,” you mumble into his hand. Heeseung only raises a brow and you sigh. Somehow, your want for him is greater than your embarrassment so you sigh, looking him in the eye. “If you want to, please, please, fuck me, Heeseung. Any way you want, baby, just promise me you’ll do it. I need it, need you.” 

A shit-eating grin takes over his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Was that so hard?” he asks, frowning when you don’t reply. “Don’t get all moody, baby, talk to me.” 

Heeseung picks you up, holding you close as you wrap your legs around his waist. Both of his hands are spread over your ass and you’re too embarrassed to say anything, chewing your lip and staring at the little mole on his forehead. 

“Need me to fuck you ‘til you can talk again?” There’s a roughness to his voice that makes your cheeks flush, but you can’t help but laugh, head falling back in a fit of cackles. 

“What are you talking about?” 

His pretty lips come together in a pout before he speaks. “I don’t know.” He shrugs, the tips of his ears burning red as he carries you to his room, using his foot to close the door behind him. “I’m rusty.”

You shake your head before kissing his forehead. “You’re perfect.”

Heeseung sets you down on the bed gently, crawling over you. “I like seeing you in my shirts,” he says, clutching the fabric in his fists, tugging a little. 

“Someone has to wear them.”

A breathy laugh falls from his lips. “What?” He tilts his head, leaning away from you to sit back on his heels. “You don’t like seeing me like this?” 

It’s hard to find a balance between missing his warmth and looking at his body. Staring at the definition that marks his chest and stomach and the way his muscles stick out over his biceps, you can feel yourself leaking at the sight of him. Your eyes catch on his waistband, on the strip of hair that’s cut off by the start of the fabric before falling to the bulge in his pants. 

“You’re looking at me like I’m your next meal,” he mumbles, leaning back over you with a deep flush on his cheeks and neck.

“I think I want you to be.” 

“You think?”

You nod eagerly, anticipation swirling in your stomach. 

“Anything I can do to make you certain?” Heeseung’s voice is thick with something you think could be enough to make you finish. 

“Whatever you want,” you say, desperate. 

He chews on his lip, considering you for a while before kissing your cheek. Once more, he sits up, tugging at your waist. “First, I want this shirt out of my way,” he says with a smile. 

Immediately, you lean off the bed to let him take it off, tossing it behind him. “Anything else?” 

Heeseung’s too busy staring to speak, taking you in hungrily with a jarring combination of lust and adoration behind his eyes. You thought you’d feel shy about him seeing you after so long, but you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life as he reaches down to lock his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “You’re so pretty,” he says against your skin. 

There’s no stopping the flutter in your stomach or the smile that spreads over your lips. You tell him you love him and he says it back as he leans back down to kiss you slowly, his tongue licking into your mouth at an agonising pace, a line of saliva connecting you to him when he pulls away. 

“I want to get my head between your legs,” he mumbles, letting his hand dip between your spread thighs. “So wet already?” he asks, dragging your slick up to your clit, rubbing it with a featherlight touch that leaves a whine slipping from your lips. “Will you let me?” 

You nod. 

Heeseung smiles and you match it before he dips his head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there for a minute. His breath and wet mouth are hot, burning a trail down to your collarbone and chest, where he gets distracted, pulling one of your nipples between his lips.

Your stomach twists at the sight of him, his pretty, pouty lips sucking and biting at your sensitive skin, the way he’s moaning against you, using his thick fingers to tug and pinch your other breast. It takes him a while to move on but you don’t complain, even when he presses tickly kisses to your stomach. 

When he reaches your legs, he gets off the bed, kneels on the floor and hooks his arms around your thighs to pull you towards him. You feel exposed when he uses his thumbs to spread you, staring at your pussy with wide eyes, his lips parted a little until his head falls back with a groan. 

“Missed this pussy. Been thinking about it so much, all the time. So beautiful, baby.” He manages to drag his gaze from between your legs to lock eyes with you. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” His lips touch your thighs, kissing the soft skin there, sucking marks into it and biting softly. The sting is subtle but it makes you clench, a movement that isn’t lost on him. “You’re so needy, huh? You want me that bad?” he asks, looking up with a tilted head. 

You mumble the word ‘no’ and shake your head. “Need you.” The words come out of their own accord, nothing more than a desperate whine that makes Heeseung press his eyes shut. You watch as he shifts on the floor, leaning in and giving you the attention you deserve. 

Heeseung’s nose grazes your slit and you gasp at the sudden contact, flinging your head back into the pillows when he licks a strip from there to your clit, giving it a quick peck. 

You card your fingers through his hair, gripping at the strands so hard it must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, going slow despite the way you’re trying to rut against his face. He kisses the spot above your clit, his tongue poking out to lick at the skin there, only hitting the bud a few times and the anticipation is enough to make you spiral. 

Time stands still, all concept of it demolished when, finally, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit, running his tongue over it with a pressure that leaves you shaking against the sheets. Moans pour out of you like water from a faucet with nothing but pleasure and Heeseung’s sweet mouth crossing your mind. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s ever going to stop, only coming up for air for a brief moment before sticking a finger into you and attaching his mouth to your clit, burying himself in your wetness. The stretch is minimal, barely registering in the waves of pleasure crashing over you, until he adds a second finger, thick and rigid as he works you open for him. By the time his third finger enters, you have to pull him away by his hair, struggling to find the words to say and settling on a whiny cry of his name.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, face covered in slick that shines on his chin and nose, shoulders rising and falling heavily, but his fingers don’t let up, curling towards your belly button torturously slow.

“Want to cum with you inside.”

Heeseung’s eyes darken and he licks his lips. “Yeah?” 

“Uh-huh, and I don’t want you using a condom either, want you to fill me up.”

“Are you sure?” 

You nod. “I’m still on the pill and you’re the only person I’ve ever been with.”

Heeseung wastes no time standing up from the floor, watching hungrily as you sigh at the emptiness, moving up on the bed. He uses his fist to pump his cock slowly, sighing when he drags his thumb over his tip. A beat passes before he grins, boyish and handsome while crawling over you again. His face softens and his eyes burn into yours as he cups your cheek in his palm. “You sure about this?” 

“I’m sure, Heeseung, you’re all I want,” you whisper, pecking his lips. 

“Me too.” 

He uses his free hand to reach for his cock, rubbing his tip over your clit and chewing on his lip. He lets his cock split your folds, grinding his length against you, rubbing your cunt with a wet sound that fills the room. Heeseung straightens up and you moan when he spits into his palm, stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. You hold your breath, bracing for the stretch and crying out when he pushes in. His head falls forward with a sigh, his hair tickling your forehead.

“I missed you,” he groans when he bottoms out, his thumb running over your lips. A moan slips out of him when you open your mouth, running your thumb over the pad of his finger and sucking on it. “Missed these pretty lips, this pussy. Don’t know how I got on without it.” His words and the feeling of him inside after so long only make you dizzy, knowing that he wanted you like you wanted him. He watches you with parted lips, rocking his hips tenderly against yours. 

“Faster, Hee,” you whisper. “Harder.” 

Heeseung’s brows knit together and he slows to a pace that lets you feel single vein and inch of him as he bottoms out before pulling almost all the way out. “Can you take it?” he asks, a jarring tone to his voice that you think is a challenge. 

You nod desperately. “Please.” 

The word flips a switch for him and he speeds up, thrusting so hard, so deep that your back arches off the bed as his tip nudges your g-spot each time. Just when it all starts to feel too much, Heeseung lifts one of your legs, hitting deeper than he has before and tangling up a knot in your stomach. 

“You’re so good, baby, so good for me.” His eyes are dark and lidded, full of all the love in the world as he gazes into yours, a tangible love that overwhelms you, eating you alive along with his praise.

Sweltering heat stretches through every part of your body at the drag of him inside, the push and pull of his cock along your stuttering walls. It’s enough to make you shiver and a cry of his name rips out of you when he starts rubbing your clit again, pushing the bud in slow circles that make you screw your eyes shut. 

“That’s it. Cum for me, baby, make a mess,” he whispers and that’s as much as you can take. 

Stars flash behind your closed eyes as every single part of your body sets alight, dazed by Heeseung’s whines and the feeling of being full, finally being full, until both ends of the knot tug and tug, leaving you with nothing but a hoarse moan that dies in your throat as your orgasm hits you like a truck. 

A lewd squelch accompanies each of his thrusts as they get sloppier and sloppier, losing their rhythm and intensity. It seems like he’s right there with you though when he collapses on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck and his moans slipping out like music to your ears.

It’s hard not to fall apart under him, but you try your best, dragging your nails over the toned muscles of his back while telling him you love him over and over until he finishes. Both of you are trembling, fighting for breath and whining as Heeseung sloppily fucks you full of his cum. The sound is downright pornographic, loud and wet as your cum mixes with his for the first time in so long. An inexplicable intimacy so thick it hangs in the air, perching on your shoulders as he looks into your eyes. 

Heeseung slows down after a while, stopping completely but not pulling out yet, keeping you full and aching around him. When he catches his breath, he gives you a dreamy smile, thanking you before pressing soft kisses to every part of your face he can reach. 

You whine when he pulls out, missing him as soon as he’s gone. Despite your sensitivity, you want to beg him to come back, to slip back into you and stay forever, though Heeseung has other plans. He sits between your legs, dragging a lazy finger up your slit and watching with a smile as cum leaks out. You squirm against the sheets, pushing your head into the pillow when he uses two fingers to push it back in.

“Wish I could keep you full like this forever,” he mumbles absently, curling his fingers. 

All you can do is sigh happily. Long minutes go by until he takes his fingers out of you, reaching behind him for his shirt to wipe you up before leaning down to your face, mumbling against your lips to come and shower with him.

You’ve never showered with Heeseung before and a voice in your head tells you to press your cheek against the tile and let him have you again, but you’re way too sleepy for that. The warmth of the water and his big hands roaming your body do nothing to help, only forcing your eyes to fall shut as you lean back against Heeseung’s chest, willing yourself to stay awake. 

Once you’re all showered and clean, you only feel sleepier, standing on the plush bath mat in front of the steamed-up mirror. Droplets of water trickle down your skin and you can’t help but revel in the warmth of the room around you. Wrapped snugly in a soft, fluffy towel, you find yourself too tired to follow Heeseung out, slathering some of the expensive moisturiser Jay keeps in the bathroom over your skin. You peer into the mirror, though you don’t see much, and for a moment, it’s just you and the steady trickle of water from the showerhead. The bathroom smells like Heeseung’s minty shower gel and you miss him already, but you take your time anyway, savouring the moment and everything that came before it. 

You find him in his room when you’re done, tucking the last corner of a fitted sheet around his mattress. 

“You want to nap, baby?” he asks when he sees you, holding out a clean shirt for you to wear. 

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head and dropping the towel so he can put the shirt over your head. 

“Let me just fix the pillowcases, yeah?” 

You nod, slumping into his desk chair and watching the muscles in his back shift and flex as he moves around the room, dumping the dirty bedding into his laundry basket and slipping the clean linen over his pillows. He pulls the duvet back and pats the mattress, grinning when you shake your head and make grabby hands in his direction, 

Heeseung stretches his arms above his head and comes over to you but you stop him before he can pick you up. 

“I’m going grocery shopping with Yunjin later and I need a pound for the trolley, do you have any?” you ask through a yawn. 

He scratches his chin, thinking about it. “If I do, they’re in my wallet,” he says, reaching for it on the desk and handing it to you before taking a seat on the end of his bed. 

When you pull on the zipper to open the coin slot, you find a shiny pound coin and a folded piece of lined paper. You leave the coin where it is and hold the paper between two fingers for him to see. “What’s this?” 

Immediately, he hides his face with his hands but you can still see the flush on his ears. You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting, but despite your curiosity, you won’t look at it if he doesn’t want you to. “Sorry, baby,” you say, putting it back. “Forget I asked.” 

Heeseung sighs, looking up at you through the gaps in his fingers. “You can look if you want, it’s nothing bad, just mildly humiliating.” 

Nervous anticipation settles over your body and you can’t help but laugh a little, feeling your breath catch in your throat when you unfold the crumpled and creased paper. It’s blank. You arch a curious brow at Heeseung, who, though still slightly embarrassed, gestures for you to turn it over. 

What meets your eyes on the other side leaves you stunned. There, inked in blue with delicate care yet bearing the natural imperfections of a hand-drawn butterfly, was a familiar image. It’s the very same butterfly you drew in your notebook on a spring date with him four years ago. Your fingers tremble as you trace the lines, your heart racing as you remember how he’d torn it from the page, eyes full of appreciation for the simple drawing. 

Tears well up in your eyes when it dawns on you. It’s the very same butterfly he has tattooed on his hip, a permanent reminder of your love that endured separation and time. 

Your voice is weak as you look up at him, quivering with emotion. “You kept it after all these years,” you whisper.

Heeseung smiles, his eyes full of love. “I never let go of what matters to me.” 

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Cheerleaders + Football Team

The thing about cheerleaders and the infamous football team is that they’re quite accurate to their stereotypes

Now not every cheerleader team is run by a head girl who’s a massive bully 

Or that the football team is filled with dumb jocks that are just as violent if not worse

But they’re nothing to scoff at 

They’re beautiful

They’re athletic

And they're disciplined with confidence that comes with successful games and competitions

Such perks might give them quite a bit of power

Power that’s doubled when they’re working together

If you’d like to be happy you’re better off not figuring out just yet 

Since your arrival to the University, you’ve noticed more of your things have gone missing

Maybe this move made you more frazzled than you thought

Because you’ve found that you haven’t been able to keep friends like you used to

At least not without some help

“So you’re the new student, huh? Welcome to Energi University. As cheer captain, I’m really happy to welcome you finally!”

As she drags you along throughout your schedule, you’re waiting for the punch line

The moment she switches to embarrass you or smile coyly as she says something underhanded about your appearance

But she doesn’t 

Only twirling her hair as she asks you where you learned to glow like you do

You find it odd but you’re not complaining

Movies taught you that she and her team were top of the food chain 

so if they liked you enough maybe it’d trickle to some friends eventually

“Looking for a partner? Me too. How about we uh work together, freshie. If we finish before class ends you can have my varsity jacket and I can have yours.”

It seems it works as the beefy but beautiful captain of the football team partners up during chemistry

Between the two captains, you think you’re making progress

Finally beginning to make friends

But you couldn’t be farther from the truth

Already you were skipping right into the pitfall that was their playground—Energi University

It started with the cheerleader’s captain, gorgeous, rich, and with a serious attitude problem

She was making her daily rounds with her two main girls

‘Putting the worms in their place’ as she’d report to her team

Until she found something interesting 

a glasses-wearing nerd had been holding a file, scrolling through someone’s social page with such dedication they didn’t even realize they were being cornered

And its not just someone—you

while her girls were exploring the use of pins on the human body, she was going through this fairly thick file

A file all about you

Filled with hundreds of pictures of you some with consent some not

Extensive organized lists of your likes and dislikes

And a neat report on your current whereabouts and social circle

By the end of it, she was intrigued

She’s never been one for reading but she just can’t put it down

Having to be brought back into the real world when her girls are done playing 

“Already? Ugh, let’s go find the next one this little report of his might be worth selling to those stupid jocks.”

That’s just an excuse 

she’s combing over your photos again as she re-reads about the mundane drama in your life

“Babe, I thought you said you wanted to spend time with me? Not lose braincells studying!” 

Her boyfriend–captain of the football team is trying to draw her attention with kisses and inviting touches

But she’s just too focused

Eventually, he’s going to snatch it all away, taking a look at it

“Who’s this? Your latest victim?”

“Puhlease they don’t even know me…yet.”

The nights they spend together is searching you on socials as they filter through these words about your world

There’s just something about you that has them enraptured

For them it’s like when they first started dating, running off from their teams to gush about their latest finds about you

Texting all through the night about schemes to meet you

Whispering on the bus on their way to seasonal competitions

It isn’t long before the nosey teams start poking around

All it takes is a whispered mention of your name and they’re stalking your socials 

Some hire private investigators to tell all they can get their hands on

It’s like a virus how the whole team is eventually letting your distant lovely little life take up all of theirs 

At some point words and posts just aren’t enough

“Yo Cap, why don’t we just get them to come here?”

“Yeah! I know I can get my dad to extend a scholarship and dormitory if something happens at their old school.”

“Hmm, I do still have those lighter fluid canisters.”

“Oooh and I can get them out of the dorms for awhile!”

“Then  we can swoop in and be the knight’s of shining armor they’ll need!”

“C’mon, captain! Let’s bring them home, aren’t you tired of looking at them through the screen?”

