#Sun City Vacation Club

[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

[throughparisallthroughrome]

"Got the Blues Back in Boston"

Chapter 1

Pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Description: Leaving behind an incompatible college and profound heartbreak on the Virginia Coast, you find yourself home again in Brookline, Massachusetts. A new opportunity presents itself to you at MIT, joining your brother ben and childhood friends/neighbors, Anakin and Ahsoka. Despite the familiarity, you discover just how much of a difference 2 years away can really make between the people you once considered family.

Warnings:f!reader, angst, jealousy, pining, smut, masturbation, mentions/descriptions of domestic abuse, cursing, drinking/drug usage, academic obsession, general obsession, hardcore partying, frats, general college bullshit

DISCLAIMER!!! READ BEFORE PROCEEDING: I’ve never been in an abusive relationship- I’ve only witnessed them. I’m an aspiring psychology major and have done a lot of research on the topic of domestic abuse/violence. This series deals with this topic HEAVILY, so be warned. 

Word Count: 6.3k A/N: First chapter is up! I'm sorry it took so long, I was really hoping to nail a certain feel and aesthetic with this series, and I really hope that translates. I'm probably gonna post the playlist I listen to while writing this because it does have a lot of influence on the story and everything. Please let me know if you wish to be tagged! Requests and ask box is open, and any/all criticism is welcome! Thank you for reading and supporting me <3

masterlist.

The drive to Brookline was always a hassle. Whether it was crossing the scary bridge along the coast of Virginia or through New York City—knowing that you’d still never been—it always ached. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been home in two years—and you missed Boston. 

Piled high in the back of your black Ford Focus was the last two years of your life that you could fit. You left behind everything else. 

The forest that encompassed you on I-95 offered a clearer perspective on your situation. As devastating as it had been, your new beginning after high school was not quite what you expected it to be. Hampton was a lovely place; the beaches were excellent, the people friendly, and there was always something to do. Somewhere to go. You made decent money working as a cocktail waitress in a club near your apartment, which is how you met Nick.

Tall, with a handsome face and a charm that was impossible to resist, Nick was the kind of man you couldn't help but be drawn to. He had a gorgeous smile and a body sculpted from the gods. The night you met him, he smooth-talked his way into your bed, introducing himself as Nicholas, saying how he never met someone as beautiful as you. The other waitresses just didn’t compare. And the rest was history. Were you usually the type to sleep with someone on the first date (if you could call it that)? Definitely not. But something about him was so captivating. 

But as the trees passed you by and your grip on your steering wheel tightened, you felt a tear fall onto your shaking hands. What happened to the Nick you loved? What went wrong? Who did you both turn into? Besides, the whole thing going south was your fault- you both knew that. You wanted too much; you let those men flirt, and you were never there for him. You never did what he asked. And you’d never amount to anything. At least, that’s what Nick always told you- and part of you was inclined to believe it. 

Your heart ached at the loss. The 11-hour drive was increasingly painful by the second, only two hours in and not even through the first city. The morning sun beamed in your eye as your car trudged through the wetlands, bathed in its golden hue.1 In the distance, you could make out the skyline of DC, the first city you needed to travel through.

It was nice in DC. You had attended a few times in the past. On one of the many family vacations you took throughout the years, you, your parents, and the Skywalkers had all made a trip together to that specific destination. You intentionally took the longer way home to ensure you remember it all. Besides, the Delaware Peninsula was far from interesting. And you needed the time to think- and probably mentally prepare yourself for what you’d arrive at.

The most exciting part of the trip was Baltimore, Philly, and NYC back to back. Despite sitting in mind-numbing traffic a lot of times, there was always something to look at. And people-watching was always your favorite. You felt your heart hurt, wishing for the opportunities that these cities could bring. As New York City and Hartford disappeared in the rearview mirror, the approaching Boston skyline sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. And there was the traffic.

You shakily reached for a cigarette out of your purse as your car came to a stop, breaking your own promise that you wouldn’t smoke in the car you bought. A wide smile spread across your face as you lit the cigarette, your body relaxing as the sweet scent filled the air. Naturally, your mind went straight to Anakin. Whenever you tasted cigarettes, it was impossible not to think of him and the bittersweet moments you shared. After all, he started your bad habit. Once again, your hands shook. Did he ever think about you while you were gone? You were close, but he was also an incredible pain in your ass. And what if he and Padme suddenly got back together? Ahsoka would have told you, right? Maybe. 

She would have told you. 

The familiar streets of Brookline outstretched before you, energetic and alive, instantly flooding your mind with cheerful memories that brought a grin to your face. Your smile widened across your face as you glanced at the familiar sports bar on the corner, reminiscing about the laughter and friendships you developed during your time as a hostess in high school. You turned the corner at the next light, a quiet laugh escaping your lips as the vibrant lights of the movie theater danced before your eyes, eliciting the sweet nostalgia of your god-awful first kiss. You weren’t expecting little Tommy to stick his tongue down your throat in 7th grade. As you approached Emerson Garden, a bittersweet ache tugged at your heart, memories of laughter and familiarity flooding your mind—the memories it held. 

The streetlights flickered as you turned down the most familiar road of all. You bit your lip in anticipation and ignored the urge to light another cigarette right then and there- your mom didn’t need to know about your filthy habit (although she smoked, too). The soft melodies of Radiohead and the laughter echoed from the back porch as you parked in the driveway. Gazing at the house with a smile, you felt a hint of excitement about reclaiming your old room. It had been far too long. 

The porch light turned on, and out ran Ahsoka, not even giving you a chance to turn your car off.

“You motherfucker!” She yelled, opening the car door and throwing her arms around you as you laughed, “It’s been so fucking long!” 

You looked back at her, pulling the beanie off her head and giggling, “Well, don’t tell the others, but I only came back for you.”

“Shut up,” she stands up, pulling you up with her, “Get your ass inside.” You laugh and salute her, following her through the familiar corridors of your house and into the kitchen. 

“Shut the FUCK up. She’s real!” Your mom squealed and quickly set her wine down, embracing you as if you’d be gone in an instant. “Never leave me like that again.” She pulls away and laughs, her tone laced with a hint of seriousness. 

“Never.” You promised, smiling wide before your dad caught your attention, tossing you a beer and shooting a wink in your direction. Although he wasn't typically sentimental, you could tell he missed you. 

“Where are the boys?” you asked, opening the can and drinking the bitter liquid. “Jesus Christ, Miller Lite never gets better, does it?” You squinted your eyes in disgust, giggling at your own reaction. 

“Nope, thought I taught you better than that.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head. “They’re outside with Cliegg and Shmi.”

“Okay, sweet, I’ll go say hello.” You motion towards the back door, catching a glimpse of Ben from the back porch. 

“Hey,” He grabs your arm before you can turn to leave. “We missed you. I hope you’re okay. Ahsoka didn’t give us any details, but she said things really went to shit in Hampton. I just want to make sure you know you always have a home here, and we will do what we can to make it better, okay?” 

You nodded and smiled before practically running out the back door, forgetting exactly what you were throwing yourself into. 

“You fucker, you cheated!” Anakin yells, throwing down his cards as Ben takes a swig of his beer and laughs. 

“I’m afraid you just have an awful poker face, Anakin.” He sets his cards down and stands up, turning to face you with a smile. “There she is. About time you graced us with your presence.” 

You give a shrug before embracing Ben tightly, fighting back tears welling up in your eyes. You and Ben were close, and you knew that if he found out what happened, it would devastate him. He and Anakin were always there to keep you safe, but you had a distinct sibling connection. He knew you too well, always able to read your thoughts with uncanny accuracy. 

“You okay?” He pulled away and whispered, searching your sad eyes.

“Yeah, just tired. Long ass drive. Took the long way this time.” You sniffled, and he nodded in response, letting go and pulling a chair out between Anakin and what you assumed was Ahsoka’s chair. With a quiet thank you on your lips, you raised your beer to your mouth and took a long, satisfying gulp, feeling a gentle buzz settle in. 

“So, you’re back.” Anakin avoids eye contact, shuffling the cards before him as Ahsoka stifles a laugh. “Took you long enough.”

“Anakin!” Shmi scolds, noticing how his lips turn into a smirk, “You know he missed you, Y/N. He’s just a sore loser. Ben’s kicked his ass at poker three times now.” 

“Ah,” You nod, a grin spreading across your face, “He just doesn’t want to admit he sucks at poker- OW!” You feel a sudden impact as Anakin's foot forcefully meets the top of yours, causing you to shoot a glare in his direction. His eyes remain fixed on the cards, completely disregarding your look, while he bites down on his lip, trying to contain his amusement. "Sore loser indeed," you mutter under her breath, shaking her head in annoyance as you pick up the cards he handed you.

Of course, the hand was awful. You weren’t sure how you’d make it out of this alive. Family poker nights were a tradition started by your parents and the Skywalkers, which you were all quickly introduced to by your 10th birthday. Once you hit double digits, you were old enough to gamble. Ahsoka was always the best, but you had a habit of making a comeback when people least expected it. And you had a great poker face- Anakin did not. Anakin had a habit of wearing every thought and emotion on his sleeve his entire life. Shmi always swore it would be his downfall- as a child, you thought she was just talking about his downfall at poker. But once you got older, you quickly understood. 

When you discovered his breakup with Padme, you felt like maybe part of you understood. But you never really knew why they broke up. Everyone just told you, “They were better off as friends,” and that was all you knew. Did you want the real story? Absolutely. But part of you was worried about what he’d tell you. You knew better than to get involved in Anakin’s love life, and deep down, a part of you didn’t want to taint the image you had always had of him in your mind.

“Heard you finally got into MIT,” Anakin breaks the silence and your train of thought as he pushes a couple of chips into the center of the table, “Congratulations, although I’ve never heard of anyone going to MIT for an Archeology degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh. 

“There it is.” You giggle as everyone groans, setting their cards down as they fold. 

“There’s what?” He shoots you a disapproving glare.

“You’ve never given me a compliment without an insult. Was waiting for it.” You shrug, laying down your cards, “Full house.” Anakin’s jaw drops as you pull all the chips in your direction. 

“Shit,” He mutters, setting his cards down and laying his head on the table as he groans loudly in annoyance, “Fucking done with this game.”

“And so are we,” Shmi motions Cliegg to stand, “Love you guys. Have fun. Good to have you back, sweetheart.” Shmi kisses your head as Cliegg ruffles your hair before leaving to say goodnight to your parents. 

“Mhm,” you hum, finishing the last of your beer, “and plenty of people go to MIT for archeology. It’s a great school. Besides, it’s about time I joined you all there. And it’s only a 15-minute drive. Speaking of- how’s biochemical engineering going, little one?” With a gentle tap on Ahsoka's knee, she reluctantly tears her gaze away from her phone and responds with an eye roll.

“Fucking awful! I love what I’m studying; the school is incredible- just so much work. I’m so tired. I have time for nothing!” She groans and sinks further into her chair while you, Anakin, and Ben burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Coming from a recent MIT graduate- it doesn’t get any better. Just wait until you get further into your major- Biochemical Engineering is far from easy.” Ben offers her a smile while you and Anakin continue giggling. 

“And on that note,” You stand up, shaking your empty can, “I’m getting something stronger than this Miller.” 

As you enter the house, a soft purr fills the air as your familiar furry companion, Giz, wraps himself around your legs. You squat down on the floor and feel the warmth of his fur as you pet him, "Missed you, little guy."

“He missed you too.” Your mom leans against the doorway, handing you an obnoxiously full glass of wine. “Had a feeling you came in for this. Are we gonna talk about what happened?” 

You sigh, standing up and rubbing your hands on your thighs. “Now’s not really the time or place, Mom. I just got here. The last thing I wanna think about is that.” You grab the glass out of her hand and attempt to turn around before her hand is on your shoulder, pulling you back. 

“Not so fast.” You turn around and meet her concerned eyes, your hands feeling more sweaty than they did a minute ago. “Y/N, no one just up and leaves their entire life for the past two years suddenly without something major happening. I know you haven’t told anyone- and I know the last thing you want to do is talk about it- but please, for the love of God, talk to someone. We can all tell something is off. You’re not yourself, honey. We care about you- and we’re concerned. As much as I’m so fucking happy to have you back, I know something bad happened, and I want to be there for you.” 

“Mom,” You put your hand on her shoulder, fighting back tears with a smile. “You’re doing enough. I just want to have a good time, focus on being in my dream school, and g-get my life back together, okay?” 

“O-okay,” she nods, her voice laced with apprehension as she turns away from you and back into the kitchen, “Pasta on the stove if you want it!” 

“Thanks!” you yell, shutting the back door behind you and sighing loudly as you plop back into your chair, earning an eyebrow raise from everyone, “I’m here for an hour and she’s already bugging me.”

“She just loves you, Y/N/N.” Ben tries to reason, and you feel your leg bounce. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, fidgeting with the poker chips on the table.

“So,” Anakin leans forward, opening another beer, “You and that guy still together? What was his name.. Harry? James?”

“Nick.” You answer for him, unconsciously biting your lip. “And no, we’re not.” Everyone’s ears suddenly perked up at the confession, the consensus being just how little they knew about your life. 

“Damn, what’d you do?” Anakin jokes, searching your face for a smile, only to be met with nothing.

“Ha. Good one.” You chuckle under your breath, your lips forming into a frown.

As soon as Anakin brought up Nick, you lost interest in the conversation. Nick never met the family; you only told them about him over the phone while you were gone. He had always insisted that your life was meant to be in Hampton with him, where you would create something new together. You didn’t need to return home to your family; if you did, you’d be leaving him all alone. Holidays and significant moments came and went, and all the while, you were stuck at a college you loathed, sharing your life with a man you mistakenly believed was the one.  

During your nights in Hampton, you and Nick would often find yourselves curled up on the couch, indulging in excessive drinking while he introduced you to various illicit substances. You pretended to enjoy soccer and cocaine, drinking more tequila than you needed. Shot after shot, followed by line after line, you barely knew who you were. He constantly told you how pretty you were, how you were made for him, but if you forgot to run to the liquor store that day, he would treat you as if you were dead to him. Nick offered little in return for your support, except for empty assurances that the life you would build together would make it all worthwhile. Nick's behavior took a downward spiral as he began staying late at work and arriving home in a drunken stupor. From that point on, things spiraled out of control. 

And maybe a part of you once loved Nick, but now you felt suffocated in the relationship. And when you tried to bring things up to him, he’d tell you that you were a cheap whore who was only made to be his personal fuck toy. And just like that, the conversation came to an end. The coercion left, and he started to force you to use the drugs he’d use, tell you to skip class, skip tests, skip your job- you were losing yourself within him, and you were worried about the consequences if you didn’t let it happen. He was always a kind, sweet, romantic boy- but he could be so, so evil. 

And you’ll never forget the first time he hit you, the sound of his hand connecting with your skin echoing in your ears. As you sat on the counter, the alcohol made your vision blur, and your head throbbed as if it was about to explode. You were already at your limit, and the last thing you wanted was to do was another line. Your nose was already starting to bleed a little, and he begged and begged for you to keep going- telling you he needed it. He didn’t want to do it alone- you had to do it. As you stubbornly declined once more, a sudden, fiery sting seared across your cheek, causing your nose to finally bleed and droplets of blood to stain your thigh. He apologized profusely, waiting on you hand and foot as he cleaned you up, held your hair as you puked, washed you, and still talked you into sex- but it had happened. You knew you needed to leave, or your life could be at stake. 

“Y/N?” Ben asks, and you break out of your Nick-induced trance with a sharp gasp, your eyes glossy and lips bloody from your nervous tic. 

“I’ll be back.” You stand back up, taking a concerningly long swig from the wine before exiting out the back gate and into the driveway. 

“I’m really concerned about her.” Ben watches you leave and bites his lip. Ahsoka nods along with him. “Listen, as happy as I am to have her back, something’s not right. As her brother, I just- I fear the worst. She’s not herself.” 

“Did you see the way she reacted when you asked about Nick?” Ahsoka whispered, leaning in to closer to the table, “Something had to have happened.”

“Wait.” Anakin says, as he and Ben both turn to face her, their brows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Ahsoka, you don’t know anything either? She’s your best friend.”

“I- I know nothing. And I hate it.” She confesses to the boys, the air growing thick as Anakin uncomfortably shifts in his seat, and Ben sighs.

“I think I’m gonna try to talk to her.” Anakin stands slowly as Ben raises a brow and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes.

“Anakin, no offense, but I doubt she’ll want to talk to you,” Ahsoka murmured, avoiding his scowl. 

“Well,” he pushes the chair behind him, walking towards the gate. “We’ll see!” 

Curled up in the Papasan chair on the porch, you lit the joint between your fingers and watched as the lights in your neighbor's windows turned off. Your thoughts drifted from Nick and onto the childhood you missed dearly—so many snowball fights on the street before you, bike rides, and scraped knees. You remember the Johnsons across the street particularly not liking Anakin, so you and Ahsoka egged their house, only to backfire and get Anakin in trouble. You confessed to doing it, and no one believed you. It had to be Anakin. But for some strange reason, he never cared. He accepted the punishment, mowed their yard for a year, and never brought it up to you, no matter how many times you apologized. And every apology that slipped from between your lips was met with a grin. 

And that time in 7th grade when Ahsoka really got into it with Julie down the street. She never liked Ahsoka and always found a way to get under her skin. However, this time was particularly awful. When you found Ahsoka, she was sobbing on the corner while Julie laughed at her, calling her pathetic, telling her that even her adopted parents didn’t love her and that her big brother wasn’t there to save her now. But you were. You pushed Julie onto the grass so fucking hard, only for her to get back up and swing. Ahsoka screamed for you to stop, but a newfound rage took over as you pounded into Julie’s face. She ended up on the pavement with a broken nose, and you ended the fight with a fractured wrist and grounded for a month (Only a month because your mom found out who you fought and what she said). Anakin was waiting for Ben to return from tennis and heard the commotion. He ran down the street, finding Ahsoka sobbing, Julie on the pavement, bloody and teary, and you sitting on the corner, shaking and clutching your throbbing wrist in your hand. He instantly asked Ahsoka what happened before making his way to you, holding your wrist, picking you up, and taking you and Ahsoka back to your house. Your mom called Julie’s mom and talked about what happened, and fortunately, Julie confessed to everything. And that’s when you found out her parents were going through a nasty divorce, and Julie was starting therapy. And surprisingly, she actually grew into a really decent, respectable person. 

The four of you had always done everything together. You had always been inseparable. And when you left, it tore that apart. You left a hole in Brookline, and you knew it as well as they did. Even though they swore they were happy for you, moving on and doing more, you could see in their eyes that they selfishly did not want you to leave. They didn’t like the years of friendship to be put on hold just like that. And, of course, you felt guilty about it all, but you thought you needed to get out of Brookline. You assumed you wanted something bigger than Boston, bigger than you, bigger than those childhood friends. And two years later, you realize just how naïve you were. Those were your lifelong friends; your life was in Boston, and your dream school was there, too. You missed them more than you could ever envision, and the guilt ate at you every single fucking day. And you wished that 19-year-old you had just stayed. Things would be so much simpler if you had stayed. You let some pathetic man in Hampton tell you that it was just you and him- forever. And you knew deep down your 19-year-old naive self didn’t believe a fucking word he said- she just wished she did.  

“Oh, that’s not a cigarette.” Your eyes flicker up from the street and towards a drunken Anakin leaning against the patio rail in front of you. His lips were curled into a mischievous smile, his hair curly and messy. 

“No,” You lean forward, handing him the joint, “No, it’s not.” 

“So,” He took a quick draw from the joint, flicking it against the deck railing as he looked back at you and smiled, “You just got here, and you’re already running from us? What’s up with that?” 

You scoff, snatching the joint from him and leaning back in the chair. 

“Just wanted some alone time, is all.” You avoid his gaze, and it’s his turn to scoff, plopping himself next to you in the chair. 

“Yeah, because you’ve been so fond of that your entire life. I don’t believe you.” 

“And? Never said I cared that you did.” You quickly retorted, earning an eyebrow raise and a smirk. 

“Relax,” he said, snatching the joint back from you and holding it hostage. “Talk to me. It’s just us.” His hand met yours; his gaze was intense and empathetic. 

You weren’t sure why you wanted to tell him. It was probably the weed mixed with a bit of liquid courage, but in that moment, you needed to get it out. He was so welcoming, holding your hand and offering you the comfort you needed in that moment. Was it pure manipulation? Possibly. But you knew Anakin loved you just as much as you loved him, and you knew you could trust him. He had kept your secrets before, so what’s another one? However, none of those other secrets typically included an abusive relationship; it was mainly about Ben and Ahsoka. You gripped his hand back, watching his eyes soften and his lips curve into a small smile.

“Just-” You started, dropping your voice into a low murmur, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.” He looked into your eyes like he would die to protect your secret. That was precisely what you needed to see. 

“Nick- uh- sorry,” You sniffled, rubbing your eyes as you searched for the right words. “He- uh- he hurt me—a lot. I barely made it out of that relationship in one piece. I think my breaking point was when I asked him to visit for your grandma’s funeral, and he knocked me out. I woke up in my bathtub, my face covered in my blood, and he was gone. I applied to MIT that morning. The day after I got in, I packed everything I could and left. He’s blocked on everything, and he hasn’t attempted to reach out in any sort of way. Anakin- I don’t know what would have happened to me if I didn’t leave.”

Your eyes met Anakin’s glossy ones as your hands shook underneath his touch. He crooked his head to the side, bringing you in for a much-needed hug. You let yourself cry softly in his arms, feeling his shaky hands rub in slow motions up and down your back, his other hand stroking the top of your scalp.

 But when he looked back at you, the softness in his gaze had disappeared. His fists clenched at his side, his eyebrows furrowed as he bit his lip in frustration. 

“A-Anakin?” 

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell anybody? We would’ve come to help! We could have put that piece of shit in jail by now!” He stands up abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply. 

“I-I’m sorry- I-” You stutter, your mind racing as he paces before you. His eyes meet yours, and he points at you as your heartbeat accelerates.

“Y/N, I swear to god- I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. He’s fucking dead. I don’t care what hap-” He stops momentarily, cut off by your sobs from the chair. Fuck. He’s yelling at a domestic violence victim- no- he’s yelling at you. What a fucking asshole. 

“HeyHeyHeyHey-” He’s quickly on his knees in front of you, shushing and brushing your hair out of your face, “I’m so fucking sorry- that was so selfish of me to do. I shouldn’t have said or done any of that. You opened up to me, and I yelled at you.. that will never happen again, okay? Why don’t we get you to bed?” He held your hands in his, searching your red eyes for an answer as you quickly nodded. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go say goodnight to everyone, you just hold tight here. Sound good?” You nodded once again, and he giggled. “Words, sweetheart. I need you to say something.”

“That’s what I want, Ani. Bed.” You mumble out, forming your lips into a sad smile. His heart broke at the sight of you. 

The second the back gate opened back up, Ben and Ahsoka immediately shot out of their chairs at the sight of Anakin. Their interrupted conversation suddenly had no meaning as he entered, taking a quick seat next to them.

“She’s- uh- she’s pretty upset. And fucked up. I’m gonna take her to bed.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as Ben and Ahsoka looked at him, puzzled. 

“Well, what happened? Is she okay? Does she need help?” Ahsoka frantically broke the silence, asking the questions she and Ben were both thinking. 

“Listen, she’s in rough shape right now. I’m just gonna get her to sleep, and I’ll tell you guys all about it. I don’t even know if she’s done talking about it. I’ll be right back.” 

“Y/N?” He calls out your name as he steps on the other side of the gate, jogging up the front porch to see you passed out in the chair, joint hanging loosely from your fingers. 

Amused, he grabs the roach from your fingers and casually tosses it off the porch, letting out a small laugh. Clearly, you didn't waste any time before drifting off to sleep. All the crying and weed must have done something. As he crouches down beside you, he tenderly brushes your hair, his eyes filled with adoration as he looks at your sleeping figure. 

“I’m so sorry about everything,” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sighing softly, “I know you’re going to hate me for what I’m gonna do. Just please know it’s in your best interest. I care about you so much.” He bites his lip in thought, his eyes searching your figure.

As he rises to his feet, he effortlessly swipes your phone and tucks it away, his eyes briefly glancing at your water bottle. With a tender gesture, he reaches his arms beneath you, drawing you close to his chest and ensuring the blanket envelops you snugly as he lifts you from the chair. Your head is cradled against his chest, his hand wrapped around your waist and under your knees. 

Anakin carried you gently up the stairs of your house, each step creaking under the weight of his feet. Passing through the familiar corridors, he reached your bedroom door and pushed it open, immediately being overwhelmed by the alluring scent of your space. As he laid you down on your bed, he couldn't help but notice how little the room had changed since you left, the same photos on the walls and the same worn-out rug. Your mom kept everything intact, probably hoping you’d come back eventually. He filled your water bottle, plugged your phone in, left some medicine on your nightstand, and tucked you in tightly. Just as he turned on the fan and kissed your forehead goodnight, your eyes fluttered open to meet with his, and you gave him a sleepy smile. 

“Ani?” You mumbled, watching as his smile grew above you. 

“Hey, sweetheart, feeling pretty sleepy, huh?” 

“Mhm,” You stretched your arms out momentarily as you yawned. “I’m sorry I dropped all of that on you earlier. And I’m just- I’m sorry about it all. I feel so-”

“Y/N,” He gets on his knees next to you, the warmth in his eyes matching the tender smile on his lips, “You don’t need to apologize for a thing. I’m always here. And so are Ben and Ahsoka. We got you. You take as much time as you need to process, recover, and do whatever you need to, okay? It’s about you, Y/N/N, don’t worry about us.” You giggle and nod at his words, your eyes attempting to flutter shut. He laughs at your exhaustion, ruffling up the hair on your head. “Sleep well, okay? I’ll be here if you need me.” 

He closes your door and leans against the door frame, exhaling heavily as he tries to make sense of everything that happened throughout the night. How could someone be so fucking despicable to do this to you? His girl. His fists clenched tightly at his waist, his eyes burning with rage as he vividly imagined the torment you endured. He tried not to let his mind go there. He really did. Resting against your bedroom door, vivid visions of you, covered in blood and pleading for help, overwhelmed him, plunging him into a downward spiral. And in a moment of weakness, he did exactly what he promised he wouldn’t do.

“She was abused. Badly.”

“WHAT?”

Ben and Ahsoka jump from their seats on the porch, rushing towards Anakin as he angrily makes his way from the house onto the deck. 

“That fucking piece of shit!” Ben shouts, punching his fist against the side of the house while Ahsoka tries to calm Anakin down, asking him for more details.

“Okay, Anakin, I need you to give me more than just ‘abused.’ I know you have details.” Ahsoka sputtered while she held the sides of his arms, guiding him over to the table to sit down while Ben paced behind them. 

“It was that asshole she was dating for the past two years- Nick. The one we conveniently never met, which I’m sure was on purpose. She didn’t tell me much other than that if she didn’t leave when she did, she could’ve- well- she- it just wouldn’t have ended well.”

Anakin's words hung in the air, creating a thick silence that was almost tangible with tension. Anakin's throat tightened as he locked eyes with Ben and Ahsoka, their glossy gazes reflecting their shared pain. Ben found a spot at the table, deep in thought, as he absentmindedly stroked his chin, his eyes devoid of any emotion. Ahsoka carefully finished the last of her wine, the cling! of it ringing out as the glass met the table one last time.  

“Well-” Ben tried to start, cut off by his sudden sobs. He pushed his head on the table, covering his face from Ahsoka and Anakin as he attempted to take deep breaths, processing the information he had just learned. In an effort to hold back tears, Anakin bit his lip, his hand trembling as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. As she silently wept, Ahsoka soothingly rubbed Ben's back, hoping to ease his pain.

“I just- I should have known.” She mumbled, picking the cat's hair off of the back of Ben’s sweater. 

“There’s no way you could’ve, Snips.” 

“It’s just that- I thought it was odd when she suddenly asked me to pick up her cat. Saying she couldn’t take care of him and that it was an emergency. I never even met Nick, and she wouldn’t let me stay at the apartment long. I hardly saw her. So many fucking red flags..” she trailed off, feeling her head hurt at the thought. 

“Ahsoka, it’s okay.” Ben sniffled, lifting his head off the table as his red eyes met Anakin’s. “There is no one at fault here other than Nick.”

"Exactly," Anakin paused momentarily at his comment, his eyes widening. “Guys, she made me promise I wouldn’t tell you. Considering everything, I think we should wait until she opens up. Even though it hurts, the last thing I’d want to do is hurt her anymore.”

“Yeah,” Ben whispers, and Ahsoka nods, holding onto each other as they try to calm down.  

“We should get to bed, guys. It’s 3:30.” Anakin mumbles as he stands up and stretches, offering his hand to Ahsoka. “We’ll see you soon, Ben. Get some rest.”

As he lay in bed, Anakin’s mind wandered off to you. How could it not? Besides being your best friend, he always looked for more in you. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, and he despised himself because of it. To him, you were his world, his everything. Always. And hearing/seeing how hurt you were? It fucking destroyed him. So, he let himself cry. He allowed himself to feel those emotions for you, and he always had buried them deep down. Instead, he buried his face in his pillow and soaked it with his tears. His admiration for you would never falter, and neither would his protectiveness. He felt as if a part of him failed, and as a result, his guard was down. He felt the desire to love you and keep you safe increased, knowing that getting the chance to do so may destroy him inside and out.

And it didn’t help that you lost your virginities to each other. Sharing such a unique, intimate moment with the person he always knew was the one, well, that just really fucked things. Literally. There wasn't a moment when he wasn't haunted by the memories of that night; it was a constant presence in his mind. And then he got with Padme, and you left for Virginia, and things got so lost and confused, and life moved on. You moved on. He tried to. But he searched for you in everyone and everything. Padme knew it, he knew it, fuck, his mother probably knew it! He’s just thankful Ben doesn’t know it. As much as he hated to say it, Anakin knew he would have gone back in time to do anything to change that moment. Because now you’re here, and his feelings have only intensified. Feelings that should have left a long, long time ago. And yet, as he cried himself to sleep, he continued to dream of you, just like every night before.

Please let me know if you wish to be tagged!

Series tags: @w0rsh1psells @ursogorgeous13 @tommyvelvet @mistress-amidala @queenofnigthdarkness @nikkissecretlibrary @doblasftcisco @ann4zw @catachlysmicjedi @googie-jeon @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo @anakinstwinklebunny

[hunkpossession0]

From Park to Penthouse: My Life as a Bear Hunk

I was just a regular guy, trying to make ends meet and get through life. My days consisted of the usual routine: wake up, work a mundane job, come home, rinse, and repeat. Nothing exciting ever really happened to me. But all of that changed on a cool, crisp morning in the park.

I usually took early morning walks just to clear my mind. The park was quiet at that time, the only sounds being birds chirping and the occasional jogger’s footsteps echoing through the trees. That’s when I saw him—*the* guy everyone always seemed to notice, the bear hunk who owned the park every time he stepped foot in it.

He was the kind of guy who commanded attention without even trying. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a perfect layer of muscle covering every inch of his frame. His chest and arms bulged as he did his push-ups effortlessly, and even his sweat seemed to gleam like it had a purpose. His beard was thick, well-groomed, and his face was one of those ruggedly handsome ones you’d expect to see in some magazine cover.

I envied him—his body, his confidence, the way people looked at him with a mix of admiration and lust. It wasn’t fair. Why did he get to live such a charmed life while I was stuck being an average nobody?

As I walked closer, I saw something strange lying near a bench—an old, weathered medallion with strange symbols carved into it. It looked ancient, almost mystical. I don’t know what compelled me to pick it up, but as soon as I did, I felt a surge of energy pulse through my body. It was like electricity, but not painful—more like a powerful vibration that filled every cell in my body.

Then, without warning, everything went black.

---

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the grass, staring up at the sky. I sat up, feeling oddly different. My body felt... heavier, stronger. I looked down and nearly jumped out of my skin. My once-skinny arms were now thick and muscular, covered in a light dusting of hair. My clothes were straining against my newly massive frame.

I reached up to feel my face, and instead of the usual smoothness, my hand met a thick, rugged beard. I scrambled to my feet, stumbling slightly as I tried to adjust to the new weight and power in my legs. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby pond, and my breath caught in my throat.

I was *him*. The bear hunk.

Somehow, that medallion had switched our bodies. I was no longer the average guy who blended into the background. I was the man everyone noticed—the man everyone *wanted*.

---

It took a few days to get used to my new life, but I quickly adapted. As it turned out, the bear hunk wasn’t just a regular gym-goer; he was wealthy beyond belief. His penthouse apartment overlooked the city, and his wardrobe was filled with designer clothes that clung perfectly to my new body. Everywhere I went, people stared, admired, and envied me.

But I wasn’t satisfied with just looking good and being rich. I had a new plan—one that involved indulging in all the pleasures that my new life had to offer. I booked a luxurious vacation to a private resort, a place where the elite went to unwind and let loose. And, of course, where the hot twinks flocked to for a chance at living the good life, even if just for a weekend.

The resort was everything I could have hoped for. The sun was warm, the drinks were cold, and the pool was filled with gorgeous guys who couldn’t take their eyes off me. I’d catch their stares as I lounged by the water, flexing my muscles just enough to make them bite their lips in desire.

At night, the real fun began. The clubs were filled with twinks looking for someone just like me—someone who could take control and show them a good time. And I was more than happy to oblige. I could see the way their eyes lit up when I approached them, how they practically melted under my touch.

This was the life I’d always wanted, the life I deserved. No more being overlooked or ignored. Now, I was the one in control, the one who got to choose.

The medallion was now a distant memory, tucked away in the back of a drawer in my penthouse. I had no intention of going back to my old life. This was who I was now, and I wasn’t about to give it up. Not when there were so many more adventures to be had, so many more twinks to seduce.

As I stood on the beach, looking out at the endless ocean, I couldn’t help but smile. Life as a bear hunk was everything I had dreamed of and more. And it was just getting started.

[f14fun]

f1 abba inspired series

hey everyone! i have an abba-song inspired series in the drafts (since i got back from vaca and i'm still in a summery-mood and i love abba songs). hopefully it will be about three-five parts, each part a story for a different driver. each part will also have a minimum of 10K words, so this will be a prose series!

let me know if you guys want to see anything in particular!

chapter list ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ 01: lay all your love on me - op81 02: our last summer - cl16 03: under attack - gr63 04: mamamia - ob38

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01: lay all your love on me - op81 📍santorini, greece

On a summer getaway to Santorini, Greece, Y/N finds herself staying in a charming Airbnb with her family, soaking in the breathtaking views and vibrant atmosphere of the island. However, what was supposed to be a peaceful vacation takes an unexpected turn when she discovers that they’ll be sharing the house with none other than Formula One driver Oscar Piastri, who’s also vacationing with his family.