“Don’t you think it’d boost our morale for the championship?”

“Yeah!!” Pleaassee!?”

What terrible captains they’d be if they let their teams down now

So the plan is set, you conveniently are stood up on a date when your dorm and campus is burnt down killing so many friends you made+

The mysterious fire destroying their security footage and all your belongings too 

Its natural you start looking for a new college, a safer option

“Hey (Y/n) why don’t you come to our next game? Forget about that horrible fire and cheer us on!”

“Wait how did you know–”

“Grapevine cutie! Now what do you say to a sleepover!?”

“Not after we do our victory party!”

“Oh, you’ll have to try our captain’s famous jello shot! It’s going to knock your clothes+ socks off.”

Both Captains will watch happily as the group swarms you 

Your questions about the slug you made plans with prior were drowned out in their shouting and giggling

Their goal wasn’t to make you worry 

After all, they had the power to dissolve all of that 

The Captains and their teams

“Now that we have them I don’t see any reason, why our teams won’t be planned for an all-around victory in the nationals.”

“Of course, though we could do it without them. Money and pure talent are a given for people like us.”

“Still there’s nothing wrong with sharing a good luck charm.”

“You are absolutely right..”

“Aren’t I always? That being said we’ll have to talk about the…hoarding issue.”

“Oh yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that. The next time one of your cheerleaders interrupts me, they’ll be dealing with more than broken legs.”

“And your players should know the next time they take my time with (Y/n) away they won’t just become paralyzed.”

[lovifie]

141 Task Force Men and what piece of clothing they would steal.

(No smutty, just these fine gentlemen being little rats that steal your clothes)

Price💸

First of all, he would steal everything.

Especially if you lived together.

"What do you mean I can't grab your jacket to go buy some bread? Bla, bla, bla. I'll be back before you miss it."

"Oh, these are your socks? I was wondering when I had bought such bright colour ones."

"Why are you wearing my raincoat, John?" "Excuse me? Is mine!" "No, it's not!!"

In his mind, if he is planning to share his life with you, it simply makes sense for him to share everything else.

But there is something he is stealing over everything else, and those are booty shorts.

My man is overheating in this global warmed world, and he is looking on his closest for some shorts when he stumbles upon your booty shorts.

They are ridiculously short, basically legalized underwear he can wear outside; but this is the coolest he has felt since summer started, so he isn't stopping.

After all, who is going to tell the military captain what to wear?

Plus, when you wake up in the morning you are greeted by him in the kitchen making coffee and booty shorts with "juicy" written on them.

Extra: The two of you have an extensive collection of hats, that he technically doesn't steal from because it's shared.

Extra x2: He owns the "Woman want me, Fish fear me."

Ghost 💀

Your sweaters

It all started the first night he went to your house.

He was wearing a leather jacket, and although he looked illegally hot; it was obvious it was not the comfiest jacket to be chilling ii.

So you offered him your fave sweater, a massive one that could almost work as a blanket.

At first, he rejects your offer, afraid that it will be itchy and he will offend you; but his complaints get shut when you ask him to please feel it.

Instantly tries it own, the massive sweater looking loose on his as well. The image of the behemoth of a man, all black, balaclava (no mask) still on... And the fluffiest sweater on melting your heart.

The next time he visited your house he didn't even wait for you to open the door before taking his jacket off: "....can I put on your sweater?"

They are kind of his guilty pleasure, he would never admit how much he likes them and even less to other person but you.

But you only need to see how he buries himself on the sweater when he sits down on the sofa.

If he was amazing to cuddle with before, now it's even better.

Extra: I also like to think of him having a random ear piercing, and whenever he wears just the surgical mask or no mask in general; he would steal one of your dangling earrings to wear. Playing with it throughout the whole night out.

Soap 🧼

Baby tees

Every single one of them.

He keeps saying they make their muscles look amazing (they do)

He likes the ones with drawings or photos, but his favourites are the ones with texts.

Cue to him wearing tight ass shirts saying such as: "Small tits, big heart", "I got my clit pierced at Claire's" or "Don't bully me, I'll cum :("

You don't even remember why you bought them, mostly they are gifts from Secret Santa but you are so, so glad they found their way to your closet.

He wears them proudly, not even realising the stares.

When you go online shopping he's always cuddling on your side, leaving one of your arms useless with the way he cuddles it.

If he sees a tee he likes he just makes you stop scrolling and add it to the basket like: "It'll look good in you too."

There is also a small collection of them, the ones you genuinely like that don't let him wear. Not after he put one on, started flexing his arms and back and ripped it.

Just staring at you with guilt on his eyes and his tits out.

Gaz ⛽

Your shirts.

The ugliest, most colourful, eye-sore, extravagant shirt that you might own? He's taking them.

You are cleaning your closet one day and you pull out an offense to your eyes, mumbling about what where you thinking when you bought it and Gaz sees it and is like: °o°

He's taking it.

Getting ready for a costume party, you decide to dress up as Master Roshi from Dragon Ball (fake beard and everything) but you are missing the ugly shirt.

You remember seeing it not too long ago in your closet but you can't find it. So you ask your boyfriend.

And you find him wearing it, spraying cologne on telling you that he is also going out with his mates and asking how do you look.

Little shit does pull it off, so you don't lie when you tell him he looks fantastic.

You still have plenty of ugly shirts for your costume.

Extra: He would steal all your jewerly, rings, bracelets, necklaces, you name it. Just little bits all over his outfit; "It signs the deal, babe." They do.

Extra x2: He is always waiting for somebody to compliment any of your things he is wearing to have an excuse to talk about you, Soap is tired of hearing him mumble about you whenever he drinks.

[moonstruckme]

hi love what about a Sirius pre relationship request where reader is super sick and he comes over to check on her and she's just kinda feeling the fever delusions and she asks him why he doesn't like? She's like I want to be ur gf ur so amazing what am I doing wrong? And just angst with fluff bc Sirius does have feelings for her

Hi, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve made this friends-with-benefits Sirius instead of them just being like platonic. Thank you for requesting!

cw: implied past sex? or basically mature themes

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Sirius is moderately concerned that this might qualify as breaking and entering, but he’s a lot more concerned about how you’re not taking his calls, and if you hadn’t wanted him to know where your spare key was, you should have done a better job of hiding it. 

He unearths the key. It slides into the lock welcomingly. Your apartment is dark and quiet, but it doesn’t take Sirius long to find you. Your bed looks like a tornado has hit, your sheets tangled, torn up from where they’re usually tucked underneath the end of the mattress, and one of your pillows fallen off to the side. Only the very top of your head pokes out from the mess, disheveled hair and a sliver of forehead. 

You don’t stir as he eases the covers down underneath your chin. Your face is sweet and placid, your lips pursed funnily where you’ve smushed them against your pillow. The sight of you all rumpled and sleepy melts Sirius to his core, and he says your name with more sweetness than he intends. 

Your lashes only twitch. 

Sirius knows he could nudge you awake with his hand atop your comforter, but he’s selfish. He slips it beneath to touch your shoulder. Your skin emanates a dry heat. 

“Hey,” he says, indulging in a sweep of his thumb when you start to rouse slowly. “What’s your deal, huh? What’s wrong with you?” 

Your eyes open, clearly feverish but nevertheless lovely as always. Your brow scrunches a little as you blink up at him. “Oh.” You sound more than tired, like you’ve not spoken in days. “Of course you’re here.” 

Sirius can’t help but smile. “Of course I am,” he agrees. “You think you can just dodge my calls and I won’t come knocking?” 

You sigh and pat under the covers around you until your hand emerges with your phone. “It’s dead,” you say, showing it to him. 

“You didn’t want to charge it?” 

“Charger’s all the way in the living room.” Your voice doesn’t seem to be growing any less sluggish as you wake up. Sirius finds this vaguely concerning. “I was gonna go get it in a little bit.” 

He wonders how long you’ve been telling yourself that for. You haven’t been responding to his texts or calls since last night. 

Sirius slots his palm alongside your cheek, though he already knows what he’ll feel. You close your eyes, tilting your face into the touch, and a tiny, fond twist behind his ribs makes his breath catch momentarily in his throat.

“How long have you been sick for, sweetheart?” 

You hum. “A while.” Your eyes open reluctantly. “Sorry, m’not much good for a lay right now.” 

Sirius’ hand draws back with the sting of your words. “You’re—that’s okay. I haven’t come looking for one.” 

You study him through the crush of your lashes. “Then why are you here?” 

“You weren’t answering your phone.” Granted, he had originally called to see if you were in the mood. But that cause ceased to matter when he didn’t hear from you, and when he asked around and no one in your circle had for at least a day. Then he’d just wanted to see you. “I came to check on you.” 

Your expression pinches as if his words pain you. It creates a little line on the insides of each of your brows and a sad tightening around your mouth. You look at him like this, occasionally. When there’s a room between you or when you’re high off sex, but never so openly. Never when you know he can see. 

“You’re so nice,” you say mournfully. 

Sirius’ laugh is soft with surprise. “You only think that because of the time I showed you last Friday.” 

“Don’t joke,” you say firmly. He feels his grin slip. “You always act like you’re not, but you are. You’re amazing, Sirius.” The urge to make fun of you rises in his chest, but he squashes it back down, where it settles like an ache behind his ribs. “I really wish you liked me.” 

It feels like all the air in his lungs dries up. “What?” he asks breathlessly. 

“You’re so smart,” you say, nearing a whisper, “and you are funny, but you’re also really good at lots of stuff. You’re good in general.” You seem like you’re looking at him and through him at the same time, your gaze faraway and wistful. “I know you don’t always think so, but you’re good. It makes me wish you liked me back. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong that you don’t like me.” 

Sirius feels like you’ve reached inside him and scooped all of him out. He’s nothing but a pile of guts and mush, his devotion to you in every sorry bit. He wants to tell you that he’s not half the things you say. (That you’re all of them and more.) He wants to say that you’ve never done a thing wrong in your life, or at least nothing that could matter to him, and the worst thing he ever did was letting you look at him with pain in your eyes and pretending he didn’t see. He wants you to know that he more than likes you, that he hasn’t found a word big enough for the feeling he carries around all day which aches in a way he hasn’t decided if he enjoys and throbs horribly when you’re around. And he wants to tell you all of this in a way that’s cool but sincere and makes you smile by the end. 

But when he looks at you your eyes are glossing over, all Sirius’ words tangle up in his mouth. 

“Hey, dollface,” he says, suppressing a much sweeter name and rubbing your cheek tenderly with his thumb, “stop that. Don’t get upset, please? You’re too lovely for tears.” 

The last bit comes out with a teasing bent, Sirius’ habit of shrouding affection with humor kicking in automatically. You smile like you’ve caught him again. It’s a half-hearted, flickering thing. 

“Sorry,” you say, blinking them away. One squishes out the corner of your eye, and Sirius catches it with his forefinger. “I’m being silly.” 

“You’re never silly,” he replies, then reconsiders. “Well, actually, you are. About lots of stuff, but we don’t need to talk about that right now.” Before he can stop himself, he’s bending to rest his lips on the spot where the tear started to roll down your cheek. When he draws back, his lips are warmer and taste of salt. 

Sirius swallows. “Would you be alright if I stayed here for a bit? I want to help make sure you’re okay.” 

You regard him through glassy eyes nevertheless lovely as always. “Okay,” you say. Your voice sounds so normal he almost wonders if you’ve forgotten what you’d spoken about just a few moments earlier. “That’s nice of you, thanks.” 

He fights the urge to correct you a second time. “It’s no problem,” he says instead. “We can talk about the rest when you’re feeling a bit better, yeah?” 

Your expression turns nervous. You haven’t forgotten. “Really?” you ask, voice breathless like it’s a wish you don’t expect granted. 

That unnamed feeling gives a deep, powerful throb. “Yeah, sweetheart.” Sirius rubs your cheek again, your skin soft and precious under his thumb. “I promise.” 

[marilynslove]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚ · . boyfriend rafe hcs <33 (sweetheart-ish edition !!)

౨ৎ - bf!rafe who literally can't keep his hands off you : whether it be at parties with his arm slithered around your waist, fingers absent mindedly drawing shapes on the skin of your arm while taking a sip of his beer - trying his best not to roll his eyes as topper rambled about sarah. or when it's just the two of you at home, cuddled up on the couch while watching a cheesy romcom you'd somehow managed to get him to watch - or at least pretend to watch. but, who was he to turn down an opportunity to hold you close? why leave you be when he could be there, running his fingers through your hair n gently rubbing your thigh?

౨ৎ - bf!rafe who's constantly giving you attitude : "baby, does this look cute?" you mumble, holding out a denim mini skirt you'd grabbed from a shelf - it's material slightly washed out. looking up from his phone, he sighed a little. "i don't know, does it?" shooting him a dirty look, you huff. "'m serious, yes or no? please?" ".. yes - it looks good, bunny. now can we go? been waiting for ya to pick out all the clothes you want for hours." with a pleased smile and a quick peck on his cheek you nod. "thirty minutes, actually."

౨ৎ - bf!rafe who's literally the dryest fucking texter ever : like, this bitch will leave you on delivered for hours. even when he does respond his words are vague. on some "ok" "gm/gn" "👍" type shit. but he makes up for it by calling you throughout the day - asking if you're okay, what you have planned, if you wanted to come over. and honestly? you can't complain, not when his voice sounds so .. !! 's better than any text he could send. or most, at least.

౨ৎ - bf!rafe who loves to take you on late night motorcycle rides : he lives for it, might be one of his favorite things to do with you. with the way your arms tighten around his torso when he drives faster - your scoldings being lost in the sound of the wind, earning a quiet chuckle from him. he knows you love it though, the thrill, the adrenaline. though he loves the rush, he also savors those moments of tranquility - when he's taking in everything. the feeling of your warmth against him, a stark contrast to the night's cold air against him. or the sounds of the ocean's waves washing up against the sand as you drive by, the saltiness of the water lingering in the air. and even though he dreads the end of the night, he can't help but melt into the kiss you give him before you sneak back into your house.

[seungcheorry]

morning after with svt.

COLLABORATION WITH @kozukensgf 🎀

suggested by anon, i wrote these drabbles and the amazing hazel wrote the texts. read these first, and then the texts. (:

texts with svt (morning after ver) can be found here.

seungcheol is too soft for his own good. whether he has feelings for you or not, he's the type to stay around for a bit and wait until you wake up so he can say goodbye properly. will probably decline your offer of breakfast though (politely, of course).

jeonghan likes to watch you sleep, so of course he stays around too. if he's not that busy, he will also wait until you're awake to leave - but differently from cheol, he will accept your offer to eat first. now, if he has schedules that day, he'll be out the door as soon as you open your eyes.

joshua is a cutie, so he stays too. he actually wakes up after you, chasing after the sounds you're making around the house. he will be the one to offer to make breakfast or take you out to eat. it doesn't matter if he has feelings for you or not, he considers you a friend? so of course he'll treat you right (the sex is just a plus).

junhui feels kinda awkward once he wakes up. he knows he doesn't like you enough to have romantic feelings for you, so the intimacy of seeing you sleep or taking a shower with you is too overwhelming. he leaves before you wake up, but makes sure to leave a little something for you before he does.

hoshi is a heavy sleeper after sex, so chances are you'll wake up first. he's more than happy to see you still beside him scrolling through your phone as soon as he wakes up. he's the type to run his mouth about anything and everything, bonding with you beyond your steamy times. he's such a darling, he just wants you to be comfortable around him.

wonwoo is quiet, the morning after. he isn't sure if he likes you like that, but he does like your company, your body, the way you make him feel... so it always hits him, after he has sex with you, that he should figure his feelings out. he stays with you for breakfast too, grateful for the way mornings are usually quiet around you. he leaves with a heavy heart before lunch though, but knowing damn well he'll come back to your bed soon.

there's no morning after with woozi, as he leaves in the middle of the night, both because he can't sleep and he doesn't know how to deal with the "aftwards", especially if he doesn't love you. he's not an asshole though, so he texts you an apology when he knows you're awake and tells you that it was fun seeing you again, and that you should definitely go visit him on his studio sometime.

dokeyom is similar to hoshi, i think. he just wants you to be comfortable around him, so he's just his sunshine form when he's around you the morning after. he also stays, for as long as he can/you will have him, but always tell you "hey, i can go whenever you want" - no, dokyeom, you can't. you want to stay. you know you do.

mingyu is the type to wake up earlier than you, take a shower (because of course he already feels at home with you), and then proceed to make you something to eat. he shyly smiles when you come find him in your kitchen. even though the relationship he has with you is mainly sexual, his mom didn't raise a player - so he'll pay you back for having him on your bed somehow.

minghao stays with you. there's this spoken thing between the two of you, where you're not truly fwb but also you're not mere acquaintances - so he's comfortable enough to sleep next to you, but draws the line when it comes to breakfast together. he's out the door as soon as he has taken a shower (alone, of course).

seungkwan leaves as soon as he wakes up, not because he wants to, but because he's most likely late for something. he definitely texts you later, thanking you for the night and promising to see you soon. might also send something to your house, like your favorite dessert or something, since he couldn't stay as he usually does.

vernon doesn't stay. if he doesn't have feelings for you he's more than grateful that you let him have his way with you and always make sure to not be a player, and that includes leaving (it's not right after though, he takes his time to calm down and if you are already asleep by the time he decides to leave, he wakes you up. he will never leave without telling you so).

dino stays because he wants to be with you. i can't see this sweet boy not falling in love or getting obsessed with you, so deal with it. will crack jokes just to see you smile in the morning, and already knows how you like your coffee/tea. his smile falters when you tell him you have plans for the day, a polite way to tell him he can't stay for too long.