At first, the arrangement feels awkward, the two worlds of celebrity racing and her relatively normal life as a collegiate student colliding in the most unforeseen way. But as the days go by, the initial surprise gives way to something deeper. As they explore the sun-drenched beaches, dine in quaint tavernas, and experience the lively nightlife of Santorini, Y/N and Oscar find themselves drawn to each other in ways they hadn’t anticipated.

As the sun sets over the Aegean Sea, and the lively energy of the island comes alive at night, Y/N and Oscar find themselves spending more time together, entertwined in a steamy and fast-paced romance. The backdrop of Santorini's iconic white-washed buildings, azure waters, and the laid-back Greek lifestyle set the stage for a summer romance that's as unexpected as it is intense.

02: our last summer - cl16 📍monte carlo, monaco

In the summer of 2018, both Charles and Y/N are on the brink of adulthood, just shy of their 18th birthdays. As they savor their final summer as teenagers, they find themselves reminiscing in the familiar, sun-drenched streets of Monte Carlo, where memories of childhood and dreams for the future intertwine in the warmth of the Mediterranean air.

As the days drift by, Charles and Y/N find themselves caught between the nostalgia of their shared past and the anticipation of what lies ahead. Every corner of Monte Carlo holds a memory—childhood races down the Promenade, late-night talks under the stars, and the countless summers spent by the azure waters. Charles, with a wistful smile, often finds himself retracing their old routes, savoring the familiar sights and sounds as if trying to imprint them in his memory before they part ways. Y/N, equally pensive, clings to the simple joys of their last summer together, finding solace in the shared silences and quiet moments that speak volumes.

But now, the city feels different, charged with the weight of impending change. They both know this summer marks the end of an era, a farewell to the carefree days of youth. Yet, amid the bittersweetness, there's an unspoken promise that whatever the future holds, Monte Carlo will always be the place where their story began.

03: under attack - gr63 📍majorca, spain

Global popstar Y/N, overwhelmed by the relentless pressures of fame and reeling from the heartbreak of discovering her partner's infidelity, decides she needs a serious escape. Desperate to get away from the prying eyes of the media and the public, she books a quiet trip to Mallorca, Spain, hoping to find some solace and rediscover herself amidst the island's tranquil beauty. But fate has other plans. In a chance encounter at a lively club’s bar, Y/N finds herself in a series of awkward and unexpected mishaps that leave her feeling more exposed than ever.

Just when she thinks her night can’t get any worse, George Russell, a familiar face from the world of Formula One, steps in. Sensing her distress and the unwanted attention she's drawing, George quickly concocts a plan and pretends to be her boyfriend for the night. As they navigate the evening together, the line between pretense and reality begins to blur, leaving Y/N to wonder if this unexpected encounter could lead to something more than just a fleeting escape. He's broken down her defenses, and what can you say, maybe she's just under attack.

04: mamamia - ob38 📍skiathos, greece

A series of misunderstandings, white lies, and the relentless demands of their busy lives have driven Y/N and her boyfriend of three years, Oliver Bearman, apart. The once inseparable couple now finds themselves estranged, their relationship seemingly hanging by a thread. Despite their love for each other, the distance and unresolved tensions have led to a painful separation.

However, their close-knit group of friends refuses to give up on them. Convinced that Y/N and Ollie just need some quality time away from the pressures of their everyday lives, they hatch a plan to bring the two back together. The friends secretly arrange for Y/N and Ollie to vacation in a secluded villa in Skiathos, Greece, for two weeks. Surrounded by the island's serene beauty, where the turquoise waters meet golden sands, the hope is that the couple will have the chance to reconnect, confront their issues, and rekindle the spark that first brought them together.

As Y/N and Ollie navigate the awkwardness of being thrown back together in such an idyllic setting, the old feelings start to resurface, but so do the unresolved issues that tore them apart. Amidst the breathtaking views and the romantic allure of Greece, they must decide whether their love is strong enough to overcome the obstacles that have come between them.

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comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[milfism-blog]

“Sarò La Tua Bambina Di San Valentino”

“I will be your Valentine baby girl”

Summary: While on vacation in Sicily, you ran into a hot readhead. What might happen when a bolt of electricity will go through both of you? Will this relationship only last at the resort? Is it just Melissa's first sexual experiment or the unexpected beginning of a blissful relationship? You should probably find out…

Warning: Comphet, Melissa being confused over her sexuality, mention of Gerry, a little bit of angst, fluff, smutty, explicit content. Read at your own risk!

Word Count: 5,3k

Author's note: It is my first smutty fic! Feedback is always appreciated! Have fun reading!

02.01.2023. Sicily, Palermo

You went on your first trip to Italy, Palermo specifically. You heard a lot about the beautiful city and of course the food. So in one click you booked tickets and of course a luxurious hotel. In addition, you lately noticed you have a type for confident Italian women so you planned to go all crazy for the trip. It was your vacation after all. No one knows who you are there and you can do anything without worrying about your work colleagues making videos and making fun of you later. You were already embarrassed at the working New years party with your co-workers. You are like a big family of best friends and of course, you all were drunk and made a lot of stupid decisions. Explicitly flirting with an older Italian woman you met in a club that night. Even though it was one  month ago. Your friends are still making fun of you. 

Actually screaming: “Beware milfhunter might steal one of yours moms!”

And if god heard your thoughts about hot Italian women. You saw one in the lobby of a hotel. Bright red hair caught your attention immediately. Dark squared glasses were keeping her hair from covering her beautiful face. Her massive golden earrings were reflecting the warm sun. It took some time for you to take in all her gorgeous curves. She was in a jumpsuit with a deep V neck which caught your attention. You were shamelessly staring at her gorgeous breasts without a bra. Your fantasy was running wild. You would not be surprised if your mouth was open. Without exaggeration, she looked like a goddess with olive skin you wanted to desperately touch and find out how soft it would feel. Is it as soft as it looks? Oh god this is going to be a ride.

You probably were staring for a good amount of time since she noticed and now she was looking straight into your eyes. They were a deep shade of green. You felt like a bolt of electricity went right through both of you. As if she was sending lightning bolts through her gorgeous eyes. And gosh her glare sent chills on your skin. 

The next day you went for breakfast and again you saw her there. She looked even more magnificent than yesterday. The morning sun was giving her olive skin a natural glow. Her deep green eyes were shining a light shade of olive. She had minimum makeup on. Just mascara to highlight her eyes and clear lip gloss. Her lips looked so full, so juicy as the most desired fruit. You wanted to taste them so bad.

When you left your table you went straight to your hotel suite. Unknowingly for you, she has followed you down the staircase. She was quietly observing you. You felt a strong gaze on your backless dress. The chills were back again. When you were about to open the door she pinned you down that hardwood door. You were shocked, to say the least. When you looked at the stronger woman. Her pupils were delayed. Not a single hint of green, only black. You were just staring at her eyes. Your heart was beating so fast as if it was going to jump from your rib cage. You missed the satisfied smirk on the redhead's lips. She was enjoying the power she was having over you. You looked like a lost mouse caught by a cat. So lost,so innocent, so deliciously accessible for her to use you. You tried to move but she pinned you harder. 

“You are not going to escape me, little mouse, now are you? Pretty innocent girl is scared now? Where did all the courage go?” She asked in a mocking tone.

Her voice sent you into a starstruck phase. So raspy, deeply rich voice. Fitted her personality so well. Dominant Italian woman pinning you against your room door, what can be better? 

Your eyes traveled from her beautiful eyes to her deliciously juicy lips. You gave in to the urge to passionately kiss her. And you went for it. Since she pinned your arms you tilt your head and went hard for the kiss. Your lips were desperate to get a taste of her. Her lips were as soft as silk. You couldn't hold the desperate whimper. She tasted like sweet Italian wine. Her delicate lips sent you into a euphoric state. When you took a needy breath closer to a moan. You smelled her sweet yet mucus sent. That you're gonna remember for sure. When you went again so desperately neddy for the taste to bite down her lip. So she would remember the next day who she kissed. And with that, she stopped you.

“No, no little mouse, that's not how deals are made. You are gonna listen to me and do everything I am telling you to do. Understood?” She rasped out.

Your knees buckled at her voice and demanding tone. You were not sure if you could even speak. You just nodded in surender. 

“No, sweet girl, I need to hear your voice.”

“Yes ma`am" You said with a trembling voice. 

“Good girl. Now open the door for me” She said in her deep voice. With a smirk on her face. She knew the effect her voice, her hands were having on you. 

With weak, trembling legs you opened the door. Almost instantly you felt strong arms on your waist. She suggestively walked you down to your bedroom and pushed you on bed. You started to take your clothes down but she stopped your actions. 

“No, bambina, let mommy take down all the clothes. You need to listen closely, baby. I have some rules for you. No touching mommy without asking, you're gonna listen to my instructions and behave.”

Oh if she knew the fire you were feeling all over your sensitive skin. Her delicate yet strong hands were tearing your clothes apart. The warmth from her palms was burning your skin. You already were at the edge since her first glance. You were so eager to please a marvelous stranger. The only thing you wanted her to do is use you so the only thing you will remember will be her title, her taste, her scent, her, only her.

“Come here bambina, let mommy ride your face”

You could not believe your luck, a stunning woman asking you to please her. How can you decline this delightful offer? It felt like a fever dream. She was teasingly slow taking down her clothes. She was purposely swaying her hips as if she was a predator and you were her prey. Her mouse.

She gave your neck a few bites here and there, not even bothering to smooth them. when she glanced at your face. You were totally blissed out. Completely at her mercy. 

She took down her ruined panties and took a seat on your face. Your senses were filled with her significant scent. The first lick was experimental to taste her. Her taste was a little mix of salt and sweetness. It was like blessed nectar. Your warm tongue licked her delicate labia. Her hips rolled at the action. You tried to steady her with your hands, but she slept them away.

“Remember the rules little mouse” she said, sternly.

You liked her again this time with more force. You made it your goal to memorize every curve, moan, whimper, curse. You wanted to drink her nectar, you're gonna take anything she is gonna give you. Her mind blowing taste was addictive, you wanted to eat her all. To give her the best orgasm in her life. You were softly nibbling at her sensitive skin. Swirling your tongue on a fragile rose. You gently pecked her clit. She groaned. You suck on it licked it and kiss it. She was slowly losing control. She was whimpering over you. 

“ahh, yes, like this, good girl!” She cried out.

Your tongue went diaper into her core, you were restless. Setting the faster rhythm. To send her over the age sooner. Since the goddess above you forbid you to use your fingers. You decided to challenge her with your skilled tongue. Switching between the suction of her bundle of nerves and going in teasing techniques of her core. Your face was covered in her sweet arousal. You were practically drowning in her scent. juices and moans. 

“Don't tease miele, mommy is going to reward you, ahh like this!”

You find her spongy spot deep in her core. You gave it a few light licks. With these actions, her hips were bucking back. Her moans became louder. She was playing with her full breasts to add more pleasure to her body. Your hands were scratching the olive skin of her thighs. Leaving red marks behind on a warm flesh. Giving more sensations and stimulation. Your tongue was skillfully going up and down her core. Small kisses here and there on her overstimulated clit. With each passing second her hips were swinging, she was trying to escape your experienced tongue. Your hands were clutching her thighs diligently. Every lick, suck, nibble was bringing her faster to the edge. Her breasts were bouncing. Her nipples were screaming for attention, she tried to pinch them in hopes it would make the ache to go away. She tugged on your hair. This action made you groan at the sensation. Long lasting vibrating suck of her clit sent her over the edge. She was desperately moaning. 

“You are such a good girl, little mouse” She praised you in pure bliss.

She fell on your torso. You gently kissed her. Letting her taste her pleasure. She moaned at her taste. You kissed her cheek and went straight down to clean her up with your delicate tongue. You cannot waste the sweet nectar. She whined at the overstimulation. You tenderly lapped the remains of her juices. Firstly on creamy thighs occasionally sucking on the skin. Finishing with a tender kiss right on her clit.

“That was the best orgasm in my life. You did pretty well for a little submissive mouse.” She said truthfully

“Now it is your turn bambina, mommy keeps her promises.” 

With these words she crawled over you. Her usual demeanor is back. She is ready to make you squirm and cry. 

What was supposed to be just a one night stand for both of you became something more, such as regular meetings, mind blowing sex, breakfast together, drinking wine together, deep talks. Simply just enjoying the company of each other. Just two of you against the world. Hell, you even moved in together, if you can call it like that. She was staying in the president lux. Big rooms, personal pool, jacuzzi, amazing balcony where you had the best talks. Her green eyes will haunt you forever. You already were feeling like you were falling in love. But you had to remind yourself, “It is just resort romance, nothing more, at least for her.”

Here comes your last day together on the 14th of February, day of love. But you could not escape the emptiness in your heart. Last day until she will disappear forever…

To your surprise, she ordered fruits and candles to set a romantic atmosphere. When you walked into the room soft jazz music was playing. Melissa walked to you with the bouquet of flowers in hand. You almost cried at the site. This is so sensual, beautiful. No one has ever done this for you. But she did. Maybe she was the one?

This gonna be one of your core memories. She already stole your heart. The goodbyes are going to be really painful. 

“Are you okay? Hon?” She repeated nervously, trying to figure out what was wrong. You were just staring at her beautiful green orbs. 

“If it is too much I'm so sorry I should not have to make it!” She sounded nervous, almost panicking. 

You whispered, resting the warmth of your hands on her shoulders.  

“I adore this so much! I've never had somebody do this for me. I really appreciate it.” You gave her assurance. caressing her and kissing her on the lips.

That final day gave you the impression of being a married couple right out of the honeymoon stage. She was carrying and completely open with you. You were both extremely delighted and nauseous from it. Tomorrow you will be flying to your home and family in a few hours. But somehow, without her, none of that made sense. Melissa was a tough woman. You figured that out while technically living together. But that specific night she let her guard down for you. And you could see the sadness in her eyes. Especially in the intimate moments when she was feeding you with a strawberry, kissing became more slow and desperate. That night was no power dynamic, just pure love and sensual kisses.

“I'm going to miss you little mouse” She spoke with obvious anguish in her voice as she conveyed her thoughts.  

With these words, you shared a last kiss. You felt like part of you died with you that day…

3 months later 

When you came back home you were in absolute despair. You were missing her so much it was physically hurting you. Everything, absolutely everything was reminding you of her. You were checking your phone every day in hopes of seeing a message or even a call from the redhead. Even your friends were worried for you. You spent the last three months by yourself mostly doing all your job responsibilities from home. You were looking through her pictures you took when she was unaware. Completely without makeup, happy. She was a big softie with you. One time you heard her perfume on the street. You looked like an absolutely lost dog looking for its owner. She was the only owner of your heart. 

Melissa was going through one of the most challenging crises in her life. Her vocation in Palermo completely changed her as a woman and as a person. When she booked the tickets to Italy she hoped she would find a hot young guy to hook up with. That fresh blood and dick will make her forget asshole Gary. That random stranger will make her feel loved and finally, she will cum. Because apparently Gary did not know anything about a woman`s body. He was a clueless idiot and she was simulating her pleasure, he did not notice the change at all. The idiot proposed to her even though they talked a lot about the subject. He just could not or did not want to hear what his woman wanted.  She was so tired of being lonely and sad all the time. Her love life was a wreck. But then you came into her life. Shamelessly staring at her but strangely she liked it. You were different, not like all the men she had been with. All her life she blocked the part of her that was thinking about experimenting with girls. Just the one thought of experimenting with a person of her gender was sending her into a panic. 

But. You.

She was not ready to share with you that you were her first woman she slept with. To be completely honest she thought she was just gonna use you as fulfillment of her needs and that would be it. But the way you were looking at her, so pure, so innocent, so happy. It broke her heart to think that she was just gonna use you so she just gave it a go. “No one is going to find out” she was saying to herself every day. Of course, all her thoughts and behavior were just echoes of the stigma. Liking women at her time was counting as something she should be ashamed of and better work this problem out by marrying a man. So he can cure her.

She managed to hide that “dirty” part of herself.

But then you appeared and showed that being loved by another woman is rather a blessing than a curse. The love was so gentle, understanding, and calming. And after all, nothing bad happened, she did not die on the spot as she was told. None of the bad things she heard were true. And then she saw all the great things about you such as you understood her by just looking right into her eyes, you were gentle and honest with her no one has done this for her. The guys just did not care about her pleasure and her as a person in general. Oh and your soft gentle lips, kind eyes, humor, everything about you…

While she was lost in her thoughts, realization struck her like a frigid wave. She fell in love... Just in two weeks with a mischievous stranger. Firstly she blamed herself for letting her guard down she let herself be emotional, feel emotions, experience emotions. That's what she mastered during her life. Put the guard up, be emotionless and life will be easy. Her exes used to tell her “Why are you acting like a bratty girl, stop being so emotional, jeezz are you on your period again?” So she stopped being emotional at all. But now her well-being was dependent on her happiness, on you. So she decided to break this circle of negative emotions and call you and tell you how she feels about you, and maybe ask you to be her girlfriend. To become hers.

 02.14.2024.

 United States of America, South Philadelphia 

It was Valentine's Day again. You felt a sense of dejavu reliving all the memories from the past. It took long enough for The Melissa Ann Kathrine Schemmenti to finally ask you out and ask you officially to be her girlfriend. But you didn't mind. You would wait for her as long as needed. She was like your special delicate, sensitive flower, you were a caretaker, you were patient and loving to see her blossom for you. When she did you were stunned by her true colors and personality. There were no masks, facade for both of you. Just pure love. You wanted to make her feel extra special on this day, which was also your anniversary (almost, but nonetheless). And it is going to be your first Valentine's as a couple. So exciting! 

But since you want to make this day special that does not mean you will not tease her. You like to push her buttons and see her reaction. And today was even more thrilling. You bought special lingerie for the occasion. Of course, you like to spoil your girl by buying new lingerie and see her reaction. You created a plan, you went to buy a new undergarments set. To your luck on Valentine's, there are a lot to choose from. One looked specifically spicier than the others, that's what you need! It had heart-shaped cutting on the nipples, with a light pink lace. It gave your breasts amazingly good lift even though this piece did have a push-up effect. To finish the lustful garment there is a cherry red thong with a small heart with a text that says “Eat me”. You put that on, you looked absolutely amazing. Reds and pinks colors were bringing accent to your skin tone, the thong was giving your ass more roundness. Mel would definitely like it. You also found light pink stockings, oh you knew how this look would make Melissa go absolutely crazy over you.

Your mind visited a naughty thought. You took your phone it lit up with the photo of you and your girlfriend laughing in Palermo. Your heart swelled with love. You opened the camera app and began to pose. The first one was you touching your unique bra, using your other hand to cover your nipples a little bit. The other one was you bending down and putting your ass up purposely to give it more roundness. Maybe it was not smart to take these photos and send them to your beloved Melissa during work but just thought about seeing her flustered and a little nervous. The thought of you turning her on was seducing you too much. And of course, you wanted to have fun tonight. In no time you got a response.

La mia dea italiana (my Italian goddess)

“Oh bambina, don't start something you can't finish, but the set look exquisite on you or I rather should say you look exquisite my darling.”

But you know her tough response is a facade. In reality, she is sitting in her classroom in her free period trying to play it cool because right now her mind is getting crazy by just one look at the amazing bra or the thong. You literally set fuel to the fire. But again, you are gonna worry later, or you might enjoy restless Melissa Schemmenti…

The sound of soft Italian jazz music welcomed you when you arrived home. The memories of your last night with the fiery redhead in Italy came flooding back, but now you realize you have plenty of time to spend together. You smiled at the realization that she is yours and you are hers. Hearts tied together. While taking off your boots, you noticed the path made of red petals heading towards your bedroom. And it clicked, Mel was recreating your last night in Italy. The roses, the music. You decided not to waste more time, excited to see what your beautiful girlfriend prepared for you. When you went upstairs there was an envelope with text on it “Open Me”. You eagerly opened it, it had instructions for you. “Hello again my sweet mouse, read closely, take off your clothes, stay only in your new lingerie set, and head upstairs!” 

You rushed out of your clothes, even the nickname “mouse” She definitely was recreating your night. You assumed she wanted to make things right this time? No more sadness, just pure bliss.

You opened the door to your bedroom and your mouth fell open at the view. The gorgeous redhead had a proud smirk on her lips. Evidently pleased with the reaction she got from you. You were too stunned to speak. The smoking hot Melissa Schemmenti had nothing but a pair of dark red lace thong without any bra just her exquisite breasts. Soft creamy skin was calling for you to kiss, caress, lick, touch it. When you looked more closely you noticed that her rosey nipples were covered with chocolate. On the bedside table were strawberries waiting for you to use them, fresh melted chocolate in a bowl was ready for use. You walked down to her as you were enchanted by her breasts. 

“Come here little mouse, I might need your help.” she fake paunted. Her eyes were telling you the other story. They were glistering with lust.

While you were occupied by shamelessly staring at her breasts, she was taking in your form with the new lingerie that you bought for her. She was practically eating you up with her eyes as if you were her prey.

“I figured you might like this il mio dolce tesoro, do not contain your stares. I absolutely love when you look at or touch my amazing tits. I know you love them. It is still vivid in my memory how you were eyeing my girls in that hotel lobby. Absolutely shamelessly, you are such a naughty girl. But I love you for it. My naughty mouse”

You could not believe your luck. Mel prepared all this sweet yet spicy, to be honest overly spicy, and all of this just for you, just for your eyes to see, your tongue to taste, to devour. 

“But we have some rules here, like last time. Rules for my favorite little mouse. First, you are going to address me only as ma`am, mistress, and mommy. Second, you are not allowed to take off my thong, this night is only about my tits and my titis only. Since you were brave enough to tease me during my work hours. You get a challenge if you can make me cum by just using your skilled tongue and hands on my breasts. Today you're gonna make me finish by just eating and admiring my breasts.” 

She announced the rules. Her beautiful green olives are gone in a lustful gaze. You can see how her breathing is erratic. Her eyes are focused on you. Almost silently asking you to start. 

“Yes, mistress” you breathed out. Your thighs are pressing together in need of any sort of friction.  

You sat on her lap. Melissa could feel your ruined underwear on her thighs. While she was streaked with the new sensation of your clothed pussy on her warm inviting thigh. Oh, how you wanted to take a ride... But just one stern look from your beloved Italiano made you behave. You wanted to be her good girl. Melissa, unlike you, could not take the tension any longer she yanked a fistful of your hair. Passionately inviting you for a bruising kiss. You whimpered at the sensation. She was restless. Biting hard on your lip just to slide her dominant tongue into your warm mouth. This action made you unconsciously desperately grind onto her soft creamy thigh.

“Ah, ah little mouse is breaking the rules again” She stated with a sly smirk playing on her puffy lips. 

Still having her hand in your hair she pulled you straight into her tits. You moaned at the action right between delicate skin. Melissa was completely drowning you in her exquisite breasts. You were totally blissed out, your face pressed between her tits. Giving up any sort of control, you give in to the desire to bite down soft flesh. Smoothing down with your warm gentle tongue. Melissa responded with a groan. Her olive skin was covered in shivers. Just from one action. It was no secret for both of you that her breasts were subject of admiration. She also loved them, loved the attention she got from you. Now it was a research question to see how sensitive her breasts are and how many minutes, or hours would it take for you to make her cum?

“Tesoro, do this again!” she groaned out.

You bit her again. Taking the heated bowl with the meted warm chocolate you covered your tits in the steaming liquid. You shivered at the warm tingly sensation. Making your rosey buds harden almost instantly. Mel licked her lips before launching her tender lips and sucking on your right nipple. You let out a cry at the delicious feeling. Of her lips on your nipple softly nibbling on the pointy flesh. Her other hand palmed your left tit. Using her nails to tease the nipple. The sensations were sending you into bliss. Her scent, her warm inviting skin, warmth radiating from her big breasts. You closed your eyes to focus more on the pleasure she was giving you. 

“Agh, mommy, please, bite me again agh, rougher plaeaase” You screamed from the sensations. The pool in your underwear was no help. You became more needy with every passing second.

You practically glazed more chocolate on her inviting breasts. Slowly licking the tender olive skin. You started with the top, kitten licking right breast, gently sucking on the skin around her areola. You were teasing, changing speed between agonizingly slow to faster with your tongue drawing different patterns. One of them was the word “mine”. Caressing the other breast with your nails. Giving a firm quiz here and there. Melissa was getting overwhelmed with feelings. She was so sensitive, everywhere. Firstly her breasts were on fire, pleasantly carried away with your skillful tongue, you sweet words you were drawing with your tongue on her breasts. The warm hand that was palming her left breast was sending light pulsations straight to her pussy. She became so putty in your hands. 

“Like that, good girl, you are doing so great, just suck nipples, they are aching for your experienced tongue” She cried out. Pressing your lips closer to her overstimulated nipples. 

Her praise was making your pussy clench around nothing. You were so happy to please your mistress. So eager to make her cum. Like no other men on this planet will. The sweetness of chocolate was mixing up with the significant taste of your gorgeous girlfriend. Making you want to devour her without mercy. Her fragrance was interacting with a sweet scent of chocolate. Revealing new muscusy notes in the air. Her strawberry lip gloss was like a cherry on top of the sweetness. All your senses were blessed with her gorgeous presence.

Your velvety lips were gently sucking on her exuberant nipples. Redhead responded with a breathy moan. She harshly pressed you into her exquisite breast. Too lost in the moment to care. You started to bite down slowly on the puffy bud. Changing the frequency of suction and biting. Gazing your teeth over a chocolaty-covered nipple adds more dopamine to your system. The taste of skin with sweetness was an amazing combination for your taste buds. Switching to another nipple you bit harder, smoothing harsh sensation with a lapping of your tongue. Taking a break from her nipples made her a whining mess.

“Amore…” Melissa whined out, while squirming her hips.

“Please, do-dont stop” She complained.

You took more strawberries and chocolate. You covered her reddened buds with chocolate and squirted strawberries over her breasts. Not caring where it will lend. As if there is no tomorrow you began to follow down the drops of juice. Making patterns, softly nibbling, and harshly biting down the pinkish flash.

“Tesoro please, I am so, so closeeeee” she was a crying mass. The overstimulation made her brain get foggy. She became more whinny. Desperately trying to get her release. 

You were practically sucking out her buds, areolas, using your tongue to tease, smooth, irritate, and get a reaction from a hot beast. Your delicate hands were palming her puffy tits. Your nails were gazing over and over over sensitive pointed rosy skin. One last suck of your tongue, one lust swirl of your hand on her nipple sends her over to the sweetest release she got from this type of stimulation. Her eyes got lost in the back of her head. Her hips are uncontrollably bucking against nothing. Her hands firmly tugging on your hair, pressing hard into her tits. Her thighs are moving intensively which makes your hips join her rhythm to saddle over her thigh. You were following her movements to make you reach your desired release together. You collapsed in bed. Heavy gasping for air. 

“ Well, well you did pretty good for a little muse, il mio amore” 

With these words, you shared a passionate, loving kiss. And that night you had the best sleep in each other's arms. Melissa finally felt content and loved. She did not regret her decision to start a resort romance. Now she has her girl. Sleeping right beside.

What a Valentines…

[okaerina]

𖥻 THINGS — enhypen ◌ ִ ۫ ּ

syn ; things enha reminds me of !

heeseung !

dangly earrings, pendent chains, skinny ripped jeans, rock guitar, clubbing, late studio night, concerts, rainy empty street, love songs, specs, ice cream, deers, rainforest, going over the speed limit, long drive, polaroids, balcony, tattoos, collage campus, basketball, getting into fist fights, breaking rules, warm breeze, kisses, sharing earphones, untied shoelaces, sleeveless tops, cross jewelries, chase atlantic songs

jay !

red wine, ball dance, guitar, empty kitchen, champagne bubbles, tuxedo suits, runaway, black cat, fashion magazines, gold jewelries, camping, eucalyptus, biking, biker jackets, street racing, late night walks, city lights, porsche, cologne, the weeknd songs, loose tie, fancy restaurant, chanel bags, iced americano, home, long hugs, words of affirmation, eye contact, autumn, posh music, v necks, opera, musical recital, marriage, ancient churches

jake !

pancakes, golden retrievers, empty parks, cardigans, picnic, wolf pups, landscapes, abstract art, lip piercings, makeout sessions, mornings, cream, sheets, swimming, sand castles, tree houses, venus, varsity player, rings, clashing waves, sun shinning through curtains, backyard, champagne, sparkly eyes, netflix and chill, forehead kisses, caramel fudge, winter, jb songs, garden, lilies, lipstick stains

sunghoon !

sculptures, greek mythology, snow, ice skating, pointe shoes, swan lake, ice rinks, rhinestones, vampires, sharp canines, royalty, huskies, novels, cruise, 90s songs, ear muffs, moon phase, poetry, dandelions, maple leaves, vanilla shake, pearls, penguins, blush, lucid dreams, confessions, lullaby, archangels, romance movies, boyfriend coats, monsoon, hair blowing because of the wind, moles, tears, old love, unrequited love, ribbons, weddings

sunoo !

sun, tulip field, solar system, marshmallows, tteobokki, street food, shopping, karaoke, smiles, cute stationeries, stickers, secret diary, cheek kisses, mufflers, red foxes, bratz doll, playdate, selfies, carnations, easter, boba tea, bestfriends to lovers, cherry blossoms, lip gloss, skincare, disney shows, late night face timing, gossiping, watching kdramas, sanrio stuffs, blowing bubbles, photo booths, texts, horizon

jungwon !

kittens, valleys, teenage dream, gold fish, aquariums, subways, cds, headphones, empty bus rides, babybreaths, holding hands, first love, taylor swift songs, messy hair, vacation, countryside, group study, constellations, piggyback ride, dimples, converse, empty classroom, sheep cubs, indoor plants, mini cactus, namsan tower, han river, late fall, vintage hand written letters , young love, romcom, kitties

ni-ki !

graffiti, sunsets, baggy pants, late night dance jam, empty beach, bicycling, sea shore, ear piercings, watermelon, summer, slow dancing, grass field, bungeoppangs, duck chicks, disneyland, ps5, arcade, puma cubs, eskimo kisses, bracelets, youth, climbing fences, skipping school, skateboarding, mangas, school festivals, footsies, cute band aids, oversized attires, j-rock, night sky, laughters, slice of life, teenage, playfulness, photo booths, anime, shoujo manga

© aenfilmz / 02072023

taglist ; @solarwoniii @shiningstar-byulxx @wtfhyuck @ichiibunztwt @enhawhoreist

[charlosvibesonly]

Racing Hearts- Part 4

Pairing : Max x fem!reader/driver

it's fun when two enemies turn into lovers? but what happens when those two lovers are back to being enemies?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

After that race, the following weeks were filled with an icy silence between you and Max. Interviews became a thing of the past as both of you were determined to focus on the championship. 

In a flashback, when a persistent reporter dared to ask Max about the incident, his response was dismissive and defensive. "I don't see what the problem is," he retorted with a nonchalant shrug. "If Y/N has an issue, maybe she should focus on learning to race properly."

The nature of his response only fueled the animosity between you and Max, deepening the chasm that had formed.

Weeks passed, and it was the Singapore Grand Prix. The glittering lights of Singapore's nightlife painted the city with a vibrant glow. You took to the club to forget both about the race, and Max. 

The club was alive with pulsating music, and you and Lando were in the center of it all, lost in the rhythm of the dance floor. Lando's fluid moves and confident charm made it impossible not to follow his lead. The playful banter between you two created a magnetic energy that seemed to draw everyone in, but little did you know that turmoil was brewing in the shadowy corners of the club.

As the beat intensified, Lando pulled you into a spin, his eyes locked onto yours. "You know, Y/N, dancing with you is almost as exhilarating as a race. Maybe even better," he said with a cheeky grin.

You laughed, enjoying the carefree moment in Lando's company. "Well, maybe you should consider a career change, Lando. Dancing suits you."

Meanwhile, Max watched from the bar, his eyes glued to the scene on the dance floor. His jaw clenched, his fists tightened as he gripped the edge of the counter. Anger simmered beneath the surface, and hurt lingered in the depths of his gaze.

Lando, oblivious to Max's scrutiny, continued to lead you through the dance floor. He spun you again, drawing you in closer. "You know, Y/N, I've always wondered what it's like to dance with the competition," he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You smirked, feeling a twinge of guilt but relishing the temporary escape from the complexities of your rivalry with Max. "Well, wonder no more, Lando. Here we are."

The music soared, and as the dance floor embraced the rhythm, Max, overwhelmed with a cocktail of emotions, made a decision. He pushed away from the bar, leaving the club without a word, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud.

You and Lando decided to stay back for a little vacation in Singapore. 

You won the Grand Prix. As the vacation unfolded, you both decided to embrace the break from the high-stakes world of racing. From quirky cafes to scenic spots, your Instagram stories painted a picture of a budding relationship, fueling the already intense debate among fans.

One afternoon, as the sun dipped below the skyline, you and Lando sat by the waterfront. The city lights reflected in the water, creating a serene ambiance. You took a moment to address the elephant in the room.

"Lando, I need to be clear about something. This vacation, these moments we're sharing, it's about friendship for me," you said, your tone sincere.

Lando nodded a genuine smile on his face. "I get it, Y/N. No pressure. Friends it is."

The understanding between you two laid the foundation for a genuine connection of friendship.

The fans, however, remained divided. Some were thrilled by the seemingly lighter and more carefree dynamic, while others deemed it a strategic move to distract from the racing drama between you and Max. 

The next race, the Japanese Grand Prix, was the championship decider. You had waited all your life for this. The efforts of the years, and your parents’ sacrifices, all were waiting to be paid off. 

Back at Milton Keynes, you unexpectedly ran into Max. As Max approached, his eyes held a storm of emotions. "We need to talk, Y/N," he said, his voice edged with urgency.

Your response, however, was laced with biting sarcasm. "Oh, do we now? Must be something groundbreaking you want to share, Max."

He sighed, attempting to keep his composure. "This isn't helping us, Y/N. We're teammates, whether you like it or not."

A scoff escaped your lips. "Teammates? Funny way to put it when you're so quick to throw me under the bus."

The corridor echoed with the unresolved tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you and Max. It was a clash of wills, a collision of egos, and neither was willing to yield.

Max, sensing the futility of the moment, tried once more. "We can't keep racing like this. It's affecting the team."

You just scoffed and walked away. The sparks of conflict remained, unresolved and simmering beneath the surface, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.

Race day in Japan arrived, and the championship decider. The atmosphere was full of excitement as the lights went out. The race was intense, with wheel-to-wheel battles and adrenaline-fueled maneuvers. In a crucial corner, you and Max found yourselves locked. You tried to turn, but it was too fast. It ended in a collision, both of you out of the race, and a red flag waving in the air.

“You never know what you will get to see in Formula 1. This was the race where we would have had our champion. But both contenders are out of the race!”

Entering the garage, Max took your hand, leading you to a private space. The storm in his eyes matched the storm in his heart as he unleashed his frustration. 

"You fucker. You cost me my championship!" Max spat, the frustration etched across his face, his usually calm demeanor shattered by the intensity of the moment.

This wasn't the Max you had cooked dinner with. It wasn't the Max who had made you laugh. It certainly wasn't the Max who had seemed to genuinely like you.

"Do you honestly expect an apology? You, of all people, took me out of the race! I could already be a champion right now if it weren't for your reckless move," you retorted, anger flashing in your eyes, matching the fire in Max's gaze.

Max's accusation sliced through the air like a dagger, "This was your plan all along, wasn't it? To use me? And now you are fucking Lando?"

"You're an asshole!" Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of frustration, hurt, and anger cascading down your cheeks.

"I shouldn't have trusted you," he said in a defeated voice, his accusation hitting you like a punch to the gut.

"If that's how you see me, fine. But brace yourself, Max. In the next race, there won't be any mistakes, and mark my words, that championship trophy will have my name on it," you declared defiantly before storming out of the room.

But he caught up, pulling you into a dark store room.

[pablitogavii]

so i have an idea, if u like it it will be really nice to write something about it :))

so, the reader and gavi are on vacation with their friend, at night they are supposed to go out but the reader is hurt/sore because they visited the city and walked a lot, at night she says to gavi that she won’t go out, he tells her that he’ll stay home with her but she tries to convince him to go out, at the end they stay both at home because he is a lil Stubborn and it ends with them cuddling and gavi taking care of her

His Baby

"Ughh!" you said while plopping yourself down on the bed in exhaustion after spending the whole day cruising the city with Pablo and his friends.

"It was beautiful, wasn't it amor??" Pablo sat next to you smiling wide and you nodded your head although your feet had quite a different opinion at the moment.

It was definitely your fault since you choose beauty over comfort yet again and ended up wearing sandals that were definitely not made for walking all day at max speed. You had so many blisters that it hurt just looking at them. Mierda!

The next day, you woke up with Pablo kissing down your spine and sun caressing your face having finally re-charged your battery from last night.

"Breakfast is ready preciosa..we are waiting for you" he smiled kissing you one last time before leaving and you smiled thinking to yourself what a paradise you were living in right now.

Just when you were ready to start your day and get out of bed, the moment your feet hit the carpet the pain and soreness returned..yeah today will have to be a rest day for you.

Luckily the boys wanted to do a boat day which didn't require much movement and you were very happy that Aurora joined the party as well..you started to feel lonely as the only girl.

"And she just won't give it up! My god!" Aurora was telling you about some incident at the bar in Mallorca when Pablo interrupted kissing your back and making you giggle as the cold water hit your hot skin.

"Sorry to interrupt girls, but I just came to tell my girl that tonight we are going out to some new club in town..there will be live music and definitely lots of fun" he said and your initial thought was to smile but then you remembered your feet and the overall pain you felt.

You didn't want to ruin his mood so you decided to tell him when you were alone that you will have to pass on the plans tonight.

When the night fell and y'all returned to the apartment, Pablo went to take a shower dressing himself up before walking into your shared bedroom surprised to see you in your pajamas.

"Amor? Aren't you gonna get ready??" he said and you sighed getting up from the bed and walking up to him.

"My feet are still killing me from last night..those damn sandals ruined me..so I will stay in tonight but you go and have fun with your friends cariño" you said and he immediately shook his head. You knew how stubborn her gets.

"No way! Then I'll stay with you preciosa and they can go." he said about to take his shirt off but you stopped him.

"You wanted to go and you should go Pablo..I'll just watch a movie here and sleep early to rest my feet for tomorrow.." you said but he still took the shirt off following with his shoes.

"Great, you pick the movie and I'll get the popcorn!" he said and you giggled still not wanting him to stay if he wanted to go with his friends.

"Amor, I don't want to ruin your night.." you said and he walked closer to your raising your chin and making you look up at him.

"You think that having the whole apartment for ourselves is ruining my night princesa?? Think again, I can't wait!" he smirked and your rolled your eyes blushing at his playfulness while hitting his shoulder.

"Chico malo!" you say moving his hair from his forehead and he pulls you by your waist making your body glued to his.

"Solo para ti mi amor..." he smirked kissing your lips when Mario knocked before walking in.

"Uhh sorry to interrupt hermano pero you guys coming or?" he said and Pablo smiled down at you looking at his friend.

"Nah we're gonna stay tonight..but you guys have fun!" Pablo said and Mario nodded wishing you the fun night as well (ofc he would lol) before leaving with the rest.

A few hours later when the movie was long time done, you were curled up in Pablo's arms on the sofa while he ran his fingers up and down your back like he knew you loved kissing the top of your head every once in awhile...you couldn't think of a better way to spend your night. Your feet felt relaxed and soreness was slowly diminishing the more you rested.

"Amor, you asleep?" he said and you looked up with sleepy eyes but still wide awake blushing when you saw his adorable smile.

"I just wanted to say that I love you..I love you for coming on this trip with me..and for wanting to go with my friends..and for telling me to go to the club without you..for trusting me..I think I finally found my second half" he spoke and you felt your heart melt with every word that left his lips.

"I love you too cariño...muchisimo..thank you for staying with me" you smile and he leaned down kissing your lips lovingly before carrying you to your shared bedroom bridal style.

"Sempre mi amor..let's get some rest now" he said and you both got closer as you nuzzled your face into his neck taking in his familiar scent before slipping into beautiful sleep.

There will be A LOT more vacation sotries ;)

[vintagelasvegas]

Construction of Fremont Street Experience, c. November 1994

Photo by Pam G.

Facing a stagnant economy and fearing that mega-resort projects on the Strip would further drain visitors to downtown casinos, Las Vegas City Council and downtown casino execs collaborated to create an attraction downtown which would become Fremont Street Experience.

Timeline of Fremont Street Experience

'91: Feb., Mirage Resorts chairman Steve Wynn suggests Venice-style canal attraction for Fremont St. Jul., City council forms committee to study downtown revitalization.

'92: Jan., Downtown Progress Association hears redevelopment proposals from three firms, rejects all. Apr., City begins purchasing property for future development use. Jun., Architect Jon Jerde presents plan for Fremont Street Experience.

'93: May, LVCVA approves $8M funding for FSE. Aug., City Council approves tax increase for financing the construction. Nov., City begins procedures to condemn property of owners who refuse to vacate on 400 block of Fremont St.

'94: Mar., Demolition of 400 block Fremont St. Sep. 7, Fremont St closed to traffic, and construction begins.

'95: Jul., Construction completed. Inaugurated Dec. 14.

2004: The canopy's 2 million incandescent bulbs replaced with 12.5 million LED lamps. The new light show dubbed Viva Vision debuts Jun. 14.

2014: Slotzilla zip line opened Apr. 27 (lower zipline) and Aug. 31 (upper zoomline).

2019: The Viva Vision display is rebuilt with 49 million LED lamps, competed Dec. 31. The new canopy can operate in daylight hours.

Demolition of Fremont & 4th (block 35), 1994. City of Las Vegas acquired the businesses on this block, partly through eminent domain, and demolished everything to make way for the Fremont Street Experience parking garage. Last building standing is Cornet 5-10-15 (401 Fremont). Photo taken from the garage of Fitzgerald’s Hotel & Casino by Roadsidepictures.

Section of scale model of Fremont Street Experience. Photographed Dec. 15, 1994, by Greg Cava. A 22-foot long scale model of Fremont Street Experience was built at the office of Atlandia Design, which supervised the creation of the attraction. Greg Cava Photograph Collection (PH-00399). UNLV Special Collections and Archives.

The “Vegas Vic” sign re-installed at Pioneer Club, December 23, 1994 - Photo by Las Vegas News Bureau. The sign was removed days earlier while the platform was extended from the building and the character’s hat was shortened, to accommodate the construction of the Fremont Street Experience canopy. The “Vegas Vickie” sign at Glitter Gulch casino was also lowered to fit under the canopy. Before the work was done on the two signs, a marriage ceremony was held on Fremont St for Vic and Vickie. Vic’s best man was Vaughn Cannon of YESCO. Guest of honor was Edna Sherrill who had played a “Vegas Vickie” character as a hostess at Pioneer Club in the 60s.

Sources include: Creative thinking needed downtown. Review-Journal, 2/25/91; H. Stutz. Wynn proposes Venice-style downtown project. Review Journal, 5/21/91; J. Gallant. Council, casinos plan revamp panel. Review-Journal, 7/18/91; C. Scarbrough. City, casino execs discuss three themes. Review-Journal, 1/30/92; C. Scarbrough. Megaresort projects threat to downtown. Review-Journal, 1/31/92; C. Scott. “Tourists to pick up most of project tab.” Las Vegas Sun, 4/17/94. S. McKinnon. “Downtown celebrates neon nuptial.” Review Journal, 12/17/94. Chris Jones. A vision of things to come. Review-Journal, 6/9/04.

[chilling-seavey]

National Anthem (gr63, ds)

↳ A/N The wonderful T-Anon (my og followers know!) introduced me into the world of Formula 1 and, of course, now I'm obsessed. What else is there to do but write something [sinfully] self-serving that incorporates both of my faves? I'm nervous to post this because last time I posted a multi-fandom fic, I got mega anon hate so I'm hoping this goes over well... 🙃

↳ Summary: As VIP guests of Scuderia Ferrari - thanks to Daniel’s best friend as one of their elite Formula 1 drivers - you have the privilege of travelling to Monte Carlo for the Monaco Grand Prix. While on this getaway, you and Daniel decide to lean into the grandeur status of the Monaco Circuit and celebrate the weekend in a way you normally wouldn’t back at home - and that comes in the form of a luxury yacht party and a handsome Mercedes driver who seemed to capture your eye from your first day in the paddock

↳ Pairings: Daniel Seavey x Reader, George Russell x Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 41.0k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, mmf threesome, one night stand, voyeurism, use of explicit language, oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation, minor choking and spitting, some derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex (whoops), no Carlos in this (so sorry, but I had to give Daniel a familiar friend in this universe), & heavy manifesting of a Leclerc Monaco Win™

In the comfortable warmth of the Mediterranean sun, you nursed your icy drink in hand to the roaring sound of racing engines speeding along the streets of Monaco. It was a place you had never expected to be, with a VIP lanyard around your neck donning the Scuderia Ferrari logo against vibrant red, sipping on cocktails and grazing on expensive dishes as you overlooked the Saturday Qualifying races for the 81st Monaco Grand Prix. The open air rooftop of the Paddock Club overlooked turn eighteen of the circuit and kept the ambiance of the elite in high spirits with lively music and an open bar, the view of the harbour and the lush mountainous city of Monte Carlo in the near distance. 

Not much of a Formula 1 enthusiast yourself, you felt a bit like a fraud being so present and doted upon by the staff of the Paddock Club while you were surrounded by genuine VIPs from public figures and star-studded personnel alike. It wasn’t unfamiliar to you to be in the vicinity of the odd celebrity as your boyfriend’s career in the Los Angeles music industry scene allowed for some interactions in passing with those whom he worked with. But at least in those instances, you held at least somewhat of an understanding of what was going on. Here, watching twenty race cars weaving through tight curves and narrow streets at unbridled speeds, you were out of your element. 

Said boyfriend - your own personal ray of sunshine with eyes that could arguably put the Mediterranean blue skies to shame - was finishing off his third margarita in the span of just over an hour-and-a-half since you had arrived at the rooftop. Donning an official Scuderia Ferrari t-shirt that clung to him in all the right places, he made focusing on the final qualifying race going on below incredibly difficult for you. If it was one thing you had going for you was the fact that you knew Daniel much more confidently than you knew the ins and outs of Formula 1. Despite your shameless glances at him at your side, you didn’t dare to interrupt his focus since he was completely enthralled by the race. His wide blue eyes darted across each passing car down below as he sipped the remainder of his drink, on high alert for the individual whom you owed your little VIP vacation to. 

“Ah!” Daniel suddenly yelped excitedly, pointing a finger over the railing to the red racing car donning the number 25 that zipped around the corner directly in front of you and then tore up the short straight before disappearing around another bend to complete his lap. “There he goes!”

Since meeting in grade school, Daniel and Corbyn had been best friends for almost as long as they could remember. Even with Corbyn traveling back and forth between Europe and the States during his karting days as a boy and, later, as he navigated the senior categories paving his way to his dream of F1, the two of them never drifted. In fact, Daniel was the only one of Corbyn’s friends from home who stayed loyal and true through all those years, always his biggest support system outside of his immediate family, and the first one he called to share the news that he was moving to Monaco at only twenty-one. That being said, of course it was only fair that Corbyn hosted his dearest friend at some of his races whenever he could and there was no better weekend than the infamous Monaco Grand Prix. 

With Corbyn living in Europe and almost always traveling the world with his lavish career as a driver for Scuderia Ferrari, you had only met him a handful of times in person when he would come to visit Daniel in Los Angeles once or twice a year. He had such a busy schedule, in fact, that even though the two of you were invited as guests of his that weekend, you still had yet to meet up with the young man who was arguably your host. Regardless, you decided to look at that weekend as a romantic vacation for two, an all expenses paid trip to one of the most luxurious countries on the globe as VIPs for a world-renowned organization. 

“That’s so cool.” Daniel beamed, tearing his eyes away from the track to look at you instead before he shared the news as if it were new information, “That’s my best friend! Isn’t he awesome?”

His obvious love for his closest friend mirrored that of brothers and you couldn’t help but smile at his transparent pride, answering him honestly, “He’s incredible.” 

Your agreement only had Daniel soaring and he shimmied his shoulders in a little dance as he drained the rest of his drink up his straw. Taking the glass from him as a few nearby patrons glanced over at the obnoxious slurping, you set it on the bar-height table nearby and then rested your hand on his arm. 

“And, baby,” you started softly, only interrupted by Daniel’s soft ‘mhm’ in acknowledgement as he stared at you and awaited your comment, “you look so incredible.”

Daniel leaned in smoothly to kiss your lips once, twice, and before you could raise your hand up to the side of his neck for a third, he was tearing away from you at the incoming roar of the shiny red car and he pumped his fist in the air with a whoop as number 25 zoomed past again. 

The final qualifying session finished at 5:00 and, promptly, you and Daniel left the festivities on the rooftop for your next destination of the evening. You still had some time to kill before your scheduled meeting time with Corbyn but Daniel was not willing to risk being late - even if he played it off like he wasn’t worried. So, sufficiently buzzed on expensive drinks from that afternoon’s excitement, you navigated your way towards the adjacent F1 paddocks hand in hand. 

Another perk of those classy lanyards you were supplied with meant that you had access to a lot of the behind the scenes areas where the public wasn’t allowed. Standing at the turnstiles under the F1 branded archway, you each scanned your pass and with a display of your name and host’s name on the screen, you were able to step through. Once inside the paddock, Daniel’s hand naturally fell into yours like you were regulars and you began your slow walk along the pavement that was packed with bustling team members and media crew alike. 

For as far as you could see - or so it felt like - was branded Formula 1 team equipment and technical apparatus. Down the straight alley, the right side was lined with impressive towering motorhomes for each of the teams. The motorhomes as well-designed structures acted as a way to showcase the luxury and pride of the team’s brand while also proving to be some sort of unspoken architectural competition of who could put together the most impressive hub. Most towering at three-storeys high, they each had a sense of uniqueness to them that captured your attention from the first glance; Mercedes’ clean lines and all black exterior had their silver larger-than-life logo glittering in the late afternoon sun while Haas’ curves and vibrant white coddled their modest one-storey in something easily inspired by the mechanics of racing. 

Across from each of the motorhomes, across the main straight of the paddock, were the teams’ trucks and containers in which they housed and carted their equipment, necessities, and, of course, their cars. It all looked a bit overwhelming but, at the same time, neatly organized. In an industry that was always on the move, it was an absolute necessity to keep everything in order whenever possible. Team members in branded polos and official uniforms bustled back and forth between motorhomes and equipment containers, zig zagging across the spacious paved straight with a task to do. Qualifying might have been over for the public but there never seemed to be a lull in the behind the scenes work. 

You and Daniel walked all the way to the end of the paddock where the Haas team was set up before looping back around to head back the way you came. You tried your best not to get in anyone’s way but there was so much happening and so many people coming and going that a few times you ended up having to let go of Daniel’s hand for a team member or two to barrel right between you. The media presence seemed to pick up as more of the drivers returned from their garages, all the journalists eagerly thrusting microphones at them to try and get their thoughts on their performances during qualifying. You only recognized maybe one or two from Corbyn’s instagram feed when the odd friend would be tagged in one of his weekend photo-dumps but you definitely didn’t have anyone memorized by name or enough to feel starstruck. Daniel, who grew up alongside one of these drivers and who worked in an industry that was just as star-studded for different reasons, didn't bat an eyelash either. 

The red and silver three-storey building of Ferrari’s motorhome was second from the entrance to the paddock and there was where you were scheduled to meet Corbyn when he finished with his responsibilities. Similarly to some of the other designs along the paddock, Ferrari’s architecture mirrored that of the style that one would find in mechanic’s garages but with a touch of luxury that seemed to be ever present in the world of Formula 1. The potted topiary trees outside the tinted front windows were a nice, homey touch, and as you and Daniel fell to a stop to wait, you reached out your free hand to touch the greenery. 

“It’s real.” you said softly to him. 

“It looks too green to be real.” Daniel doubted you as he touched the leaves himself. “Holy shit, it is real. How do they keep it that…alive?”

“Rich Italian Ferrari water.” you suggested playfully. 

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Sparkling water, even.”

From behind you, two hands rested heavily on one of your shoulders each and, startling as if you were about to be scolded for touching the shrubbery, Corbyn quickly eased your momentary anxieties with a smooth, “Nah, we actually feed them gasoline just like the cars.”

Ignoring his joke for the priority of their long awaited reunion, Daniel spun around to greet his best friend with an enthusiastic call of his name and a slap of their palms together and they yanked each other into a tight hug. You took a small step back to give them their moment, smiling affectionately at the scene as they embraced and swayed in place in a quarter circle. Corbyn was still wearing his red Ferrari race suit that was half unzipped and bunched around his waist, leaving him in only his fireproofs beneath, finished with a matching branded red Ferrari cap which he used to attempt to tame his messy brown hair. Just behind him, almost hidden by the two six-foot-tall best friends, was a young woman with a professional camera hung around her neck with the utmost care. She, too, was watching the reunion with fondness before sparing you a split second glance. 

Pulling away from their hug, Daniel and Corbyn shared their secret handshake they had coined as teenagers and Daniel praised him as they did, “Great job out there today!”

Corbyn kept his wide grin on his face and set his hands on his hips with a modest shrug, “Not really, but thanks.”

“What are you talking about? P4 is really good!” Daniel protested. 

“Not on a circuit where overtaking is virtually impossible but I won’t bore you with the technicalities.” Corbyn chuckled before then turning to you with an arm outstretched, greeting you by name with a quick hug and a, “So glad you could make it.”

“Of course!” you gushed, “Thank you so much for inviting us out here.”

“Don’t mention it. We’d never say no to having some more cheerleaders on deck.” Corbyn teased with a friendly slap to Daniel’s bicep. Before Daniel could offer any rebuttal, Corbyn was turning to the young woman whom he had approached with and he introduced you both by name before offering her introduction to you, “Guys, this is Tabitha: my girlfriend as well as the best photographer on the grid.” 

“Co-workers to lovers, I see, I see.” you teased before directing to the young woman across from you, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” she offered politely. 

“Hardly co-workers to lovers when we were both silently pining after each other since our very first day here.” Corbyn nudged her playfully, “Right?”

Her little eye roll was balanced with a bashful smile, “Yeah, yeah. Took us long enough and whatever else.”

“How cute.” you swooned.

Daniel directed his half-joking question to her next, “You keeping an eye on my best friend here? Keeping him out of trouble?”

“Oh my gosh, she’s hardly his security guard.” you smacked his arm. “I’m sure she’s got her own trouble to keep out of - especially around all these crazy men in this place.”

The two of you women shared small smiles that went over the heads of your boyfriends but she replied to your defence with a wave of her hand, “You’d actually be surprised how often I sometimes have to play mediator. Little boys, most of them.”

“Not me.” Corbyn scoffed with a cheeky smile and tossed his arm around her shoulders to pull her into his side, “I’m the easiest.”

“Yeah, okay.” she chuckled. 

“So you’ve been working here, like, what? Five years now?” you asked her. 

Tabitha nodded, “Sounds about right. Although I’ve pretty much breathed F1 all my life.” 

“Oh, wow.” you gaped. “So this position was a dream for you?” 

“Definitely.” 

“I love that.” you smiled fondly at the confession of achieved dreams, offering some more information on yourself to your newly acquainted, “I just got into it recently because I didn’t want to look like a complete dunce when we came here. Other than the knowledge Daniel knows from Corbyn, I’ve been filling in the gaps by watching the Netflix show.”

The flicker of an amused smirk grazed Tabitha’s face but you didn’t quite catch it as you glanced at Daniel with a proud smile of your own. The Formula 1 docu-series produced by Netflix followed each season of the prior few years in the racing industry, giving an inside glimpse into the life of the drivers and their teams alike. To you, as an outsider, it was perfectly fascinating, but to the inside few who had to deal with the constant live filming, camera crews getting in the way, and presumptuous questions from the film industry, it was less than ideal in most situations. 

Therefore, Corbyn replied to your statement with a half-joking, “Honestly, I’m surprised they aren’t here shoving cameras in our faces right now.” 

Tabitha, who much preferred her art form of photography over the opposing scheme of invasive videography that seemed to be growing in popularity thanks to Netflix, added under her breath, “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

As if on her same wavelength - or maybe he noticed the way her hand tightened almost protectively around her camera lens in some metaphorical habit - Corbyn took a step away from his girlfriend to ask her with a smile, “Hey, think you can take a few pictures of my VIPs? It’d be sick to add them to my Instagram photo-dump tomorrow.”

“Yeah, of course.” Tabitha lifted her camera, “Get in there.”

Corbyn hopped the few half steps over to you and Daniel and he weaseled his way in between you, draping am around each of you with his photo-ready grin already directed towards the camera. Tabitha adjusted her settings a bit and then peered through the viewfinder of her expensive camera, meticulously framing you three in the composition with the backdrop of the Ferrari motorhome behind you. With VIP lanyards hung around your neck, you and Daniel seemed to fit right in on either side of the world-renowned racecar driver. But, just like tried and true best friends, Daniel held up four fingers with a cheeky grin, referencing Corbyn’s placement from that afternoon’s qualifying race, earning him a smack to his hand by said unimpressed driver. 

With a few photos snapped, you then huddled around the camera to see the results, admiring the crystal clear focus and stunning lighting that Tabitha modestly attributed to the late afternoon sun when your praises came in influx. She promised to send them to Corbyn as soon as they returned to their hotel room later that night so he could forward them onto you. Then, when Corbyn pitched the offer to take you inside the Ferrari motorhome for a proper tour, she politely excused herself from your group with pleasantries of ‘nice to meet you’ and some passing excuse that she should get a few more shots before the drivers wrapped up and headed out for the evening. 

Corbyn seemed unbothered by her sudden departure although his eyes lingered on her for a few seconds as she walked off before he turned his ever-present smile back to the two of you. With a clap of his hands together, he said, “Let’s get this tour started, shall we?”

Daniel stepped aside with a gesture of his hand, “After you.”

Corbyn hopped up the front steps of the Ferrari motorhome with grace after near years of practice and pulled open one of the double glass doors to lead you inside, “Welcome home. Or, as we say here at Scuderia Ferrari: benvenuto.”

Stepping over the threshold of the motorhome entryway, you were met with a modest size space lined with square tables which were circled by Ferrari red dining chairs across dark grey vinyl tile floors. Despite the team members that dotted the space in their uniforms and work shoes, the floors still appeared impressively spotless as if the luxury of it all could also purchase the ability to stay pristine. Motorsport had the ability to get messy fast and keeping their equipment and spaces in tip top shape only helped the cogs to turn smoother - and smooth was key in the world of F1. 

Along the far wall of the cafeteria space was a bar counter that spanned about half the length of the space and on top was a neat arrangement of serving dishes topped with pastries and snacks and various cut up fruits and vegetables. A lady behind the bar in a Ferrari polo was arranging the platters and pouring drinks for crew members who came by, but it seemed that once Corbyn stepped inside, everyone’s attention turned to him. Their overlapping greetings were warm and friendly and even being a stranger amongst the group, you could easily feel the overwhelming sense of family that grew. 

Once he said his quick hellos to the group, he turned his attention back to you and Daniel to begin the tour, “So, the first floor is catering. We usually always have at least snacks and things over there on the bar, but the door behind leads to the kitchen where we have genuine Italian chefs always at the ready to cook you up whatever you’re feeling.”

“For free?” you asked without thinking. 

Corbyn sent you a pointed look, “Yes.”

You and Daniel exchanged impressed glances before following Corbyn across the spacious dining area to the stairs and you moved up to the second floor. When you exited the staircase, you were met with an open communal area donning red sofas and white lounge chairs as well as collaborative round tables with black leather chairs all resting atop commercial grade carpet. The LED strip lighting along the ceiling really brightened the space if not for the floor to ceiling windows on the front façade overlooking the paddock beyond. The tables were dotted with small potted plants and pads of Ferrari branded paper with matching pens on top and the walls were lined with framed memorabilia from Ferrari’s rich racing history and heritage. 

“This is our lounge space.” Corbyn introduced as you circled the floor slowly on your tour, trying not to bother the few small groups of team members that were huddled around a table or chatting on the sofa, “We come up here to chill or to have informal meetings sometimes.”

“This is classy.” Daniel whistled, dragging his fingertips over the back of one of the leather chairs on the way past. 

“And no lounge is complete without a bar.” Corbyn gestured to the mini bar along the back wall. Daniel agreed easily, still feeling the lingering effects of that statement from that afternoon at the Paddock Club.

The lounge was slightly more narrow than the first floor footprint as some of the space was taken up by rooms hidden by frosted glass doors. Walking along that wall which was adjacent to the front windows, the first one donned discrete and classy white lettering across the glass reading ‘team principal’. 

Corbyn said quietly to the two of you, “Team principal’s office. Unfortunately off limits on this tour.”

The next frosted door led to a private meeting room which housed a fair sized oval table lined with red leather seats and a large flat screen TV on one wall for presentations and meetings. Corbyn explained how they often came in there to sign merchandise for fans or other similar projects. The third frosted door was the administration room where a few tables were set up with computers and laptops and other various equipment, three team members working away inside without even an ounce of distraction on their faces. 

“The brains behind the operation take place in here.” Corbyn said, “Everything from marketing to hospitality to travel plans are all based out of this room, pretty much. They organize the logistics of when we have to start taking things down to move onto the next city for the next race weekend.”

Cocking your head to the side, you asked, “What do you mean ‘take things down’? Take what down?”

Corbyn spread his arms out, “This. The motorhome. The garages. Everything.”

Your eyes widened, “This doesn’t stay here? This huge structure?”

“No.” Corbyn chuckled at your innocent cluelessness and Daniel just smiled fondly at you as his best friend went on to explain, “We’re taking up a good chunk of the streets of Monaco right now. After race weekend we basically have to disappear like we were never here and take all of this to be set up in our next location. The motorhomes are built basically like stackable cubes for ease of transportation. Dope, right?”

You were speechless for a beat, merely blinking at him, open mouthed, “Yeah.”

Corbyn led you farther down the length of the transportable building to two final doors, each housing a shiny red number in the F1 font - 16 and 25, respectfully. Larger than life low-opacity decals were almost disappearing into the haze of the frosted glass, each being a headshot of each of Ferrari’s two drivers. 

Corbyn tapped his own face on his door, “And these are our personal rooms as drivers. Our trainers can help us with some minor routine exercises in here or sometimes we have massages before the race to help loosen us up and stuff. Basically these are just our own little spaces to break away from everything if we need to.”

He slid the door open for a peek inside his room, although it wasn’t anything too crazy or impressive - just the necessities. One wall housed a red leather couch that could double as a massage table with the right adjustment to the metal bars beneath and the opposite wall had a built-in cabinet with a quaint table tucked in the corner. The landscape action shot of Corbyn’s Ferrari race car took up the length of the wall between the two but he also had taped his own polaroids and photographs to the plain white that covered the interior of his space. You noticed a few of him and Daniel and some with his family and many with the other drivers just goofing around…and only one, right in the center, of him and Tabitha in the Ferrari garage, taken as if they hadn’t known anyone was watching, just in innocent conversation. It was so candid and so natural and so calm, and yet it still made you smile. 

As Corbyn closed the door again, ready to move onto the next location on your journey, you were interrupted by someone approaching and a greeting in an accent you couldn’t quite place, “Oh, we have guests.”

You and Daniel turned to see who it was, finding yourselves face to face with Scuderia Ferrari’s very own il Predestinato, the predestined one, Charles Leclerc. He was wearing the same race suit as Corbyn, of course, although his was a striking white and his matching white branded cap had a striking asymmetrical pattern of red diamonds along one side. With a warm smile framed in charismatic dimples and green eyes that nearly sparkled, he didn’t wait for Corbyn to introduce you before he was thrusting out his hand and introducing himself. 

“Charles. You must be the friends’ of Corbyn’s. He has been talking about you coming all week.”

You and Daniel each shook his hand with amused expressions that were countered by Corbyn’s tisk that came from the call-out from his teammate and Daniel took the initiative to introduce the both of you himself and you exchanged pleasantries. 

“So, you've been enjoying Monaco, non?” Charles asked. 

“It’s beautiful.” you answered easily, “Like straight out of a movie.”

“Good to hear that.” he smiled at you with a friendly wink. 

Corbyn, standing beside you, explained teasingly, “My dear teammate here makes being from Monaco his entire personality.”

“Okay,” Charles laughed humorlessly at the lighthearted dig, “says the American.”

“Mm,” you scrunched your nose and glanced over at Corbyn, “he’s got you there.”

Gaping at you, Corbyn gestured his hand out helplessly towards Charles, “You just met him five seconds ago and you’re already taking his side?”

“I always side against the Americans, don’t you know that about me by now?” you nudged him playfully. 

Charles cocked his head to the side faintly, asking you, “You’re not American?”

“God, no.” you waved your hand as if to physically remove that assumption from the air between you, “I’m Canadian.”

“Then how did you meet these two?”

Daniel took the answer proudly, “Well, Corbyn’s my best friend so she knows him through me. And she and I met at a mutual friend’s Christmas party two years ago or so now after she moved to LA for work.”

You piped up with a casual correction of your boyfriend’s statement, “We actually met before that at that same friend’s birthday party that summer.”

Daniel replied to you smoothly, “But I don’t remember that so it doesn’t count.”

“Because you were fucking plastered.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You were still a solid flirt though.” you smiled and wrapped your hand around his bicep as you glanced at him lovingly for a moment, “That’s never changed.”

Daniel smiled right back and leaned in to share a fleeting kiss with you. 

Charles, who had been trying to follow your quick bantered dialogue with wide eyes, glanced over at Corbyn who merely shrugged. With a casual clear of his throat, Charles reached up to adjust the white cap on his head and then reached into his room long enough to grab his bag to sling over his shoulder. 

Straightened up, he told you all, “Well, I should go home. I have to rest before the race tomorrow.” 

“Yes! Pole position for you at your home race.” Daniel stated.

Not giving the poor guy a second to properly process Daniel’s sentence first, you added, “Is that why you have a snazzy fit and Corbyn’s is boring red?”

“‘Snazzy fit’?” Charles chuckled half-nervously with another glance towards his teammate but with his amount of experience around other chaotic English speakers by that point in his career, he could extrapolate what you were trying to say, “Ah, yes, the special edition. It was something I was working with Puma and the team. You like it?”

“Yeah, I love it!” you agreed, “Maybe it will bring you luck tomorrow.”

“We will see.” Charles laughed modestly, “I will see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe. But we don’t want to get in your way.” Daniel said, glancing over at Corbyn, “We just follow him around; wherever he tells us to go.”

“Alright.” Charles offered his hand out to share some casual fist bumps with each of you. 

As he turned, Corbyn called out his name and when he looked back, he told him, “Almost forgot: Tabs wanted to see you before you left today. She should be around the paddock. Try McLaren?” 

“Okay, thanks.” Charles sent him a quick thumbs up before continuing his path to the stairs. 

You smiled over at Corbyn, “Well, he was the sweetest.”

Corbyn shrugged with a soft laugh, “Yeah, I might have the best teammate on the grid. Don’t mean to brag but…”

“Only would be better if it was me, right?” Daniel reached around you to give Corbyn’s shoulder a pat.

“No way.” Corbyn scoffed, “You’d drag our team down to last.”

Before Daniel could retaliate with any form of physical banter, Corbyn scurried away with a cheeky grin and you were forced to follow after him towards the stairs for your last stop of your tour. 

The third floor was actually a terrace for the drivers, the team, and any personal guests. The third of the top floor that was indoor was, as expected, a bar and lounge area that continued the same design from the rest of the interior of the motorhome. Corbyn explained how this space was used to sign new drivers and he sat himself down in the same seat he had been sitting at the table when he signed with Ferrari back in late 2018. He then ordered you both drinks at the bar - none for himself since he needed a clear mind until after the race the following day - and then led you outside the large sliding glass doors to the open air of the terrace. 

Outdoor lounge furniture was laid out neatly across the rooftop with a few sun umbrellas here and there. It was generally empty on the terrace which gave the three of you a bit of privacy to talk and enjoy the Monaco sunshine and the city in the distance. You stood at the railing overlooking the paddock, skimming the hustle and bustle going on below with a sea of various coloured uniforms and equipment being moved in all directions. 

Corbyn and Daniel stood just to your left in some conversation that you didn’t think you needed to be actively involved in. Instead, you took your time to people-watch in this world you were unfamiliar with, sipping your fruity cocktail from a red straw with your forearms resting atop the warm railing of the terrace. Directly down below, you saw Charles walking out of the motorhome, probably having been stopped by some team members for a chat on his short journey between the second floor and the exit since parting ways with your little group. As he stepped out onto the pavement, he raised his hand up to someone farther down the paddock and you turned to spy on who he was calling over. 

You spotted Tabitha with ease between her F1 t-shirt and that camera still around her neck but more likely thanks to the impressively tall man walking at her side that helped them to stand out from the crowd. In light wash blue jeans and a snug fitted branded black t-shirt of a team you couldn’t make out from the height you were at, the Monaco breeze ruffled through his neatly styled light brown hair. Although he was wearing black Ray Ban sunglasses, his smile was bright and infectious and as they approached Charles, he reached a hand out to share a fist bump with his friendly rival. 