[kittenintheden]

You Can Read Me Anything Part 2

*ELMO ON FIRE GIF* so that took longer than anticipated but you know. HERE YOU GO. (thank you for all the wonderful comments on Part 1)!

***

Druidic Tav grew up in a nomadic clan that recorded their history through spoken word and song rather than written text. As such, she's illiterate, and one charming-ish vampire offers to help her with reading lessons and a whole lot more. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course.

Then one night, she unwittingly brings him smut for their lesson.

Rating: E Word Count: 5100 words Content: illiterate Tav, Astarion being a shit, but also being cute, innocent Tav, suggestive dialogue, blood drinking, biting kink, first time oral, cunnilingus, fellatio, PIV sex, Astarion playing himself

AO3 Link

Astarion cradles her head, palm gently pressed to her cheek as she leans into it. She sighs and it tickles his ear, sending a dissipating wave of gooseflesh down the length of his back.

“Are you done yet?” Tav asks, voice breathy.

He hums and detaches from her neck, admiring the clean pair of fang marks he left there. His tongue swipes his bottom lip so he doesn’t waste a single drop of her blood. He releases her and takes a step back.

“You…” he says with a lazy smile as he reaches out with a finger to boop her nose. “... are so delicious.”

“Ha, ha,” she says with an affectionate eyeroll. She spreads her hand over the bite mark and calls on her connection to nature, using it to knit the flesh back together and restore her blood supply. “Glad to help.”

“I’ll bet you are,” he drawls at her with a wink. “Thank you for the appetizer. I’d best go find myself a full meal now.”

As he starts to saunter off deeper into the woods, Tav clicks her fingers and lightly bonks herself on the head. “Oh, almost forgot.” After him, she calls the Elvish phrase Shadowheart taught her.

For the first time since she met him at the site of the nautilus crash, she watches Astarion trip over his own feet.

He catches himself quickly, spine unusually straight as he puts his hands on his waist and takes a few more steps like he’d meant to do that the whole time. When he turns around to look at her, her smile fades when she notices his wide-eyed expression. The tips of his ears have gone very pink.

“Wha-” His voice cracks and he clears his throat and tries again, tone painfully casual. “What did you say?”

Tav grimaces. “Shit, did I get the middle part wrong? It was tricky when Shadowheart had me practice.”

Astarion leans forward a bit and gives a shaky laugh. “Ah. Right. I must’ve misunderstood. What were you trying to say?”

“She told me it meant, ‘I’m pleased to have provided you a good meal,’” Tav says, reaching up to pull some of her hair over her shoulder and fiddle with it.

“I see,” he says as he comes closer, his eyes searching her face. “Could you say it again? So I can correct your enunciation.”

“Oh, okay.” Tav gives a soft cough into her hand and repeats the phrase.

Astarion is close enough now that she sees his pupils dilate the tiniest bit. The flush at the tips of his ears spreads down the edges. Do they always do that after he feeds? They must.

He reaches delicate fingers up to cup her chin and draw her jaw down, parting her lips. His eyes are trained on her mouth and that makes her feel all too warm.

“Loosen your tongue,” he says softly. “Once more.”

She tries one more time and watches his eyelids flutter, inches from her own.

“There we go,” he whispers.

His gaze shifts to her neck again and he leans down toward it. She nearly stops him, but then she feels the draw of his tongue over the spot where he bit. He punctuates it with a soft, barely-perceptible press of his lips. A kiss, she might think, if she were a silly little girl. Which she certainly is not.

Then he’s standing straight again, releasing her face and putting space between them.

“Missed a smudge. Can’t let it go to waste.” His eyes rove over her face. “It’s so very precious.”

Then he walks off and she’s left standing there, cheeks hot and chest uncomfortably tight. Tav continues to run her fingers nervously through her hair as she turns and walks back toward their camp.

Astarion counts out fifty paces before he ducks behind a tree and leans his back heavily against it, letting out a shivery breath. He puts his cool fingers to his ears and tries to rub the heat out of them.

“Stop it,” he whispers to himself. “Stop it, stop it.”

---

Near the crumbling wreckage of a stone alter, Shadowheart kneels in prayer seeking guidance and direction from her Lady. The darkness, the loss, the silence… they are vast and answerless. She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out. Clenches her right hand, glancing at the ever-present wound there.

If only she could remember… anything useful. No matter. For now, it’s whatever path will take her back to Baldur’s Gate.

She gathers her components and packs them away, standing to walk back down the path toward camp. There’s a trio of crumbling walls that clearly used to be some sort of holy building and she walks along one, trailing her fingers over the soft moss overgrowth.

Then she turns round the corner of the broken temple to find a bristling, broody vampire leaned up against the wall with his arms folded, glaring at her with a tic in his jaw. He raises an accusatory finger.

"You," he says, the word hard on his tongue. "Are an arsehole."

She gives him a smug smile and arches her brow. "You're a bigger arsehole."

He refolds his arm and narrows his eyes at her. “Really think you’re clever, don’t you.”

The cleric shrugs and cuts off to the side to walk back to the path. “The goal was to make you lose your cool. Seems like it worked.”

Silently and suddenly he’s walking at her side, lip curling in disdain. “Congratulations to you, you managed to annoy me. Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, he’s testy tonight,” she says, putting a hand to her cheek in a mockery of shock. “Maybe you’d feel less the fool if you hadn’t been teaching her to talk dirty.”

“We can’t all be ice queens, dear,” he sneers. “Some of us are queens with needs.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes and her entire head along with it. “You should be thanking me, then. I gave you your opening.”

Astarion stops and she keeps on walking.

“To what?” he says.

“To have your ‘needs’ met,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’m not the one who was teaching her to invite me betwixt her thighs. Have a frustrating night.”

Astarion makes an affronted noise after her, pouts a moment, and then calls back, “Your bangs are wretched, by the way.”

She throws a rude gesture up at him and continues onward.

---

He plots and flirts for three days straight before he decides to make his move. Tav’s guard is down, her shy little moments are increasing in frequency, and he can literally hear her heartbeat quicken when he’s near. If that’s not all signs pointing to yes, he doesn’t know what is.

All he has to do is, you know. Make the move. Which he’ll do. Soon.

Because she still makes the most sense. The others all adore her, listen to her. She’s the perfect choice of protector should his vampirism prove a problem to anyone. She’ll say yes. Of course she’ll say yes.

… of course she’ll say yes. No one denies him. It doesn’t happen.

… it rarely happens. Not as if he’d care if it did, this time.

Astarion rocks his weight onto his back leg, flicking his gaze up to see Tav kneeling near the campfire and giving the dog a generous belly rub. Before she stops, he goes back to his extremely casual reading. Standing posed outside his tent. Holding a book with the title facing out. Very normal.

After what feels like an hour, his ears pick up approaching footsteps and he skims the page he’s on, waiting.

“Is that a new one?” Tav asks timidly.

He closes the book and looks up to meet her. His close-lipped smile feels almost natural. Almost.

“There you are,” he says, dropping his register a fraction. “I was just thinking about you.”

Not a lie, actually.

She tucks her hair behind one ear. “Oh? Do I owe you something?”

He laughs and sets his book aside. “Only a bit of your time. I do enjoy it so very much.”

Tav quirks her mouth up on one side. “Yeah? You’re pretty okay, too.”

“Better than okay, I should hope.” He closely examines his thumbnail. “I’m… growing to enjoy the whole package, honestly.”

She doesn’t immediately respond and he chances a look up at her.

“Deer in the magicked light” is what one might call the expression on her face. She blinks rapidly and gives her head a small shake before she looks to the side, color rising prettily in her cheeks.

“Is that so?” she says, giving a tight laugh.

His smile starts to go a little toothy and he dials it back. “I’ve been thinking an awful lot about our last reading lessons,” he lilts at her, peering up through his lashes. “And our language lessons. I’ve been pondering over what other sorts of lessons I could offer.”

Tav’s cheeks go pink to red.

He leans in to speak softly, making her lean in closer to be able to hear him. “I like you,” he says. “And I think you like me, too. So?”

“So, what?” she blurts, immediately grimacing at her own outburst.

A giggle bubbles up out of him before he can stop it and he puts a hand up in front of his mouth to hide his smile. When he regains control, he lowers his hand. “So, I thought you might like to indulge in certain curiosities with me.”

I want to go down on you.

Astarion blinks the thought away as soon as it appears in his head, briefly letting his smile slip before he snatches it back.

Tav is blushing furiously, but she leans in closer to him nonetheless to whisper, “Like what, exactly?”

Elvish, rising like the language of his dreams: I want to drink of your fountain.

He gives his head a light shake, playing it off with a mirthful huff as he says lowly, “Like sex, sweet thing. Whatever kind you might be… interested in.”

Tav nods rapidly and hums, slowly leaning back and standing at her full height again, not quite meeting his eye. “I was pretty sure that’s what you meant, but you know. Better safe than sorry? Is that a thing people say?”

Astarion reaches out to gently guide her chin toward him until she’s looking at him. “Think about it. If you’re amicable, you’ll find me later at the clearing where you last offered me a bite after the others are asleep.” He chucks her under the chin. “I’ll be waiting.”

She nods once more, expression unchanged. “Yeah. Yep. Okay. I’m going to… see you later. Maybe.” Then she turns on her heel and walks away.

“See you later,” he says. “Lover.”

When she disappears into the dark, he blows out a breath, subtly shaking his hands out. That was a yes.

Right?

“Of course it was,” he snipes at his own brain.

---

Hours later, Astarion paces the moonlit clearing, fiddling with the cuffed sleeve of his shirt. The others must be asleep by now. He pulls at the sleeve. It feels too tight.

Should he take the shirt off? He should just take the shirt off.

He does.

Astarion glances around the clearing once more, noting the blanket he spread on the ground nearby. Not a bed, but you know. He’s okay with that, actually.

He clenches and unclenches his fists, rolling his hands at the wrists. Cracking his neck. Rolling out his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to be still. Controlled. Practiced. This is an act he’s performed thousands of times. This is no different.

It’s not.

She’s going to come out of those bushes any moment and-

The bushes he’s looking at actually rustle and he jumps, whispering “oh, shit” before he can stop himself. He manages to put a smile back on his face just as the leaves part and a small doe takes two hops into the clearing and freezes when it spots him.

Astarion doesn’t move. He doesn’t even breathe. The doe relaxes very slightly, flicking an ear.

It’s one of the little black-tailed deer native to the area. He’s made a meal of more than one of them in recent days. Her coat is smooth and healthy, her eyes brown and clear.

The doe blinks at him and takes a step closer.

He gives a relieved chuckle and says, “There you are, Tav.”

“Oh, you heard me? Damn,” says a voice from behind him.

“Ah-” he yells. He tries to cut off the sound, but it’s too late. The doe spooks and bounds off into the underbrush once again.

“Apologies,” he says, regaining his composure and rolling his eyes to the stars above. “She was such a pretty little thing that I assumed it was you.” He starts to turn. “But I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry you’d gotten lost and…” He finally sets eyes on her and loses his smile immediately. “... and you’re already naked.”

Tav stands before him without a stitch on, her long hair hanging over her rounded breasts and everything from the waist down on full display. He spots her clothing and staff in a neat stack nearby. Her whole body is flushed.

Astarion swallows. He’s seen untold numbers of people in states of full undress. This is routine. She caught him off-guard, is all.

“I… was I not supposed to be?” Tav says, hands going up to run nervously through her draping hair. “Sorry, I thought… you said sex? And then I saw that you had your shirt off, so…”

He holds up a hand and ticks up his brows. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine! I like it.” He finds the mask, the posture, like muscle memory. Slips back into the person in control. “You’re just full of surprises, beautiful.”

Tav rewards him with a bashful smile, continuing to comb her hands through her hair.

Astarion huffs a laugh. He can’t help himself. He approaches her with slow, intentional steps. “I had a whole catalog of poetic nothings to whisper in your ear, but looks like I needn’t bother, which is fine by me.” He stops in front of her, smiling his charmer’s smile. “So long as you still want to be tasted.”

He’s starting to notice it’s a good sign when the apples of her cheeks turn red. She nods. “I’d like to try the tongue thing, yes, please.”

“Good,” he purrs, reaching for her hips.

He pulls her in for a sweet, well-executed stage kiss. Most people needed about that much before they got to what they were really with him for. He pulls back and gives her a tight-lipped smile.

Tav looks into his eyes, her lips parted. She’s not moving, and oh gods, he’s going to have to lead completely, isn’t he? Ah well. Such is life.

But then she tucks her chin, her gaze going heated. The pupils of her eyes flicker, changing shape ever so slightly, and Astarion hardly has time to drop his pretender’s smile and ask before she surges forward and kisses him back, throwing her arms around his neck.

Astarion gives a surprised “mmmn!” as he stumbles slightly under her vigor, but he corrects quickly, wrapping his arms around her ribcage and lifting her against his body. Her tongue runs along his mouth and she’s nipping, nipping, and-

There’s a sharp sting on his bottom lip and he releases her right as she pulls back from him, hands to her mouth and eyes wide as saucers. He reaches up to touch his lip and when he looks at his fingers, they show a smeared drop of blood. He blinks down at it, astounded.

He feels a snap deep inside him as the monster in him, the hunter, stirs at the sight and scent of blood.

“I’m so sorry,” Tav says, dropping her hands. “It’s a druid thing, we can get a little wild, I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.”

Astarion licks at the cut on his lip and stares at her face, his breath heavy and his shoulders ever so slightly hunched. He can see the smallest bit of his blood at the corner of her mouth.

“Do it again,” he says with a voice like gravel as he scoops her bodily up and goes to his knees so he can set her on the ground.

He lays his body on top of hers and she gasps as his mouth covers hers, exploring and hungry. It doesn’t take long for her to return it in kind, arms wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair. He can’t even bring himself to care when she’s making it look like.

Murkily, his brain reminds him why he’s actually here.

Astarion forces himself away from her mouth and she whines at him, a sound far more animalistic than humanoid, but he doesn’t stop trailing his lips down her body until he gets to her hips. He rolls himself up onto his knees and runs his palms up the tops of her legs from knee to thigh, coaxing them open so he can position himself between.

He looks at her face to find her gaze far less “startled doe” and far more “she-wolf in heat.” Her tongue darts out, licking her lip before she says, “People really like to do this?” Then, “You like to do this?”

Astarion positively grins, his pointed teeth showing through.

"Yes. Though it’s a pity this is your first experience," he says through his feral smile. "Because no one will ever best what I'm about to do to you."

“O-okay,” she stammers, clutching her fists close to her sides.

He purrs deep in his throat and puts his mouth to the inside of her knee, the tip of his tongue tracing a sensual line down her thigh, toward her center. He holds her eye the entire time and delights when her leg twitches.

When he nears the crease of her hip, he gives her a sharp nip and she growls at him, bucking her hips. He runs his tongue up along the crease until he reaches her hipbone, to which he gives a firm suck. As she attempts to roll her hips toward him, he spreads a palm over her hips and applies pressure to hold her down.

“Shall we check to see how you’ve kept your garden?” he says, looking at her from under his brows as he speaks.

In response, Tav giggles and slaps a hand over her mouth. Then nods.

She drops her hand to the ground and shakes her head, murmuring, “It can’t be that different, I’m sure it’s just like…” She shudders in a breath. “... just like…”

Astarion parts his lips and huffs out his breath against the slick skin at her core, already shining with want and anticipation. The sensation is a warming one.