As Tabitha spoke with Charles about whatever she needed to see him for, the other young man at her side glanced up towards the terrace of the Ferrari motorhome you were atop of as if he could sense your stare. He reached a hand up in a little wave and, although embarrassed at first that you were caught staring, you lifted your hand from where you were resting forward on the railing for a wave back. Tabitha and Charles looked up at you too thanks to their friend’s move and you offered them a little wave too. But the lingering gaze of the mystery addition kept your attention for a moment longer until he, too, was turning back to look at Charles and he slid his hands in his pockets naturally. 

Someone nudging your arm had you startling slightly and you looked over at Corbyn who was on Daniel’s other side from you, “I was just talking to Daniel about what our weekend is looking like - there’s going to be a yacht party out on the water after the race tomorrow. Did you want to join?”

“Yeah, of course.” you straightened up from the railing, “Who’s all going to be there?”

“Probably just most if not all of the drivers and anyone they feel like inviting along too.” Corbyn shrugged, “T will be there so you won’t be the only girl.”

“Oh, thanks.” you scoffed lightheartedly. “Not like I’d need anyone but Daniel to keep me company.”

“That’s right, baby.” he winked at you. 

“I swear, if you guys make half the grid puke overboard from bearing witness to your immense amount of drunken PDA tomorrow night, I will revoke your VIP privileges.” Corbyn teased, although he sounded like he was only half joking.

Briefly changing the topic, you didn’t dare to look in fear of giving yourself away as you asked him, “Who’s that down there?”

Corbyn and Daniel both looked over the railing to the trio below.

“With Tabs and Charles? That’s George Russell. Drives for Mercedes.” Corbyn answered.

“He’s fine as fuck.” you stated. 

“Excuse me?” Daniel gaped at you, all too familiar with your blunt statements but always one to feign offence all the same.

“Not as fine as you, my beautiful sunshine.” you promised with an innocent smile and a touch of your hand to his chest.

“Yeah, you better cover your ass.” he laughed warningly. 

Corbyn snorted at your banter and cocked his head in your direction, “I would assure you that he’s single but you, my dear, are not.”

“Why would I need anyone else when I already have the best?” you slung your arm around Daniel’s shoulders, “Besides, I’m allowed to look at the menu…I just can’t order.”

Your boyfriend kissed the corner of your mouth as his hand slid around your waist proudly and you glanced back down over the railing, only to see George still staring right back up at the two of you from behind the shadow of his sunglasses. 

The next day at daybreak, the paddock was arguably even busier than it had been the afternoon before. At 7:30, teams and drivers were arriving to begin their preparations for race day which began with breakfast in the motorhomes. Being Corbyn’s guests, you and Daniel gladly accompanied him to breakfast despite needing to wake up at an early hour back in his house - he only had to come into the guest room to shake you both awake twice that morning. The drive to the paddock in his luxury BMW sports car was brief given that Monaco was such a small country and the rush of warm morning air helped to liven you from your previous slumber and once you arrived, the team valet took the keys to park it with a wish of luck to Corbyn. 

Donning your VIP Ferrari lanyards again and, of course, matching official Scuderia Ferrari merchandise, you and Daniel walked hand in hand behind Corbyn as he led the way through the turnstiles and then towards the motorhome. Tabitha had to be at the paddock before the drivers so she didn’t accompany you in Corbyn’s car that morning but she and her camera were greeted almost immediately by Corbyn with a little wave and a beaming smile as she stood amongst some of the other media personnel just inside the entrance to the paddock. One to take her work seriously, she didn’t wave back, but you could see her smile bashfully behind her camera and the flutter of the shutter. 

You leaned closer to Daniel to whisper, “I feel famous.”

“You look famous.” Daniel complimented. “Did I ever tell you that you look so fucking good in red?”

“Once or twice.” you turned away from him modestly, leaving him to only give your hand a squeeze so as to keep the PDA to a minimum for the sake of Corbyn’s photo opportunities he was walking through. It was his weekend, after all. 

The three of you sat around a table in the Ferrari dining area and a waitress came over to take your orders. It was all so fancy and impressive - something you didn’t expect from a world of silly race car driving. You and Daniel treated yourselves to pancakes while Corbyn ordered something high protein and sufficient to start his day along with a smoothie packed full of extra nutrition. The nauseating colour of it made Daniel scrunch up his nose at the mere sight and Corbyn just smiled at his best friend over the rim of his glass as he took a hefty sip. 

“Gives me a traumatic reminder of when you made me one and it came out my nose.” Daniel shuttered. 

Corbyn nearly choked on his smoothie and he put it back on the table to cover his mouth with his hand before stumbling out an, “Oh my God, I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t.” Daniel insisted. 

“When was that?” you laughed.

“Uh, few years ago now. How old were we?” Daniel glanced at Corbyn, “Twenty? Twenty-one?”

“It was the year before I signed, I think.” Corbyn thought aloud, “Because I was desperately trying to beef up before that season in F2 and I wanted you to join me in the effort.”

Daniel shook his head slowly, “It was then and there that I realized I will only go so far as to accompany you to the gym but not join you in your insane routines.”

Corbyn reached over to smack Daniel’s arm teasingly, “Just say you’re weak, bro, it’s okay.”

You replied effortlessly as you took a bite of your pancakes, “His stamina makes up for it.”

Daniel sent you a wink from beside you and Corbyn snorted and reached for his smoothie again with a tisk, “Disgusting.”

After breakfast, around 9:00, the drivers were set to begin their usual race day routines which started with their strategy meetings with their teams. Since that was strictly confidential, you and Daniel had to say goodbye to Corbyn there and most likely wouldn’t see him again until after the race. Besides, the Paddock Club and its free drinks and entertainment were calling your names. So, Daniel and Corbyn shared a quick hug and Daniel offered him some words of encouragement that had often been delivered over text message for most of the races prior. You gave him a hug too and wished him luck - insisting that he didn’t need it - to which he thanked you honestly. Then, you were parting ways. 

Back outside in the familiar bustle of the paddock, you and Daniel stepped onto the pavement and let your hands fall into each other’s like second nature. With the area being so crowded, you moved slowly to navigate your way through the photographers without getting in their way and the team members who had vitally important places to be. A few incoming drivers breezed past you - some with their game faces already on - either in their own casual outfits or their branded team clothing. Your gaze followed one of them right past you as he was trailed by photographers with their cameras and a few volunteers thrusting Sharpies and various Red Bull merchandise at him for a signature and in your momentary distraction, you trusted Daniel to guide you through the crowd.

Daniel suddenly yanking on your hand had you whipping back around and stumbling to the side just in time to narrowly avoid a guy on an electric scooter screeching to a halt mere millimeters beside you. His startled expression was revealed under an orange cap that barely tamed his curly brown hair. 

“My bad. You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry.” you assured him quickly. 

Daniel tisked at you, gesturing with his hand that wasn’t in yours towards the young man and his team uniform he wore, “He’s wearing neon orange, how do you not see him coming?”

The guy’s expression furrowed for a moment as if he were completely taken aback and, with one foot on the pavement to stabilize himself and his scooter, he pointed to his chest and the vibrant orange McLaren polo he was wearing under a branded black vest, correcting Daniel seriously, “Uhm, it’s papaya.”

You giggled softly, licking away your smile at his slight offence. 

Then, his eyes flicked down to what you both were wearing and he nodded towards your lanyards, “Ferrari guests, huh?”

“Yeah.” You thrust out your hand towards him and introduced yourself and your boyfriend by name briefly. 

He took your handshake with a smile that scrunched his eyes closed in the outer corners, introducing himself in return, “Lando Norris. Driver for McLaren - also known loudly and proudly as team papaya.”

“Full introduction. You think we didn’t know you or something?” you questioned. 

He cocked his head to the side, pulling his lips in a disbelieving line, “Mm, not really. That blinding red was a bit of a giveaway. Think you need an upgrade to team papaya, mate.”

Always on hot alert to anyone to dare question his best friend, even in joking passing, Daniel replied, “And why’s that?”

Lando shrugged coolly, “Everyone knows we’re the best around here.”

His statement had you suddenly remembering the Constructors Championship standings updates and history that Corbyn had shared with you over breakfast that morning and you were quick on the rebuttal, “But didn’t you finish fourth last year? And that was - if I remember correctly - after Ferrari?”

“Oh, lookey here!” Lando laughed, “I underestimated you.”

Daniel grinned and let go of your hand in exchange for his arm to wrap around your shoulders, “That’s my girl.”

“Well, don’t worry. This year’s numbers will turn out differently, I’m sure.” he leaned forward on the handlebars of his scooter, “So, I’m assuming you’re Corbyn’s guests since you’re too English to be friends of Charles’.”

“Yeah,” Daniel answered, “He’s my best friend.”

“How sweet. I think I definitely remember him talking about you.” Lando leaned in towards you both a little to say quietly, “He’s told us all your secrets.”

Daniel’s eyes must have widened in momentary surprise because then Lando was laughing and swatting his hand through the air playfully. 

“Nah, I’m just pulling your leg. Corbyn’s a great secret keeper. Although, I’d argue not as good as that girlfriend of his; she knows far too much about me and has somehow still kept it all under wraps.”

Daniel chuckled, “Okay, I’ll know to hassle her about getting some dirt on you next time I see her.”

“Good luck.” Lando said pointedly. “She is a vault.”

“Makes for a great friend then.” you said. 

“That is true.” Lando set his foot back on his scooter, “You guys enjoy the race. If you change your mind, we have lots of extra papaya shirts next door if you feel like cheering for the right team. But for now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m already fashionably late to my strategy meeting.”

“Oh, we didn’t tell you?” you furrowed your eyebrows in his direction, “We were sent by Ferrari specifically to hold you up to sabotage said strategy.”

“Nice try.” Lando snorted, “I’ll have to hear you say that again when I’m on top of the podium later today.” 

Then, he pushed off the ground with his other foot to zoom off again, calling over his shoulder, 

“See you around!”

With his arm still around your shoulders, Daniel guided you towards the nearby exit of the paddock, both of you in lingering content smiles from that lighthearted interaction with a friendly stranger. Your boyfriend complimented you in passing on your wit and you slid your hand in the back pocket of his jeans with some reply about always trying to impress him. This wasn’t your part of the universe amongst the drivers and the cars, but when you were together, it certainly felt like it was you against the world. 

Since it was only 9:00, you and Daniel took that time to explore some more of Monaco together and you walked the streets and found a few stores to poke into before your afternoon plans would begin. Most of the city felt as though it were closed off for the race so the traffic - both vehicular and pedestrian - felt much more than what would normally have been found in Monte Carlo. You took two hours to yourselves to shop and explore and take a few photos where you could before stopping at Corbyn’s house with Daniel’s spare key to drop off your bags so you didn’t have to lug them with you back to the track. 

The Paddock Club welcomed you back in time for lunch and you and Daniel shared a table for two overlooking both the crystal blue water of the Monaco harbour as well as the race circuit carved out of the streets below. Your meal was prepared by Michelin star chefs and you and Daniel clinked your glasses of summery alcohol together in a content ‘cheers’ to your lovely weekend and sharing a ‘good luck’ to Corbyn and Charles on top of that. 

A live band played across the terrace and the upbeat yet calming music was carried by the midday ocean breeze and the large screen set up on the opposite side of the rooftop was playing the recap from Saturday’s qualifying in preparation for the race ahead. Of course, Daniel’s attention was almost glued to the screen for any sort of spot of Corbyn’s impressive session, his only hint that he was aware he was there with you was the fact that his hand was resting in yours from across the table. You, instead, were focused all on him in the sunshine and the toe of your shoe gently rubbed up and down the bottom of his shin just under his pant leg, completely enamoured by merely the sight of him. 

“It’s so cute how you’re so proud of Corbyn.” you spoke aloud.

Daniel tore his eyes away from the screen across the terrace to look at you with a soft smile, “He’s my brother and he’s in front of the world, doing what he loves. There’s nothing cooler.”

“Thank you for sharing this weekend with me.” you whispered as you raised his hand up from the table to kiss his knuckles and then you rested your cheek down against them. 

Daniel’s gaze furrowed slightly in confusion, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, it could have been your guys’ weekend with Corbyn.”

“He’s too busy most of the time and I would have been super bored.” Daniel shrugged, “Besides, you and I always have fun together and I’m sure there’s lots more to come the next few days.”

You licked away your smile as you stared at him, “Yeah.”

Daniel gently moved his thumb from your grasp to caress your cheek softly, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” you whispered.

Then, he was leaning over the table to kiss your lips and you smiled against his mouth and cupped his face in your hands to keep him there for a moment longer. When he sat back down, he habitually pulled out his phone to check the time before gasping at the numbers staring back at him and he turned the screen to show you.

“12:27. We have to hurry to make the track tour.” he reminded you. 

Just outside of the Paddock Club was where the track tour was picking up the VIPs. The flatbed truck was already awaiting the guests and a few were already loaded on and waiting for the tour to start in mere moments. You and Daniel showed your passes to the employees and you were permitted on board along with them. 

The elite track tour was simply what the name implied: a tour around the Monaco circuit. Although the tour took the same path that the drivers would later that day, the truck that carried the guests was going much, much slower. You made some whispered joke to Daniel that you could walk faster than this thing. As you journey, facts and history of the circuit and Monaco Grand Prix’s of the past were given by a prominent figure in the Formula 1 world who could also speak to the best strategies that are key for that specific track. You hoped there wouldn’t be a quiz on who that individual was because you swore you had never heard his name in your life, but you still politely applauded his introduction along with the rest of the guests. 

One lap around the track took almost an entire half hour and the truck returned you to the Paddock Club entrance where you had begun your tour. It appeared much busier in that area when you approached than when you left as if the usual bustle from the paddock had overspilled onto the edge of the track and the long red F1 branded carpet that was laid out over the pavement. You recognized a few of the drivers standing around together, chatting, between flutters of media personnel who were snapping pictures and a film crew that was weaving between small groups in preparation for the driver’s parade that was about to begin immediately following your tour. 

The VIP guests were guided off the truck and ushered back towards the Paddock Club as if to prevent them from getting too distracted by any possible cases of star-struck. A few of the drivers were still struggling out from the paddock and as they were waiting, some were off to the side signing autographs for the fans thrusting pictures and merchandise through the fence - Charles among them - and he had an obvious grin across his face as he scribbled his signature for the enthusiastic fans of his homeland. 

“Daniel!” 

Someone calling his name had your boyfriend turning his attention from the crowds of fans through the fence to scan the smaller groups of drivers scattered about. As expected, Corbyn already had his hand up and a grin on his face, the other four drivers with him already staring in your direction as he called you over. As you approached, Daniel’s hand in yours as it had been for most of the weekend, you recognized the Red Bull driver from that morning who had distracted you enough to almost get hit by Lando’s scooter as well as Lando himself standing between him and Corbyn. The third person in their circle was George - the young man you had been eyeing from the top of the Ferrari motorhome the previous day - and he still wore those sunglasses, preventing you from getting a good look at him. 

Although you could tell he was tall from your bird's eye view from the top of the motorhome, it surprised you that you actually had to look up at him a little when you took your place beside him in the group. You, Daniel, and he seemed to stand at least a few centimetres above the rest of the circle although you were sure the newly acquainted were surprised by your height. 

“Aw, look,” Lando greeted as you approached, “it’s my new best friends.”

“You’ve met?” Corbyn glanced between you. 

“This morning after breakfast when he tried to run me over.” you answered coolly. 

The group chuckled faintly and the young man in the Red Bull uniform added, “Sounds believable.” 

Lando pointed at him accusingly, “Hey, it was your fault she wasn’t paying attention.”

The stranger pressed his finger against his own chest in wide-eyed disbelief, “My fault?” 

“Anyway,” Corbyn waved his hand to end the brief bickering before offering quick introductions of you and Daniel and then his circle, “You clearly know Lando already, that’s George, and this is Max.”

Hellos were shared and then George was turning to you, asking you both in the smoothest British accent you’d ever heard, “How have you been enjoying your experience so far?”

“Oh, it’s been amazing.” you answered honestly, half thankful for his sunglasses because you were sure his eyes would be as nice as the rest of him and completely distract you from your train of thought, “I was worried I’d stick out like a sore thumb around here but I think I’ve been catching on to what's going on enough to blend in at least somewhat.” 

“Yeah, she threw some Ferrari statistics in my face this morning.” Lando shook his head, “Sounded just like our team.” 

You held your hand to your heart in his direction, “So kind of you to say.” 

“How’s your Mercedes knowledge?” George pressed cheekily. 

“Weak.” you answered before explaining with a haphazard gesture across the small circle to Corbyn, “Our tour guide is a little biased.” 

“Such a shame.” George shook his head in mock dismay. 

Daniel shrugged, “I wouldn’t change him.”

“Hey, thanks, man.” Corbyn grinned at his best friend. 

Lando made a heart with his hands, “Aw, bromance.”

Drawn back into a conversation with George, you added to your initial statement, “I think the only Mercedes knowledge I have is that you’re starting P2 today.”

“Very good.” he praised with a toothy grin.

Of course his teeth were perfectly straight and blindingly white and your hand tightened on Daniel’s at the way this stranger’s praise made your heart soar proudly. 

Max then raised his hand slightly, expressing in a surprisingly serious tone, “I’m still wanting to know why I am at fault for Lando’s attempted murder.” 

Despite Lando’s half-amused scoff, you replied briefly, “I was distracted by the impressive crowd of ducklings following after you through the paddock this morning.” 

“And because of that, she wasn’t looking where she was going.” Daniel finished. 

Max laughed lightly and nodded in understanding. 

George piped up half jokingly, directing his explanation to you and Daniel, “You become world champion and suddenly people can’t get enough of you.” 

You looked over at him on your direct left, sharing in his warm knowing smile for a brief moment as you desperately tried to ignore the invasive thought to just reach up and rip his sunglasses off his face. His skin just looked ridiculously soft and his fluffy brown hair that was ruffled by the seaside breeze was enticing to your fingers and you wanted a proper look at this man. Despite your itching curiosity, you were more than thankful for Daniel’s hand in yours to act as some sort of grounding in reality while he was too busy chatting with the other three. Why wasn’t George looking away from you? Why weren’t you taking the initiative to look away yourself? 

It felt like ages that you were standing there in silence but it was truly no more than a few seconds before one of the F1 organizers was calling the drivers to load onto the flatbed truck for the parade, tearing you from your momentary distraction. The rest of the little circle shared brief fist bumps and goodbyes and they made their way to the truck a few paces away. George lingered back for a moment as he was at the back of their small group and he, too, shared fleeting fist bumps with the both of you. 

“Are you coming to the yacht party tonight?” you asked him casually.

“Yeah, I think so.” he kept slowly walking in the direction of the truck but his body kept turning towards you both as if he didn’t quite want to leave too quickly, “Are you?”

“Definitely. We’ll see you there then.” 

His lips perked up at the corner in a half smile, taking a step backwards, “Looking forward to it.” 

“Good luck this afternoon.” you called after him. 

“Thanks, love.” he replied smoothly and you could have sworn that if he wasn’t wearing those damn sunglasses, you would have seen him wink. 

Entirely startled, you stood in near shock as he turned his back to you and hurried to join the rest of the guys on the flatbed truck, the snug black fabric of his long sleeve Mercedes shirt hugging him perfectly under the afternoon sun. You turned your head slowly to look at your boyfriend as if to see if he had heard that too, only to find him already looking at you with a peaked brow. 

“Close your mouth.” Daniel laughed, using his hand that wasn’t in yours to physically nudge your chin up himself. 

“Oh my God.” you glanced back towards the lineup of drivers on the flatbed truck, “Who is that man?”

“Do you want me to tie your hair back for you or what?” Daniel gave you a little shove.

“Huh?” you tore your eyes away from your obvious staring - that was definitely caught in the background of some photos - to look at your boyfriend beside you again. 

“You were flirting it up with that guy.” he tisked, although his tone was entirely amused and his cocky smirk was proof enough of that, “Right in front of me!”

“Not like I’d do it behind your back.” you shrugged, glancing back towards the truck. 

Daniel tugged at your hand to bring your attention back to him, standing together in the middle of the red carpet, surrounded by media crew and professionals, as he asked quietly, “Think you want to ask him to join us tonight?”

“I mean, I’m thinking about it. I just dunno if I want to lay claim on him yet; he has so much going for him already that there has to be something wrong with the guy to balance it out.”

“Okay,” Daniel chuckled, “Your call, baby. Just let me know.”

You returned to the terrace of the Paddock Club to watch the Driver’s Parade on the big screen and share some snacks and drinks, and as you did, you were analyzing every word that George was saying to the interviewer, trying to see who he was under those preposterous sunglasses. Now it was Daniel’s time to admire you as you were focused on the screen, standing beside you at the bar table with his right arm leaning against the table top and his attention all on you. He had a faint smile on his face, eyes drifting between your habitually bitten lip and your unwavering attention given to the screen in front of you. 

Just before 2:00, once the driver’s parade was over, Tabitha met you on the terrace to show you where you would be watching the race. Corbyn spared nothing when it came to making sure you and his best friend had the best treatment. Tabitha had been one of the photographers on the driver’s parade so, as usual, she still had her camera around her neck and her pass clipped to the belt loop on her jeans when she approached you. 

“You’re busier than the actual drivers!” Daniel joked as she stopped at your table. 

“We haven't seen you almost all weekend!” you finished. 

“Yeah,” she sighed with a faint smile, “but I wouldn’t change it for a second. I love what I do.”

“Got any good shots?” you asked casually. 

“Think so. But you won’t get to see them until later.” she set her hand protectively over her camera, “We also need to hurry because I need to find a good spot on the track to shoot the race. Ready?”

You and Daniel took one last sips of your drinks before following after her towards the stairs and down onto street level. The drivers were gone and the track was cleared and the red carpet was rolled up and put away and Tabitha led you across the pavement and towards the nearby entrance to the pit lane. She walked quickly despite her shorter stature, as if she always had to prove her standing in a career dominated by men, and you and Daniel found yourselves almost having to jog to keep up. 

Daniel broke the temporary silence among you with a joking, “So what dirt do you have on Lando?”

“Nothing.” she replied plainly. 

“He said you know all his secrets.”

“I do.”

“And?”

Tabitha stopped and turned to him, so suddenly that you almost crashed right into her, and she assured him plainly, “You’re utterly stupid if you think I’m going to tell anyone his secrets - especially someone I just met yesterday.” 

Daniel, eyes wide, startled, merely nodded. You licked away your amused smile as she turned back around and continued walking. 

Daniel looked over at you long enough to whisper, “She’s scary.” 

You picked up the pace to keep up with her and you replied to your boyfriend coolly as he walked in step with you, “Your fault for trying so hard to be funny that you landed in ‘stupid’.”

“Just shut up and hold my hand.” Daniel grumbled and snatched your hand in his. 

The pit lane was organized chaos with each of the ten garages filled with mechanics and engineers and team members all working around the impressively sparkling race cars and adjacent computer systems. You followed Tabitha down the centre of the lane to avoid getting in the way of the final work being done before the race was set to begin and the third garage from the entrance of the pit lane was Ferrari’s. Along the top of the open two Ferrari garages was a bold red stripe donning Corbyn’s name, number, home flag, and headshot over one as well as the same information for Charles over the other. Entering through Corbyn’s side of the garage, Tabitha kept close to the wall as the mechanics worked on the final touches to fiery red car donning ‘25’, and you and Daniel walked single file behind her, still managing to hold hands regardless, in fear of getting separated and lost amongst the chaos. 

Walking between the towers of stacked tires, she then led you up a straight flight of metal stairs to the second floor of the garage and then right away turned up another straight flight to the third floor. 

You tried to take in as much as you could of the areas which normally would be off limits while also keeping up with your guide. You managed to peek around the corner on the second floor to get a glimpse of the engineer’s room and the pit wall that was race ready and overlooking the pit lane and the grandstands that were filling with fans. Corbyn and Charles would be somewhere in the area taking part in whatever pre-race warm up routines they conducted for themselves - as were the other drivers in their team’s section - but you dared not to interrupt them, wherever they were. 

The third floor was the hospitality area for Ferrari’s VIPS, lined with red and black striped walls dividing up the space cozily while also donning the once blank garage in applicable branding. You emerged from the top of the stairs towards the floor to ceiling windows that were angled downwards just enough to overlook the pit lane below and opposite grandstands and Tabitha showed you where the washrooms were just to the right before turning left into the modest lounge area. A handful of other guests were already there and ordering drinks with the bartender at the bar along the back wall. Outside the sliding glass doors was a curved patio that was just wide enough to fit a few chairs in a row and when you leaned over the railing, you could look directly down at the spot where the Ferrari cars would pull up for their pitstop mid race. 

“You okay here then?” Tabitha asked from the doorway as you and Daniel took a moment to admire your new location and view of the Monaco harbour and the mountainous city of Monte Carlo in the near distance.

You turned around to face her, “You don’t wanna hang with us for a bit?”

“I don’t really like hanging around Ferrari areas.” she admitted softly, “These guys are not my biggest fans since they found out about Corbyn and me.”

You frowned, “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” she scoffed before smoothly changing the subject, “So, do you need anything else?”

Daniel shook his head, “No, I think we’re okay. Thanks.” 

“Here,” Tabitha stepped forward and held out her hand to you, “let me give you my number in case you need something. I won’t be able to leave my spot during the race but I can try to answer if it’s important.”

You took your phone from your purse, unlocked it, and then handed it to her as you said, “That’s amazing. You’re amazing. Thank you so much.”

With Tabitha’s phone number in your contacts, you said your goodbyes and she hurried off as fast as she had led you there. Standing at the railing, you watched her emerge from the garage below and continue down the pitlane to make it to the starting line before the opening ceremonies would begin. 

You and Daniel helped yourselves to the open bar and returned to the balcony for your impressive view, trying to get a glimpse of anything interesting going on beneath you. But, not long later, the cars were emerging from the garages one at a time, breaking through the air with testing rumbles of their engines as they made their way towards the track. It was only a matter of time now. 

The drivers did one reconnaissance lap around the circuit to test the track conditions and the quality of their car before each stopping in their assigned grid slot given from the results of qualifying the previous day. Their mechanics had met them there and the section of track around the starting line was packed full of people in various coloured uniforms, circling each car like bees to a flower. You and Daniel stood inside the lounge to watch the happenings on the large screen tv that was hung on the wall, admiring the flurry of red around the matching cars in P1 and P4 and trying to spot either of the two Ferrari drivers. Of course, you didn’t bring attention to the fact that you were also trying to get a glimpse of the driver who took up P2 beside Charles, squinting your eyes to see anything amongst the bustle of mechanics in black and teal. 

At quarter to three, the Prince’s Orchestra lined up ahead of the starting line and the drivers were arranged together in two rows a step behind the Prince and Princess of Monaco. Charles, since it was his home race, had the opportunity to even stand ahead of the royal family, donning his custom white and red race suit and designer sunglasses; in all honesty looking more like the Prince of Monaco than the real one who stood behind him. 

The band began to play the national anthem and Charles stood tall and proud at the head of the group. The camera panned over the lineup of drivers who were all standing with their game faces on - except Corbyn who spotted the camera near him and to which he gave a little wink. Daniel let out a little scoff at his best friend’s antics. You tried not to do the same but because of the fact that George, two spots down from Corbyn, was still wearing those damn sunglasses. 

Then finally, once the track was cleared and the mechanics had removed their equipment away from the cars, it was mere minutes until the race would begin at the top of the hour. 

As the drivers prepared in the last few moments, one of the Ferrari team members brought over headsets and radios for each of you in the hospitality suite and introduced how they worked and how to switch between the two channels, giving you a chance to eavesdrop on the discussions between the drivers and their engineers. Of course, Daniel switched his to Corbyn’s channel right away - as did you - and you headed back onto the balcony to claim your seats. Although, once the five red lights shut off and the deafening roar of twenty engines and the screech of tires against pavement could be heard across Monaco, you were drawn to your feet and right to the railing. 

Although you could listen in on the radio conversation and see the best clips of the race on the TVs that lined both the hospitality suite and projections for the grandstands outside, nothing beat the real-life vision of red turning that corner right in front of you, just across the pit lane, whizzing in front of the packed grandstands to the excitement of the crowd as Charles stayed firm at the lead of his rivals. But right behind was that sleek black Mercedes that threatened him by only a few shrinking seconds, the driver of mystery still ultimately hidden from your curious view. You sipped your drink, eyes following the two leaders closely as the rest of the group trailed behind them. 

Max and Corbyn were ridiculously close together at your first sight of them. Corbyn was desperate to try and take over into third but Max was strongly holding his own, especially with the rest of the drivers clogged up behind them and nipping at their heels. The first three laps or so were that mess of chaos where the cars were a colony of colourful ants and it had you covering your eyes for half of it, claiming that the sight of them all slowing down to a crawl and bumping into each other around the corners gave you too much of an ick to watch. Maybe you needed a drink. 

You lingered at the bar as the bartender mixed your cocktail and you listened to Corbyn’s crackling radio discussion with his engineer through your headset, complaining about Max constantly cutting him off and trying to nudge him off the track every time he tried to get past. He had reiterated to you and Daniel multiple times that this circuit was nearly impossible to overtake your opponents so you applauded his dedication to the cause. Glancing up at the TV on the wall, you wondered where Tabitha had placed herself around the track to get those best shots of the race. Part of you wanted to message her to ask but you knew better than to interrupt her. 

By the time you returned to the balcony to your rightful spot beside Daniel, there seemed to be a bit more space between the cars to allow for some breathing room. Not that they liked that, so you figured. Charles was still keeping his spot in P1 and starting to really put more of a distance between him and George. That only meant that Max - previous multiple World Champion - was gaining on him with his hungry eyes on that slipping P2. Although you were there to support Corbyn, you couldn’t help but silently hope that Charles and George could both hold their own - especially given that it was Charles’ home race. 

About a third of the way through the race with not much overtaking but certainly a good amount of collisions for the bulk of the drivers, Corbyn was still sitting in P4 and discussing coming in for a tire change and you and Daniel listened to his impressively professional explanation of how the car was feeling through every turn and on every straight to his engineer. Lando was gaining on him but he had a few seconds worth of gap between them so Corbyn decided to take the opportunity. At the confirmation call of ‘box, box’ through the radio from the engineer to alert the pit crew, Daniel nearly threw himself over the railing to peer down the pit lane in anticipation of Corbyn’s entrance. 

The red 25 glided effortlessly into the pit lane and right into the painted lines that were framed by matching red-clad mechanics, only taking a fraction of a second to change the tires and send him on his way, barely enough time for Daniel - a few drinks deep by that point in the day - to shout enthusiastically down towards his best friend who certainly couldn’t hear him. Taking off again, Corbyn had to stick to the speed limit in the pit lane but he pushed it the most he could without breaking the rules, desperate to not give up his spot to Lando. And when he pulled out of the pit lane, the McLaren was neck and neck with him.

As if spotting each other at the same time, they both pressed onwards to try and overtake the other. Close friends off the track, friendship was a mute point during a race, and the two of them threatened to push the other into the barriers if they got too close through the first turn out of the pit lane. The Monaco streets weren’t welcoming to two cars at the same time and the faint grazing of Lando’s orange paint against the edge had him nudging back against Corbyn’s left side to try and get back in the centre as they made their way up the straight side by side. 

Although you had the headset on that gave you full access to Corbyn’s radio, the TV playing just inside the suite had the full live broadcast, meaning you could hear Lando’s frustration to his own engineer loud and clear,

“What is this idiot doing?”

Daniel, as if he was being asked the rhetorical question personally, answered without tearing his eyes away from the big screen battle across the track, “Winning.”

And through your headset came a just as agitated Corbyn, “Can this guy get out of the fucking way?! No one knows how to leave space!”

“He’s pushing me off!” Lando argued from the TV. 

And as Corbyn managed to pull ahead going into the next turn and regain his spot in P4, the less than polite name Lando shouted at the Ferrari driver was bleeped by the broadcast. You and Daniel shared a high five as some of the other guests in the suite cheered at the Ferrari success. 

But up at the front of the line up, Charles was breezing on through the streets that shouted his name; people lined up across balconies with flags and banners and packed along the mountainside until every space between the green of trees was taken up by people in glorious red. He was riding on the high of having his hometown behind him, letting the cheers from his crowd glide him around the sharp corners and sizzling pavement that he knew like the back of his hand. He felt invincible. 

George was certainly not an issue for Charles as he was starting to struggle on his tires. He was in desperate need to change them but with Max breathing down his neck, it was hard to give it up. If nothing else, for Charles, George’s ability to keep Max from squeezing by him along those narrow streets was a blessing in disguise. Finally, the top three had no choice but to come into the pits to change their incredibly worn tires and it seemed as though each of their engineers had them stack up together to prevent someone behind them taking their place. 

You and Daniel watched over the railing as Charles, George, and Max came gliding into the pit lane at the same time and slipped between their markers framed by their assigned mechanics, the Ferrari garage nestled right between the ones of Mercedes and Red Bull. It was a matter of seconds to see who would finish their tire change first and it felt as though everyone on your balcony was holding their breath. There was no fraction of a second that could have been spared in a moment like this. 

Ferrari seemed to be on the ball that day - sometimes a rarity - and Charles whizzed away from the garage in an impressive 2.2 seconds with Max pulling up behind him at 2.5 seconds. That only meant that when George pulled out of his pit stop after a painful 3.5 seconds, he was now in third. His displeased comments through the radio broadcast was obvious with his overly dramatic “nooo” quickly followed by a bleeped profanity, although you couldn’t bite back your smile at his silly little accent as he finishing his displeasure with an exasperated, “oh my goodness.”

Charles managed to hold off Max for the following laps although there were too many close calls for comfort that had you physically turning away from the screens with your hands over your eyes. For someone who hadn’t a single clue about anything to do with Formula 1 before the trip, it was certainly easy for you to get into it and your dramatic reactions had Daniel laughing at your obvious change of opinion about the sport. It didn’t take a pro-racer to know that Charles deserved to win his home race more than anything, although maybe it was your inexperience that claimed that Max should share the glory of constant wins. It wasn’t that easy, so you were told. 

The last lap had you holding your breath, eyes glued to the grandstand’s screen across the way, watching Charles lean into every curve just enough to keep Max a half pace behind him. And when they came zooming around the corner and along the track in front of you, your entire balcony was screaming his name, drowned out by the sound of the engines and the heartbeat of Monaco behind him. 

Eyes glued to the screens for the last curve of the race, the entire country was holding its breath. The Ferrari team emptied from the garage and rushed to the track-side, climbing up on the fences and trees and cheering on the racing red as he sped down the final straight of the race. Max was fire on Charles’ heels, only giving him that spark to push him harder, faster, flying past the checkered flag as the voice of the commentator rang out across the country, 

“And he brings it home! Charles Leclerc is the winner of the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix!”

You swore your ears rang with the cheers of the public and the bursts of fireworks over the circuit and the Ferrari garage nearly vibrated with the celebration that immediately ensued. The shouts from the floor below you at the pit wall brought a smile to your face over a team you hardly knew, hardly cared about, and yet you threw yourself into Daniel’s arms in a celebratory hug and he lifted you right off the ground with a beaming grin of his own. Charles’ shouts of joy over his radio broadcast crackled and broke from how loud, full of pure passion and overwhelming emotion from that long awaited, long dreamed about win.

It was a close finish with Max achieving P2 by only a few tenths of a second behind Charles while George managed to keep his P3 with only a few seconds of a gap. Corbyn kept his fourth place finish but through your headset still synced with his channel, you heard him hurriedly ask his engineer where Charles placed before even celebrating his own points scored. 

“Charles placed P1 today.”

With a whoop of his own, Corbyn shouted his own adrenaline fused celebration for his teammate, “Yes! That’s my boy!”

The Ferrari employees in the hospitality suite had you return your headsets before they led you all to the opposite side of the building and a terrace balcony, packed like sardines among guests of the other teams to oversee the lively festivities and the end of the race as the remainder of the grid crossed the finish line. You peered down upon team members and mechanics all donning red uniforms, desperate for that first look of your glorious winner, held back only by metal fences. With one final lap completed as the rest of the grid finished their race, the podium finishers finally pulled their cars up to their markers at 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place, respectfully, and Charles took a second as if to compose himself, holding his gloved hands to the front of his helmet in near disbelief. The moment he lifted himself out of his car and stood atop it to greet his hometown crowds, the sound was almost deafening as the balconies and hills were filled with people cheering for him behind the bursts of fireworks, banners with his name fluttering from railings and rooftops. Charles, standing on top of his car still in his helmet, looked up to the sky for a moment and held his hand to his chest, basking in the moment, before he threw his proud fist in the air and jumped onto the pavement and stumbled right over to his team. 

As Charles threw himself over the metal fence into the welcoming arms of his team, it nearly brought a tear to your eye at the emotion of it all - and you hadn’t even been around to see his struggles or his hard work throughout his career and the years that led up to it. Your attention was so focused on Charles’ moment that you almost forgot the other podium important winner of the evening as George had emerged from his car behind the 3rd place marker, greeted his team, and finally removed his helmet and passed it over to one of the Mercedes team members there to assist him before tugging off his balaclava to reveal his messy head of light brown hair and earned you your first glimpse of his face. You might not have known much at all about Formula 1 but in that moment it was safe to say you were suddenly quite starstruck.

His hand raked through his matted waves to push his sweaty hair out of his face, revealing the full effect of his handsome existence. His cheeks were flushed the softest pink from the race and his skin was glistening in sweat under the bright lights that lined the track under the early evening sun and his precise jawline flexed with the lick of his lips as he arranged himself out of his racing accessories. What his sunglasses had previously hid during the weekend were the biggest, most angelic aquamarine eyes you had ever seen - aside from Daniel’s brilliant blues - and you swore that they literally sparkled like you were in a scene in a Disney movie, batted behind long, thick eyelashes that would make makeup companies envious. He was a vision. 

“Holy shit,” you exhaled, completely unable to tear your gaze away from the handsome stranger as you settled into confirmation rather than your hesitation from earlier that afternoon, “there’s nothing wrong with him.” 

Daniel, who was pressed up so close to you in the packed crowd right up against the railing of the balcony with his arm tight around your waist, had already anticipated said confirmation - he knew you too well after all - and he merely smirked at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek. But it was far too busy and far too noisy to even attempt any conversation there and then so he didn’t speak to it, wanting to linger in the moment of celebration that filled the air for the time being. You had all night, after all. 

A few official media personnel were right there to quickly interview the top three, beginning with George in P3. You had a perfect line of sight down over the dense crowd to right where he was standing with the interviewer and the modest film crew and the way he spoke into the microphone projected his voice across what felt like the whole city of Monte Carlo. He spoke so eloquently and contently, that wide smile ever present on his face as he reviewed his performance with grace with the interviewer. You clung onto Daniel’s waist a little tighter without realizing, in some sort of trance as you admired the handsome stranger that you were desperate to lay claim upon. Only time would tell. 

Although the rest of the grid was back at the pit lane after the race and were there to be weighed and rested for a moment, the podium winners had their post-race processes done in the podium building just outside the track limits while the preparations behind the scene for the podium ceremony were hurried to be set up. With Max and Charles having completed their interviews, the three of them walked together into the building and out of sight, but you managed to catch George’s congratulatory pat to Charles’ back as they disappeared from view. 

As you waited for the podium celebration to begin, you took that moment to scan the crowd below and the huddle of photographers and film crew on the terrace a storey or two beneath you, locating Tabitha at the front of them all. She was half squashed by the crowd of grown men with their noisy cameras, but she held her front and centre spot steadfast, her prized camera held securely in hand and ready to go the moment the ceremony would begin. Daniel’s hand didn’t stray from your waist the entire time you waited, holding you close, and between his touch and the anticipation for your exciting plans for later, you were antsy to get out of the crowd and get the night started. 

Finally, with the Prince’s Orchestra back in formation on the track below and the Royal Family lined up along the second level of the podium above, the ceremony could commence. The commentator announced George first as P3 and he came out smiling and waving to the crowd in a black Pirelli cap over his messy hair, embroidered with his third place title along the side. You may have applauded a little louder than most in your area but Daniel just held you tighter, like you were his winning trophy. Then, Max was announced for P2 in his own matching embroidered hat and he came out with a few modest waves as he made his way to his tier of the podium. When Charles was announced as the race winner, the city went into uproar. From the large screens projecting the ceremony, you could see the tears shimmering in his eyes as he played it off with a beaming, honest smile and two handed waves to his homeland. 

The three of them removed their hats for the national anthem of Monaco to be played by the orchestra and Charles, hands behind his back, held his chin up with a faint smile on his face and his gaze focused upwards as if he were lost in a thought or a memory of his own. After the national anthem, the Royal Family presented the trophies with the first one to Charles, then Max, and then George and photos were taken of the winners together. Once the trophies were set safely to the side, they each reached down to grab their large bottles of champagne they were provided with to pop and spray in celebration, always liking to make a ridiculous mess out of each other in good natured celebratory fun. Max and George seemed to gang up on Charles who ended up turning away with his shoulders to his ears in a beaming grin, trying to escape their bombardment the best he could. But the three of them were plenty soaked by the end of the ceremony and they gathered their trophies and the empty bottles and waved their last goodbyes to the crowd before retiring back inside the building. 

Daniel leaned in close to you so you could hear him over the noise of the crowd, “Ready to go?”

You blindly searched for his hand without tearing your eyes away from the shadow of George just inside the glass walls of the podium building, “Yeah.”

Your boyfriend pulled you through the crowd that still hung around the balcony to linger on the excitement of the celebration but you had places to be and people to meet. You followed the same stairs back down to street level that Tabitha had led you up earlier that afternoon and in a bit of a tipsy haze, you burst out into the pit lane in giggles, buzzing from a successful race. Most of the cars were back in the garages by then and the mechanics were back at work and not paying you any mind as the two of you hurried down the empty pit lane hand in hand. 

“Race you.” Daniel threatened, not even waiting for your response before he was ripping his hand out of yours and taking off towards the paddock at some attempt of a run. 

“Daniel!” you gasped, your voice nearly echoing across the stark emptiness of the once lively track and you ran after him as fast as you could.

Life felt so freeing in that moment, wearing your matching Ferrari shirts donning Corbyn’s number and running over famous Grand Prix streets like you were the drivers of your own destiny, you stretched your arms out wide and let the fresh harbour breeze whizz past you. Your laugh was taken to the ocean, your joy heard and cherished by your boyfriend who suddenly slowed down as he approached the pit lane entrance and he turned around to face you, chest heaving, as he walked backwards for a few steps. You slowed down as you approached him and he held his hands out to you to catch you, sharing in your breathless laughter and wide grin and you leaned in to steal a greedy kiss from his soft lips. 

“I love you so much.” you beamed, throwing your arms around his shoulders even as you both walked slowly in step with each other. 

“I love you more.” Daniel gave your bum a pat, “Want a piggyback?”

“Yes.” 

You let him out of your embrace so he could turn around and crouch down a bit, just enough for you to hold onto his shoulders and jump onto his back. He grasped your shins and pulled your legs around his waist, hopping in place to hike you up a little higher before he was continuing on your journey towards the paddock. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head against his, letting him carry you across the streets of Monaco to the nearby paddock.

Although the race was over and the grandstands were emptying and the public was going home, the behind the scenes world was still very much lively. The night wasn’t quite over. The podium winners had their press conference to attend while the rest of the drivers would have brief interviews in the media pen to quickly discuss their race performances. Even moreso, each team’s personnel were already on track to taking down their motorhome and garage setups in anticipation for the next destination, no second spared anywhere in Formula 1 - both on the circuit and off. 

Once inside the paddock, you and Daniel lingered outside the Ferrari motorhome to wait for Corbyn and Tabitha to meet you so you could start to get ready for the evening’s festivities. Daniel was buzzing to see his best friend and congratulate him on P4 and his hard fight he put out for the full two hours; and the drinks he had consumed throughout the day helped him to literally be bouncing on the balls on his feet as he looked up and down the paddock in search of Corbyn. 

Then suddenly, like a beacon in the evening light, Corbyn in his brilliant red Scuderia Ferrari race suit appeared farther down the bustling paddock with Tabitha walking proudly at his side. His suit was unzipped and resting lazily around his waist to reveal his matching long sleeve fireproofs beneath and he donned a match red Ferrari cap over his unruly helmet hair. At the sight of him, Daniel nearly jumped off the ground before making a beeline straight for him and Corbyn broke into a jog to meet him halfway, the two best friends grinning over their own ridiculousness as they met in a hard embrace in the centre of the paddock straight. 

“That was fucking amazing, bro!” Daniel praised loudly as they pulled out of their hug and he held a secure grip on Corbyn’s shoulders to give him a little shake, “You are a beast.”

Corbyn laughed bashfully at his best friend’s enthusiasm before replying modestly, “P4’s nothing great, really, but thanks, man.”

“Nothing great? Are you kidding?” Daniel shook him again. “Incredible.”

“Okay,” you grabbed Daniel’s arm as you joined their reunion and your boyfriend took a reluctant step back, “let’s not give the poor guy a concussion.”

“Incredible was Charles’ win today.” Corbyn corrected smoothly, “He’s been waiting so long for that moment…it’s so well deserved, and everyone on the grid knows it. Everyone is fucking buzzing…tonight is going to be insane.”

“Then let’s hurry up and get out of here.” you offered. 

“Yeah!” Corbyn agreed, “I just have to change out of this. Gimme a few seconds. Be right back.”

He left Tabitha with a kiss to her cheek before hurrying up the few steps into the Ferrari motorhome to return to his streetwear. It was mostly empty since most of the main crew was still out in the garage or celebrating around the podium so Corbyn wasn’t met with too many distractions on his journey to his driver’s room. Outside, you and Daniel were left with Tabitha who already had her camera equipment packed up in a modest professional bag draped over her shoulder and she asked some expected polite question about how you enjoyed the race. 

“I was surprised I caught onto it so quickly.” you confessed, “But I guess it’s repetitive enough to get the jist pretty easily. Did you get any good shots? I saw you at the podium ceremony.”

“Oh, yeah, I think so.” she looked down at her camera bag habitually, “I never look until I get home though so I can see them all properly on my laptop and get to editing.”

“You’re coming tonight though, right?” you asked almost worriedly. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m not much of a partier but I think tonight is a special occasion.”

You sighed with a smile, “Phew, I was worried I’d be the only girl.”

“Nah.” she shared a small upturn of her lips with you. 

Daniel, as if unable to hold himself back any longer, blurted out, “Corbyn did so amazing, right? That head-to-head with Lando was fucking stellar.”

Tabitha couldn’t help but laugh faintly at not only Daniel’s obvious exuberance but also your picture-worthy expression of playfully-annoyed amusement at your boyfriend’s thrill and she humoured him enough to nod, “Yeah, he’s always amazing.”

You ruffled your hand through Daniel’s hair and gave him a gentle shove of his head, “You’re fucking zazzed and we haven’t even gotten to the party yet.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” Daniel did a little dramatic loop around you before grabbing you around the waist in an attempt to pick you up. Squealing, you ran out of his grasp and around behind Tabitha to put distance between you. 

“I do not really want to be in the middle of this.” she stated as the two of you stared over her head at each other, trying to out smart the other in who was going to make a move first. 

Ignoring her, you darted around her and dodged Daniel’s reach of his hand out towards you but he grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you back against his chest, swallowing you up in his arms. You tried to squirm away but he had you tightly, arms locked around you with your back to his chest and his lips pressed a kiss to your cheek and then your neck and you smiled fondly at his affection, even in the middle of the paddock. No one seemed to pay any mind anyway - they were all in their own worlds. 

As you waited for Corbyn, standing there wrapped up in Daniel’s arms, your attention was drawn to the sleek black motorhome directly beside Ferrari’s as someone walked out of the front sliding glass doors. George’s teammate was heading out for the evening and his presence in his black Mercedes t-shirt had you silently remembering George himself and wondering what he was up to at that moment. Leaning your head back against Daniel’s shoulder so you could look at Tabitha adjacent to you, you asked your question aloud,

“When are the top three coming out?” 

She checked her watch before answering you, “They should be in their media conference by now. They probably won’t be done for a little while.”

Playing it off, you looked back towards the Mercedes motorhome and your eyes followed George’s teammate past you and towards the exit, acknowledging her response with a casual, “Okay.”

Just then, Corbyn emerged from inside and he hopped down the few front steps and joined your group, “Ready?”

You hadn’t noticed Tabitha’s slightly suspicious glance at you thanks to your seemingly random question since you were too busy taking Daniel’s hand and accepting his fleeting kiss. Oh, you were so ready for the night to get started. 

You couldn’t make it back to Corbyn’s quick enough despite the fanciness of his sports car in which he navigated the traffic dense streets of Monaco thanks to the Grand Prix shutting down half of the roadways. His modern hillside house welcomed you as the sun dipped lower onwards the horizon and his car locked with a chirp as the four of you climbed the front porch steps and he led you inside. The four of you split up to start to get ready for the party, you and Daniel closing the door to the guest room behind you.

Right away, he was pulling off his Ferrari shirt and tossing it onto the bed while you stalked behind him slowly from a few paces away, finally alone together and thus having your opportunity for a private conversation out in the open. Daniel crouched down to lift his suitcase up from the floor and he set it on the foot of the bed to rifle through a little easier, trying to find something to wear for the yacht party. 

“Were you planning on showering before the party?” he asked without looking up. “I feel like I might…I’m a little sweaty.”

“Yeah,” you answered softly, falling to a stop beside him, “we can shower together if you want.”

Daniel looked up at you and licked away his playful smirk at your offer, “Sounds like a great idea.”

When he turned back to his suitcase, you cleared your throat quietly and shifted in place, staring at his profile that was permanently etched in your mind. Your heart was racing with the possibilities of what could ensue that night and although it had been a brief conversation you had with your boyfriend before leaving for this trip, the concept of taking the initiative to bring it up again felt a little shameful. 

“So,” you started, “remember what we said before we came here?”

Daniel chuckled, “That’s specific.” 

You pressed on, “About finding something wild and spontaneous to do that we normally wouldn’t do at home?”

Still busy rifling through his clothes in his suitcase, he didn’t offer you much more of a response than an encouraging, “Uh huh?” 

“I have an idea.” you said. 

Daniel glanced up at you, paused a moment as his eyes lingered on yours as if he were trying to read your mind before you could speak a word, but the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was impossible to miss, “Oh really?”

You knew him well enough by then. He was going to make you say it.

“And what idea might that be?”

“Tonight, at the party,” you started, keeping your voice down so as to not risk Tabitha or Corbyn accidentally overhearing, “I think I want us to ask George if he wants to join us for the night.”

“You think?”

You huffed in half-frustration, sometimes hating the way he pushed you just to see the way you blushed at your own confessions of truth, but you corrected yourself the way he wanted, “I want us to invite George to join us tonight.”

Daniel slid a step closer to you with his eyes lingering on your lips as his hand ghosted over your waist, taunting you a little more, “Join us where?”

“Fuck you.” you laughed lightly behind the heat of your cheeks as you turned your head away from him, “You’re making me nervous.”

“You get all nervous from me looking at you and yet you expect to be all brave and invite another guy to fuck you? You’re gonna get all shy and blushy and mumbly around him and not even be able to get a word out.”

“Will not.” you insisted. “I’ll just need another drink…or two…first.”

“Mhm?” Daniel pulled you closer and you tucked your arms around his body habitually as he stared into your eyes, “How are you going to ask him?”

“I don’t know.” you whispered, “I’ll see how the moment feels.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Daniel’s fingers ran up the length of your arms and then down and back up again before he was tucking your hair behind your ears and speaking to you softly, “It’s gonna be so fucking hot watching another man fuck you, knowing he can’t have you because you’re all mine.”

You bit your lip to hide your growing bashful grin at his possessive words and his nose bumped lightly against yours with how close you were. Your fingers scratched gently over the warm skin of his lower back and you slid your hands around his waist to grab onto the belt loops of his jeans to pull him impossibly closer. He let out a sharp exhale against your cheek at your move as his palms cradled your face and the sides of your neck, keeping your eyes on his. 

“And if you ever feel like it’s too much, you tell me right away and we stop.” you whispered to him. 

Daniel nodded, “I know. You too.”

Your hands ran up his abs and the shape of his figure over his warm skin, feeling his body against yours like that, taunting you with what you were sure to have later. You were already flustered from the way he was looking at you and speaking to you, his voice in that rich low tone that made your knees weak, but the anticipation for the mystery man with the aquamarine eyes and dazzling smile had your insides fluttering impatiently. It was a whole big mess of hormones swirling inside you, desperate to be released. Just a little more waiting. 

As if thinking the same thing, Daniel sighed softly, “If we keep standing here staring at each other like this, I’m just gonna have to throw you on this bed and fuck you right now.”

Giggling, you pushed him away from you as you took a step back to leave space between the two of you and you turned for the ensuite bathroom, pulling your shirt over your head as you enticed him, “Come join me in the shower and we can warm up.”

Impressively, your shower was managed without too many wandering hands and intrusive thoughts although your steamy kisses between the shared responsibility of washing certainly didn’t make it easy. Daniel even helped to shave your legs for you and he helped to moisturize your warm skin fresh out of the shower afterwards, leaving you to work on your hair as he got dressed. After drying your hair, you took your time to straighten it and lightly hairspray it in place, making sure there wasn’t a flyaway to be seen. 

Daniel lingered in the bathroom doorway as he did up his belt, watching you get ready and how you leaned over the vanity to meticulously apply your light makeup and made sure you finished it off with a sufficient amount of setting spray. Your attention to detail had your boyfriend smiling fondly with a soft shake of his head and he disappeared back into the bedroom to pull on his teal, grey, and white plaid shirt over his white t-shirt. You were right behind him, ridding your towel for your bra and panties and Daniel gave your bum a smack on his way past to take his turn in the bathroom mirror. 

Once you were dressed and ready to go, Corbyn and Tabitha had been waiting for you for at least a good thirty minutes downstairs. They certainly had some teasing things to say about you both needing so long to get ready but you weren’t phased - you had very specific plans to prepare for that required extra attention in getting ready. At least they waited until you were done to call the taxi otherwise the poor driver would have been sitting there for a while.

It was just past 10:00 when you arrived at the marina and the once bright blue sky was an inky black, smudged into the rippling water of the sea along the horizon. The lights of Monaco were hard to appreciate from your position on land but as you stepped out of the taxi at the docks, you turned to look over your shoulder at the small city that thrived with nightlife of the rich and famous. You felt both out of your element and right in the middle of it all in the same. Another taxi pulled up beside yours and you waited with Corbyn and Tabitha so they could greet their newly arrived friends.

The young man who stepped out of the car was already all smiles as he saw who was awaiting him, his light brown hair fluffed neatly across his forehead and his light dusting of facial hair trimmed to a modest and tidy length. His smile was big enough to scrunch his eyes shut at the corners and if you didn’t know better, you would think he was part of Fashion Week with his designer attire of a crisp button up under a name brand letterman jacket over ironed slacks. Corbyn met him first with a fist bump and a passing ‘hey, man’ and then Tabitha was greeted by him by name,

“Tabitha,” he nodded in her direction, his words laced through a very obvious French accent, “Hello.”

“Hey, Pierre.” she smiled calmly at him.

“Funny seeing you without a camera on your neck.” he teased lightly. 

“You’ve seen me plenty of times without my camera.” she reminded him lightheartedly although he just laughed softly at his own joke before she changed the subject, “Good race today.”

“Not my best, but thank you.” he shrugged, “Very good for Charles.”

“Agreed.”

Corbyn then introduced you and Daniel to Pierre, driver for the Alpine team, and you could remember them from their striking pink branding. Once hellos were shared and the five of you continued down the pier to locate the yacht, you trailed behind with Daniel, hand in hand, and you leaned into him to ask in a whisper, “Is everyone in this damn sport attractive or is the expensive alcohol I’ve consumed today giving me rose coloured glasses?”

“I think the alcohol has worn off.” Daniel reminded you, “So I think everyone’s just attractive.”

“Nice.” you muttered with a shake of your head. 

Although the harbour was full of yachts of various sizes, the one that was docked at the end of the pier with all its lights on and already housing a few individuals on its deck that leaked thudding party tunes assured you that there was no question as to your destination. From the top deck, someone shouted down to you as you approached the end of the pier and you all looked up to see the brunette with a wide grin leaning over the railing. 

“Oi! Corbyn! My brother! You made it!” he shouted down vivaciously, his already clearly tipsy words jumbled within a thick Australian accent. “Let me come down there and say hello!” 

Corbyn turned to look back at you and your boyfriend, preparing you quietly, playfully, “Prepare to meet Daniel Ricciardo, the life of the party and arguably the protagonist of F1 according to the Netflix series.” 

Pierre honestly laughed in agreement, lingering a pace behind Corbyn and Tabitha as they started to board. He gestured you and Daniel first to which you thanked him and then accepted your boyfriend’s hand to assist you across the gap to step onboard. By then, the host of the yacht party and ultimately the unofficial greeting committee had made it down to the main deck and Corbyn introduced you. 

He shook Daniel’s hand then yours, “Good to meet ya, good to meet ya-” he then went to hold his hand out to Pierre who was behind you but then immediately took it back, “And I already know ya.”

“Good to see you too.” Pierre scoffed lightheartedly before excusing himself to join one of the groups of other drivers standing at the back of the yacht. 

“So glad you could make it; the more the merrier!” the host expressed loudly, “Come, lemmy show you around. Give you the grand tour.”

You followed the Australian Daniel farther onto the yacht and through the sliding glass doors into the main interior space that was clad in black trim and dark wood finishes, completed with crisp white leather upholstery that absolutely drooled luxury. The 80” flatscreen along the right wall faced a spacious white sectional sofa and matching dark wood coffee table although everyone lingered outside instead, choosing the natural beauty of the Monaco harbour over television. Up two steps was the dining area with a marble waterfall table for eight that was nestled beside the large paned window overlooking the inky ocean. Just beyond was the small kitchenette and the bridge where the hired captain was preparing for your harbour party once everyone was aboard. 

The second deck was the bar area and a few of the other drivers were already up there, helping themselves to the well stocked mini fridge and set up. The host poured you each a drink himself - insisting that he wanted to do the honours - and then walked you to the back of the top deck that overlooked the main deck below. It was a spacious yacht with plenty of outdoor socialization area that the party goers seemed to be making the most of; either lounging on the white upholstered sofas or loitering in little cliques by the water. Standing at the railing on the top deck, you peered down to the modest crowd of men below, trying to pick any words out of their loud conversations behind their mingled accents and the loud music that overtook the yacht. 

Everyone looked so nice in their party clothes after only seeing them in uniforms and racewear all weekend and that only made your appreciation for people watching that much more interesting. It was always fun to see what kind of clothes people chose when they had a say. You sipped your drink and stood comfortably under the casual arm of your boyfriend as you chatted with your two friends and awaited the announcement that you were to be setting sail. A few people came past your group to say hello or share a fleeting conversation before moving on to chat with others. You were introduced to a few more drivers that way - some you forgot the names of the moment they were out of earshot - and others you had already met in passing throughout the weekend. 

Charles got a huge cheer from the crowd of friends when he arrived on board and his bashful smile was passed around with one armed hugs or fist bumps with his friendly rivals. He was the homerace winner after many years of waiting and praying and although the attention and celebration of such caliber was a little unfamiliar throughout the grid, it was only proof of how much everyone loved Charles and knew he deserved it after all his hardwork and trials and tribulations. He ended up joining your group on the top deck and, already a drink deep, you had just enough courage to compliment his choice of an airy button up shirt that ruffled in the harbour breeze. 

Unbeknownst to your friends, however, despite the good company, you were still awaiting someone’s arrival and as the minutes ticked by, you only felt yourself growing more and more antsy. You played it off well, you were sure, trying to use the excuse of admiring the Monaco harbour as your reason for constantly looking in the direction of the pier. But, like a watched pot never boils, your expected guest appeared when you were least expecting him. 

The final few missing members of your party arrived around 10:45 and it wasn’t until Lando and his teammate emerged from the staircase that you glanced down to the main deck to see if they had come alone. Sure enough, George was finishing up his round of greetings down below and you kept your shameless gaze on him in his white khakis and t-shirt under a neat navy blue cardigan. His hair was tidied and pushed out of his face in those usual beachy waves as if he had showered and made an effort to clean himself up before the party; maybe that’s why he was a little late. Overall, his attire emitted the essence of the old money style and that was enough to have you struggling to keep your eyes to yourself as you stared him down greedily from the top deck. 

Torn away from ogling George for a moment, you paid enough attention to your newly arrived friends and Corbyn held his hand out to Lando as they approached, “Late as always.”

Taking his hand to pull each other into a fleeting one armed hug, Lando answered smoothly, “Had to make an entrance, don’t you know that by now?”

Compared to their angry words from their battle on the track earlier that day, they greeted each other like nothing was wrong. It was a strange realization for both you and Daniel who half expected there to be lingering hostility between the two drivers after their incident, coming to terms to the polar differences from how they acted on track versus face-to-face. It really was an every-man-for-himself game out there but they were mature enough to know when to keep arguments as part of the job and let things slide off their backs. 

At the same time, you were introduced to Lando’s teammate, Oscar, who was apparently the youngest on the grid. He definitely looked it, you thought, as his cheeks were reminiscent of a little boy still although he was still a legal adult at twenty-one. Lando, who was boisterous and personable and always up for a chat, seemed to act as Oscar’s emotional support teammate as the younger stood close at his side and simply observed for the first little while. Tabitha seemed to be good at coaxing some conversation out of him and soon he was opening up a little more - with help from a drink that Lando had thrust into his hand. 

Only a few moments later, a girl in a flowing floral sundress emerged from the stairs and found her spot beside Oscar with a gentle touch to his back. He looked over at her and he broke into a grin that just took up his whole face before introducing her to the rest of you, “This is my girlfriend, Lily.” 

Your heart swelled over the way he looked at her and their youthful puppy-love glances at each other had you ‘aww’ing out loud. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or maybe it was the nervous energy in the back of your mind that you somehow needed a distraction from, but you couldn’t help yourself but reach out to pinch Oscar’s cheek gently, with a coo of, “You are so freaking cute.”

Lando snorted and turned behind Charles’ shoulder who snickered in amusement at your move. Oscar just blinked at you for a second, processing what just happened, and then he let out a little laugh and gave you a passive thumbs up. 

“Thanks.”

Tabitha seemed to have your back in smoothing over what could have easily turned into an awkward moment, “He is the baby of the grid, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oscar chuckled bashfully. 

By then, with everyone on board, the captain came out to announce that it was anchors away and time to head out into the ocean and leave the Monaco coast and your ties to reality behind for the night. As the yacht’s quiet engine rumbled to life and the luxury vessel was steered away from the pier, you let your eyes drift from your little group down to the main deck again, sipping your drink as your eyes were locked on the handsome stranger down below. Daniel’s arm around your waist kept you distracted, however, and once conversation flowed with the drinks, you found yourself focusing more on your boyfriend than anyone else. You were out in open water by then so it wasn’t like George could make any kind of getaway before you could pitch your offer to him. 

Your group grew and shrunk as the minutes passed and people mingled and soon, you and Daniel were alone on the top deck lounge. His arm was resting behind you on the railing as the sea air ruffled through his soft curls and his other hand nursed his uncountable drink from that night. The way he looked at you always made your inside flutter but especially then when you were a little tipsy and already a little aroused with anticipation and the lights that trimmed the luxury yacht sparkled in his blue eyes. 

“You doing okay?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the music in your close proximity. 

“Yeah, I’m great.” you nodded. 

His arm raised from the railing to wrap around your shoulders and he pulled you into his side and leaned in to kiss your lips once. The gentle sway of the yacht had him leaning into you a little more and your hand reached up to slide around the back of his neck and keep his lips on yours. You shared a few soft kisses before he was giving your bottom lip a little nibble and you gladly opened up for his tongue to nudge against yours. 

It seemed to be the standard that you ended up like that at a party, wrapped up together away from the crowd and drunkenly making out until it got a little too heated and you had to either stop or make a quick escape. Even on a yacht of wealthy strangers, nothing could get between the carnal lust you held for your boyfriend and the weakness you felt from his kiss. 

Still holding his half-filled glass, he carefully slid that arm around your back and pulled you against his chest as he rested back against the railing of the deck so you were pressed chest to chest. You kept your one hand in the ends of his hair while your other kept to the side with the bottom of your glass resting on top of the railing, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his like always. All day you had been craving some sort of attention to satisfy that peaky lewd need that was burning inside you and even from only a few lingering kisses from Daniel were you already easing into satisfaction. 

His arms around you pulled you impossibly closer until you were standing between his legs and he tilted his head a little more to the side to kiss you deeper, licking his way into your mouth until you were groaning happily into his kiss and tightening your fingers in the back of his hair. You could taste the expensive alcohol on his tongue and his love for you on his lips and for a moment you were completely lost in him and only him. With the lights of Monaco sparkling like stars along the hillside in the distance and reflecting in ripples across the dark ocean around you, it was a picture perfect moment of you and him. 

And then something had you pulling away from his kiss for a moment to flutter your eyes open and Daniel didn’t miss a beat as he moved his lips down your neck in plentiful open mouthed kisses. Your gaze was pulled from the beautiful city along the horizon down to the main deck that was littered with people who hardly paid you any mind. Well, except for one person, as George was already looking right at you when your eyes landed on him. He was standing in a small circle of some of the other drivers but they were chatting away completely clueless while he seemed much more interested in you and your boyfriend than anything that was being said by his friends. He didn’t look away when you caught him staring, his expression unreadable as he held his glass in his hand and hardly even blinked. His stare was intense and your hand tightened habitually around the back of Daniel’s neck and he trailed his kisses back up to your lips to kiss you properly again, but you kept your eyes open to keep George’s gaze and you couldn’t help the sly smile that came to your lips. 

“What are you smiling at?” Daniel chuckled into your mouth.

“He’s watching us.” you whispered, keeping your hand snug at the back of his neck to keep him from turning over his shoulder to see for himself, “Don’t look.”

“What are you wanting to do?” Daniel asked.

“Kiss my neck some more.” you instructed softly. 

Never one to deny you that, Daniel ghosted his nose along your jawline and pressed his lips to your neck in a soft kiss before planting another just under your ear. Although it was all a bit of a ploy to get the attention of your mystery man, the sparks that Daniel could cause to shoot across your skin were entirely real and as he licked across your flushed skin just under your ear and left an open mouthed kiss to the same spot, you could feel yourself throb down your jeans. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, just long enough to focus on that beautiful sensation for a few seconds, but when you opened your eyes again and looked back down to the main deck, George was gone from his group. 

You pulled away from Daniel in slight confusion and he was finally able to look down to the deck himself without you stopping him. His eyebrows furrowed since it all seemed a little suspicious that you were playing it up that George was there and when he looked, he was actually nowhere to be seen. But before either of you could speak to it, the man you were looking for was emerging from the top of the staircase onto the top deck. 

George walked casually across the wood floors towards the bar, offering you both a calm smile and he lifted his empty glass, “Sorry to interrupt. Just getting a refill.”

You and Daniel were still standing at the railing, now side by side, with your arms around each other, right up close, and Daniel didn’t say a word, knowing that this was all your opportunity and he wasn’t going to be the one to take the initiative to initiate a situation that was about you. Instead, he tore his stare away from you to look towards George at the bar, waiting and curious to see what your move would be. Almost as if he were thinking the same, George glanced up at you both across the otherwise vacant deck. The music was loud and the presence of the rest of the partygoers on the yacht was obvious with the lively sound of chatter and laughter from the deck below but, at the same time, your area felt entirely secluded and private. 

Knocking back the rest of your drink, you tore yourself away from Daniel and strode across the deck to step under the roof and join George at the bar, your boyfriend trailing behind you. In a fit of alcohol induced bravery, you leaned forward against the bar top opposite this stranger and offered him a warm and flirtatious, “Hey, handsome.”

George, in near shock, looked up at you and then glanced past you to your boyfriend standing just behind you and then, finally, back at you. In reply, he offered a safe, “Hello, there.”

“Saw your win today. I was very impressed.”

George chuckled softly, setting the bottle of whatever he was pouring himself back in the fridge, “Hardly a win. That was all Charles.”

“I dunno…” you shrugged, “I saw a trophy in your hand. That counts as a win to me.”

“I like the way you think.” he complimented with a soft smile, lifting his glass up towards his lips as if anticipating a sip before speaking, “If only it worked like that.”

You watched him take a drink before setting his glass back down on the countertop as he recovered quickly,

“Pardon me. Did you two want refills as well?”

“Would love one, thank you so much. Whatever you’re having.” you slid your glass across the bar and he reached under the counter to find the bottle of whatever he had served himself from the fridge before pouring you your drink. As he did, you asked him innocently, “Did you come here with anyone to celebrate tonight?” 

“Nope. Just Alex.” he chuckled, referencing his close friend from one of the other teams that you recalled briefly meeting earlier that weekend. “And Alex brought his girlfriend so I am the third wheel tonight.”

Daniel cleared his throat and turned his head to keep his smirk at bay, lifting his half-full drink up to sip from. He was already too far ahead in your plan for that evening and George’s innocent statement didn’t look like it was going to be solved by your pitch any time soon. 