Tav continues muttering to herself. “Books are full of all kinds of nonsense, I’m sure it’s-”

He flicks his tongue right over her clit.

“Ah,” she yelps, trying to buck her hips again. He doesn’t let her.

But he does flick again.

“Wha-” she says, thighs jerking on either side of Astarion’s head. “Why is-”

Astarion presses the flat of his tongue firmly at her entrance and draws it slowly all the way to the hood, teasing with the tip before he curls his tongue in slightly and dips back down to better open her inner labia.

“Holy hells,” Tav groans out, her chest arching up and the hands clawing the ground at either side of her growing actual claws.

He gives her another lap before pulling back to smolder at her. “And here I’ve only just started,” he says, voice silky.

“Holy hells,” Tav shouts to the sky this time.

Astarion huffs a laugh against her and goes back down, playing her with highly practiced skill. Full, long licks paired alongside firm draws over the swelling pearl at her center. She continues to buck ever now and again, but mostly she’s gone near boneless above him, head lolling lazily to either side and fingers weakly gripping the grass on either side of her.

When her breathing begins to stutter and he feels the flutter of her getting close, he finally moves his hand from her belly back down until he can get the angle right. He places the tips of his two middle fingers at her entrance so he doesn’t surprise her and glances up to see her eyes flutter open. She stares down at him from between the mounds of her breasts, pupils blown wide.

She licks her bottom lip.

She nods.

Astarion slides his fingers inside her and begins to pump in time with the movements of his mouth. Tav goes wild, both literally and figuratively. The pupils of the eyes watching him go slitted like a cat’s, gradually dilating back as her teeth go sharp and a random patterning of fur shivers down the length of her body before turning back to skin.

He takes that as a good sign and curls his fingers inside of her until he finds what he’s looking for.

Tav bark-mewl-roar-calls into the air above the clearing, her hips grinding into his mouth and hand now that she can move them again.

“Why does that…” she gasps. “Feel… so… good?” The last word comes out a growl.

He’d answer, but his mouth is preoccupied and he dare not let it leave its task.

With his free hand, he pushes her thigh up and guides it higher until she can wrap her leg round his shoulders and he can go deeper. He feels the swell of her under his tongue, going harder beneath his touch, and he begins to trace circles around it as he continues to pump his fingers into her.

Tav’s entire body rolls, trying to get closer, to get more, to get-

She howls as the tension finally snaps. Literally howls, from the very bottom of her chest.

Astarion slows but doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck her through it as he feels her release in the palm of his hand. He’s gentle, taking a touch of pity on her as he gives her a few more soft licks before he leaves her, drawing his fingers from her at the same time. They’re a mess, as is his face. He sits back on his knees and looks her over with lidded eyes, a self-satisfied half-grin on his face. Then he reaches into his pocket to produce a soft cloth to clean up.

He’s not much of a planner, but he plans enough for things like this.

Tav lolls on the ground, her body fully returned back to humanoid form. All except her pupils, which continue to occasionally flicker across the animal kingdom.

“Oh, that was good,” Astarion says, brows raised and grin on his face as he wipes his hand down. “Even for me, that was good. You’re welcome.”

She throws one arm out to her side, then the other, and slowly pushes herself up onto her elbows, trying to focus on him. “Why doesn’t… everybody do that? Oh my gods.” She flops back onto the ground.

Oh, she’s very good for his pride. He gives a pleased wiggle.

“You tell me,” he says. “Or call upon your old lovers and ask.”

Tav weakly waves her hand through the air. “They were bad. I’ve realized. Just now. They were bad at sex.”

“Poor thing,” Astarion croons. “All better now.”

“Yeah.” She rolls onto her side and sits up. Shakes out her head. And starts to crawl toward him.

He instinctively leans back as she comes closer, breasts swaying as she moves. “What are you doing?” he says.

She blinks at him. “I’m going to do it back.”

He blinks at her. “What?”

Tav draws her knees closer and matches his kneeling posture. “I’m going to put my mouth on you back.” She waits a beat. “If you want me to.”

“Uh,” Astarion breathes before he shakes himself and gets his wits back about him. “I would like that very much,” he says. He tries to purr it, but slightly lower in pitch is the best he can do.

It’s been years since he’s been with anyone who even bothered to ask. Probably decades.

Tav beams at him, a bright smile that’s so sunshiny it nearly betrays what they’ve just done. She rolls up onto her knees and pulls him by the wrists to do the same so she can reach the laces that hold his trousers on. His arousal pulses near her hands.

Astarion blinks. He’s… more into this than he usually is.

He blinks again.

He’s very into it, actually.

His fingers go to join hers and together they make quick work of his pants and underthings. Gently, she guides him back to kneeling again as she curls forward. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches out so he can hold her hair up out of her face. She’s at eye level with his cock, inspecting it with the eye of someone all too familiar with all the things nature has to offer and completely unashamed for it.

Astarion swallows back the wanting sound that tries to claw its way out of him.

“Have you done this before?” he asks softly.

Tav peers up at him from her position below and bends her legs at the knees, kicking her feet slowly through the air. She shakes her head “no” and something frozen inside him melts. Best ignore that. That’s a future-him problem.

“You are adorable,” he breathes. He finds he means it in the affectionate way rather than the condescending one, which is alarming. That’s another future-him problem.

Astarion clears his throat. “Same general practice applies here, really,” he says lightly.

Tav licks her lips and reaches out to touch him. Her fingers on him give him a little jolt to the solar plexus and he curls toward her on instinct before he catches himself.

“Tell me if there’s something I could do better,” she says, simply.

Then she licks along the underside of his cock and puffs her breath out across it, much in the same way he did to her.

He curls in toward her again and tightens the hand in her hair.

She puts her mouth over the head of him and he’s enveloped in warmth and oh, yes, he remembers this. This feels good. This feels very good.

Tav doesn’t get down very far before she backs up again. When she pulls off, he reaches a hand down to cup her jaw and draw it down, parting her lips.

“Loosen your tongue,” he whispers. “Once more.”

She does. She descends on him again, relaxing her jaw and loosening her tongue, taking him down deeper and deeper with each pass. Astarion means to watch and guide her, he does, but instead his head lolls back, eyes falling closed, and he smiles. A real smile.

It feels so bloody good. It feels good and he doesn’t have to… he can just be…

Tav hums a little with him mostly inside her mouth and he gasps from it, blinking back to the surface.

Oh, that’s too good.

He lets her go a few seconds more before he tightens the fingers in her hair once more to still her and gently guide her back. His chest heaves as her mouth leaves him, a string of saliva connecting them, and Astarion shudders forward.

“What’s wrong?” Tav asks, her eyes wide and concerned.

She can’t look at him like that. That’s not fair.

He lifts her beneath her arms and pulls her up toward him, her face to his, and kisses her again. She happily responds, catching his lower lip between hers and nipping once more.

Astarion groans.

Hands on her face, he breaks their kiss and tries to collect his scattered thoughts. It’s all hazed over with want. There was a reason for this, they were supposed to… he was supposed to…

“Why don’t we…” He loses the thought and swallows. Tries again. “Let’s find our mutual…”

Words, words, words, where are his words?

Astarion hisses through his teeth. “Oh, just… sex. Let’s have sex.”

“Oh,” Tav breathes, lips swollen and cheeks ruddy. “Okay.”

Whatever he had planned, which was not much, goes completely sideways as she simply climbs up onto his lap, reaches between them, and holds him steady so she can sink down onto him.

He’s so wholly unprepared for the suddenness and initiative of it that his eyes nearly roll back in his head before his mind catches up and he grips her hip with his hand, guiding her as he rolls up to meet her, his hips rhythmic, until their hips meet and he bottoms out.

Tav throws her arms around his shoulders and immediately begins to rock against him, her eyes closed and her joyous grin on her face. Astarion is doing his absolute best not to completely lose himself in her heat, her closeness, her scent.

Her pulse, oh, gods.

Astarion rocks himself up into her with steady rolls of his hips, tilting in to press his open lips to her neck with a moan.

“You can,” she gasps as she rides him. “You can bite, if you want.”

He’s not sure if the words he makes are language, but he does know he’s biting her and her blood washes over his tongue and he drinks lazily, sipping as he fucks into her at the same time. His mind is so unbelievably, blissfully bare of anything except how good, how hot, how much, how full, how winding winding winding-

Astarion pulls off her neck with a gasp almost on the edge of his orgasm. Automatically, he reaches between them and uses all the wiles of a skilled lockpick to send her spiraling over her ledge a second time before he furrows his brow, slams his eyes shut, and yells out as he climaxes, his spend spilling where he’s still buried deep.

“Oh, fuck,” he blurts before he can stop himself, nearly collapsing onto his side with Tav along for the ride. He slips out of her on the way down and immediately feels the mess they’ve just made.

Another future-him problem.

Tav casts a very half-hearted create water spell that at least rinses them off. She drapes herself over his chest, dopey smile plastered on her face. “You win,” she says. “I see what all the fuss is about now.”

“I bet you do,” he says breathily.

He’s grateful she’s not looking at his face as he struggles to hide the worry pulling at his expression. It’s future-him time, and future-him is having a moment.

He just had the best sex he can remember having in… that he can remember. With someone who will still be alive in the morning. And he likes her.

Oh, hells.

He likes her.

[edenesth]

[9:47 PM]

Noticing Mingi's persistent gaze fixed on you yet again that evening, you frowned and nudged his shoulder, whispering sternly, "Quit staring at me and mingle with your coworkers! It's impolite to ignore them. Take advantage of this chance to network, for heaven's sake."

Your boyfriend had eagerly brought you along as his date to his company's annual dinner, eager to finally introduce you after enduring endless teasing from his colleagues for always attending solo. Despite the opportunity to establish connections with influential figures ranging from high-ranking executives to international affiliates, he found himself unable to leave your side.

Extending his hand under the table to clasp yours, he leaned in and slyly murmured in your ear, "But darling, how can I possibly take my eyes off you when you look so irresistibly stunning tonight, hm?"

"Behave yourself, Song Mingi."

As those around you began to shoot knowing glances at both of you, you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. While you weren't usually one to shy away from public displays of affection, this wasn't just any place—it was Mingi's work event. You felt it important for him to maintain a professional impression among his colleagues.

With a smirk, he tightened his grip on your hand, planting a mischievous peck on your cheek, "And what if I refuse to?"

"Don't be ridiculous," You scoffed, lightly swatting his hand away and pushing him back by the chest, though it wasn't easy given his towering size and strength. Deciding it might be best for him to give his coworkers some attention, you sent the people at your table a polite smile before excusing yourself, "I'm just going to freshen up. Please keep an eye on him for me."

They chuckled at your jest, assuring you as you rose from your seat, a hand on your boyfriend's shoulder as you passed behind him. Leaning down, you whispered in his ear, "Listen to me and be a good boy, perhaps you'll be rewarded when we return home."

You didn't need to look at him to sense the warmth creeping up his cheeks. You could hear his colleagues laughing, likely teasing him for being so whipped. Suppressing your giggles, you made your way to the nearest washroom to touch up your makeup. With the dinner drawing to a close, you dared to utter those suggestive words, relying on the fact that it was almost over. You just needed him to behave a little longer. Maybe that would serve as good motivation.

Or so you hoped.

To your surprise, when you walked out of the facilities, Mingi was nowhere to be found. You let out a sigh of disbelief when you realised he wasn't in his seat. There went the chance you wanted to give him to socialise, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

As you reached into your purse for your phone to text him, you gasped when your actions were abruptly halted by a pair of arms wrapping around you from behind. It was only when you registered the familiar scent of your boyfriend's cologne that you relaxed. However, your calmness didn't last long as you remembered your surroundings. It wouldn't be appropriate if any of his colleagues were to turn around and notice the back hug he was giving you.

"Stop it, Mingi—"

You froze when you felt his face right beside yours, his breath brushing against your cheek as he spoke in his famous low voice, "You're so cruel to me, you know that? How do you expect me to remain professional after that stunt you pulled, darling? As if you haven't already been seducing me all night."

Protesting, you attempted to free yourself from his embrace, "I was not—" but your words caught in your throat when he pressed his lips against a sensitive spot on your neck, sending an immediate shiver down your spine and weakening your knees.

"Say what you like, princess. But we're leaving now," He declared, finally releasing his arms from around you. Without delay, he firmly secured your hand in his and led you out of the hall. Sensing your resistance, he quickly reassured, "Don't worry, I've informed them we're leaving early due to an emergency at home."

"Huh? What kind of emergency?" Your brows furrowed with concern.

He grinned, casting a glance back at you over his shoulder, "I'm in desperate need of that reward you promised, darling."

ATEEZ Masterlist

It would be a crime not to write anything after seeing these damn photos HAHA the way I was trying so hard to focus on writing part 20 of TWTHH, but I literally could not do so until I get this out of my system first.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this one! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[honeekyuu]

love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter one.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

or

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

masterlist. || next.

a/n: i have a lot of feelings about these two. welcome to those feelings.

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

---------------------------------------

Sendai Frogs Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei Caught in Heated Argument with Fan

Sendai’s Tsukishima Kei Breaks Paparazzi Camera

Sendai Frogs Player Threatens Reporter Outside Home

You sigh, scrolling down the list of news articles that had populated when you’d entered his name into the search bar. 

“This fucking guy.”

The top links are all reports of his most recent altercation, his newest scandal, the next thing he’s done wrong. Only a few talk about his performance during a game – luckily, he’s beyond talented and had drawn in a substantial amount of the Frogs’ fanbase, so his… poorer points have been overlooked by their management.

Until now.

You sigh again, remembering the text you’d woken up to this morning.

[5:07 AM]

Tsukki: im fucked

Tsukki: management called me in for a morning meeting

Tsukki: come over tn?

You’d groaned, instantly exasperated. You texted back that you would expect him to have dinner ordered by the time you arrived and left it at that, going about your day with a feeling that this had been the last straw for him.

Because Tsukishima Kei had always been trouble.

The boy you’d known in elementary school had been sweet and playful, but he’d had a mischievous streak. It had paired well with your general tendency toward chaos, and your friendship had been built on shared scoldings from teachers and parents.

The boy from middle school – the one who’d learned about betrayal – had been snarky and bitter, tongue sharp and words crafted to draw blood. Stones pelted at those who’d ever spoken ill of you – you, growing into wider-set hips and chubbier thighs than the other girls. You, who’d always hid your insecurities behind Tsukki, your wild smile and silly demeanor keeping others from seeing how painful stones could truly be. 

He’d been almost imperceptibly softer with you – just a bit gentler, lacking the same heat that had scared others off – but he’d still cut you a handful of times. Retorts thrown too quickly in times of high stress, sarcastic comments snapped at your heels a little too thoughtlessly. But you’d always been tough — turned by the cruelty of a few mean boys and girls into something just sharp enough to handle his temper — and he’d learned that he should take care not to cross any real lines with you.

He’d still managed to cross a few in high school, and you’d taught him that you hadn’t been joking. He’d had to learn that the words ‘ I’m sorry ’ were hard to say, but that having you ignore him was harder. 

And one day, those words had stopped working, too. Because a friend shouldn’t lash out enough to need them as often as he always had.

Tsukishima Kei had learned – in the middle of your third year at Karasuno, when a fight had gotten to a point worse than things had ever been between you – what it might mean to lose you. You’d walked away from him that day, and you’d gone weeks without speaking to him. He’d finally shown up at your door after a home game, drenched in the torrential downpour that had started so suddenly that you’re still convinced the universe had put you in a dramatic movie moment on purpose.

But he’d stood there anyway, waiting you out until you’d be willing to talk. Because you’d never once missed a game of his, and because – even if he’d been trying everything to get your attention since your fight – it was starting to feel like this was the nail in the coffin of your friendship. And he simply couldn’t have that. You could yell at him – bicker and snap and fight – but your silence was unacceptable.

He’d stood there at your door, blond hair plastered to his forehead and rain-covered glasses hiding his eyes completely, as you’d beaten his walls down to nothing. Screaming, you’d gone on and on about his lack of consideration and care for you – about every moment that had felt like a punch to the gut when nothing of the sort should be allowed in a friendship – until you’d run out of breath. Until all you could do was stand there on your doorstep and sob, the storm drowning you out to everyone but him.

He hadn’t said a single word, only stepping up to you once you’d stopped and wiping your snot-covered face with the front of his drenched volleyball shirt.

“ Okay, ” He’d finally mumbled, voice thick with regret as you’d cried into his chest. “ I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. ”

You two hadn’t had a single problem since. Things had gone back to normal, with Tsukki toeing the line but, without fail, never crossing it.

You’d been secretly glad he hadn’t changed all that much. He was still the same. He was still Tsukki.

The rest of high school had passed by in a series of rolled eyes and exasperated comments. College had started just the same, with new friends made and roommates come and gone, but Tsukishima Kei right where he’s always been. People here were less rude, less judgmental of your size and the unapologetic demeanor that had been built because of it. You’d made friends here, although never ones that could compare to the Karasuno Volleyball boys, who still float in your social orbit even now. Shimizu Kiyoko floats closer still, one of your dearest friends to this day.

And, still , already three years into college, Tsukki’s what he’s always been. 

Brutally honest and annoyingly coarse.

Sarcastic at best and a cloud of misery at worst.

Immovably loyal and at your side without question.

He’s the same as always, if not a bit more mature with age. Your relationship’s developed into one of constant exasperation, witnessing his every moment of idiocy into adulthood. He’s a nightmare to have a serious conversation with, but you’ve learned that he always listens, even when he wants to do anything but that. Your arguments are frequent, but never serious.

Any hint of a real fight is always squashed promptly under his feet, his hands calming on your shoulders and his tone losing its edge the moment he’d spot the telltale signs of your anger – he’d always give in first, even with a personality as stubborn as his. The balance between his commonplace sarcasm and something more serious is a delicate one, but he’d managed to find it with you. 

The issue, however, is that you are the exception.

Tsukishima had been recruited by the Sendai Frogs in your third year, playing successfully and renewing the year-long contract for the following school year – the unspoken agreement being a full-time professional contract with them after graduation. He’d been sheltered, in a way, last year, because it had been a soft launch – a trial run to see how he’d do, how the Frogs fans would take to him.

As it turns out, the road to going pro comes with as many problems as it does benefits.

Upon signing the contract for this year, the Frogs management had officially introduced their It Boy to the world. 

Tsukishima Kei – 21 years old, Middle Blocker. 

He’d been thrown into an unending schedule at the beginning of the year – any time outside of practice and games is taken by interviews, sponsorships, media promotion. His face and name had been plastered over billboards and brand collabs, the Sendai Frogs’ Middle Blocker a player slated to bring the volleyball world to its knees.

But the most important, truly – the thing that had started all his problems – is the invasion of privacy.

He’d managed to make it to the start of summer vacation while juggling the newfound fame, but – with the halfway point of his temporary contract approaching quickly – the Frogs fans had recently become rabid. People clambering over each other in classes to get a better look at him, baristas writing their number on his coffee cups at cafes (and then posting his coffee order online, of course), and his face posted all over the internet. Every miniscule move he makes is posted to Twitter – his class schedules, his mealtimes, his practice hours. Paparazzi at his apartment, at his car, at his classes.

He’s everywhere, and that’s too much, even for him.

He and Yamaguchi had had to move to a gated, private townhouse together, unable to stay in their dingy off-campus apartment anymore – too many people had tried the locks and camped out in front for a single glimpse of the up and coming star athlete. 

You hadn’t escaped the public eye unscathed, either. You’d seen enough comments about yourself online – what your relationship with Tsukishima Kei might be, and why it always seemed just non-platonic enough to be questionable but completely unable to be pinned down. What you may or may not be gaining from hanging around this rising heartthrob, and – notably – how you could possibly think he’d be interested in you, given your… physical attributes.

You’d learned to be good at ignoring those comments, but it hadn’t come without damage. Damage that had taken the form of quiet arguments with Tsukki about not wanting to go out into the world with him, irritated demands that you not let the irrelevant comments of a few internet trolls affect your friendship. More than a few instances of Tadashi and Kiyoko showing up to your door with takeout and some reassurances, Tsukki’s barrage of whiny texts set aside for a night.

It had gotten easier over the summer, your ability to ignore the public’s opinion not necessarily stronger, but your ability to hide the effects of it certainly solidified. You manage to shake off the minor stress that comes with leaving your little studio apartment every morning, and you’re happy with the balance of your private and public life by Tsukishima Kei’s side.

What you’re not happy with – very crucially – is his inability to keep his name out of the tabloids for picking fights with paparazzi.

– 

By the time you make it to his townhouse, it’s well past 5pm and you’re nearly dead on your feet from the full day of work and classes. School’s just picked up again, and your professors seem to not know the meaning of ‘syllabus week’. 

Tadashi answers the door, glancing over your shoulder at the poorly hidden paparazzi across the street before gesturing you into the house.

“He’s not here.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?” Where the hell-

“I am now.” 

You turn, finding Tsukki just behind you in the doorway, a bag of takeout in hand and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He shuts the door and kicks off his shoes, eyeing the narrow glare you’re giving him.

“Got something to say?”

Your tone is sharp. “Did you really break a reporter’s camera last night?”

He nods, not even a little bit ashamed. “He was sitting on my car after practice, waiting for me. And then he wouldn’t get off of it.”

You sigh while Yamaguchi nods understandingly. 

“Yeah, alright, that’s annoying…”

“ Annoying isn’t enough to justify my reaction, apparently.” He shakes his head, following the two of you into the kitchen. He leaves the bag on the island for you to unpack and disappears down the hall toward his bedroom to change. You withdraw containers of curry and set about serving three plates of it, navigating their kitchen without issue.

Tadashi mumbles quietly beside you. “How fucked is he?”

You shake your head, sighing again. “Infinitely fucked, I’d say.”

“You saw the look in his eye?” He cuts a questioning glance at you, his concern apparent. You just nod, pouring out drinks for the group.

“He’s not telling us something.”

“ He’s right here.”

You both look up, finding Tsukki in the doorway with a pinched scowl and high, tensed shoulders. He lifts a brow at you.

“I’m fine. ”

You and Tadashi make brief eye contact before snorting in unison and pushing past him to the living room with the food. You take a corner of the couch, and Yamaguchi occupies the armchair beside you.

“So, what’d they say?” You ask. 

“Off the team yet?” He follows up with a joking smile.

No one acknowledges the underlying nerves you’re both displaying when you look Tsukki over. As much as he needs to get his attitude in check, neither of you can fathom a world in which the Frogs had let him go.

Tsukki flops down on the other end of the couch and breathes out a quiet sigh, slumping back into the cushions. “Management is unhappy with the reputation I’ve created for myself.”

You nod, taking a bite. You’d expected that.

“Okay…?” You draw your knees up under yourself, watching him stare up at the ceiling.

“They have asked-” He lifts his brows, considering something. “-well, more like threatened – that I make a major change to my lifestyle in order to fix the growing impression of me before it becomes ‘solidified’,” He quotes with his fingers, smiling mirthlessly. “Or my full-time contract’s on the line. They want me to find something to make me seem more…” He trails off, staring off to the side now, in your general direction.

“Pleasant. Approachable. Relatable. Soft.” He shrugs. “That kind of thing.”

Months of watching Tsukki adjust to the celebrity lifestyle makes translating this a breeze. 

“They want you to get a girlfriend,” Yamaguchi concludes, spooning curry into his mouth.

He laughs bitterly. “And they want it fast.”

You take another bite, shrugging when he looks over at you. “Better get to downloading dating apps, then.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re enjoying this.” He tugs his phone out of his pocket, anyway, glancing briefly at his roommate. “You’re both enjoying this.”

“Well, you didn’t get kicked off the team, so-” Yamaguchi relaxes, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Mm-hm-” You agree. “You did this to yourself.” And then you scoot in, watching him download a few apps. “Cast your phone to the TV so we can watch.”

“You’re funny- hey- ” 

You snatch his phone away, connecting his phone to the TV and projecting his open Tinder screen. You slap his hands when he reaches for you, setting his profile up for him in a matter of minutes. He snorts.

“Experienced in online dating?”

“Gotta do something to pass the time in between classes.” 

You only realize how it sounds when they both eye you in amused surprise. Tsukki sits up to look at you properly, scandalized and face split in a wide grin. “Gotta do what in between classes, exactly?” 

“Wait-”

Tadashi giggles into his hands, sinking low in the armchair, and Tsukki shakes his head, tutting in disappointment at you.

“That’s a crazy thing to admit out loud, Y/n-”

“Shut up ,” You shove him, tossing his phone back and then pointing at the TV. “Start swiping.”

He relaxes back into the couch with a laugh, and the three of you eat your dinner with the entertainment of the night.

–

“Pass.”

“Aw, she’s cute.”

“Exactly. Girls who are cute usually can’t handle me.”

“...Was that a reference to his personality or to sex?” You ask, eyeing Tadashi fearfully.

He shakes his head beside you. “Better not to ask, I fear.”

Tsukki’s suspicious grin is enough for your lip to curl in disgust.

“Ew.”

“I’m just being honest,” He shrugs, unapologetic.

You lay a hand on his shoulder, speaking down to him like he’s a child. “Well, if you don’t start swiping right on cute girls, your contract’s going up in flames, sweetheart.”

“ Ugh -” Tsukki groans loudly, throwing his phone down on the couch. “This isn’t working. None of these girls are the right fit.”

“Then maybe your standards shouldn’t be literally impossible to meet!” Yamaguchi throws his hands up in exasperation. “We’ve been at this a whole hour, and you’ve only swiped right on one girl.”

“Yeah, but she had nice tits,” He admits plainly.

You and Yamaguchi stare, deadpan. “You’re terrible,” You say eventually.

“Yeah,” Tsukki sighs. “I know.” He takes a breath, and then he’s turning to you with wide eyes. “Oh, hey! You have nice tits, too – you be my girlfriend.”

Yamaguchi promptly chokes on his drink, and you reach to yank the pillow out from under Tsukki’s head.

“Stop-” You smack him in the face with it repeatedly. “-Being. Gross.”

“It was a compliment!” He laughs, blocking his head and then catching the pillow with ease. You enter into an unwilling match of tug-of-war. “And I already know our personalities work together, so I don’t have to go through the pain of a talking stage!”

You eye him with suspicion, pulling the pillow toward you. “You’re not actually considering this.” You look back at Yamaguchi. “He’s not actually considering this, right?”

Your friend just stares, shocked.

Tsukki pulls hard on the pillow, catching you off guard and launching you toward him. “Oh, I most certainly am.”

“Tsukishima Kei-” You tug, hard. He resists. “Get that thought out of your head right now.”

“Come on-” He argues. “We are clearly a match made in Heaven.”

“In Hell, you mean!” You laugh. “There’s no way!” You look at Yamaguchi in panic. “Help me!”

The man just shrugs uselessly. “This conversation wasn’t on my bingo card for the year. I’m stumped.”

Tsukki rolls his eyes. “Come on, Y/n. It’s not like you’ve got guys lined up outside your door-”

“How would you know?” You snap, a little offended. “I could be going on dates every night-”

“When would you have time for that? You’re with me most nights.” He leans in, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Even more evidence that we should just date.”

“Get away from me-” You push him back with your foot, putting distance between you. He just grabs your ankle and pulls you toward him, and you scream as you’re dragged down the length of the couch. 

Tsukki starts to clamber over you, but that finally sets Yamaguchi in motion, the boy standing quickly and yanking Tsukki by his hair back to the other side of the couch.

“Play nice, you freak,” He says, smacking the blond hard on the forehead. Tsukki just laughs, one of those rare laughs that makes you forget why you were ever mad in the first place.

“Okay, okay!” He yells, struggling to be freed from Yamaguchi’s torture.

You crawl back to your corner, kicking him for good measure while you go. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Tsukki argues, still smiling wide. “This is literally a win-win.” He fixes himself, keeping an eye on Yamaguchi while he talks, because the freckled boy is grabbing a magazine off the coffee table and rolling it up. “We’re good together.”

“This is only a win-win for you,” You fight, listing things off and ticking them on your fingers as you go. “You’re annoying, arrogant, have poor impulse control and a short temper, and– importantly – we don’t even like each other!” You throw your hands out as best you can, emphasizing it. “Why would we date when we’re not attracted to each other?”

He doesn’t answer, only flicking his gaze down the length of your body appreciatively before meeting your eyes again. He sees that you’ve seen it, your gaze wary, and he grins wickedly.

“Who’s ‘we’?” 

That earns him a rolled magazine to the head.

“I’m just saying,” He laughs. “Just think of how much Management would like it if I found a girlfriend right away, and one that they know is good for me-”

“Alright-” You plant your feet on the floor with an irritated sigh, suddenly tired of this conversation. “-don’t bring them into this to guilt-trip me.” You stand, clearly making to leave.

Tsukki’s smile drops, and he stands quickly, his jokes forgotten. “What? Wait-” His eyes are wide, betraying genuine surprise. You frown, and his eyes track it. He gauges your annoyance, seeing that it’s starting to tip into something more.

“Okay,” He breathes, suddenly quite serious. He holds his hands out toward you carefully, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you back to the couch with him. Yamaguchi perches on the arm of the couch, observing quietly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tsukki tries. “I actually kinda do think we’d be good together.” When you don’t seem to believe it, he tries again. “And I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. I do think Management genuinely knows that you’re good for me-”

You know that, too. You know that Management has always liked you. That’s why this idea scares you just a little bit.

Because it’s feasible.

“No one’s going to believe that we’re together if we clearly-” You swallow hard and gesture between you. “-don’t have that kind of kind of chemistry, Tsukki.”

He shrugs. “It’s not that hard to act. We have the friendship chemistry, so we’re not uncomfortable. We would just need to add-”

“Holding hands? Kissing? Entirely different body language? Clear physical attraction?” You argue, lifting your brows.

He nods like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Yeah. That’s not that bad.”

You level him with a meaningful look. “Tsukishima.” You smile bitterly when he blinks at the use of his full name. “ Look at me.”

Tadashi makes a noise of protest over Tsukki’s shoulder, clearly disapproving of where you’re going with this, but the blond just stares.

“I am looking at you.”

You laugh, shaking your head and standing again. “Good luck with Tinder, Tsukki, but I’m outta here-”

There’s a 6’3” wall in your way when you try to leave.

“You really need to get over that shit.”

You whip your head up to look into Tsukki’s eyes, affronted.

“ Excuse me?”

He’s unyielding, golden eyes hard on yours. “I’m not taking that as a valid reason. Come up with something else if you really don’t want to do this.”

“Tsukki-”

“Give me a better reason, Y/n.”

“It makes no sense, Tsukishima!” You scoff, all but laughing in his face. “Not a single person is going to believe that we’re together. We’re going to look stupid together-”

“I don’t think we look stupid together,” He cuts you short, turning to Yamaguchi. “Do you think we look stupid together?”

Tadashi flicks his gaze back and forth from Tsukki’s to yours, clearly torn. When he sighs and it becomes clear he’s about to take Tsukki’s side, you gape at him.

“Yamaguchi!”

He gives you a regretful look. “It’s not unreasonable , Y/n. People already wonder what you two are, anyway.” He rolls his eyes when you stare at him in disbelief, lifting his hands helplessly. “We all know you balance him out. Think of the good you could do, whipping this idiot into shape.”

Tsukki turns to you with a victorious smile, eyebrows lifted. “Consider me whipped.”

You groan, snatching your bag off the floor and pushing past them. “Goodbye.”

Tsukki’s slipping his shoes on at the door with you, only snatching his keys from the bowl when you shoot him a questioning glare.

“It’s getting late,” is all he says as he props the door open for you.

You’re about to remind him that 7pm in the summer is not that late, but the flash of a camera catches your attention. You turn, shielding your eyes from the paparazzi snapping pictures at the end of the driveway.

“Don’t you have a family to spend time with or something?” Tsukki says over your head, his voice tense.

You elbow him hard. “You really gotta stop giving them what they want,” You grumble, stomping down the front steps. The blink of Tsukki’s headlights and the gentle purr of his car remote-starting is the only response he gives you, and you trudge over to the passenger-side door. You wave tiredly at the cameraman standing just past the gate and give him a smile.

“I’d love to say he’s above hitting you with his car, but he’s having a bad day.”

The man chuckles at your joke. “I suppose I shouldn’t take any chances, then.” He takes a few more photos, but he steps out of the way regardless.

Tsukki stares at you when you settle in next to him with a sigh.

“How do you do that? I had to break a guy’s camera to get his ass off the hood of my car.”

You shrug, closing your eyes and leaning against the headrest. “It’s not groundbreaking work, Tsukki. Try being nice once in a while.”

He drives you home in silence.

You keep your eyes on the sideview mirror, watching the unmarked van that’s trailing the car the whole way there.

What would be the difference, really, if you pretend to date Tsukishima Kei? You already get followed home and to classes. You already hear all the whispers when you walk anywhere with him. You’re already all over the internet, comments about your body plastered everywhere for the world to see.