“I see,” you spoke casually, still leaning forward against the side of the bar, you dragged your fingertip around the rim of your glass without taking your eyes off of him, “That’s actually perfect.”

George cocked his head to the side slightly in curious confusion, “How is it perfect?”

“Well, we were wondering,” you spoke slowly, cautiously, a hint of that proud salacious smile in your tone, “if you had no one to help you properly celebrate your podium finish tonight…would you be up to celebrating with us?”

His eyebrows raised slightly, drink held in midair as he processed the meaning behind your words. He licked his lips and then bit them habitually, taking a second to arrange his thoughts before he answered, “And what do you plan on us doing to properly celebrate?” 

Oh the warm richness of his voice in that enchanting accent was enough to make you drip. You played it off coolly as you dragged your fingertips up the length of your glass and back down absentmindedly without taking your eyes off his face, answering him with the sweetest innocence, “Well, the three of us can find a spot that’s a little more private than out here and we…I can help you feel like the real winner. I think you deserve that, don’t you?”

Your question put the ball back in his court, pressing him a little more for an answer. 

George’s hand looked so big around his glass he was holding and you couldn’t help but glance down to the way his slender fingers held it so tenderly in his grap, your mind already miles ahead of where you were in your plan. You were sure if he said no that you would have to throw yourself overboard with embarrassment and so you nearly held your breath as you watched him ponder your offer. As if knowing he were stringing you along just a little, he lifted the glass up to his lips as he stared at you under faintly furrowed brows and he tossed back the rest of his drink smoothly before setting the empty glass down on the counter with a faint clink. 

“Alright,” he cleared his throat lightly and took a step back from the bar, “come on, then.” 

You straightened up quickly, trying to keep your shocked grin at bay as you glanced back at Daniel. He finished his drink too and set it down before sending you a knowing smirk as if he knew your plan would succeed, and his hand rested on your lower back to let you follow after George ahead of him. It was hard not to run after him with the excitement that burned within you and you paid extra caution on the stairs as the rocking of the boat made your already tipsy head spin a little more with each step. 

Everyone was mingling around the main deck, both inside and outside, but George navigated through the edges of the crowd like he knew where he was going and led the way through the open sliding glass doors into the interior of the main deck. You followed him with a few paces between you while Daniel was directly behind you and your boyfriend’s hand found yours as you walked in a row and moved effortlessly past the obliviousness of the other partygoers. Adjacent to the dining table were the stairs into the depths of the yacht and you followed George casually so as to not draw too much attention to yourself. But your attempt at being blasé about it all was only slightly foiled when you reached the bottom of the tight staircase only to bump into Alex in the narrow hallway. 

“Oh.” Alex stopped in his tracks before he could run right into George, “Hello, mate. Where are you all headed?”

As the close friends shared a habitual fist bump, George answered him calmly, “Showing our guests to the toilet, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah.” Alex stepped aside and gestured the group of you on, “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks, mate.” George gave him a pat to his shoulder as you three slipped past him. 

You were sure if you looked at Alex you would have given yourself away as if your secret plan was written all over your face in neon lights, so you kept your head down and tried to move past him as quickly as possible despite the tipsy smile that seemed to be every present on your lips. The moment the three of you were past Alex, he was making his way back upstairs to the party, only stopping halfway up to glance back down into the narrow hallway. George’s lie was smooth, but was it believable? You could only hope that Alex was too drunk himself to think much deeper about it. 

You had to turn the corner in the direction of the bathroom to move out of the way for Alex but once he had disappeared upstairs again, George slid back to the way you came to reach the shut wood door directly at the bottom landing of the stairs. He tried the handle and it opened with ease and he cocked his head to encourage you both inside. 

The cream commercial grade carpet softened your footfalls as you stepped into the surprisingly spacious bedroom that was located in the centre of the yacht’s cabin. Directly ahead of the entrance door was a neatly made king size bed with a sleek black leather headboard that reached the ceiling, the pulled tight duvet complete with throw pillows and a coverlet that was embroidered with the rental company’s luxurious logo. Both sides of the room had horizontal windows overlooking the darkened ocean and through the one to your left, above the built-in lower cabinet storage in that same dark wood detailing that shone in pristine condition throughout the entire yacht, you could see the sparkling coastline of Monaco in the distance. To the right, under the window and wrapping around to the wall you had passed through, was a corner leather window seat in white upholstery that matched those found on the upper decks, topped with throw pillows and concealing dark wood storage drawers beneath. 

The room was absolutely handsome if nothing else and you felt as though you were dreaming; the entire weekend being so out of the ordinary for your normal life that it had to have been the only explanation. The click of the door behind you had you turning casually in the centre of the modest size room to face the two men, although your boyfriend drifted curiously to the window, leaning his hands on top of the lower cabinets so he could learn close to the glass and peer out at the twinkling city lights.

“How did you know this room was here?” Daniel asked in near admiration before turning back around to face the two of you. 

“I have connections. It’s not important.” George brushed it off, “Besides, you attend enough of these parties and you start to find your way around.”

“You often escape to the bedrooms at parties?” Daniel challenged as he leaned back against the cabinet and crossed his arms over his chest with a coy smirk. 

George chuckled modestly, “Here and there.”

“Ever with two people?” you asked.

“Actually, no.” he answered. “This is a first.”

“Us too.” you added. 

George peaked a brow at you, “Really? By the way you were coming onto me I would have expected you to be pros.”

“No,” you drew the word out softly, sliding a step closer to him, “I just know what I want and I’m not going to let it pass me by.”

“And what is it that you want?”

His voice was so rich and enticing and he spoke to you in a tone that was gentle but with a firmness to it that had you biting back your restless smile. His slender frame was only two or so inches taller than you but standing right in front of him like that made him feel so much bigger than you. You fought with the intimidation inside of you, trying to lean into that liquid courage that had your chest feeling warm and helping to ease you into a more comfortable reality and facing the existence of your desires that were being dangled right in front of you, just within arm’s reach. 

With a soft breath, you answered him, “You.” 

“Mhm?” George couldn’t stop staring at you, “And how long have you been sitting on that confession?”

“Since yesterday afternoon.” you admitted, “Since seeing you talking with Tabitha and Charles in the paddock. I thought you were so fucking sexy.”

Your fingers raised quickly to ghost over your lips as if you hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out, wide eyes staring back at him. But George just chuckled warmly, his smile almost bringing you to your knees, and those big aquamarine eyes taking in every little inch of your face.

“I can’t imagine what your boyfriend thought of the idea at first.” he said playfully.

“It was his idea.” you confessed, glancing back at Daniel who was still leaning against the storage cabinets as you continued, “We agreed we’d have some fun on this trip and he said he’d let me pick whomever I wanted.”

You looked back at George and it took all your self control not to reach out and touch him, almost nervous that if you did, he would back out. He had already agreed though and you were sure he wasn’t going to rethink his decision. It was all in your hands to progress this night onwards and everyone in that room knew it. 

“And today,” you rambled on, letting the alcohol in your system act as your fearlessness as you finally reached a hand out to testingly nudge the fabric of his open blue cardigan before ghosting your fingertips over his pecs, “seeing you race…and then getting up there on that podium…wish I could have been able to just lick that champagne off of you.”

“Jesus Christ.” George exhaled with a small shutter at your blunt words, “You’re not shy at all, are you, love?”

Daniel answered for you from his spot a few paces away, “Not when she’s tipsy. And she gets fucking horny after a few drinks.” 

George skimmed his eyes across your face, agreeing quietly, “Yeah, her cheeks are already so flushed.”

Your palm bravely rested down against his chest and you dragged your hand down his torso to earn your first testing feel of his body. He was similar to Daniel with a slim, lean build, but his athleticism as a professional athlete definitely outshone Daniel’s recreational gym trips and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you felt the taught muscle of his abs through his thin white t-shirt. 

“Sweetheart?” Daniel called out to you angelically. 

“Yes, sunshine?” you answered obediently without taking your eyes off the exploratory path of your hand moving back up George’s body. 

“Do you want to get us started?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Go on then. Gimme a little show, baby.”

Your eyes slowly, slowly slid up George’s body and your fingers followed in the faintest of touches until your fingertips were grazing over his neck and jaw and you could feel him shutter under your hesitant teasing. His skin was so warm and it drew fire across your body as he finally reached out to ghost his hands over your waist and you took a step closer to him, lost in the storm of his eyes and drawn in by the way he licked his alluring lips. 

His expensive cologne smelt so good too - his scent tied in with hints of the salty sea air that kissed his skin from the hour on the deck of the luxury yacht - and your head tilted faintly to the side to tempt him closer, feeling his breath against your cheek. He was so close and you were already going fucking crazy stuck lingering in that torturous anticipation, feeling how your boyfriend’s eyes bore into the back of your head from where he stood watching. Shivers tore up your spine as George’s hands slid farther around your hips and rested politely over your back, guiding you gently towards him just as his lips grazed over yours.

Then, as you parted your lips just enough to lock with his in a soft, lingering kiss, you swore sparks of euphoria erupted in the back of your mind. The first kiss was nothing but the tiniest, most innocent testing of the waters but as you broke apart, he was tightening his hands on your waist and pulling your body against his as he leaned in for another. You couldn’t help the small hum of appreciation that slipped from your lips onto his as he kissed you again, lingering together like that again as your hand slid up from his chest to rest on his shoulder. You broke apart again just long enough to go in for a third and as you did, George lifted a hand from your waist to set tenderly on the side of your neck to guide you deeper into your shared kiss and his thumb slid around your throat. His simple move had you tilting your head a little more to deepen your kisses that only seemed to get hungrier by the second as you swayed together with the gentle rocking of the yacht on the restless ocean waves.

George kissed so much differently than Daniel and his lips were plumper which made sinking your teeth into the bottom one just a little more enthralling. He chuckled warmly at your move but pulled you in again by his hand sliding around the back of your neck and tangling in the roots of your hair, locking your lips with his in shiver-worthy kisses. Maybe it was the foreignness of the situation compared to the comfortable familiarity you had with Daniel, but he also seemed a little more gentle than your boyfriend; taking his time with you, making sure you knew you had every ounce of his attention. 

God, but he knew how to kiss and that was obvious. You were finally getting what you had wanted all weekend and yet it still didn’t feel like enough, forcing you to wrap your arms right around his shoulders to embrace him closer and pull more from him. His tongue teased your bottom lip gently and you gladly opened up more for him, meeting him halfway for filthier kisses that had you throbbing down your jeans. The muted music from the party going on upstairs was obsolete as your ears were tuned right into the wet sounds of your deepening kisses and your breaths falling as one. George moaned softly into your mouth, a greedy rich sound that you felt throughout your body, and you arched into him habitually with a soft whine of your own and pulled him into you by your arms slung around his shoulders. 

His front was almost completely pressed right up against yours but even that didn’t feel like enough as he dropped his hands to your waist and tugged you impossibly closer as his tongue pushed intently against yours. Kissing him back in a clumsy battle of lips and tongues, you moved your hands back to his shoulders to anchor yourself for a moment before breaking away from his mouth to trail impatient kisses down his neck. His warm skin under your lips was invigorating and you breathed him in selfishly as you kissed right up under his ear.

“Fuck.” George breathed to the ceiling as he tilted his head back ever so slightly to give you room, his hands tightening around your waist as you licked up his neck and seemed to reach all the spots that made him shiver. 

From across the room and still leaning casually against the cabinetry, Daniel spoke again, “Good girl, baby. You’re just fucking throwing yourself at him.”

Words were a waste of precious time so you simply replied with an agreeable hum against George’s neck between open mouthed kisses that you moved down towards the collar of his t-shirt. Your hands slid down from his shoulders to caress his chest over his clothes and you stole a few more kisses from his lips as you pushed his navy blue cardigan off his shoulders and to the floor. He helped to shrug it off and get his arms out and before he was even completely out of it, you were already peppering hurried kisses down his chest and over his abs that were hidden under his t-shirt before you sank yourself all the way down to your knees in front of him.

Not wasting a second, you untucked his t-shirt from his pants and shoved up the bottom of it to get your first peek at his body, leaning in to press your lips just above his navel and kissing right down between his firm abs to the waistband of his jeans. You raised your eyes up to him, staring up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth as you pulled the leather of his belt through the buckle and tugged at it hard to get it unpinned, making him have to take a half step towards you to keep from falling over at your aggression. 

“Christ.” he groaned lowly as he stared down at you, wide eyed, “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

You left his belt open so you could focus on popping the button on his jeans all while staring up at him with a sweet smile that was so incredibly hard to hide, only giving him a nod.

“Use your words.” Daniel reminded you firmly from a few paces away, “Show him what a good girl you are.”

You licked away your smile, still peering up at the handsome stranger that was quickly becoming less than a mystery to you as you rested on your knees for him, your careful fingers tugging down the zipper of his pants as you confessed up to him softly, “I’m so fucking desperate for your cock.”

Although his breath shuttered at your blunt words, he played it off with a brush of his fingers through your hair and a taunting, “Yeah? You wanna suck it for me, darling?”

“Please, can I?” you asked sweetly. 

“Go on then.” he permitted. 

He was so tall that you had you sit up on your knees with your posture perfectly straight to reach him comfortably but that fact only had you grinning excitedly as you tugged open the fly of his white jeans and then grabbed hold of the waistband of his pants and his underwear at the same time to yank them down together. You could almost hear the thudding of your heart over the muffled music and chatter coming from the deck above but your attention was all too focused on what you had been fantasizing about all weekend. Before this, the only man you had ever been with was Daniel. He was your first and your only, but even as you delved into a world of experimentation together, simply having him keeping a watchful eye from across the room was reassuring enough for you as you earned your first look at a man who was not him. 

“Oh my God.” you exhaled, hands still grasping onto the waistband of George’s pants as you took a moment to just stare at him. 

Neatly trimmed and kept, he was already somewhat hard and was at least somewhat bigger than Daniel. Not that you minded or made a point to speak to it, but the intimidation factor was certainly all encompassing of this man in front of you from his dazzling eyes and model height to the impressive dick that, tonight, was all yours. You hesitated, as if forgetting all your plentiful prior experience you had with your boyfriend, simply gaping at George’s dick in your face. 

Daniel, who knew you better than anyone, was easily there with the save, “I think he’s waiting for you to touch it, sweetheart.”

You giggled shyly and moved your right hand away from his fly to gently wrap around the base of his heavy cock and you stuck out your tongue and leaned in to lick at the tip teasingly. George’s hand pushed through your hair again to get your bangs out of your face and his soft exhale had you dragging your tongue right up the side of his dick without tearing your eyes away from his. 

“That’s my good girl.” Daniel praised honestly, dropping a hand down to adjust himself over his pants, “Now wrap those pretty little lips around him and show him what you can do.”

You tore your eyes away from your handsome stranger to look at your task at hand as you pursed your lips to dribble some spit down onto the head of his cock. Your hand gave him a few lazy strokes to slick your palm up in it as you shuffled a little closer on your knees and you pressed a tender kiss right to the tip before slowly guiding him into your mouth. Feeling the warm weight of his cock against your tongue had your eyes fluttering shut with a soft moan as you sunk your mouth around him farther. 

George took in a sharp breath through his teeth and his hand tightened in your hair, staring down at your mouth wrapped around his cock and he used his other hand to pull the hem of his shirt up and out of your way. He then licked his lips habitually before speaking to you in a voice as smooth as butter, “You are such a good girl, aren’t you?”

You hummed around him softly in agreement before starting to pull your mouth back before moving down again, all while your right hand was keeping him in place for you. You could feel him getting harder in your mouth, swelling up against your tongue, and it was a feeling that had you salivating; the proof of which being the way your spit slipped past your lips and leaked down the shaft of his cock to your hand wrapped around the base. 

After a few seconds, you pulled off him to take a breath - and to get a real, proper look at him - as your hand picked up the slack. It was true, what you had said earlier, that there was absolutely nothing wrong with this man; there was not a damn inch on his body that had even an atom of ugly and it blew your goddamn mind into nothing more than buzz of humanistic arousal. You couldn’t help the bite of your lip as you stared at your hand pumping his cock with steady flicks of your wrist as if you were trying to memorize the sight of him like that. Your weekend fling, that was that. You were going to have one and only one glorious night with this man so you knew you needed to make the most of it and make it count. 

So you took his dick back in your mouth and nestled yourself down until your lips met your fist and when you pulled back, you hollowed your cheeks greedily to earn yourself a pretty moan from his chest. The sound went right between your legs and encouraged you to repeat that action just to hear more of him. Only a few strokes in and the modest bedroom was easily welcoming the sloppy sounds of your mouth taking him in steady bobs of your head, forcing more spit to drip from your mouth and down your chin. You never minded being messy with it. 

Daniel from his spot across the room, was indiscreetly palming himself over his jeans with his gaze focused all on you and he spoke to you in a coo, “Look at you, sweetheart, you have a millionaire’s dick in your mouth. How's that feel?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up more than they already were but you didn’t want to lose out on a second with George’s cock in your mouth so all you gave your boyfriend in reply was a pleased moan in agreement. 

“Really good, hm?” George taunted cockily, lifting his other hand to help keep your hair back as he kept his gaze all on you and the rhythmic strokes of your mouth you offered him. He bit his bottom lip through a faint groan with both of his large hands wrapped around your hair in a sort of messy makeshift ponytail that certainly was messing up your curls that you had meticulously worked on before coming to the party. You didn’t mind, however, as you were more than willing to let him ruin you however he pleased, and that only seemed to be working in your favour as he let another soft moan slip past his lips before complimenting you honestly, “You’re a fucking goddess.” 

But maybe that was just stemmed from the fact you had his cock in your mouth.

You started to move your hand in twisting strokes at the same pace of your mouth taking half of him against your tongue over and over, desperate to bring him pleasure and show off how good you could be. With both of his hands in your hair, his shirt had fallen back into place and you took the initiative with your left hand to link your thumb under the hem and slide your palm up his body to hold it out of your way. The firm muscle of his abdomen had you hungry for more of him as you sucked on his cock in messy slurps. 

Suddenly, the yacht swayed a little more than usual over a rougher wave and between that, the alcohol in his system, and his pants around his knees, George stumbled slightly with a, “Shit.”

You pressed your hand a little harder against his abs, instructing him with a gentle, “Lean against the door.”

He glanced behind him and then took the two steps back so he was resting flat against the locked door and as you shuffled on your knees to take your place in front of him again, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. You forced yourself to take a second to admire his bare torso as your hand stroked his dick in the meantime, wide eyes nearly turning into hearts at the sight of him and his vast expanse of soft caramel skin. The position felt so much more invigorating to have him sandwiched between the door and you and it gave you a flicker of powerfulness in your chest, especially as you got a whimper out of him as you finally sunk your mouth down on him again. George’s hands tangled in your hair again and as he fell into his own familiarity with the situation, he gently started to guide your motions a little deeper. 

“Can you take more, darling?” he purred angelically. 

Daniel answered for you, “She can. Honestly, just use her mouth all you want.”

Almost disbelieving, George looked over at him with slightly furrowed brows, “Really?”

“If it’s too much, she’ll tap out three times on your thigh.” Daniel assured him, “She likes it. Don’t you, baby?”

You pulled off George’s cock with a messy slurp and glanced over at Daniel as you smeared your spitty lips over the length of it before answering, “Yes, sir.”

“So you better tell him that then.”

You tore your eyes away from your boyfriend to bat your eyelashes up at the man you were on your knees for and with your hand snugly holding his dick against your mouth, you asked of him angelically, “Please can you fuck my throat?”

“Such good manners.” George praised warmly as his hands in your hair guided you in again. 

You didn’t hesitate before opening up to take his dick in your mouth again as you set your hands on his thighs for balance. He then slowly started to take control of your head as he pulled you into shallow motions to start you off, his breaths falling in time with your rhythm. But you were impatient and desperately wanting more, so you took the initiative yourself and forced yourself deeper on him until you gagged yourself on him. He took the hint to tighten his hands in your hair and keep you at that greedy depth as he started to nudge his hips towards you, forcing another wet gag from your throat. Your fingers dug into his thighs but you didn’t complain about the slight discomfort that came with the responsibility. 

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” George groaned tightly, fingers locked in your hair just tight enough to keep a snug pull at your scalp that made you moan messily around him. 

You tried to look up at him but the tears that burned your eyes made your vision blurry and you scrunched your eyes closed instead, putting your focus on staying right where he needed you. The sounds were horribly lewd and if you were a bit more sober you might have worried that anyone who walked past the door out in the hallway would be able to hear the gasping wet gags of your throat with his every thrust into your mouth. Maybe the music was loud enough to conceal you. 

After a few more seconds, you were tapping out on his thigh and he loosened his grip on your hair so you could pull back with a messy cough, spit dripping down your chin and still connecting your lips to his cock as you blinked your teary eyes up at him. He wiped your mouth with his thumb and then slipped it past your lips, earning a pleasant moan of appreciation out of you and your eyes fluttered shut as you sucked on his thumb for a moment. 

George tisked from above you, “You’re fucking incredible.”

Daniel’s hands on your shoulders startled you slightly but he just leaned down and grabbed the bottom of your shirt to pull it up and over your head, leaving you in your bra and your jeans on your knees. George’s fingers fell into your hair again as you wrapped a hand around his cock and leaned in to happily swirl your tongue around the head while Daniel crouched behind you and reached around your waist to unbutton your jeans. 

“I think you deserve a turn now, sweetheart.” he cooed against your ear. 

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine and you pulled your mouth away from George to turn your head back towards your boyfriend situated behind you to meet him for a kiss. Daniel lifted a hand up to cradle your jaw as your lips locked in sloppy tongue-led kisses just like second nature, while your grip was still secure around George’s dick in front of you and you gave him a few gentle strokes. His hand was still in your hair and he stroked your head faintly as he watched the way you kissed your boyfriend right in front of him just like he had back upstairs at the party. But now he had the added bonus of your hand on him, touching him so perfectly in twisting tugs that had his bottom lip between his teeth, while his eyes drifted downwards to watch Daniel’s hand slip down the front of your unbuttoned jeans. 

Daniel groaned into your mouth, “You’re so fucking wet for us already, baby.”

You pulled away from your boyfriend’s lips with a withering moan only to peer right up at George above you as if to subconsciously see if he was watching you. Of course he was; dead focused on the disappearance of Daniel’s hand down your pants and the way your hips moved ever so slightly against his touch. Even as you succumbed to the pleasure of your boyfriend's touch, you couldn’t get enough of your handsome stranger as you leaned in to wrap your lips around his cock and suck on him lazily, letting him feel the sweet moans from your mouth right up against him.

“Wanna let me go down on you?” George asked with another rake of his fingers through your hair, “Is that alright?”

Daniel’s low chuckle from behind you had you pulling back from George’s cock, licking your lips as you peered up at him again and let your body mould against Daniel’s chest right behind you. Your head was spinning and you could hardly form a thought as your brain raced a mile a minute. 

“You wanna say yes so bad, don’t you?” Daniel taunted softly against your ear, that cocky smile on his face, “Say it. Then I can get you out of these pesky clothes and hold your fucking legs open for him. Do you want that?”

“Yes.” you breathed without tearing your eyes away from George’s face. 

“What was that?” George brushed the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, speaking to you in that warm voice of his that seemed to have perfected the art of feigning innocence although the weight behind his every word was very present, “Speak up.”

“Yes, please.” you repeated a little louder. 

Daniel helped you to your feet and then tugged your jeans down while George, too, got out of his pants that had lingered around his knees for the last little while. In only your bra and underwear - a nice set that you had meticulously packed and chosen for this exact moment with help from your boyfriend’s input - Daniel led you over to the window seat by your hand and he sat himself down first, right in the corner, and then hurried to pull off his plaid shirt and then his white t-shirt, tossing both to the growing pile on the carpeted floor. He patted his thigh and you turned to sit yourself down on his lap, a position quite familiar to you, and although the denim of his jeans was less than ideal compared to how the warmth of his skin against yours would have felt, you had alternate priorities at that moment. 

Sitting there on your boyfriend’s lap in the corner of the room, you had your first proper look at George’s naked body as he finished stripping completely and was making his way over to you. You shifted in place on Daniel’s lap and leaned back against his chest with a smile you couldn’t bite away, eyeing up the endless expanse of beautifully smooth caramel skin of the chiseled stranger in front of you. Between the sight of him in addition to the soft groan Daniel let out against your shoulder at your movements on his lap, you were already naturally spreading your legs at the ready. 

“Hang on,” Daniel mumbled, guiding you off him long enough for him to give up on his jeans and he shoved them down his thighs and kicked them to the floor before pulling you back down, “That’s better. You comfortable?” 

“Yeah.” you answered softly without tearing your eyes away from the man in front of you who resembled that of a Greek God. You licked your lips habitually at the sight of him and your hand slid down between your parted legs to rub yourself over your underwear for a moment, trying to ease that pesky ache. 

George nudged your hand away as he sank down to the floor in front of you, right between Daniel’s legs which were, ultimately, keeping your legs open too. With a gentle hand, George dragged two fingers along the fabric of your panties right down the center, and his eyebrows raised slightly at the feeling of how aroused you already were. 

“You’ve ruined these.” he exhaled, “Naughty girl.”

The way his accent sounded when he called you that had your head dropping back with a tight groan, definitely giving Daniel a facefull of your hair but he didn’t mind. Your boyfriend swiped your hair over your opposite shoulder so he could watch too, paying close attention to the way George’s large hands slid along your legs and how his lips ghosted over your inner thighs. You shivered on his lap and Daniel kissed your neck, trailing his fingers over your waist and up to your chest, playing with the lace of your bra that followed the curve of your breasts. 

Playing on George’s words, Daniel whispered against your ear, “Yeah, you’re our naughty little slut, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered as you succumbed to your intrusive thoughts and reached a hand down to rake through George’s soft brunette waves. 

Drawing his attention from the fleeting kisses he left over your thigh, his eyes raised to yours and he offered you a little wink from between your legs. He could tell you were antsy and he, himself, didn’t want to wait much longer either so he linked his fingers in the sides of your underwear and pulled them down your legs, watching carefully to see how the thin lace fabric stuck to your pussy for a moment thanks to the wetness you were leaking. 

Once your underwear was discarded to the floor, Daniel linked his hands under your thighs and spread your legs for you, so much so that you had to fall back against his chest to be able to sit comfortably. Your cheeks were flushed in slight nervousness over the fact that you were now spread open and vulnerable for a stranger but the liquid courage in your system helped to ease any slight embarrassment until it vanished the moment George got his hands on you. His soft caress of your pussy with two fingers was quickly followed by a ghostly kiss to your clit just before his tongue was dropping out to earn his first taste of you. 

You were already so sensitive that the first touch had your legs twitching from where Daniel held them and your soft squeak was almost completely involuntary. Despite your slight shyness, you couldn’t tear your attention away from the man between your legs, even as his big blue eyes raised to meet your gaze in time with another slow, teasing lick. Your hand was still in his hair and it only tightened its grip as you tried to pull him in for more, desperate for some sort of friction to soothe that ache. 

“Good girl, sweetheart.” Daniel cooed against your ear, “Not even shying away. Look at you pulling him in.”

George set his hands on the backs of your thighs as Daniel held them out of his way for him, holding himself between your legs as his tongue slid between your lips in slow, full licks that had your toes curling. Your impatient hum had George smiling against you for a moment until he dragged his tongue up to your clit and swirled around it tauntingly. 

“Fuck.” you whined, trying to nudge your hips up against his face. 

“Isn’t this my celebration?” George retorted cockily at your greedy move, his warm breath fanning across your wet cunt and the feeling made you shiver, “So we do things my way, yeah?”

You exhaled your muttered agreement, “Yeah.”

“Good girl.” he winked before moving back down to slip his tongue inside you. 

You groaned tightly as his nose bumped against your clit perfectly, just stimulating you enough to want more, and your fingers tightened in his hair to tug at it harder. The slight aggression from you had him moaning against your pussy and he pulled away just enough to spit loudly onto your glistening lips and make it messier. 

“It’s like he knows just what you like.” Daniel chuckled softly, his head right beside yours. He lifted his hand up to wrap around your throat to give you a bit of pressure as you both stared down at the pretty brunette between your legs. 

George’s eyes were all on you as if dead set on gauging your every slight reaction to his every slight movement, but his blinks were slower as he struggled to not shut his eyes and lose himself in you, instead letting his long lashes kiss his cheeks before opening up again. His tongue nudged inside you in purposeful motions and alternated with long licks right up to your clit and back down. He was taking in every inch of you with his mouth all without taking his eyes off of yours and it made you squirm. 

From your spot on Daniel’s lap and leaning against his chest, you could feel his dick against the small of your back and even though he was still wearing his boxers, you could feel how hard he was already. You were sandwiched between the two handsomest men in the world, you were sure, and you mouthed a silent ‘oh my God’ to the room at the realization of your reality. 

Daniel, with his hand still around your throat, guided your head back onto his shoulder so he could kiss your lips. Having the privilege of both kisses and oral at the same time was unheard of for you and it nearly sent shockwaves throughout your body, urging you to share your appreciation through pleasant moans into your boyfriend’s mouth. His tongue fought its way into your mouth between sloppy kisses and your free hand reached back to tug at the brunette curls at the nape of his neck to keep him where you wanted him. Your head was fucking spinning - although that may have been thanks to the sway of the yacht that only intensified the dizziness of your pleasure. 

Your breath was falling shallower by the second and forcing you to break away from Daniel’s lips, urging his face into your neck instead as he kissed over your flushed skin. George dragged his tongue right up to your clit and lapped at it gently, even the slightest touch having your legs try to close at the growing sensations. Daniel’s hands grabbed your thighs again and pulled them farther back, his fingertips pressing indentations into your flesh as he held you open for George’s tongue. 

“That’s it, baby.” Daniel praised against your cheek, “You’re doing so good for us.”

George pulled away from you just long enough to slip his middle finger in his mouth to wet it before teasing it across your pussy and finally sinking it inside you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you stared down between your spread legs to watch his slender finger disappear inside you just as his tongue met your clit again. You jolted at his touch, earning a warm chuckle out of him right up against your body and your head fell back against Daniel’s shoulder. 

“Sit nice and still for him.” Daniel warned you gently.

“It’s hard.” you whimpered. 

“Yeah?” Daniel cooed, “Feels really good, huh?”

As if appreciating your praise, George slowly added a second finger inside you and as he did so, your mouth dropped open with a soft gasp and you heaved your head up from Daniel’s shoulder to look down at him. He couldn’t stop staring at you as his tongue lapped at your clit and his fingers thrusted firmly inside you, reaching only about halfway just to try and find that perfect little spot. You dropped your hand from the back of Daniel’s neck to join your other in George’s hair, unable to hold back the tumbling of moans that spilled past your lips as you tugged at those heavenly soft brunette waves. 

He was a fucking prince and he certainly treated you like a queen, catering to your every need without even having to ask. You swore he was unreal, that he was some magnificent man written by the hand of a woman; that had to have been the only explanation to how he could make you see stars so effortlessly. 

The lewd wet sound of his tongue on you and his fingers nudging inside your dripping cunt paired beautifully with his low moan stemmed from your hands tugging at his hair, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in equal parts concentration and his own pleasure. The vibration from his mouth had you gasping and Daniel’s hands gripped your thighs harder to keep you spread wide as your muscles worked against him to try and close yourself up in overwhelm. It was hard to smother your whimpers through your bitten lip and part of you didn’t want to; ignorant to the memory of the party going on above you or the fact that anyone could be walking by the room to locate the bathroom at any given moment. Your priorities were far away from what was deemed socially acceptable as guests on this yacht and amongst this group of wealthy and illustrious individuals. 

Writhing on Daniel’s lap and against George’s mouth, you arched against your boyfriend’s shoulder and pleaded to the air softly, “Can I cum?” 

“That’s up to our podium winner here. He decides when you cum tonight.” Daniel told you. 

George didn’t correct him on the technicality that he wasn’t actually the winner because in that moment it sure fucking felt like he might have been. 

Keeping his fingers moving at that consistently strong pace, he answered you softly right up against your pussy, his hot breath fanning against your slick skin and his words muffled slightly by your body, “Yeah, you can cum for me, darling.”

Your fingers tugged at his hair to keep his face between your spread legs, your chin held down to your chest as you desperately chased that taunting orgasm that was building inside you quickly. If you had any care at that moment, you were sure you would have looked ridiculous in such a position with your face screwed up in pure pleasure, but all that mattered to you in that moment was doing anything that would get you over those blissful waves. George was certainly making it easy as he didn’t dare move from his spot, keeping his two fingers right where you wanted them and his tongue flicked mercilessly at your swollen clit until he could feel you start to clench around his fingers. 

“Mhm.” he mumbled against you encouragingly, staring up at your flushed face and gaping mouth. 

“That’s my girl.” Daniel praised from beside you, “Show him what a good fucking girl you are and cum all over his fucking face.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-” you squealed, letting yourself stumble out nonsense as that burning tight pleasure grew hotter and hotter. 

And the feeling burst inside you like a pop of champagne and your head tossed back against Daniel’s shoulder with a strangled cry, eyes screwed shut, fingers locked in a white-knuckled grip in George’s soft hair as you creamed around his slender fingers. He licked up everything you offered him right through your orgasm, moaning greedily against you as his tongue joined his fingers and he worked you through it, all while your boyfriend praised you strongly against your ear in filthy words you could hardly even make sense of in such a state. Your legs trembled from where Daniel held them out, nearly vibrating, and you whimpered loudly to the ceiling with ears ringing faintly from the sudden intensity of it. 

“Holy shit.” you gasped out of it. You took a hand from George’s hair to push through your own to get the messy strands out of your face and wipe your eyes that were brimming with unshed tears.

“Good girl, baby.” Daniel kissed your neck, gently setting your legs down to he could wrap his arms around your middle as he trailed kisses over your skin, “That was so fucking hot.”

From between your legs, George pulled his fingers out of you and slipped them into his mouth to suck clean for a moment before turning his head to press a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, followed by another alongside a soft groan as he spoke up to you, “You taste incredible.”

“Doesn’t she?” Daniel boasted with a proud smirk. 

George leaned in for one more gentle lick at your swollen pussy and one more wet kiss - your body flinching with a soft whine in oversensitivity at his fleeting touches - before he was standing up in front of you, taking a second to wipe his glistening mouth before holding out his hand towards you, “Come on. I’m not quite done with you yet.”

You wouldn’t dream of declining him and you set your hand in his and let him help you off Daniel’s lap before leading you over to the bed. You took the initiative to turn yourself around and sit on the edge of the mattress before scooting back a little, reaching to grab George by the back of his neck to pull him after you. He followed your insistent lead to lock your lips in a well deserved kiss as he blindly followed you onto the bed until you were both situated near the middle. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, the undertones of possession setting your mind ablaze as you moaned into his mouth and your body tried to arch against him. But from where he was positioned half beside you and half in front of you, touching wasn’t all that simple. 