It doesn’t really matter that you’re not interested in Tsukki, does it? It’d be laughable for anyone to question that you could fall for him – he’s tall and objectively gorgeous. Everyone wants him.

The issue is you.

You’ve seen the girls he goes home with at parties.

Your eyes shift from the unmarked van to your own reflection, and you chuckle under your breath.

Yes, you’re good for Tsukishima Kei – you manage his unacceptably short temper. You support him unconditionally and keep him in check. You always have. You’re everything Management needs from him.

But the issue is still you.

“Would you cut it out?”

You blink, turning to look at Tsukki’s side profile while he drives. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping an irritated rhythm on the middle console. He shifts his eyes briefly in your direction before lifting them to watch the van behind you, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“What?” You say, the silence in the car a bit suffocating.

“I’m asking you to cut it the fuck out. Whatever’s going on in your head – cut it out.”

You lift a brow. “And what would that be?”

“I don’t know, Y/n – whatever insane shit you think about yourself.” He shakes his head, pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex. Thankfully, it’s a big one with hundreds of units, and the paparazzi have always had the sense not to follow you in.

He pulls up to the main door, putting the car in park and leaning back in his seat with a tight sigh. You both watch the van pull up in front of you, the man on the passenger’s side hopping out and snapping photos of the two of you staring back at him.

“Look,” He says quietly, in a way that reeks of an oncoming argument. You can see him gripping the middle console like he’s stopping himself from getting out of the car. “I know what people say about you. The comments they make about your body and your looks and everything else.”

You stare out the window, nodding. It’s amazing how desensitized you’ve become to the barrage of flashing lights that comes with Tsukishima Kei. “I’ve been hearing it since we were kids-”

“Yeah, exactly. Since we were kids , Y/n. Are you gonna let this be an issue for the rest of our lives?”

You look at him, your skin flushing with anger. “What are you trying to say? It’s not like you have the same problems I do.”

He meets your eyes, gaze burning. “I’m telling you to get the fuck over yourself. Are you gonna listen to a bunch of assholes who don’t matter? Or are you gonna listen to me ?” When your jaw drops, he pushes. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine. I’ll let it go. But not if this is your reason.”

“My reason, Kei -” You spit, matching his anger. “-is that I don’t feel like being the laughing stock of your little fanbase.”

“And you think this is gonna stop them?” He smiles, but it’s irritated. “You want me to find some supermodel to date? You think they won’t make comparisons between you and the girl on my arm?”

You hadn’t thought of that.

That you wouldn’t be the pathetic, pining girl trailing after Tsukishima Kei anymore.

You’d be the jealous friend.

Pathetic, pining, jealous little Y/n.

A light flashes in your periphery, and a headline flashes with it – a week from now, when the Sendai Frogs have confirmed his new, unnamed girlfriend to the public.

Tsukishima Kei and Friend Y/l/n Y/n Seen Arguing – New Relationship the Cause?

You’re unable to stop the aggravated growl that spills out when you sigh through your nose.

“They think they know who you are, Y/n. But they don’t. They fucked it up.” Tsukki keeps your gaze locked on his – his eyes are dangerous, like he’s predicting the headlines, too.

He leans toward you. “So show them,” He says. “ Show them who you are.”

You lean forward, too, your face a little too close to his. 

“And how do you suggest I do that, Kei?”

The camera flashes, and your chest flickers with some unknown excitement.

His smile is wicked, mocking.

“ Fix me.” He lifts a brow when you glare, doubling down. “Or be the girl that watches someone else do it.”

You kind of want to kill him.

–

You lie facedown on your bed for hours that night, listening as Kiyoko laughs on your couch. She lives in the same complex, only a few floors above you, and she’d made the long journey all the way here just to laugh at you.

She stays with you the whole night, laughing until she cries. And then she laughs some more, because that picture of you in Tsukki’s car is already circulating the internet.

“You’re so fucked,” Kiyoko heaves between breaths, sometime around 2am. She’d moved to the bed with you hours ago, scrolling through Twitter and showing you some of the more unhinged reactions to the photo.

[12:24 AM] TsukkiFan0927 : no because they MUST be fucking????

[1:07 AM] user9329348 : those two have always been so shady together,,, no way that this is new

[1:46 AM] TsukkiYnShipper : TSUKKIYN NATION WE RIDE AT DAWN

You just groan, dragging your phone out and pulling up your text thread with Tsukki.

[2:09 AM]

You: my life would be so peaceful without you in it

He responds immediately.

Tsukki: ill pick you up tomorrow <3

Tsukishima Kei is nothing but trouble.

–

There are an unusual amount of paparazzi outside your apartment complex the next morning.

You stop short when you exit the building, taken aback.

Everyone stares back, no lights flashing. They just stare.

“Uh-Good morning?” You say, blinking at the group of about 15 people. One or two wave in greeting, but no one else wants to break the seal.

No one wants to ask, not yet.

You pull out your phone, about to text Tsukki to hurry the fuck up before things get weirder, but you hear the purr of his car pulling into the lot before you can send it.

The seal breaks all at once.

You lose sight of the car, flashing lights all going off at the same time and effectively blinding you.

You hear your name, over and over again.

“ Y/n, is it true? ”

“ Over here, Y/n! ”

“ What did you two talk about in his car last night, Y/n ?”

There’s a hand on your arm, wrapped tight around your bicep. You inhale sharply, worried that you’re about to be mauled on the very first day of dating Tsukishima Kei.

“ Move your feet, dumbfuck. ”

Oh. It’s him.

“ Mm-kay ,” You mumble, letting Tsukki drag you to his car and all but throw you in the front seat.

Somehow, the lights are worse in here, and you can’t tell if your name is still being called or if that’s just an echo ringing in your ears.

Tsukki climbs in beside you and slams the door. “Put your seatbelt on.”

“Why?” You ask, already grabbing for it. 

He shifts gears jerkily, and you go flying against the door as he peels out of the lot.

“Tsukki!” You scold, hearing his tires squeal against the pavement.

“You were too slow,” He jokes, eyes on the rearview mirror. You turn, spotting the army of vans that are following behind him.

“Dude,” You breathe, sinking down into the seat. “It was one picture .” 

“Regret anything yet?” He says, catching the light just before it turns red and leaving all the vans behind.

“I regret everything,” You say without hesitation. “All of it. Every second.”

When he doesn’t respond, you turn to him. He’s got his eyes on the road and the mirrors, seemingly calm. But his teeth wear down on the inside of his lip, and he’s not sparing you a single glance.

You sigh, nudging him gently. “I’m kidding.”

He gives easily, lip released from its torture. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Tsukki. It’s fine.”

“We’re good?”

“We’re good ,” You say, smiling when he scoffs. “It’s better than me being labeled the sad, jealous friend while you date some airhead that’s after your fame and fortune.”

He grins then. “Aw, you’re not that much of an airhead.”

“Let’s break up.”

He laughs the whole way to campus.

–

You finally understand why Tsukki snaps at the paparazzi.

They’re everywhere – outside your classes and at your favorite cafe. Just two of them, but you’re uncomfortably familiar with them by the end of your second class. You’d given up sometime around lunch, turning in place on your way to the dining hall and asking if they just wanted to walk with you instead of trailing behind.

You eat your lunch with Hiro from SMZ and Nariko from Sendai Sports that day. You don’t answer a single question of theirs, just smiling and spooning rice into your mouth as you ask about their lives instead.

They’re bemused at your strange approach, and you play this game all afternoon with them – by the time Tsukki’s practice is over, you’re hoping you’ve gained at least some of their favor. 

Hopefully, they’ll post nice things about you. Only the good photos, maybe.

Still, the air shifts when they realize you’re heading for the university’s gym – Tsukki practices on campus with a private coach in the afternoons, going to the Frogs’ gym to practice after classes are done. 

You can see them itching to lift their cameras, itching to ask the same questions again.

When did it start? Are you official? How did it happen?

The building comes into view, and you spot his blond hair near the entrance. You clear your throat.

“So… I think I’m gonna have to leave you here,” You say, gesturing around you now that you’re at the base of the stairs. 

They both look dejected, like they were hoping for an introduction. You just give them a thin smile and turn, hurrying up the stairs before they decide to stop being respectful of your boundaries.

Tsukki’s got his eyes over your shoulder as you approach.

“What’d they want?”

“To know my regular order at the dining hall,” You say simply. You stop a friendly distance away, seeing when he eyes the space between you. His smirk speaks before he does.

“You forgot a few feet.”

You grimace, taking a single step toward him. He takes the rest, his body brushing briefly against yours.

You look up at him expectantly. “How should I greet you?”

“However you want.”

“I wouldn’t suppose a friendly hug would do.”

A light flashes when he smiles down at you, and you’re wondering if the world’s ever seen it before.

“No,” He says, humored. “I don’t suppose it would. But a not-friendly hug might.”

You stare down at your shoes, thankful your back is to the cameras.

It’s a bit strange to realize, but you’ve never hugged Tsukki before. Not really.

A casual pat on the back, yes. The occasional side-hug, maybe.

But a hug – despite its simplicity, its lack of meaning – is not something you can ever remember doing with him.

You think of how you hug Tadashi, how you’d hug Hinata or even Kageyama after a game in high school. It’s so easy with them.

The idea of Tsukishima Kei wrapping his arms around you is… odd.

Very odd.

Still, you’ve wasted enough time already. It’s the only option.

You lift your arms, wondering if you resemble a petulant child, and Tsukki just grins and bends down, his bag slipping off his shoulder when he slides his arms around your waist. You’re pulled onto your toes, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

Hugging Tsukishima Kei is not what you’d expected.

You’d always seen him as some cold wall of annoyance – a big, dumb athlete who was always a little painful to smack on the chest after a crude remark. A boy who’d always been rough, who’d grown strong and become some untouchable statue made of cold marble.

But he’s not cold at all.

The air around him is warm, smelling just slightly of sweat from practice but more than anything of that scent that’s distinctly Tsukki . That clean smell that you’d unknowingly grown to associate with comfort. That unplaceable warmth that smells like your childhood.

His hands are bigger than you’d realized, fingers long and warm against the small of your back. His chest is just as hard as always – that unmoveable wall that towers over you – but it feels weird against yours. It feels weird to feel his heartbeat – have you never felt his heartbeat before? Has he always had one?

You wonder if he can feel that your cheeks burn against his neck, if the heat is notable in this little pocket of quiet you’ve found. If your skin warms under his fingers, which rest strangely against the spot where your shirt’s ridden up a bit.

“ How was practice? ” You mumble shyly against his throat, feeling when he swallows hard. You can’t decide if it’s his heart or your own that you’re hearing right now, pounding somewhere near your ears.

“‘ s fine, ” He says, and you hear the hitch in his breath. 

This is weird for him, too, then.

Good. That’s good. This is weird for both of you. You’re not alone in this.

You pull away, clearing your throat quietly. Tsukki lets you slide carefully down to your feet, his fingers skimming the skin under your shirt just before he pulls away, his movements rushed and sharp.

Your skin burns where his fingers had been, and trying to ignore it only makes you more aware of it.

You glance briefly up at him, unable to control the double-take you do when you see him. He won’t meet your eyes, but his face is radiating heat, a blush high on his cheeks and his ears a rather interesting shade of red.

You watch him glance at your ears, too, and the tiny smirk he suppresses tells you that you don’t look much better.

You swallow, wondering where the hell this humming under your skin’s come from.

“Uh-” Your breath catches when his golden eyes meet yours, and you recover clumsily. “I have-”

What do you have? 

Class.

“I have to get to class,” You blurt, blinking rapidly.

He just blinks back, as though he’d also forgotten why you’d met him here.

“Right,” He says. “Class. I’ll walk you.”

“Okay,” You respond, turning on your heel and heading down the stairs. You hear him follow after you, but then there’s a hurried shuffle behind you, the lights of the paparazzi flashing in a frenzy.

You turn back quickly, finding Tsukki tripping over his own feet to get back up the stairs, his bag left abandoned at the top.

You can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face, and you know the flashes that follow are for you.

Tsukki snatches his bag up and turns to you, spotting your teasing grin before you can smother it.

He rolls his eyes, stomping to catch up with you.

“Shut up.”

You laugh the whole way to the crosswalk.

–

Kei doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He doesn’t understand why he feels so skittish, why his fingers are a bit numb. He doesn’t know why he keeps looking at you, what he could possibly be searching for when he watches you.

His eyes scan you while he walks you across campus to your next class. He barely notices the people whispering around you, his gaze tracking the uneven rise and fall of your chest and the white-knuckled grip you have on your bag.

Okay. So you felt it, too.

Good. He’s not crazy.

The memory of your skin under his fingers flashes through his mind. You’d been so soft – he hadn’t realized how soft you are. He’d never even considered it. Soft and warm, heartbeat racing against his chest and arms wrapped tight around his neck. Breath shaky and fanning out over his skin when you’d whispered something about practice.

His fingers itch to touch you again, because he’d never thought to do that, either.

Fuck. He probably is going crazy.

He clears his throat, watching when your fingers twitch on your bag in response.

“We, uh-” He lets out a breath, seeing your building come into view and wanting to say something – anything – to smooth this silence over before you leave. “-probably shouldn’t do things for the first time in public like that again.”

It works. You laugh under your breath. 

“Why? Scared to look like an idiot again?”

Okay, it’s at his expense. But you laughed.

“I’m sure you didn’t look so great yourself,” He says, biting down a grin when you smile.

“That’s too bad,” You say, a teasing edge in your tone. “I was just about to hold your hand.”

Kei chokes, his cough loud and embarrassed. He shoots you a glare when you glance up at him in amusement.

“I swallowed a bug.”

“A bug,” You repeat, nodding and turning away to hide your laugh. “Still think it’s so easy to act, Tsukki?”

He wants to go back in time and beat his past self into shutting the hell up for once.

But that’s not an option, so he just braces himself and shifts minimally closer to you, the back of his hand brushing up against yours. 

He feels you falter beside him, and it gives him just enough courage to do it.

Your hands are a lot smaller than he’d realized. But your fingers slot easily with his.

He can’t tell if it’s his hand or yours that’s clammy, but he’s tempted to say it’s yours because this has never once happened to him before. Not a single one of the girls he’d ever dated had made his palms sweat, so it can’t be him. Had any boys before him ever made you nervous like this?

Had there been any boys before him?

“Is this your first time?” He vomits those words right out, hating every fiber of his being once it’s done.

You look up at him, so taken aback that you visibly become less nervous. “Holding hands with a boy?” You say, smiling mockingly. “No, Tsukki. This isn’t my first time. Sorry to disappoint.”

He rolls his eyes, flushing. “Not what I meant.”

“I know.” You laugh to yourself, pausing outside the building where he’s meant to leave you. He can see people lingering, but no one’s close enough to hear your conversation.

“You know I’ve had boyfriends before, right?” You level him with that teasing look you always have.

Had you? Had he known that?

Oh, God , you totally had. He remembers now, the guy from first year whose face he’s forgotten. And the summer fling after him.

He knows this. Of course he knows this – why hadn’t he remembered?

How far had you gone with them? Had you told him?

“So,” He swallows. “You’ve…” He trails off and hopes you’ll understand, but you just frown up at him. He sighs. “You’ve done… everything, then?”

Your expression changes to one of alarm, and he all but feels the air between you warm.

“ Why ?” You ask, your tone sharp and your voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you plan on changing the answer if I say no?”

Kei’s heart flies to his throat, and his face burns with a horrible, horrible heat.

“No, I-” 

Why the fuck had he asked you that? Why does that matter? What’s he so curious for?

“Y/n,” He starts, holding tight when you start to pull away. He hadn’t even realized you were still holding hands. “Fuck. That’s not what I meant.”

Your face is still burning with embarrassment, and you mumble a response up to him, glancing around.

“You know that’s not gonna happen, right?”

“ Yes- ” He sighs, frustrated and more than a little humiliated. “I’m not expecting-It was a stupid question. I was just curious.”

“You gonna be okay, player?” You ask, and he thinks maybe he’s just seen the ghost of a teasing grin on your face, but he can’t tell. “You ever been celibate before?”

“God, please leave me the hell alone,” He groans, laughing pathetically and dropping your hand to rub the heat out of his cheeks. You definitely smile then, suddenly enjoying his embarrassment more than anything. 

He realizes after a moment that people are starting to file out of different buildings – it must be passing period, then. 

“You should go,” He says, nudging you toward your building. 