Instead, George pulled away from your lips to move his kisses down your neck and over your collarbones while one hand slid behind your back to unclip your bra and toss it to the floor. You were pleasantly surprised at his secret skill of undoing it blind and one-handed and you glanced past him to Daniel still sitting where you had left him in the corner of the window seat, sharing silent impressed glances. George’s mouth on your breasts had your mouth falling open and your attention pulling back to him instead of your boyfriend, giving him a pleasant groan as he licked and sucked over one of your nipples while the other was tended to by his fingers. 

“Oh my God, you’re perfect.” you exhaled shakily, sliding your fingers into the back of his messy brunette waves.

He laughed ever so faintly in response as he switched over to your other breast, covering you in wet kisses before taking your nipple in his mouth again. Your head fell backwards with a moan to the ceiling, having already come once but still wanting more from him. 

George didn’t make you wait much longer as he pulled away from your breast with a soft pop and then smoothly leaned in towards your lips. Your tongues met first as your heads tilted naturally to lead you into filthy kisses, probably swapping too much spit in the process but by that point in the night you were well past acquainted. You barely had moved your hands to cradle his face in your palms when he was pulling away again and sitting back from you on his knees. 

“Turn around for me, love.”

It was almost embarrassing how easy you flipped yourself around onto your hands and knees at his simple request. You often found it fun to push Daniel’s buttons and purposefully ignore his demands but, with George, his voice held this power over you that had you succumbing to his every wish effortlessly. Without being asked, you bent forward at the waist to rest your forearms on the bed and leave your ass up for him, giving him a little taunting wiggle. 

His warm hand caressed the curve of your ass and he asked warmly, “Can I spank you?” 

“Yeah.” you answered, “Only if you hit me hard though.”

As if in reply to your rule, George’s hand came down hard against your flesh, the sharp sound nearly echoing through the modest bedroom, and he followed it up with a taunting, “Naughty girl.”

You turned your head to the left to be able to see your boyfriend a few paces away, still lounged back in the corner of the window seat with his underwear pushed down just enough to get his cock out and his hand was already gently stroking himself. He licked his lips at the sight of you catching his eye and, as if more than willing to put on a show for him, you threw a request back to George, “Spank me again.”

“Yeah?” he smacked his hand down against one cheek and then the other, his strength apparent by the impact and the tingling sensation his palm left behind across your flesh. “You really are a slut, hm?”

“And I’m your slut tonight, sir.” you answered playfully, wiggling your ass back against him to earn you another spank. 

Hearing you using his title to address another man had Daniel’s eyebrows furrowing slightly as he watched the scene in front of him unfold but he didn’t intervene. You could tell it got to him slightly by the way he shifted on the window seat and you licked away your sly grin, glancing over your shoulder at George behind you. He reached over to grab your cheeks in his hand and he leaned over you to kiss your lips, pressing right up close to you and you could feel his hard cock right up against your sensitive pussy. 

“Holy shit.” you groaned into his kisses, breathless as he broke away from you. 

“Do you have a condom with you?” George asked the both of you. 

In all honesty, out of all your meticulous preparation, it had slipped your mind, and you looked over at Daniel with wide eyes in realization. He looked just as startled for a moment before turning it back to you, 

“Your choice, sweetheart.”

You could only grin before directing to George, “We don’t…but you can just pull out. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh, blimey-” George was clearly taken aback by your statement for a moment, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure.” you assured him easily. 

He looked over at Daniel as if needed reassurance from him that it was okay that he fucked his girlfriend raw, but Daniel just tilted his head up slightly with a casual, “Go on; fuck her brains out.”

Your soft giggle had George looking at you again, bent over at the waist in front of him and so ready and willing. You were sure you never craved something more in your life; you had already come once but you wanted to feel all of him and really make the most out of your once-in-a-lifetime weekend plan. The feeling of his firm hands caressing over your ass again before giving you another passing spank had you whining impatiently. He then carefully dragged the head of his cock between your legs, slipping across your slick cunt and teasing you cruelly, just to watch how your body shuttered in anticipation for him. 

“I want to hear you say it.” he ordered softly, his low voice thick with lust.

“Fuck me.” you pleaded sweetly in a gentle whisper, all too focused on his every taunting move behind you and every slight dip of the mattress. 

“Louder.” George insisted, tapping his dick against your cunt just to hear the filthy wet slaps from how fucking wet you were. You could feel it dripping down your legs and you just wanted him to scoop it up and fuck it back into you, dammit.

With a huff, you tried again, “Please fuck me.”

“I still couldn’t quite hear that.” he tutted, his voice smooth and gentle in that angelic accent of his but the undertones of sterness were apparent, as if he had a demand to be heard and obeyed, “Come, now. Use your words.”

“My God, you’re cocky.” you mumbled weakly towards the sheets despite the lingering smile across your lips at that fact before giving into his demand with a firmly spoken, “Please can you fuck me?”

“Of course.” he cooed, running his palm up your spine and then back down as his other hand angled the tip of his cock right against your pussy, “You simply had to ask.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to offer any sort of witty rebuttal as he took that moment to sink inside you slowly. Your expression fluttered along that perfect balance of pain and pleasure and your fingers grasped onto the tightly pulled duvet to clutch some of the fabric desperately. The whimper that fell from your lips had George hushing you warmly as his hands took to your hips and he gave you a little squeeze as he pushed deeper inside you so cautiously. 

“Good girl. This what you wanted?” he purred. 

“Yeah.” you exhaled, “Thank you, sir.”

Across the room, Daniel watched with a firm stare as this stranger filled you up and received the privilege of that filthy title that was usually meant only for him. Daniel never pinned himself to be an insecure man and it was this fact that led him to understand his comfort for allowing a weekend plan like this to happen. Even in a moment like this, watching you be taken by another man right in front of him, he was unfazed. Your words were spoken out of habitual pleasure and your needs were nothing more than physical desire. Your heart still belonged entirely to him. It was his bed you were falling into at the end of every night. He was the one who could fuck you whenever he pleased - no strategic plan necessary. Yeah, George was the winner that night but Daniel knew he was the winner every night solely for the fact that he was the one who had you. 

That fact was only solidified the moment your eyes locked on his from across the room, always finding him at any given moment, wanting to stare at him even as you were about to be fucked by another man. It was a whole new angle for Daniel and one he couldn’t seem to get enough of. He shifted on the window seat to push his boxers all the way off before lounging back against the cushions and he spit in his palm to help stroke his dick a little easier. 

George, with his hands grabbing your hips, had filled you completely, stalling a moment with his cock buried entirely inside you and able to feel every last inch of your body hugging him so tightly. The angelic moan you let out as he bottomed out had his expression furrowing for a second as he forced himself to hold back for a moment, hands squeezing your hips to keep your ass right up against his body so there was absolutely no space between you. The gentle rocking of the yacht seemed to help get in started, pulling out of you only about halfway before easing into you again, finding a slow pace to get you used to him. You definitely appreciated that since he was entirely different from Daniel and your inexperience that came from your lack of quantity of lovers had you still slightly hesitant. 

But it wasn’t long at all before you were easing into the feeling with your body starting to accommodate him a little better, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip without tearing your eyes away from your boyfriend who was lazily stroking his cock and watching you both so intently. You started to push your ass back into George’s motions to meet him halfway, giving enough strength to start to have your sweaty skin clap together with each movement, and he groaned lowly with a two handed squeeze of your ass, punctuating it with a sharp spank to one of your cheeks. 

“Yes.” you breathed dreamily, “Gimme more.”

“Naughty girl.” George taunted, giving you another spank as he started to thrust into you faster. 

You squealed lightly at the growing intensity and tightened your grip on the sheets beneath you, letting yourself moan for him freely with your lip still captured by your teeth. It still wasn’t enough and you kept pushing back on him at that same pace to try and get him going. 

“More.” you insisted, looking back at him over your shoulder, “Fuck me hard.” 

Speaking up from across the room, your boyfriend guided him, “Pull her hair, bro. Do what you want to her.”

“Yeah,” you giggled in agreement, “this is your night.”

“Jesus Christ.” George exhaled in near shock before helping himself to a fistful of your hair. He gathered all of it in his grasp and then gave it a sharp tug, forcing a pleasant smiling moan from your chest. 

“Fuck, yeah.” you beamed. 

“Yeah?” he right away picked up the pace again, thrusting into you harder now just as you so obviously begged for, with his hand holding tightly to your hair. 

The muted music from the party on the deck above was obsolete as your attention was all focused on the lewd slap of his skin against yours with every quick snap of his hips against your ass. His free hand came down hard on your flesh again and you cried out for him pleasantly. You rose up onto your hands flat against the mattress just to feel him pull at your hair until your head was forced to tilt up towards the ceiling. 

“Oh my God, yes.” you moaned shakily as your knees spread a little wider just to make sure he was getting as deep as he could go. You were already getting dizzy from it, tears burning your eyes from how good it felt to be a little roughed up by this handsome stranger you had been ogling all weekend, and the way your knuckles were turning white as you gripped the duvet underneath you was proof enough of that fact. The whimpers and moans that tumbled from your lips were almost involuntary as it were nothing but your body’s natural honest reaction to the way he could make you feel but you still encouraged him with a pitchy, “Please don’t stop!”

“Naughty girl.” George spoke down to you firmly without breaking his pace, spanking you hard again so the sound nearly echoed across the modest bedroom, “Naughty fucking girl.”

His large hand groped your ass and tugged at your flesh as if to open you up some more, his eyes focused right down to where you were connected to watch how his cock disappeared entirely inside you over and over again. Licking and biting his lips under prettily furrowed brows, he couldn’t help the soft groans of his own pleasure, especially watching how you absolutely coated him in your creamy wetness with every thrust. He made sure to keep that snug grip on your hair all the same, almost using it to pull you back into his rough motions because that seemed to get the best reaction out of you. 

“God, look at you taking it so well.” Daniel spoke from across the room.

You could only offer a pleading “uh huh” in reply, your sounds almost constricted by the way your head was forced back. 

Daniel tisked, “My pretty little whore gets so fucking cock drunk…you can’t even form words anymore.”

With your hair pulled so snugly, you couldn’t turn to look at Daniel sitting across the room as much as you might have wanted to. It wasn’t nothing you hadn’t seen before, however, all too familiar with the image of him sitting in the nude with his cock in his hand, stroking himself off with his eyes fixated on you. You never minded him staring at you and you never minded putting on a little show for him to get that attention from him; this was no different. It was a new experience for the both of you but as initial nervousness had easily melted away, all the way left was pure erotic pleasure in the both of you and connecting you from across the room. 

George’s hand in your hand pulled a little harder and you followed his wordless demand to get you up on your knees in front of him so your back was almost to his front and his hand let go of your hair to wrap around your throat as his lips met your neck. Your eyes rolled through your pleasant moan, reaching a hand behind you dumbly to try and grasp his waist as he kept his rough thrusts into you, stuffing you entirely full until the heat of it all was rushing right through your body and raising a tasteful sweat to your skin. His other hand drifted from your waist around your front to easily find your clit and his middle finger tugged greedy circles over the sensitive bud, earning a choked whimper from your throat. 

“Yeah, that’s good, isn’t it?” he taunted against your ear, holding your body tightly against his as he had his way with you, telling you honestly in that warm rich voice of his, “You’re a fucking treat.”

You couldn’t even manage to string a reply together, only proving yourself to be embarrassingly agreeable with Daniel’s prior jab towards you, and all you could do was nod dumbly to the wall ahead of you with that view of sparkling Monaco in the distance. It was unreal. Between the way he fucked you and his hand on your already sensitive clit, he was drawing you closer and closer to another orgasm and although you couldn’t find the words to express it, it was glaringly obvious by the way your whimpers grew pitchier and your pussy squeezed tighter around him.

The way you were suddenly released from his arms and naturally dropped forward onto your hands on the mattress again startled you slightly but you barely had a second to process the change and the dwindling coil of pleasure inside you before George was pulling out of you completely as he grabbed your arm and flipped you over onto your back. It was his obvious assertion that had you gaping up at him as you were suddenly face to face again, your hands flying above your head to fist the duvet as he grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs open in a wide v-shape so he could lean down and spit loudly onto your pussy before straightening back up above you like a God. 

“I decide when you cum, yeah?” he reminded you as his eyes locked on yours along with the demanding slip of his cock back inside you all the way. His eyebrows raised in time with your tight gasp at the return of that sudden stretch and his hand wrapped around your throat just as he began to fuck you again. 

You nodded quickly with a whimper, “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah.” he exhaled strongly, guiding your left leg up to his shoulder before returning his hand to the back of your right knee to keep your legs spread wide, “You look like a fucking goddess. Don’t stop looking at me.”

As if you were in some sort of trance, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to look away from him even if you tried. His hand around your neck and pinning you down to the mattress certainly helped; you wouldn’t have had it any other way. It almost felt like a wet dream that was too good to be true from just the sight of this handsome stranger above you, having a front row seat to the sight of his messy light brown waves flopping over his forehead in time with his rough thrusts into your pliant body and the expression of firm lust across his features that found home in his big stormy blue eyes. 

The room was filled with the lewd sound of your shared breaths and soft moans, paired so filthily with the steady clap of your sweaty skin colliding in some consistent rhythm. His hand was so big around your throat that he could move his index finger up to slip into your mouth and, almost as if by natural instinct, you gladly sucked on it without breaking his eye contact. You wanted to lift your head up to watch how he fucked you but he gripped harder to your throat, pinning you down, even as you spit rolled down the side of his finger and over the back of his hand. 

“Keep looking at me, love.” he ordered firmly. “Wanna see you turn into a fucking mess for me.”

But Daniel had alternate plans as his shadow appeared above you as he stood at the opposite side of the bed where your head was and he grabbed your biceps to yank you closer to the edge. George accommodated his move with grace as he just shuffled after you and slipped back inside you, filling you right up again with a handsome groan, still holding your leg out to the side so you could take all of him. 

With your head hanging off the side of the bed just slightly, Daniel tapped the head of his cock against your swollen lips and you didn’t need to be instructed before you were opening your mouth for him. He praised you lowly as he carefully slid in against your tongue, moving slowly but surely until his balls nudged against your nose and you gagged lightly around him. 

“Christ.” George groaned at the sight of your throat bulging slightly from the shape of Daniel dick helping itself to your body, and he slowly started up his thrusts again without tearing his eyes away from you. 

Now you couldn’t see either of them at that angle, simply trusting them enough to use you how they needed from both ends. Daniel’s cock thrusting gently into your throat was forcing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as you choked on him but George fucking you at just the right angle had you nearly sobbing with pleasure. So much so that you had to reach up to press a hand to Daniel’s abs to get him to let up and pull out of your mouth so you could cough up a pitchy moan and heave your head up to watch George’s cock pistoning addictingly inside you.

“Feels so good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” Daniel cooed, stroking his dick right beside your face as he, too, was watching the scene unfold intently. 

“Uh huh.” you whimpered, eyes raising to George’s face, only to find him already staring at you. 

Your expression directed up at him had his jaw visibly clenching and his grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you in place as he kept his rough pace going. Daniel’s dick poked against your cheek from how close he was standing, smearing a bit of precum across your flushed skin, and you naturally turned your head towards him to guide him into your mouth with a greedy hand. He set his hand under your head to help keep you supported as you sucked on him and you moaned around him from the way George was fucking you so deliciously. 

“I want you to cum for me now.” George ordered down to you, yanking you towards him a little more to make sure your head was back on the bed, all without faltering his strokes into your sopping body. “Think you can do that for me, gorgeous?”

You pulled away from Daniel with a string of spit still connecting you, answering him with a weak, “Please.”

He took his hand from your leg that was resting up on his shoulder just enough to lick the pad of his thumb so he could drop it down to rub at your clit, letting his palm and fingers apply a bit of pressure to your lower abdomen at the same time. You literally flinched under his touch, back arching off the bed slightly as your legs threatened to curl inwards. George was firm in his grasp as he kept your one leg held outward no matter how much you struggled against him, his eyes nearly unblinking as he stared at your face like he didn’t want to miss a second of your reaction to him. 

“Harder,” you squeaked, desperate for more of that hint of growing tight pleasure inside you as your fingers slammed down against the mattress on either side of you to grab tightly to the sheets, “please, harder.”

“Naughty girl.” he spoke down to you but complied, quite literally pounding you into the bed that you swore the rock of the yacht might have been influenced by it. His thumb on your clit was just as quick, his spit mixing in with the slick of your pussy to have him gliding effortlessly over your most sensitive spot that was nearly throbbing with need. 

“Yes,” you whimpered, forcing yourself to stare down your body to watch him touch you, fuck you, have you just the way you liked it in a way you never expected for your reckless weekend plan, “yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-”

Daniel still stood right beside you, pumping his cock faster as he kept his gaze flicking between your face and how this handsome stranger fucked you in a way only he had before. You were quite literally dizzy from pleasure, almost frightened by how quickly your body was ramping you up to your second orgasm of the night, but the presence of Daniel right there beside you was comforting. 

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you cried out, face scrunching up as it just kept building, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“That’s it,” Daniel praised lowly down to you, the slick sound of his hand on his cock only enhancing your senses, “Give into it. Cum for him, darling. Give him what he wants.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” you sobbed, teetering right on the edge, drowning in overwhelm. 

“Yes, you can.” George insisted firmly without stopping, his words strained behind his slight breathlessness, “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes to open and focus on him, already squeezing around him at the sight of his pretty face, especially seeing him so sweaty and ruined by you. He licked his lips dreamily before speaking again, in that beautiful rich accent of his that seemed to have captivated a piece of your soul, 

“You’re gonna cum for me. You said this is for me and I want you to cum right now. Okay? It’s my fucking day and you’re my fucking toy and you’re gonna do what I say and cum all over my cock. Isn’t that right, naughty girl?”

The first slight pulse of your cunt around him had a small smirk pricking the corner of his mouth and you didn’t dare to tear your eyes away from his as he kept you going with more pretty words, 

“That’s it. Cum for me, baby. Come on, come on, come on, gimme it,”

It hit you hard, forcing your head to drop back against the bed with a choked sob to the ceiling as your vision almost went black, fingers pulling hard at the sheets and nearly untucking them from the sides of the mattress in the process, legs trembling from where he held them splayed, and the intense grip of your innermost muscles around him had him groaning deeply as he fucked you through it. 

“Good girl.” George praised loudly, “Fuck me, that’s it-”

He lasted as long as he could inside you until he was pulling out and taking his hand from your clit to stroke himself off instead, only needing a few pumps before he was coming right up your stomach in thick white spurts. His moans were as angelic as his voice as he claimed you up in pretty ribbons up to your navel and it dripped down his hand as his orgasm tapered off. 

“Holy fuck.” Daniel groaned from beside you, interrupting your silent gaping towards George with his hand in your hair and he pulled your head in. You barely got your mouth around him before he was coming too, blessing your ears with those pretty moans you knew all too well as he came across your tongue and down your throat. Having been unprepared, you choked around him slightly but took it all, knowing it was better than making a mess on the bed or your makeup.  

When he was done and you pulled away from him with a spitty gasp before swallowing, he then leaned right down to kiss you, hand cradling your jaw to lead you through a few sloppy kisses. The moment you separated, George’s fingers were on your lips and you let him slip them into your mouth, gladly cleaning them off for him with the salty taste of cum grazing your tongue thanks to the both of them. 

“You okay?” Daniel asked you softly with a pet to your hair. 

George took his fingers from your mouth and you nodded, assuring them both with a breathless, “Yeah. Fuck, I’m so good.”

The two young men chuckled softly in agreement and George gently put your quivering legs down on the mattress before shifting off the bed. 

“I’ll get you a towel.” he announced before disappearing through the door beside the bed that led to the small ensuite bathroom. 

In his absence, you forced yourself into a sitting position and Daniel sat on the side of the bed beside you, both of you facing opposite directions but able to look at each other easily that way. He pet your hair out of your face and leaned in to kiss your lips softly once, twice, and then you rested your head on his shoulder with a blissful smile. 

“How was that?” he asked quietly into your hair. 

“Loved it.” you whispered. “Love you.”

Daniel smiled and reached a hand up to pet your hair again, “Me too. I love you too. You were so fucking good.”

George returned with a damp face cloth and he knelt on the bed again so he could reach you comfortably and he wiped up his mess from your stomach like a true gentleman. You stared at him intently as he cleaned you up and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your fingers through his hair, asking him bluntly, “How does your hair still look incredible?”

His soft chuckle was warm and low and his smile was infectious to you as he sat back from you, “I doubt it’s still incredible after your hands were tugging on it for a while there.”

Your fingers trailed out of his hair and down the side of his face, tracing his sharp jawline until you ghosted across his lips, licking your own habitually, and he hesitated only a moment before leaning in to kiss you. Giddy thanks to this handsome stranger, you smiled bashfully into it, and only a few seconds later he was pulling away and sharing in your soft smile before he moved to toss the cloth into the bathroom sink. 

Daniel kissed your shoulder before asking the both of you as he stood up from the mattress, “You think we should get dressed and get back up there before people wonder where we are?”

“Probably.” George answered, walking around to the end of the bed so he could grab his underwear to put on. 

You stayed on the bed for a little longer to catch your breath and took that moment to watch the two of them get dressed before Daniel brought over your clothes for you. You thanked him with a kiss and he helped you get up. You seriously needed to lean on his arm as the combination of your trembling legs and the sway of the yacht had you stumbling and, the three of you still slightly tipsy, shared light laughter. George came over to offer his hand for you to hold for stability while Daniel crouched down to help dress you himself. 

Once you were all dressed and you had each made sure you still looked somewhat presentable in the bathroom mirror - you needing to wipe the smudged makeup from around your eyes first - you made your escape back to the party. George led the way again, peeking out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before slipping out of the bedroom with you and Daniel close behind. Daniel shut the bedroom door after you and he took your hand as you followed George right up the steep staircase. 

Of course, your legs were still quite wobbly and as the boat rocked beneath you, you ended up half stumbling and nearly falling on George in front of you in the process. He stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to you as the three of you bursting into quiet giggles and they both helped you up again as if you were scaling a mountain together. 

Since everyone at the party was quite intoxicated by then, your sudden ascension of the stairs right into the main space of the yacht went genuinely unnoticed and you melted right into the group with ease. You located Tabitha and Corbyn with ease near the rear of the yacht overlooking the dark ocean water surrounding you, talking with Charles and Pierre as well as Alex and his girlfriend. Tabitha noticed you first, giving you a lingering glance as you and Daniel approached hand in hand, George trailing behind casually. 

“There you are.” Corbyn greeted you with a smile, his hand resting on the railing of the yacht behind Tabitha, “Where were you guys?” 

“Just around.” Daniel answered casually as the circle shifted to welcome you three in. 

You found your spot together between Pierre and Corbyn while George took to the other side of the little group between Alex and Charles. Daniel then took his hand out of yours to slide into the back pocket of your jeans instead and you stepped closer to his side and tucked your arm around his back in response, definitely overthinking how you were supposed to act in order to appear normal. 

Alex sipped his drink and eyed George silently for a brief moment but you were sure that you were in the clear. Everyone seemed perfectly clueless, and your slight PDA with Daniel didn’t seem anything more than your usual drunken infatuation, the flush of your cheeks easily excusable as a result of the alcohol. Alex and Tabitha were looking at you like they expected more details of what you were up to in your absence but thankfully Charles went back to whatever story he was sharing and the attention shifted. 

It was hard for you to focus on what he was saying when you were still buzzing with those glorious pleasure hormones and you were finding it difficult to keep your smile at bay. George kept glancing at you from across the circle, always having to keep looking away because one look at your obvious grin was making him start to smirk too. You couldn’t afford to have your cover blown. It was set to be the dirty little secret between the three of you. 

In the early, early hours of the morning - some time around 3am - the yacht returned to the harbour and the mess of drunken professional drivers all stumbled out onto the pier to head home. Taxis and Ubers were called and there was a chaotic mess of intoxicated hugs and noisy goodbyes shared as people started to part ways. Corbyn and Tabitha stayed close to you and Daniel since you four were heading back to Corbyn’s together although part of you wished you had a bit of distance so you could have a proper, private goodbye with a certain handsome stranger. 

Regardless, he still went in for the hug and you held onto each other probably a beat longer than real strangers would have. He gave your back a little rub and spoke to you as quietly as his drunk self could manage, “Thanks for such a memorable night.”

You giggled into his neck to try and hide your blushing smile, hands grasping onto the back of his soft expensive cardigan for a moment, replying sweetly, “You too. Get home safely.”

He pulled away from you and kissed your right cheek and then your other, half startling you, but no one seemed to bat an eye and in a second he was moving to Daniel to share a fist bump and knowing smiles with their casual ‘good night’s. And then, you watched him get into his taxi and shut the door without a look back and then he disappeared towards the winding late night streets of Monaco. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about George for the rest of the night and well into the next day. You dreamt about him once your head hit the pillow that night - reliving your experience on the yacht in cloud-like detail - and you opened your hungover eyes in Corbyn’s guest room at nearly noon, tucked up in Daniel’s arms, with the memory of it all fresh on your mind. As you dragged yourselves out of bed to get ready for the day and even throughout brunch with your gracious hosts, your thoughts kept straying to wonder what George was up to and if you were going to be able to run into him again before you had to leave Monaco after only a few more days. 

As Corbyn and Daniel took the responsibility of cleaning the kitchen, leaving you and Tabitha to hangout in the living room for a bit, you finally had enough of a distraction to stray you from the thought of George as you admired Corbyn’s shelves of trophies from throughout his career that lined the living room wall. Tabitha offered a few tidbits of information to you about some of them and you listened politely, trying to follow some of the lingo she was saying without making yourself look too much like an idiot. There was only so much to discuss at the trophy display so you eventually sat on the couch together and she asked you a few questions about how you enjoyed the party the night before and you made some lighthearted jokes about your underlying hangover you were nursing. She seemed insistent to know more about you and your night but to keep from having to spill your secret, you found a distraction in the album on the coffee table beside you. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have just gone snooping through Corbyn’s things - especially with a title as personal as ‘Our Story’ that was written in curling calligraphy on the cover - but it was out in the open so you were sure it was fine. Tabitha didn’t stop you. Of course, what you had anticipated to be a good distraction, ended up being the opposite as the first page of the homemade photo album housed an image of a younger Corbyn, Lando, Alex, and George with their arms thrown around each other in a line up, each donning a different race suit. Underneath read The Rookies - FP1, Australia, March 2019 in neat printing. You stared at the picture and the younger, rounder face of George smiling back at you, trying not to think about the horribly sinful things that same young man did to you not even 24-hours prior. 

Tabitha had asked you something, or maybe she had just said something about the album in passing, but you didn’t hear her at first until you finally looked back over at her to find her staring expectantly at you. 

“Huh? Sorry.” you cleared your throat and closed the album before sitting back on the couch like you were touching something you weren’t supposed to. 

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly at your startled reaction but she played it off with a gesture to the coffee table and a, “You can keep looking through it. It’s not a secret. Just a summary of Corbyn’s F1 career and a bit of him and me getting to where we are today. I gave it to him for his birthday two years ago.”

“Aw,” you glanced back at the book, “that’s cute.”

“Here,” she picked it up from the table and rested back against the couch with it, “let me show you the best parts.”

You leaned comfortably into the couch beside her and let her walk you through a few of the best photographs, all taken by her. It wasn’t long before Daniel and Corbyn joined you from the kitchen and Corbyn was holding his phone up as he called out to his girlfriend to drag her attention away from the album. 

“Charles texted,” he said, “He’s having a little get-together at his place tonight. Did you want to go?”

“Another party?” she peaked a brow at him. 

“Just a lowkey thing.” Corbyn assured her with a chuckle. “Looks like just Pierre is going over so far. Then us. Maybe Lando if we wanted to bring him along too?”

Tabitha looked at you, “Did you want to go?”

“Yeah, sure, it sounds nice.” you smiled in agreement.

“Okay. I’ll text Lando to invite him too.” she grabbed her phone from the table. 

Part of you was hoping she would catch onto your telepathic girl-message to request her to extend the invite to George too but maybe you hadn’t known each other long enough for that to work. All you got in response to your silence was her acknowledgement that Lando was going to join the group at Charles’. You frowned but didn’t push anything. God forbid you made yourself look suspicious. 

Charles lived in a nice apartment building farther into the core of Monaco, right amidst the hustle and bustle of it all, and Corbyn pulled his car into the two-car garage using the passcode he knew well by then, parking beside Charles’ sleek black Ferrari. You eyed the red and white stripes that stretched up the hood of the car as you followed Corbyn towards the entrance of the building. The lifestyle of these young men was nothing you had ever had the privilege of witnessing before. 

Although spacious, Charles’ apartment was quite modest compared to what you were expecting but hints of luxury were present in the real hardwood herringbone floors and the high scale appliances and furniture. Right away, Daniel was admiring the white upright grand piano by the window the moment you walked in and he slid over to it with his hands held behind his back to force himself not to touch it without permission. 

“This is beautiful.” Daniel complimented to your host as Corbyn and Tabitha headed into the adjacent living room to greet Pierre who was relaxing on the sofa. “I didn’t know you were into music. Do you play?”

“Thank you.” Charles smiled as he joined you and Daniel at the piano, “We used to have a piano when I was younger and my younger brother was spending hours and hours on it so I didn’t have really much time to play piano. But I always loved listening to him. Then a few years ago, when I had a bit of free time, I get a bit of time on the piano and actually learn and I love it. It’s a time where I can actually relax and disconnect from racing and everything that is around.”

“That’s amazing.” Daniel said honestly, “Piano is definitely my favourite. It really is an escape for me too. Corbyn and I actually met in music class in school.”

“Yes, he told me.” Charles said, “He plays too, a little.”

“Yeah.” Daniel glanced into the living room and then back to Charles, lowering his voice to add a cheeky, “Just not as good as me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Charles laughed. 

Daniel then glanced at you with a nod to the piano in front of the three of you, requesting, “Add this to my Christmas list.”

You laughed humorlessly, teasing him truthfully, “For who? Me? I can hardly afford to breathe next to it.”

“Well then steal this one.” Charles joked, but hurriedly followed it with a lighthearted, “Just kidding. Just kidding.”

“I think even if we tried, the oversized baggage fee to get it home would cost more than buying a new piano.” you countered.

The two men laughed in agreement, all without taking their eyes off the sleek white instrument. 

Charles gestured to it, offering to Daniel, “Would you like to play?”

Daniel’s eyes widened, “Can I? I’d love to.”

“Yes, of course.” Charles nodded him on. 

Daniel nearly looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he sat himself down on the matching white wood piano bench and Charles lifted up the fallboard to reveal the pristine black and white keys. Daniel rubbed his hands together and then gently set his fingers on the keys, finding his spot, before pressing them down to begin to play. He began one of his original songs - one that he had written for you - and you smiled softly at him from your spot at his side, watching his focused face as his fingers danced over the keys. 

Suddenly, Corbyn was beside you and scolding his best friend with a teasing, “Hey, that’s my spot.” 

Daniel scooted over, “Duet with me, bro.”

“Oh, duet?” Charles crossed his arms over his chest in amusement, “Let’s see that.”

You left the three of them to their piano symphonies and you joined Tabitha and Pierre in the living room, placing yourself on the white couch with them as they chatted casually. You admired the view through the open blinds that revealed a breathtaking view of Monte Carlo and, in the distance, sparkles of crystal blue water, before skimming the room to familiarize yourself with the unfamiliar apartment. Like Corbyn, Charles had a display of his trophies along one wall along with a few race helmets and framed photographs from throughout his career and you smiled fondly at the few of little Charles from his racing days posing with people you didn’t recognize. 

The ring of the doorbell had Charles leaving Corbyn and Daniel to their lighthearted bickering at the piano to welcome in the last of your group. Lando appeared in the living room doorway with two shopping bags that he placed on the coffee table as he greeted everyone cheerfully. 

“What’s all in there?” Tabitha asked, leaning forward from her spot on the couch to try and see in. 

“Nothing for you since it’s all alcohol.” he announced proudly, well accustomed to her sobriety, and he lifted two new bottles of vodka out of the bags to show off, “I woke up with a fucking killer hangover this morning but, you know what I say: the best cure for a hangover is to just drink more!”

“Oh my God.” Pierre laughed from Tabitha’s other side, shaking his head in amusement at the ridiculous declaration. 

“Dude,” Tabitha sighed, “you’re going to kill your liver.”

“Yeah, well…YOLO.” Lando said in a singsong voice before setting the bottles on the coffee table and starting to unload the rest of them from the bags. Six glass bottles of clear liquor stood in a line on the table and he tossed the empty bags underneath it recklessly, setting his hands on his hips proudly at his little display. 

You, Tabitha, and Pierre stared at him pointedly. 

Suddenly, he clapped his hands together and turned in the direction of the piano, calling out, “Hey, Charles, where are your shot glasses?”

“Shots again?” Charles appeared in the archway, “I’m still ill from last night.”

“Yeah!” Lando brushed past him with a skip in his step, announcing over his shoulder, “Come on, you better show me the way or else I’ll start helping myself to your cupboards!”

“Oh my gosh.” you laughed into your hand over the messy notes from the piano from the next room, glancing over at the other two startled friends on the couch with you. 

“Who invited him?” Pierre chuckled to you and Tabitha from her other side.

Tabitha sighed, “I think I have to take responsibility for that.”

You smiled, “That’s okay. He’s the life of the party.”

“That is some way to put it.” Pierre scoffed with a smile of his own.

The three of you entertained yourselves in the living room with modest conversation and you got to know Pierre a bit better and he shared a few childhood stories of himself and Charles - some that were encapsulated in frames on the shelves beside the couch. There was something so enthralling about Pierre’s demeanor and you swore you could listen to him talk for ages; he was just so relaxing. That was only proven more by the stark contrast that was Lando who literally bounded back into the room moments later. 

“We ordered pizza too.” he announced as he set the Monaco-themed shot glasses on the coffee table with the unopened bottles but held one out to you first, “Wanna do a shot with me?”

You lolled your head to the side, pondering, “I dunno. I kinda overdid it last night.”

“C’mon.” Lando frowned, waving the empty glass in the air towards you, “I thought we’re new best friends.”

You took a second to stare at him and his pout as he tried to give you his best puppy eyes to get you to give in, but you didn’t need much convincing since the excitement of the night before was still fresh on your mind. So you leaned forward and snatched the red and white shot glass from him with a call to the next room, “Dani, I’m taking a shot!”

Your boyfriend shouted back from over his piano playing, “Okay, sweetheart!”