You nod, stepping back toward him and lifting onto your toes to wrap your arms around his neck again. His breath hitches, and he barely manages to loop his arms around your waist.

You’re just as soft as you were the first time.

You lower away from him, and he realizes distantly some other students are taking photos and whispering. But you just smile briefly up at him, your voice gentle.

“Not so weird that time.”

Was it not?

He nods dumbly and smiles when you wave bye.

When you’re gone, he has no clue what to do with himself. What is he supposed to be doing right now?

Class in an hour and practice downtown afterward. Right.

He turns on his heel, ignoring everyone’s stares and trying his hardest to squash the stupid look on his face as he walks back toward his car.

He’s about halfway there when his phone buzzes with a text.

[2:47 PM]

You: and for your stupid information

You: i have done a lot

You: but no

You: i have not done everything

You: goodbye

Kei has to take a seat on the nearest bench, ignoring the paparazzi and random underclassmen that are following him.

He sits and stares down at nothing, wondering why the thought of you being a virgin is making his head spin and his ears ring. Wondering – as he drops his head into his hands and sighs loudly – why his palms are so fucking sweaty.

–

“You told him what ?”

You groan, throwing yourself back on your mattress. Kiyoko clambers onto the bed after you, shaking you violently.

“ Why would you tell him you’re a virgin?!”

“Because I am ?” You laugh pathetically, hiding your face in your hands. She just shakes you again.

“But why did you tell him ?!”

“I don’t know! He asked!”

“ What?! ” 

“ Kiyoko- ” You protest and turn over, assuming your standard face-down position of dread. “I don’t know. It just happened. And it was weird.”

“Well, what did he say-”

“Nothing!” You toss your phone next to her on the bed, hearing her unlock it and search through your messages. “Nothing, because there’s nothing he can say. It’s not like there’s anything to do about it.”

There’s a silence from her, one that prompts you to look at her. She just stares at you, disbelieving.

“I mean,” She starts. “Do you know that for sure?”

You hide your face again. “Shut up. We agreed that things wouldn’t get that far. There’s literally no reason for us to ever do that.”

“No, I get that-” She coughs, and you figure that she’s hiding a laugh. “-but he did ask… and you did tell him…”

“ Kiyoko, ” You whine, pulling your pillow over your head for good measure while you complain, your voice muffled. “ I can barely hug the guy without it being weird. ”

You hadn’t lied. It was definitely easier the second time, and even easier the third time, when he’d picked you up from your last class and driven you home before he’d left for practice downtown. 

It had not, however, been a comfortable ride home, because you two had just sat in uncertain silence – uncertain, because neither of you could fathom why you would ever tell him how far you’d gone before him.

And it had not been easy the fourth time he’d hugged you, in front of your building and about ten reporters. Because he’d turned his head just enough to brush his lips tentatively over your cheek, and you’d stilled in his arms, your face thankfully hidden in his chest again.

You couldn’t bear for the internet to see the look on your face the first time Tsukishima Kei had ever kissed you.

He’d gotten into his car and driven off, and you’d run upstairs and called Kiyoko without a second thought.

You can barely hug him, and that sad excuse for a kiss had put you on high alert.

There’s absolutely no world in which it would be natural for you to have sex with Tsukishima Kei. No world in which it could ever be considered.

“Okay,” Kiyoko laughs when you groan in fresh embarrassment. “I’m sure you’ll get used to doing the smaller things in public with him.”

You’re about groan again, but a quiet ding comes from Kiyoko’s palms.

“Uh-” She cuts short, and your stomach flips nervously.

“ What’s it say? ” You mumble, knowing it’s him.

She clears her throat awkwardly, and your nerves worsen.

“He wants to come over.”

You wither, there in your hiding spot, and mumble a pathetic response. 

“ Okay. Sure. ”

–

“Do you… want to shower?” You gesture lamely down the hall to your bathroom, Tsukki standing awkwardly in the foyer with his bag.

You see him swallow hard, and you realize how it’d come out.

“Because you’re gross,” You blurt, watching his eyebrows fly up and his tense expression become a teasing grin.

“Yeah, I got it the first time, Y/n,” He says, padding into your living room. “But thanks for clarifying.”

You flush, watching him drop his bag and head for your dresser. He plucks a set of his own clothes out of the bottom drawer, chuckling to himself as he does it.

“I probably shouldn’t stay long. If I leave in different clothes, things’ll get weird downstairs.”

And then there’s silence, because he’d said it without considering the rather salient implications of that sentence.

You sigh when the bathroom door clicks shut, falling onto your bed and contemplating hiding your face again.

He emerges after ten minutes, as you’re texting a very nosy Kiyoko. He stares down at you until you nervously lift your eyes to his. And then he takes a breath.

“We good?”

You hadn’t realized how much you needed such a simple question.

“Yeah,” You say with a breath of laughter. “We’re good.”

His relief is apparent in the way he throws himself down beside you and extracts his own phone, opening Twitter. You’re both quiet for a while, scrolling through his feed together and seeing that his name is trending.

“ ‘#tsukkiyn ’,” He says, snorting. “Look at us, going viral.”

You see a video of him tripping over his feet on the stairs of the gym, scrambling for his bag, and you purse your lips to keep from laughing.

“Look at you. You’re a wreck.”

“Shut up,” He laughs, scrolling past it to a photo of the two of you walking across campus. He’s got his fingers interlaced with yours – it must have been the moment he’d done it, because your eyes are bugged out with shock.

Tsukki laughs loudly, immediately liking and retweeting it without thinking. You gasp.

“ Tsukishima Kei- ” 

His notifications flood with replies and likes, the whole world seeming to react all at once.

[6:59 PM] tsukkiynstan77 : HELLO??? IS THIS CONFIRMATION????

[6:59 PM] kookooforkei : NO FUCKING SHOTTTTT NO FUCKING SHOT TSUKISHIMA KEI

[6:59 PM] sendaitsukki : I FOUND HER @ EVERYONE I FUCKING FOUND IT IT’S @/ynlovely !!!

“Uh oh,” Tsukki says under his breath, turning to look at you. You stare at him, a singular moment of silence between you before catastrophe.

Your phone starts to buzz incessantly, your notifications blowing up in a surge of sudden city-wide attention. You both stare at your phone screen, watching the notifications come in so fast that your phone starts to lump them all together.

15 New Notifications

16 New Notifications

17 New Notifications

99+ New Notifications

You stare at it, watching your phone glitch and struggle, and all you can do is laugh.

“Are you… Are you stupid?”

“I think so,” He says immediately, nodding beside you. “I definitely think that’s possible.”

A text notification stands out over the rest, its ding different than the others.

[7:01 PM]

Kiyoko: im going to assume your sudden lack of response means that youre fucking that man right now.

Your eyes go wide, and you drop your phone on your face in your haste to hide the screen. Tsukki coughs next to you, and you spot the telltale burn of embarrassment on his face as he turns away.

“ Fucking bitch ,” You mumble, snatching your phone up and rolling onto your side to hide from him.

[7:01 PM]

You: you fkin gbtich

Kiyoko: oh, did he see???

Kiyoko: oops :)) 

You hear snickering behind you, and you turn to find Tsukki peering over your shoulder at the texts. You gasp, and he reaches over to pluck the phone away from you.

“What do we have here?” He asks, standing from your bed and taking three giant strides to get away from you.

“ Tsukki! ” You roll off clumsily, chasing after him in a panic. “Don’t read those-”

“ ‘You need to kiss him for real ’,” He reads aloud, sidestepping you as you chase him all around your shoebox of an apartment. “‘ I saw the pics of him kissing you out front, that shit was pathetic- ’ What the fuck?” He stops, lifting the phone over his head to read it again. “I’m not pathetic -”

“Give me-” You jump, knocking the phone from his hand and onto the couch. “-my phone, you fuck.” You retrieve it, glaring up at him. “Those are private-”

“Was it really pathetic?” He asks, entirely caught up in this. “I thought it was fine.”

You roll your eyes, going into your notification settings and muting everything related to Twitter. “It was fine.”

He just pulls his phone out, and you catch him scrolling.

He’d searched for photos of the kiss.

“You’re joking,” You say, dropping down onto the couch and shaking your head. “It was fine , Tsukki.”

He just hums, unconvinced, and throws himself down, all but sitting on you. “Look at this.” He shows you a photo, zoomed in to where his lips barely touch your face. “That’s pretty bad.”

It is pretty bad.

You purse your lips, hiding your laugh when you see how he scowls down at his screen. “I’m sure we’ll get better at it.”

He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the photo. And then he locks his phone, tossing it down next to him.

“I thought it’d be easier than this.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” You say, smiling pitifully. “Regret anything yet?”

He snorts, shaking his head and combing his fingers through his wet hair. “Unfortunately, it looks you’re stuck with me. I talked to Management after practice.”

You shift, your interest piqued. “And?”

“They approved.” He throws you a half-laugh. “Obviously.”

“Do they know it’s fake?”

“Oh, please-” He waves your question away. “The whole team knows it’s fake. I was getting my ass handed to me 24 hours ago.”

You wring your hands together nervously. “And they’re all cool with it?”

“They like you more than they like me.”

“I barely know them.”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Trust me, they want this to work just as much as we do. There’s too much riding on this.”

You nod, feeling a bit of relief seep into you. If the Frogs are on board with this, it can’t be a terrible idea, right?

“Anything they need me to do in particular?”

He shoots you a grin. “Make me a decent person?”

You grimace. “Bit above my pay-grade.”

He rolls his eyes. “They want me to have a social media presence. Pictures, tweets, teasing comments – that kinda thing.”

You blink. “So, earlier-”

“Come on,” He levels you with a deadpan stare. “You really think I’m stupid?”

“Extremely, yes.”

Tsukki just rolls his eyes, snatching his phone up and laying his body across yours.

“Smile, baby .” 

You spend an hour getting manhandled into different angles and positions, your debut as Tsukishima Kei’s girlfriend consisting of poorly shot selfies and a head of blond hair in your face.

“Go home , Tsukki,” You finally say, shoving him off of you and wiping your cheek where he’d just licked you like a freak. “You’re getting on my nerves.”

He just laughs, scrolling through his cursed camera roll. He picks one out from the collection of blurred shots and ugly laughing.

“What about this one?”

It’s one of Tsukki biting your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut as his mouth opens over your face, teeth clamped down on your cheek. You’ve got one hand curled into his hair, the other gripping the side of his neck as you try to shove him off of you, but it’s obvious you’re mid-laughter.

You stare down at it, hating that it’s perfect.

“Yeah, okay, fine.” 

Tsukki snickers, sending it to you. “You post it. It’s weird if I do it.”

You roll your eyes, opening Twitter and ignoring the million notifications in order to type a simple tweet with the photo attached.

[8:22 PM] ynlovely : freak. [photo attached]

It’s met with instant engagement, but Tsukki only adds to it, retweeting it just a minute later with his own comment.

[8:23 PM] tsukei : i got that dog in me

He’s out of your apartment before he has time to apologize, but – somehow – the headlines are faster.

Sendai Frogs Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei Dating Longtime Friend: Confirmed

–

Despite the rocky start, things become surprisingly easy over the course of the next week.

The topic of kissing doesn’t come up again, but you find Tsukki making a habit of pecking you quickly on the cheek whenever you part ways, one hand in yours and the other on your waist. You follow his lead, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down to your height when you want to plant a kiss on his face, laughter shared between you when you find new and strange places to put it. One on the bridge of his nose, another on his jawline just under his ear.

One accidentally smacked against the corner of his mouth in your rush to get to class on Friday morning.

A photo of Tsukki crouching against the wall of your department had circulated Twitter only minutes after that, his face hidden in his hands but ears clearly burning a beautifully bright, summery red. 

You hadn’t realized it then – that one accidental moment could call into question the validity of your relationship with Tsukishima Kei.

–

Your eyes scan over the most recent tweets under the ‘ #tsukkiyn ’ tag as you sit in a cafe on Friday afternoon, a strange dread settling deep in your gut.

Everything before – the excited commentary and overwhelming chaos related to the announcement of your relationship – had been due to the novelty of it all. The newness of Tsukishima as a taken man.

But this photo, where it’s apparent that Tsukki is flustered and unfamiliar with you in a romantic capacity, brings to attention a lot of the assumed details of your relationship.

You skim the tweets that address the issue, Tsukishima fans and haters alike all asking the same questions.

Why would he be so caught off guard by a simple gesture of affection? Something that can’t even be considered a kiss?

Isn’t it the case that you two had been dating for a while in secret and are only now confirming the relationship publicly? 

Is it a bit suspicious that the announcement of a relationship had comes only hours after a series of reputation-ruining headlines for the Sendai Frogs’ most promising rookie?

And there, posted only mere minutes ago, is someone who’d half-guessed at the truth.

[12:20 PM] numberonekei : lol the frogs probably paid her to be his fake gf to make him seem more likeable. not like shes actually his type.

You lock your phone, throwing it in your bag with a sigh and reaching for your coffee.

Nariko from Sendai Sports is sitting only a table away. She’d been with you almost all week, and you’d come to find some strange comfort in her presence – she’s proven herself to be a normal human being just doing her job.

Even now, she looks up from some shots on her camera when you sigh, and you feel her looking you over.

“Rough day?”

You smile wryly, pulling some books out to get work done. “Just glad it’s almost the weekend.”

“That’s a vague answer if I’ve ever heard one.”

You laugh. “Any weekend plans?”

She waves her camera at you in explanation, and you nod with a hum of understanding. She eyes you just a moment longer before returning to her shots. 

“I’ve been curating only the best photos of you, if that makes your day any less bad.”

You snort into your coffee. “It does, thank you.” And then you swallow, figuring it wouldn’t be too much detail to mention some things to her. “Just getting used to it all. The attention.”

“People kind of suck, huh?”

“Kind of,” You agree, staring down at your textbook without really seeing it. And then you blink, shaking yourself out of it. “It’s fine. I’ll feel better once he gets here.”

She looks up at you again, and you find minor surprise in her expression. “Is he really that good of a boyfriend? He’s kind of…”

“An asshole?” You smile, enjoying the breath of laughter she lets out. “He’s… hard to explain. You gotta think about how this might all feel for him, too, I guess.” There’s a moment of silence, one where she looks like she might understand what you’re saying, but it’s interrupted by a quiet knock on the cafe window.

You look up, finding Tadashi and Kiyoko, both of them gesturing for you to join them. You furrow a brow, reaching over for your bag, but there’s a hand there already.

“I texted you, loser,” Tsukki says, opening your bag and closing your textbook. “What’re you dissociating about?”

He clearly had not seen Nariko sitting fifteen feet away.

You shake your head, helping him collect your things and hoping she views your dynamic as one of playful banter. “Nothing, you ass. It’s just been a long morning.”

Tsukki crouches next you then, taking your face in one hand and forcing you to look at him. “Yeah, you look like shit.”

“Thank you. I do try.”

He only stares, scanning your face. “What happened?” It’s less of a question and more of a demand.

“Nothing, Tsukki,” You say, trying to shake him off. “Let’s just go.” 

But he’s reaching for your phone, unlocking it before you can stop him.

“Tsukki, don’t-”

“What’s…” He stares down at your Twitter feed, at the tweet you’d last read. And then he rolls his eyes, sighing heatedly and throwing your phone back in your bag. “I fucking hate the internet. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You frown slightly. That person had guessed at your fake relationship, but Tsukki’s denying it while thinking this conversation is private. Why?

He mumbles to himself as he finishes packing your bag. “ What would anyone know what my type is? ‘s bullshit .”

Oh. He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Just forget it, Tsukki,” You say, leaning forward and pressing your lips to the corner of his eyebrow. “I’m not that upset about it.”

“You clearly are,” He snaps. “I’m gonna start kicking people’s asses if they say shit to you.”

You roll your eyes, taking his hand and standing when he offers it to you. “No, you’re not. I’ll kick your ass if you try it.”

He just shrugs. “I’m just saying – teaching by example isn’t a bad idea.”

“Your stupidity amazes me sometimes,” You say, and then you turn to Nariko. “Have a good weekend.”

“I hope your day gets better,” She says, smiling kindly and avoiding eye contact with Tsukki.

He waits until you’re outside to awkwardly mumble, “Was she there the whole time?”

“Yes, she was. You’re just an idiot.”

“Who’s an idiot?” Kiyoko asks as you approach. When you gesture up at Tsukki, she smiles plainly. “Well, lucky for us, he’s just a dumb athlete and not a rocket scientist.”

Yamaguchi laughs a little too loud and is forced to run back to Tsukki’s car with the blond on his heels.

–

“So… Tsukki won’t tell me anything about how things are going with you two…” Yamaguchi leans in close to you. The Frogs have a home game on Sunday, so you sit with him and Kiyoko in the stands at their gym, half-watching their two-hour practice as you work on some assignments. 

You turn to the freckled boy now, an eyebrow raised.

“Okay…?”

He smiles, and you catch Kiyoko snickering to herself on his other side. She meets your eye and shrugs.

“Social media can only say so much.”

Yamaguchi nods, his smile conspiratorial. “A little hug here, a little kiss on the cheek there…”

“That’s about it, Tadashi,” You say slowly. His grin widens.

“Yeah? Nothing else?” When you don’t respond, he and Kiyoko start to nudge each other. “Nothing about someone’s virginity?” 

You gasp, flushing hard. It hadn’t come up again all week, and you’d nearly forgotten about it. 

“What the- fuck -” You shut your notebook and reach around Yamaguchi to smack Kiyoko with it. “You were not supposed to tell anyone!”

Kiyoko laughs as you hit her repeatedly. The ruckus catches the attention of some of the players below as they take a water break, and you’re met with Tsukki’s questioning stare, Koganegawa and Kyoutani on either side of him with bemused smiles. You wave lamely at them, aiming one last smack at your giggling friends before putting your notebook down.

“I needed someone else to join me in my exasperation,” Kiyoko says, leaning close and creating a secretive huddle for the three of you to whisper. “You two were acting weird and it had only been, like, 10 hours of dating.”

“It was just a fluke!” You whisper-yell, boxing Yamaguchi in as you argue. “It’s not exactly a smooth transition from 15 years of friendship into something romantic.”

“Something romantic , huh?” Yamaguchi throws a traitorous arm over your shoulder. “Do tell, Y/n.”

“You know what I mean. It was a rocky start, and there may or may not have been some oversharing along the way.” Your face is still hot from having to explain, but you want to cut these two off before they can start concocting stupid ideas.

“Yeah, well, you’re not out of the woods yet,” Kiyoko says, her grin a little evil. “I’ve seen what people are saying today – they’re not exactly convinced that you two are the Hallmark movie you need to be.”

You grimace. “What do you want me to do? We’re moving at a decent pace, I think.”

“ Decent pace ?” Yamaguchi snickers. “You kiss Tsukki the way I kiss my grandma.”

“I don’t have time to unpack that sentence, Tadashi,” You joke, wishing this conversation could end already. “But-” You sigh in frustration. “Fine. I see what you’re both saying. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“It’s not like you need to give him a lap dance, Y/n,” He says. “But something needs to change before the game.” When you just stare at him blankly, he and Kiyoko share a look of disbelief. “You don’t think the whole world’s gonna be watching you that day?”

You deflate. You hadn’t even thought of that.

“What if they win, huh?” Kiyoko prompts. “You gonna give him a high-five, Y/n?”

Yamaguchi nods. “You at least have to kiss him. And if you’re really committed to this-” He glances over your head, eyes going wide as he leans in quickly to whisper in your ear. “- you’re gonna have to make it good. You know sweet, innocent girls aren’t Tsukki’s type .”

You blanche, remembering the joking way that Tsukki had hinted at cute girls not being able to ‘ handle ’ him.

“What are you three scheming about over here?”

You jump, turning quickly to see Tsukki standing over you, hand on hip and eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

You swallow, shaking your head. “Nothing… Nothing-” You blink, clearing your head. “Practice done?”

He nods, hoisting his gym bag high on his shoulder. “Are we still drinking tonight?”

“Drinking?” You turn to look at your friends. “Where?”

Yamaguchi smiles and lifts his bag, and you realize only now that there’s a quiet clink every time he jostles it.

“Your place.”

–

“Oh. I brought this over.” 

Tsukki reaches into his bag, extracting a bright green Frogs jersey and tossing it at you. You catch it without looking, tipping another shot back into your mouth. 

The four of you are sitting on the floor around your coffee table, some bottles of liquor and your many preferred mixers strewn on the table with the shot glasses and three bowls of varied snacks. A random movie plays on your TV, the volume low and the plot serving as nothing more than background noise.

You squint at the shirt in your hand, his last name stretched in capital letters across the back. The letters double up and hover a little, your vision not what it should be right now.

“Your… jersey?”

“For Sunday,” He says with no other explanation, just reaching over the table to pour a shot of rum and a splash of Coke into his cup. It spills over the rim a little, and he has to shake his head to clear it as he’s putting the bottle down.

Your heart jumps a little, the reminder of Sunday bringing back Yamaguchi’s words.

‘You’re gonna have to make it good. ’

You glance at Yamaguchi now, seeing that he’s eyeing you with mischief. When he sees the panic tinging your expression, he grins.

“Yeah, Y/n ,” He says, giggling drunkenly. “You gotta look the part so people don’t say you’re not his real girlfriend.” He and Kiyoko lean heavy on each other, and he mumbles to her in a voice that’s a lot louder than he realizes. “ Gotta act the part, too. ”

You glance at Tsukki, finding him staring at the pair over the top of his glasses, his cup halfway to his mouth. His eyes narrow in suspicion at his roommate.

“ Yamaguchi …” He mutters. It’s suspicious, you realize – a warning. You glance between them, wondering what’s happened.

Yamaguchi catches you, his smile wicked. “I think he’s mad at me, Y/n.” He tilts his head toward, his whisper deliberately loud this time. “It’s just that he’s been so blushy lately. I’m dying to know why.”

“Soon enough, you’ll just be dying,” Tsukki says, downing his drink. 

Your head spins a little as you look around. Kiyoko and Yamaguchi are both red in the face, the vodka having gotten to them almost an hour ago. Tsukki, too, is undoubtedly drunk – his eyes are heavily lidded, his blinks long and slow. And his fingers rest on the rug, just slightly over yours.

That’s one thing about Tsukishima Kei that’s just so hard to believe – he gets touchy when he drinks. And even if his version of touchy is nothing more than fingertips brushing over the back of your hand every few minutes, it’s touchy nonetheless.

Unfortunately, you get touchy when you drink, too.

And it’s just so truly unfortunate, because your version of touchy isn’t exactly his version of touchy.

“Tsukki,” You start, his name heavy in your mouth. “Do you plan on winning the game on Sunday?”

His golden eyes cut to yours, narrowing with unspoken questions. “That’s usually the goal, yeah.”

You swallow, your heart pounding a little louder than usual. Your drunken mind had really thought he might say no.

“Why?” He asks, but you don’t hear him.

You just sit up on your knees, struggling to put your drink on the table before scooting close to him. You hear Kiyoko gasp behind you, she and Yamaguchi starting to smack each other’s arms when you reach out and take the front of Tsukki’s shirt with both hands.

His eyes widen, and he allows himself to be dragged toward you. “What-Y/n-”

You lean forward, stopping just shy of his mouth and sighing roughly. His breath catches in his throat, and you smell the rum on his tongue.

“Be quiet, Tsukki. For once.”

You can confidently say you’ve never tasted rum quite like this.

It’s quick, but the jolt to your system is sharp, a live wire in your veins.

You pull away with the hint of a gasp, your pulse drumming in your ears. Tsukki stares with wide eyes and parted lips. You think you hear Yamaguchi mumble ‘ Holy shit’ to Kiyoko, but you can’t spare any attention for it.

Tsukki’s eyes flick between yours and then back down to your mouth, and the drumming in your ears skips a few beats.

He leans in before you can pull away.

This kiss is as short as the last, but he lingers this time, alcohol tainting the air that hovers between your lips. You gather the courage to try again before he does, and it’ll only be later that you realize how relieved you are that he tangles his fingers in your hair and kisses you until his courage finds him, too.

His lips are softer than you’d expected – rough and assured, just like everything else about him, but soft nonetheless. You find yourself unshakeably curious to discover if they’re still as soft after just one more kiss. Over and over again, curiosity on repeat. Needing to keep testing it, because there’s an almost desperate need to keep finding out.

Just one more, you think, again and again. One more, and then you’ll stop. 

His other hand finds your thigh, palm searing hot against your skin, and his tongue brushes against your bottom lip just as his fingers slide accidentally under the hem of your shorts. Your heart jumps, and your teeth catch ever so softly on his lip. A sound escapes from deep in his throat, one that sounds suspiciously like a groan.

What an addicting little sound it turns out to be.

Just as Tsukki’s fingertips are digging into the plush skin of your thighs, Yamaguchi clears his throat loudly behind you. Kiyoko’s got her hand on your shoulder, pulling you away.

“Y/n,” She says gently, tugging on your sleeve.

You gasp, realizing what’s happened and reeling back quickly. Tsukki’s fingers tighten in your hair for just a second, but he lets you go almost immediately, his eyes wide as he comes to his senses, too.

“What-” He breathes, gaze flicking in a panic between your lips and your eyes. You stare back, your heart pounding in your ears and your head spinning like a carousel. “What was that for?”

You just scan him, watching as a blush blossoms furiously across his cheeks, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You blink, your voice muffled in your ear when you respond.

“Just practicing. For Sunday.”

And then you whirl around, your back pressed against the bottom of the couch as you stare emptily at the TV. Yamaguchi snatches the remote from the floor and boosts the volume until there’s no way you and Tsukki can have a conversation about this.

Kiyoko and Yamaguchi start to whisper furiously to each other after a few minutes, but you and Tsukki stay silent until it gets late enough that you all fall asleep.

–

You wake sometime around 3am, shifting and covering your eyes with a quiet groan when you realize the TV’s still on. The room is completely dark otherwise, so you have to search clumsily around the floor for the remote, still tired but thankfully not drunk anymore. 

You only realize Tsukki’s awake and sitting on the couch when you see that the remote is in his hand. His eyes are trained on the screen, unseeing, and he’s got his cup in his other hand. He flicks his gaze down to yours when he senses you looking at him.

“Too bright?” He mumbles, quiet enough not to wake your friends, Kiyoko sleeping on the armchair and Yamaguchi passed out on the rug. You shake your head, joining him on the couch and shivering slightly from the running air conditioner.

“Body heat,” You say plainly, and he rolls his eyes but allows you to press your side against his regardless. “You’re gonna be too hungover for practice tomorrow if you keep drinking.” You gesture to the cup in his hand, watching a slow smirk stretch across his face.

“What’s wrong?” He teases, setting both the cup and the remote on the table in favor of draping his arm around your shoulders with an mocking lift of his eyebrows. “Worried I won’t do well on Sunday? You must really want to kiss me.”

You don’t bother hiding the flush of your cheeks in the dark, too busy rolling your eyes. “You recovered quickly, Tsukishima,” You say, your tone just as airy and full of amusement when his eyes light up a little at the use of his name. “Alcohol got you feeling confident?”

“It had you feeling confident,” He counters, smirk deepening when he sees the embarrassment cross your expression. And then he leans into you, nose brushing against yours and breath fanning across your lips when he whispers to you.

You only realize he’s actually about to kiss you when his gaze drops to your mouth.

“ My turn .”

You suck in a surprised breath, unsure what to do with the excited flutter of your heart when his lips turn out to be just as soft as they were before. Your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, and you shiver when his hand finds your waist, his palm heated even through your shirt.

“Still cold?” He whispers against your lips, angling his head and smiling when you lean into him. You shake your head, because you’re suddenly so, so warm, but then you realize his breath doesn’t smell like rum anymore.

“You were drinking water?” You ask, a flash of heat spreading from the crown of your head down to your toes when he just kisses you again with an amused hum.

“Did you really think I would risk being hungover tomorrow?”

You breathe unsteadily, goosebumps spreading all over your skin when he drops his head and brushes his lips against a spot just under your ear. “Why are you kissing me, Tsukki? You’re sober.”

His breath is warm when it fans out over your throat, his voice low in your ear and muffled against your skin. “ So are you. ”

Your stomach flips. He’s right.

“But I wasn’t the first time.” You lift your brows, mustering as much confidence as you can. “What’s your excuse? You wanna kiss me that bad, Tsukki?”

He lifts his head then, meeting your eyes evenly as a knowing look fills his expression.

“Just practicing, of course – for Sunday.”

The implication brings you pause, and then you laugh, covering your mouth so as to not wake your friends up. Tsukki watches you do it, a matching smile spreading across his lips.

It’s relieving, being able to laugh about this with him.

After an entire week of moments belonging to the public – moments that have meant too much, with too many eyes on them and too much on the line to risk messing them up – this is one moment that belongs only to you and him. One moment when you don’t have to think so hard.

Maybe that’s been the issue all along.

“Tsukki…” You start, meeting his eyes with an idea growing in your head. He hums, watching you closely. “What if we just… stop thinking so much about this?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, only offering a long, slow blink. And then he tilts his head, the conspiratorial look in his eye all too enticing. You’ve been seeing that look your whole life.

“You wanna have some fun, Y/n?”

Maybe you’re just as much trouble as he is.

“I could be into that.”

–

It turns out that ‘ having fun ’ looks a lot like you sitting in the packed stands on Sunday afternoon, wearing the name TSUKISHIMA on your back and hiding your phone from your friends as you text him. Both teams are down below doing their pre-game stretches, and you wait for Tsukki to be near his bag pressing send .

You don’t hear the quiet ding from where you sit, but you see his blond head swivel around at the sound. He extracts the phone from his bag, and you watch him read the messages.

[1:21 PM]

You: in case you forgot

You: winning this game comes with the added bonus of me kissing the soul out of your body

You: in front of all these people

You catch the smile that creeps out just before he smothers it, and your own smile is hidden behind your hand. He looks around, searching the bleachers until he finds you. He shakes his head at you, typing rapidly and sending his response just as Koganegawa’s approaching him.

[1:24 PM]

Tsukki: dont threaten me with a good time, you freaky little dementor

Tsukki: you WILL be paying up when i make the winning point

You snort into your hand, locking your phone and waving off Yamaguchi and Kiyoko when they give you matching looks of interest. The intro commentary starts shortly after, with the teams greeting each other through the net. The game starts promptly at 1:30 PM.

True to his word, Tsukishima Kei makes the winning point at 2:58 PM. 

You watch in disbelief as his block sends the ball back over the net, spinning quickly and slamming against the floor between two players on the other team. You’re left stunned in your seat as everyone jumps up, the name on your back screamed across the entire stadium as Frogs fans celebrate yet another win at the hands of their star rookie.

Kiyoko grabs you and hauls you to your feet, and you can’t help the laughter that fills your body as you cheer alongside her.

By the time you find him in the mass of his teammates, Tsukki’s already looking right at you. His teammates all jump around him, shoving and hugging and clapping him on the back. 

But all he does is lift his arm, a single finger pointed right at you.

Yamaguchi makes a noise of surprise, and Kiyoko turns to you with a shocked smile.

“You’re not actually…?”

Tsukki crooks his finger twice, beckoning you to him with a satisfied grin.

'Show them who you are.'

Kyoutani sees you next, his smile widening as he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, in that deep baritone that shakes the room-

“ Kiss! ” 

Your laughter turns giddy, and you dart out into the aisle to get to the stairs. You take them two at a time, his oversized jersey fluttering behind you as you run down to the court. You hear the whispers and whooping all around you as the fans realize where you are and where you’re headed, but you ignore them in favor of meeting Tsukki halfway across the court.

The smile he gives you is that wild, genuine one that reminds you of your childhood – of playground sand boxes and toy dinosaurs, of excited storytelling and playing volleyball with Akiteru in their backyard.

Of a Tsukishima Kei who would pretend he knew nothing about why the class bully was suddenly sporting a bloody nose after making fun of your body – one who would pretend he couldn’t hear you when you’d say you weren’t hungry, only shoving a spoonful of his lunch in your mouth with that smile that would make you forget why you were crying in the first place.

That’s the Tsukishima Kei that picks you up now and spins you around like you weigh nothing, his arms wrapping around you while you tangle your fingers into his hair and kiss him like your life depends on it. He tastes like salt, and he breathes a laugh past your lips when the crowd starts to follow Kyoutani’s lead, the room erupting in cheers and the thunderous chant of ‘ Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! ’. 

“ Congratulations, ” You whisper against his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist. A shiver runs down your spine when he holds you there, his grip on your hips and thighs possessive and his body flush against yours. 

You wonder if maybe he’d seen his life in your smile, too.

“ You gonna greet me like this at every game? ” He asks between kisses, the chanting and cheering becoming nearly overwhelming. 

“ Only if you win, ” You laugh, barely able to hear the response he gives you even in your little pocket of solitude.

“ Guess I should start training for Nationals.”

You’d forgotten how easy it is to have fun with him.