Lando unscrewed one of the bottles and you held out your glass so he could pour you a shot before taking one for himself and he offered the bottle out to Pierre who shook his hand to politely decline. Lando tisked in disbelief and then clinked his glass against yours, “To being the only two cool people here!”

“Here, here!” you laughed and tossed back the strong alcohol in one go. 

Once the pizza arrived, Charles and Daniel and Corbyn joined you all back in the living room to eat and the spread of pizza and alcohol was squished on the coffee table. Tabitha was set on not drinking and she graciously offered to be the designated driver so Corbyn could succumb to Lando’s peer pressure to drink with the rest of you. Charles’ fridge ended up being raided for various fruit juices to make mixed drinks to sip on as you ate which was a much safer alternative than shots. You and Daniel ended up sharing the living room rug as the rest of the group took up the couch, you placed contently in your boyfriend’s lap, each with a half-filled cup in hand, Lando sitting closest to you on the couch and he was leaning forward to talk to you intensely about whatever conversation had arisen. 

“No, no, no, listen.” he held his hand up in your face, “It doesn’t work like that. That’s not the point.”

You shoved his hand away in retaliation, “You listen.”

“Just listen,” he giggled.

“I’m not listening to you when you’re wrong.” you said louder. 

“Stop!” he shouted over you, despite your shared laughter, “I’m not wrong!”

“Oh my God,” Tabitha shook her head from her spot right in the middle of the lineup between Corbyn and Charles, “You both are crazy.”

“And intensely intoxicated.” Corbyn added. 

At the same time, you and Lando both pointed at him with a firm, “Wrong.” before bursting into laughter again. You flopped backwards against Daniel’s chest and his arms went around you habitually, smiling at your obvious drunken glee and he took another sip of his own drink, too tipsy himself to acknowledge how you were thrashing around your own cup and causing it to be dangerously close to spilling. 

“Well, this is better than any film we could have watched.” Pierre said quietly from the end of the couch to the rest of the more sensible few alongside him. 

“I’m just saying,” you continued loudly to Lando who was slouched back on the couch with his cheeks pink from alcohol and his tearful laughter, and you pointed your finger at him with the hand that held your cup, “One person can’t keep winning all the time! That’s so mean and selfish and…and…rude! They need to share! Like, if you have no wins and I have seven hundred, I’d be nice and let you pass me.”

“That’s not the point!” Lando whined, smacking his hands to his face. 

“Might as well give participation ribbons to everyone at that rate.” Charles piped up. 

You swooshed your pointed finger towards him instead, arguing all-knowingly, “Isn’t that what points technically are? Winners get fancy shiny trophies and the rest of you get little gold-star pity points?”

Pierre, Charles, and Corbyn just blinked at you for a second as if processing. 

“No. It’s not like that,” Tabitha waved her hands in the air as if to clear that concept, before directing to the three of them, “Stop thinking about it.”

“You’re just afraid to admit that I’m right.” you smirked as you brought your cup to your lips to sip from your drink.

“No, actually, I don’t think you can be any farther from the truth.”

Hardly acknowledging her, you smacked Lando’s leg to get his attention, “Oh, oh, another thing: why is it that when there are three people on the podium are they not all called winners?”

“What?” he squeaked with laughter, “Because there can be only one winner.”

“It’s not the Hunger Games.” you insisted, “All three of you up there get a fancy trophy so why aren’t you all podium winners.”

“Podium winners.” Charles repeated as he licked away his amused smile and exchanged a glance with Pierre.

Tabitha argued in reply, “So everyone’s a winner to you? What about the rest of the drivers? What do you call them? Are they the pit lane winners?”

“Yes!” you gasped, “Genius!” 

The guys audibly laughed out loud while Tabitha rolled her eyes despite her own little smile that grazed her expression and Corbyn flopped his head onto her shoulder affectionately through his chuckles. Daniel pulled you back against his chest again so he could press a chasté kiss to your shoulder and you smiled proudly at the reaction you got out of the group of them. You wiggled on his lap a little to try and get comfortable and his arm around you tightened to keep you close, but in your tipsy state, it was hard to sit still. Inevitably, you ended up splashing some of your drink onto Daniel’s jeans and he groaned as the wet sticky liquid seeped against his skin. 

“Baby.” he huffed, gently nudging you off his lap.  

“Sorry.” you pouted and stood up, almost stumbling over in the process as the alcohol was already in your head and making you dizzy. Tabitha habitually held out a hand to press to your back to keep you stable as Daniel got up from the floor and inspected the large wet spot on his right thigh.

“The toilet is down the hall if you need.” Charles offered, gesturing in the general direction. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Daniel answered thankfully. 

“Sorry.” you tried again, grasping onto his shirt to prevent him from leaving until he answered you. 

Daniel kissed the corner of your mouth, “That’s okay, sweetheart. It was an accident. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared down the hallway and no sooner was he gone that you were spinning around to face the group on the couch - stumbling slightly - and then you dropped back to the floor, nearly draping yourself over Lando and Corbyn’s legs with each arm.

“I have a secret.” you whispered to the five of them loudly.

“I don’t think now is a good time to tell secrets.” Tabitha offered as the only logical and sober one. 

Lando leaned forward and thrust his hand out across Corbyn to hold his index finger towards her, “Shh. I want to know the secret. Don’t ruin it.”

“So…” you glanced behind you to make sure Daniel wasn’t there all of the sudden before turning back to the lineup on the couch, “y’know George? The tall sexy one of you?”

“Uh huh. He is very tall.” Lando nodded you on. 

“Last night, on the yacht,” you held your hands to your mouth for a moment because the grin that was taking up your entire face was hard to control. The five of them were holding onto your every word as if they lived for the gossip and especially about one of their friends. You opened your hands to form a circle around your mouth and you confessed to them, “we had a threesome with him.”

There was a half second of silence that was quickly interrupted by Lando bursting into a fit of laughter and throwing himself backwards on the couch, clapping his hands together in full drunken amusement. 

From the polar opposite side of the couch, Pierre had to look away to hide his cheeky smile with a hushed, “Oh mon Dieu.”

“What’s that you say in French?” you giggled, offering a crude translation for the two native French speakers in the room, “Ménage à trois.”

“Yes, yes, we know what you mean.” Charles assured you seriously, holding both hands towards you as if to quiet you, his tone bordering entertained and half-stressed.

Corbyn was in half-shock, “Daniel wanted to do that?”

“It was his idea!” you smacked his knee as if to say ‘can you believe’. “He so totally got off on watching someone else fuck me, it was so hot.”

“No fucking way!” Lando cackled, barely able to catch his breath as he asked you again as he raked his fingers through his curly hair in complete bewilderment, “Did that really happen? You really had a fucking threeway with George Russell?”

“Yeah, we did!” you leaned on his thigh enthusiastically so you could move in closer towards him and confess to him the naughty details shamelessly, “He’s got a big dick.”

Lando literally shrieked with laughter, thrashing on the couch until he flopped onto the floor with you as if having a complete fit. His laughter only had you keeling over yourself, sharing in his hilarity until the rest of the group were pulled into light chuckles themselves at the insanity of it all. Tabitha shot a pointed look at her boyfriend who merely shook his head with a baffled grin spread across his face, at a complete loss of words. Lando had tears pouring down his face as he struggled to catch his breath, clutching his chest through peels of laughter until you were both leaning into each other in complete silence as your lungs ran out of air. 

Daniel returned to the living room at that moment, only to find the two of you in shambles on the floor and the rest of your little group in indescribable confusion and amusement on the couch. He stopped in the archway to assess the scene he walked in on for a moment before he spoke, “What did I miss?”

Lando just managed to catch his breath before turning to look at Daniel with a smooth and lighthearted, “I didn’t know you were a cuck, mate.”

“Oh my God, bro.” Tabitha gaped at his vulgar bluntness. 

Daniel’s eyes widened as you and Lando burst into laughter again and he was right on the defence, “You told them?”

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and turned to your boyfriend, “I had to tell someone. It was fun and worthy of a brag.”

“Don’t worry,” Charles spoke up, “this will not leave this room, yes?”

Pierre, Corbyn, and Tabitha all agreed easily, while it took Corbyn to lean down and smack Lando’s arm to get him to catch his breath enough to agree too. Sprawled out on the rug, Lando held his hands over his stomach as he started to calm down, having laughed himself into a stitch. 

“Fuck me.” he chuckled faintly before catching himself and wagging his finger between you and Daniel, “That was just a saying, by the way, don’t take that seriously or anything.”

“Oh, God, everyone on the grid is going to know by tomorrow, aren’t they?” you giggled, smacking your hand to your mouth. 

“Nah,” Corbyn assured you, “We won’t let him say a thing. He listens to Tabs, at least.”

“Although, there were already suspicions last night as to who was occupying the room.” Tabitha said, “And Alex 100% knows since he saw you three.”

“What?” Charles gaped at her, “When did he see them?”

Daniel sighed and joined you and Lando on the ground, accepting his defeat, “When we were sneaking off, we ran into him. I guess George’s lie wasn’t as smooth as we thought at the time.”

“If only he could lie as good as he could f-”

Daniel’s hand smothered your mouth before you could finish your drunken thought but Lando was already sent keeling over in laughter once more.

[mrssimply]

Love profusion.

Kerry frowned in his sleep and groaned, pushing his elbow back into Johnny’s torso to make him stop snoring. It didn’t work, never did. Frankly, it was a wonder any of them could sleep, the way they all snored, but Johnny really took the cake. He sounded like a buzzsaw, especially if he’d drunk the past evening.

Fleeting memory of the night crawled into Kerry’s consciousness, and with it, awareness of his surroundings. They were outside. Judging by the sound of water nearby, they were by the pool and that brought a few memories to the surface. Kerry sighed and blinked awake, resolute that his short night was coming to an end. The sun was up, but it had already been rising when they’d finally fallen asleep, so it couldn’t be more than a few hours later. It was already hot, like summer in Night City always was, and Kerry was already sweating from his back because of the way Johnny was plastered against him, still snoring happily.

Despite his full bladder, and the headache he could distantly feel, Kerry smiled. V was on his belly, drooling on the pillow with a hand between them. Gently, the musician moved his own hand to brush his fingers, eyes flickering over his young lover’s face. 

Kerry often forgot how young V was, because he’s already gone through so much: died once and nearly died countless other times, been beyond the blackwall, saved the NUSA president, brought a man from the grave… But when he slept, the young king of the Afterlife looked his age. Especially when, resting against his back, was the giant teddy bear the Us Crack girls had gifted him on their last vacation here. V loved it, and brought it to bed every night. He said that since Johnny apparently had cuddling privileges with Kerry, he needed to have his moral support teddy bear. 

There was no “Johnny cuddling privileges”, but it was V’s argument to bring the bear, and Johnny played along like the little shit he was. Accused Kerry of being jealous of a mere stuffed toy, not knowing how close to the truth he hit. At least it made for cute pictures of V playing octopus around the bear, squishing it to death.

[more under the cut]

Today, though, he was turned towards Kerry, like he’d fallen asleep watching him and it made the old rocker smile.

The early sunday light touched V’s skin, making it glow and shine on the slight perspiration of sleep. 

As he went on looking at his input, more of the previous night came back: they’d gone out dancing, dragging a reluctant Johnny along because he didn’t really like clubbing : the lights, stranger bodies touching him and the strobe lights always threatened him with a PTSD attack unless he was high off his mind - which as exactly what they’d done. Johnny had been smiling happily and let himself be driven between them, liquid in their arms, following the flow of their bodies languidly.

Then they’d come back somewhat early because things were starting to get heated, but Kerry didn’t wanna deal with yet another scandalous frontpage of his naked ass in the screamsheets. He’d corralled both inputs back into V’s Outlaw, and taken the wheel while the other two sang their hearts out in the back seat.

Kerry was a notably bad driver, so while he achieved in dragging them up the hill, he still ended in a ditch a few meters from the house. V was too drunk to moan about the car but Kerry had no doubt he would hear about it later.

The moment Johnny had passed the portal and it had closed behind them, he’d started stripping, going straight for a dive in the pool. Which was how they’d went on with their own private party for a while, and ended up the night fucking on the matress by the pool.

Come to think of it, Kerry could feel Johnny’s soft cock against his crack and winced when he thought about the drying mess between them. He’d a vague recollection of riding V into oblivion before Johnny had joined in while the young merc was still softening inside. He’d made Kerry come like that, painting V’s still heaving chest with his cum, before Johnny dragged him on his side and fucked him into oversensitivity. The lingering drugs and V’s soft kisses all over his face meant it felt only good, like floating on a cloud of shivering gold pleasure, until Johnny held him tighter, grunted and whimpered against his neck as he came. They’d fallen asleep like that.

Kerry shifted and stretched, pulling a face at the feeling of his clammy skin ungluing from Johnny. Despite the heat, the need to pee and take a shower, Kerry felt too relaxed and happy to move. He enjoyed the moment, stroking V’s hand with the back of his fingers. 

Behind him, Johnny started to move, little twitches that meant he was dreaming. Frowning softly, Kerry turned his head to try and catch a glance at him. Sure enough, Johnny’s face was scrunched into a frown. His eyes jumped from one side to the other behind his eyelids and it wasn’t long before the twitches became jerks. 

Kerry made a shushing sound and grabbed Johnny’s metal arm, pulling him closer against himself. The new model looked the same, but it was better in every way and allowed his bearer to experience all the sensations of a real limb. Through his dream, Johnny felt the grounding touch around his cyberarm and let out a shuddering breath. He opened his eyes, blinked against the light and trembled for a second against Kerry. 

His racing heart cantered inside his ribcage for half a minute more before he could get it under control. It took his brain just as much time to process his surroundings, but he knew right away that he was safe. Finally, he rubbed his forehead against Kerry’s nape and groaned softly. Now that the fright of the nightmare was dissipating, it left room for other sensations like thirst and the heat. 

Kerry squeezed his wrist gently, and glanced at him over his shoulder with a smile before focusing on V again. Johnny raised his head, nuzzling behind his old friend’s ear before catching sight of their merc. 

Johnny’s eyes traveled from the teddy bear to V’s face with a growing smile.

“How did that thing end up here?” was his first question, and now that he thought about it, Kerry had no idea.

They both snorted and Johnny cuddled closer again.

“You smell like sex,” he commented.

Kerry shrugged: it wasn’t like he could deny it, or even wanted to.

“I like it,” Johnny concluded, giving Kerry a small bite before settling again.

They stayed like this, watching the sun rise, and V sleep.

[hoperays-song]

Named Businesses/Brands in the Sing Franchise: Sing 2

In a recent rewatch of the movies, I tried to find all the named businesses and brands that are in the movies for world building sake (minus bands and entertainment acts cause thats a different list). So here is, in semi chronological order, all the ones that appear in the second movie! There should be minimal overlap between the lists as I only included old ones if we learned new info. Anyways, I'll try to finish the shorts soon!

-------

New Moon Theatre - The new rebranding of the old Moon Theatre, including a name change!

Dusty’s - I did mention it last time but the color scheme has now changed from orange to green.

Sun’s Up! FM - A radio station seen on a billboard when Suki is in taxi. Also seen advertising on Redshore’s main strip.

Drama Club - An organization advertising on the street the taxi drives down.

Canal Promenade - The riverwalk and canal area that Buster falls into.

Antiques -  A business along the Canal Promenade.

Laundry Service - A business along the Canal Promenade. Funnily enough, it is also seen later advertising in Vacation Newspaper.

Gophers & Associates - A law or real estate group advertising along the Canal Promenade.

Tanning Lotion - A product advertising along the Canal Promenade. Also seen advertising on Redshore’s main strip.

Lounge - An establishment along the Canal Promenade.

Bee Rich - The magazine Eddie was featured on on Buster’s coffee table. I'm not kidding, that's the name.

Rick’s Club - The club Ash performed at.

Pop Soda - Also has returned but now we know it has a lime flavour! That’s my second favourite soda flavor so it gets a shoutout. 

Stage Left - A brand of storage for stage props and band equipment we see at Rick’s. We later see it at Crystal Theatre.

Safe Travels LTD - A travel company seen advertising behind the Canal Promenade and the Bus Station. It is then seen throughout Redshore.

Redshore City Bus - A bus line that seems to run from Calatonia to Redshore, though it is likely to have lines to other major cities nearby.

Critter Deli - A deli in front of the Bus Station.

Ginny’s Chips - A type of chips shaped like smiley faces.

Chips Potato - A type of chips in Mrs. Crawly’s supply box.

Babilonia - A hotel/casino on Redshore’s main strip.

Catty’s Bar - A bar on Redshore’s main strip.

Zeus - A hotel/casino on Redshore’s main strip.

PawJack - A hotel/casino on the Redshore strip,  it has several advertising billboards.

Raincow - A hotel/casino on the Redshore strip, it has several advertising billboards.

Atlas -  A hotel/casino on the Redshore strip, it has several advertising billboards.

Sand-Witches - A sandwich chain advertising on the Raincow billboards.

FireRock - A hotel/casino on the Redshore strip,  it has several advertising billboards.

Soda - A drink that has a new lime hibiscus flavour that was advertising on Raincow’s billboard.

Eclips Gagaming - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop, seemingly an arcade of sorts. 

O4A Fashion - A fashion brand advertising on a billboard next to a Loopee sign.

Karaoke Party Club - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop.

Money Exchange - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop.

Dony’s - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop seemingly associated with the Atlas casino/hotel.

KeyLight - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop seemingly associated with with the Atlas casino/hotel.

PNJ Agency - Another building behind Crystal Tower.

Crystal Entertainment - The entertainment company owned by Jimmy Crystal.

Crystal Tower - The seemingly main offices of Crystal Entertainment.

Mist - A cleaning product seen in the supply closet the troupe hides in.

bog - Another building behind Crystal Tower.

Hot News - A news station heavily focusing on gossip and celebrity culture owned by Crystal Entertainment.

Crystal Tower Hotel - A luxury hotel heavily featuring an indoor water park along with several restaurants and stores that is owned by Crystal Entertainment.

Ice Cream Paradise - An ice cream store in Crystal Hotel’s main lobby.

Donuts - A donuts and pastry shop inside Crystal Hotel’s main lobby.

Cherry Blossom - An establishment inside Crystal Hotel’s main lobby.

Tea Salon - Seemingly a tea parlor and spa in Crystal Hotel’s main lobby.

Crystal Tower Theatre - The theatre that is within Crystal Tower Hotel. It has a minimum of six stages. Out of this world was located on said sixth stage.

Lift-Bub - A construction equipment brand used by Crystal Theatre.

Redshore News - A newspaper used during the hunt for Clay Calloway.

Rock News - A newspaper used during the hunt for Clay Calloway.

Facilisi - A fashion magazine displayed in the costume and design studio.

Scene - A fashion magazine displayed in the costume and design studio.

Cars - A newspaper the tech crew frog is reading during rehearsal that is entirely about cars.

Vacation -  A newspaper the tech crew frog is reading during rehearsal that is entirely about vacations and only costs a dollar a year to get. Guys, this dude is like constantly reading these. I’m starting to think he doesn’t like his job.

Sylvia’s Bakery - A cake and coffee shop advertising in Vacation Newspaper.

Air Sun One - A airline advertising in Vacation Newspaper

Marock - A music store near the Crystal Hotel.

Eclips - A hotel/casino near the Crystal Hotel.

Newshore - A hotel/casino near the Crystal Hotel.

TV underdog - A TV studio near the Crystal Hotel.

Royalty Rental Cars - The rental place Mrs. Crawly got the red car from that specializes in luxury vehicles.

Loopee - The shop where Johnny buys his new skateboard, though we also see it advertise on the main strip as well.

StarTV Channel - A tv channel seemingly about celebrities that is advertising in the square where Nooshy is performing.

Digital Seeds - A company/brand that is advertising in the square where Nooshy is performing.

Canyon Cafe - The cafe that Johnny and Nooshy got to to discuss the training contract. It has a vintage western style.

Lunch Paris - A brand on one of Porsha’s shopping bags.

Alfonso’s Ice Cream - Alfonso’s ice cream truck that he has seemingly been running since he was a kid, which is super cool cause I knew a kid to do the same thing.

Raadio - The brand of speaker that Nooshy has.

Fruity Juicy - The food truck behind Alfonso’s that serves smoothies.

Sweet Jazz Cafe - A cafe near Crystal Hotel.

Community Food Service - The organization that the gang are working with during their parole.

Lantani Car Rental - A rental spot right across from the garage. 

WOAW - A brand that Porsha has a shopping bag for in her bedroom.

Flowers - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Orion - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Deckard Inc - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Beckaro’n Hotel - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Xendary - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Boom Vinyl Records - A records store right behind the Crystal Square bus stop.

Tattoo Shop - An establishment advertising on a billboard seen along Redshore’s main strip.

XEND - An establishment seen along Redshore’s main strip.

The Majestic Palace Theatre - Apparently a famous theatre and hotel combo, commonly shortened to ‘The Majestic’.

The Majestic Palace - The hotel side of the Majestic Palace Theatre.

[natrogersfics]

PREVIEW - Always Remember Us This Way (Romanogers AU)

Artwork by @faith2nyc Part III of the So It Goes... 'verse

“These are the occupancy numbers for the month?”

Natasha’s lips curl up into a smirk as Loki peruses the latest report on the tablet. “Try the entire Summer.”

Loki’s eyes dart to her. “You don’t say,” he says, a smile spreading across his face when she nods in confirmation. He hands the tablet back, and the pride that fills his expression is difficult to miss as he leans back against the couch cushions. “Seems our little experiment is working.”

“Maybe a little,” she says, causing them both to chuckle.

If working meant blowing projections out of the water, then that’s absolutely what their experiment – that is, throwing rolling, invitation-only events at each revamped Red Guardian property – is currently doing. Their Las Vegas property had benefited from a surge of bookings following the opening of the Red Room, and if there’s anything she’s gleaned from the sudden resurgence of their once ailing asset, it’s that there’s still cache in the hotels that her parents had built. The waning interest of their patrons in recent years had nothing to do with them tiring of their prime locations but with the predictable, cookie-cutter experiences they were offering. After all, luxury hotels on the Strip were a dime a dozen in Sin City. But crown one with an ultra-exclusive rooftop club and suddenly everyone is clamoring for an invitation.

Needless to say, they had taken that concept and ran with it, applying it next to Red Guardian’s hotel in Milan. Following the rebuild of its grand ballroom and the subsequent Masquerade Ball that Loki’s company had arranged with every celebrity and socialite in attendance, what was once considered a hemorrhaging outpost in their portfolio is now a go-to destination in the North of Italy – a fact she’ll happily highlight at her next meeting with the board.

“So, where to next?” Loki asks, spreading his arms across the back of the couch. “Tokyo? Dubai? Oh, what about Ibiza?” He sighs. “A couple of glasses of tinto de Verano under the Iberian sun sounds heavenly right about now.”

“Are we picking our next project or your next vacation?” she says with a scoff.

Loki rolls his eyes. “One day, darling, you will learn to play as hard as you work.”

“Who’s to say I don’t?”

Intrigue colors Loki’s face, but before he can ask one of the hundreds of questions she knows is already forming in his mind, a knock causes them both to look towards the doorway of her living room to see Steve standing there, a folder clutched between his fingers.

“Mr. Rogers,” Loki greets cheerfully. “How nice of you to join us.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Steve says, and she doesn’t miss the way his tone sounds more formal than usual. She offers him a little smile when he turns her way, but it does nothing to dislodge his humorless expression. “When you have a minute, I’d like to go over the preliminary background check for your potential client.”

“The one who requested to meet with us tomorrow?” Loki clarifies before she can respond, earning a nod from Steve. “Since when do we run background checks on clients?”

“Since it’s become clear that security’s been a little too lax as of late,” Steve says, to which Loki arches a brow at. “Safety isn’t something we’re going to trivialize.”

“We can go over that report right now,” she says before Loki can say anything more, tapping his foot with her own in an attempt to get the man to shut up. From her periphery, she catches the confused stare Loki sends her way, but she ignores it as she directs Steve’s attention back to her. “We’re just about done here anyway.”

Steve walks further into the living room at that, stopping just in front of her coffee table to hand her the folder. As she opens it up, Loki scoots closer to her, peering over her shoulder as they both study the picture clipped to the corner of the report. The woman in the image couldn’t be much older than she is, her striking features breathtaking. Everything from her flawless, porcelain skin to her gray eyes that are wide and piercing – a stark contrast to the dark curls cascading down her shoulders – made for an intriguing sight.

“Her name is Viper?” she asks as she unclips the photo to read the rest of the information on the page.

“Yes and no,” Steve says, prompting her arch a brow. “Viper is her online persona, but her real name is Ophelia Sarkissian.” He gestures towards the rest of the report. “If you turn a few pages, there are some screenshots from her social media profiles. She made a name for herself by reviewing cosmetics for the eleven million followers she has across all platforms.”

Loki lets out a low whistle. “That’s quite a following.”

“Which is why she may be looking to capitalize on it,” Steve says. “She recently filed an LLC for a company called Viper Cosmetics.”

“Finally putting her doctorate to use,” she notes, reading over Ophelia’s accomplishments that include multiple PhDs on top of being a board-certified chemist. “Filing for an LLC is literally step one in putting up a company, though. Why would she want to meet with us already?”

“Probably to secure a venue for her when she’s ready to launch,” Steve says. “Between Vegas and Milan, the uptick in your occupancy has been all over the news.”

She rolls her lips, considering the thought before looking at Loki. “She’s not our usual clientele.”

“True, but it could be a good way to get our hands into that industry,” Loki offers.

“I suppose,” she says. “What else do we know about her?”

“At the moment, not much more than what’s in that file,” Steve admits, a hint of frustration slipping into his voice. “But like I said, this is just a preliminary check. The team and I haven’t found anything online that’s raised any red flags either, so as long as the meeting is in our territory, we don’t see an issue with tomorrow’s meeting.”

“I trust you,” she says, watching the way the tension in his shoulders ease ever so slightly at her words.

The faintest of smiles cross his lips, and she’s glad when that softens his worry-hardened expression. “I’ve also reached out to my contact at the FBI to see if she can find anything. Just in case.”

“Well,” Loki says, “I, for one, already feel very safe.”

This time, she doesn’t even think twice about joining Steve in sending him a glare, shaking her head when Loki only whips out his phone in response, scrolling through it unbothered. She looks back at Steve. “You’ll let me know if she finds anything?”

“Of course,” he says, checking his watch. “I’m actually going to meet with her this evening. Sam’s right at the door, but I’ll be in first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, feeling a sudden wave of disappointment at the idea. Even so, she musters a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Goodnight,” he says before turning to leave.

She watches his figure retreat down the hall until it disappears from her view as he turns the corner, and it’s only when the telltale sound of the front door opening and then clicking shut fills the room that Loki turns to her. “Has he always had that stick up his ass or did he put one up there today just for me?”

She leans her head back, sighing. “He’s been this way since we got back.”

“You’ve been back for weeks,” Loki says, smirking as he adds, “I thought he’d be a giant ball of sunshine after your little side trip.” She turns to him to send a glare his way. Needing someone to confide in after the events in Vegas, she’d told him about the true nature of her relationship with Steve. And while in hindsight, she should’ve known her best friend could not help but meddle, she was still a touch surprised when he’d admitted in return that he had some hand in setting things in motion. Nevertheless, she’s glad to have someone to talk to about all of this now – even if she is, at present, regretting the decision as she catches the mischievous glint that sparkles in Loki’s eyes. “Did you two have your first little domestic up in the mountains?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Those three days…” she trails, reminiscing. “Well, they were perfect.”

She isn’t even being hyperbolic. Short as the trip they had decided to take after the event in Milan was, there really isn’t any other word to describe the days she and Steve spent alone together in her cabin in the Alps. With her phone forgotten in the deepest crevice of her luggage, it’s as though time spanned endlessly, allowing them to explore every nook and cranny of the little remote village they found themselves in. And with no one to recognize her, there hadn’t been a need for them to hide. They spent the days walking in and out of the quaint shops, sipping on mulled wine, and stealing kisses as they huddled for warmth. Then as the night rolled around, they would find themselves retiring by the fire, where they would talk and laugh and eventually find their way into each other’s arms again. Those days were nothing short of blissful, and she couldn’t think of a time where she’d felt so happy. So complete.

“What’s changed then?” Loki asks.

She sighs, recalling the exact moment in the car ride back home from the airport where she felt their euphoric little bubble burst right in the backseat of the SUV. “When we got home, his team told us that someone had sent me letters,” she says. “They were similar to the ones my stalker had sent me in the past.”

“Natasha,” Loki says, every trace of his upbeat mood gone as he sits up straighter, grabbing her hand. “Are you alright? If you’re in danger again-”

“I’m okay, Loki,” she says, finding that she truly does mean her words as she squeezes his hand back in reassurance. She’d been paralyzed with fear the first time she’d received those letters, and even more so when that maniac had found a way to corner her in the elevator bank way back when. But things are different now. She’s capable of fighting back, of protecting herself. And now she has Steve, who along with his team, she trusts whole-heartedly to never let anything like that happen to her again. “The guy’s been apprehended. Steve… well, he and his team made sure of it.”

“I’m relieved,” Loki says. “Though I suspect he isn’t.”

She shakes her head, running a hand tiredly over her face. “He’s been… distant?” she says, trying the word out for size. “He’s here, watching me and our surroundings like a hawk, but at the same time it feels like he’s a million miles away.”

“He cares about you. Deeply.”

“And I feel the same way about him,” she says, her answer coming to her almost instantly before she finds herself admitting the one thought that’s been weighing on her since the jet touched down in Teterboro last week. “I just wish we never came home.”

A beat of silence hangs over them before Loki sighs. “Natasha,” he says, “I understand why the two of you have been keeping things under the radar, but… would it really be the worst thing? The two of you out in the open?”

For a moment, she can only stare at her friend, contemplating his question. “I don’t know,” she says eventually.

Full chapter coming soon...

[cozyjae]

traveling with nct dream 🏝️

(a/n: obviously these r not 100% accurate and i haven’t been everywhere on this list lol and these r just a very romanticized ideas. i just thought it would be cute to write about how each of them would vacation differently.)

going to la with mark... sleeping on your shoulder during the flight, matching oversized hoodies and masks, your morning entails a lot of google maps and getting lost for around 30 minutes, wandering around the same streets laughing and counting how many times you pass the same mural, mark stops to buy overpriced ice cream from a street vender insisting he’s making up for typing the wrong address into the gps app, you walk almost all day site seeing and taking photos, laughing so much your stomach hurts, being exhausted by the time you get back to the hotel, taking a quiet shower together before eating too much room service in plush robes, movie marathon on his laptop in bed because you’re both jet lagged, you fall asleep eventually with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, listening to his steady breathing.

going to sydeny with renjun... he’s very organized and has done a lot of research and planning beforehand, has about 30 tabs open in his phone and a shared google doc with intense plans, will twirl around in happiness once you finally check into your room, flopping down onto your bed, arguing about who gets to eat the fancy chocolate on the bed, both like feeling like an adult, laughs with and at you, does rock paper scissors for who has to handle all of the public interactions, wants to go to hidden cool places and not all the popular tourist attractions, you take a ferry and he not so subtly sketches you while you watch the scenery.

going to montreal with jeno… always wearing his glasses, is always smiley, entertained by whatever you’re entertained by, loves seeing you excited, it’s relaxing just to be there with him, he’s always warm and cuddly, walking around town with the overwhelming urge to go back to your hotel room and chill, get take out because you’re both introverted af, a very responsible excited puppy, wants to see everything, taste test a lot of gummies, sweet kisses, ‘just a few more minutes in bed’ famous last words before you spend another hour rolling around in bed, his sister sends you both cat babysitting updates, drags you to the hotel gym, makeout in the hotel pool, likes taking pictures of you, gets really into the art museum there, over packs hand warmers and scarves because he doesn’t want you to be cold.

going to amsterdam with donghyuck...going to the van gogh museum, buying a lot of sunflower painting souvenirs because they remind you of him, a lot of coffee shops, staying up all night then drinking copious amounts of coffee in the morning, complains to you about walking everywhere but will also complain that you’re walking too slow, shares his drinks with you, walking in the morning with sunglasses on slightly hungover, mimosas at brunch, staying in bed until the afternoon, feeling like you probably need a supervisor, jisung facetimes you both attempting to be said supervisor, go clubbing and then end up back at the hotel a few hours later doing face masks together.

going to miami with jaemin... being tired and jet lagged together in the hotel before dragging yourselves out at night to find something to eat, laughing and mumbling things to each other while trying to navigate around the city, shoulders bumping each other, he takes so many pictures of you that it looks like your solo vacation, his finger thumbs over your cheek, a lot of pda, buys you matching cheesy couple tourist items, matching i love miami t shirts and keychains, beach days with sun kissed skin, insisting he lathers sunscreen on you, he definitely looks like a cliche tourist, could whip out a fanny pack at any second and will somehow make it look good.

going to shanghai with chenle... takes you to a theme park and begs you to ride all the extreme, slightly insane rollercoasters, buys those photos that are taken during the ride to make fun of you and to put in his wallet , making you his favorite ramen, introducing you proudly to his family, taking you to his all of his favorite places growing up, you end up playing around in a park like you’re kids, laughing loudly in public, tugging your hand along because you’re walking too slow for him, always ready to go somewhere, babysitting his nephew, now has decided he wants a child, agrees to wait a few years after he plays video games for five hours straight that afternoon.

going to jeju with jisung...tucking flowers shyly behind your ear, not wearing enough sun screen and then scolding him, bare feet running in the hot sand, playing and splashing around in the water like kids, the wind making your hair go wild as he laughs at you but then insists on fixing it, gets easily embarrassed in front of you, your first vacation together, your first time sharing the bed, he’s always shy, the dreamie groupchat texts you for updates, the dreamies also place bets on how long it will take for him to kiss you (only until the first night btw), hand holding at night, cuddles and fuzzy socks.

[coneyislandbabey]

my back is broad, but it's a-hurtin'. -> e. roundtree

WARNINGS: profanities, sexual tension lol

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together. word count: 2,120

NOTES: this is part 2/8 of the beast of burden series. Part one can be found here!

Pittsburgh, 1969

“What do you think of her?” Warren asked. You, him, and Eddie were standing in a row against the bar of the nightclub you’d be playing a couple hours later. He was staring in the direction of the stage, where Billy stood messing around with the microphone, his new girlfriend, Camila, standing on the floor in front of him, angling her camera up to capture him in photos. 

“I like her,” you responded. She’d only been hanging around a week or two at that point, but she was kind even while being a little bossy. She had the kind of attitude a girl needed to have any kind of equal partnership with a guy like Billy Dunne, surely. 

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’ll last long,” Eddie said from your other side. That was a fair assessment. Billy had gone through quite the impressive string of girlfriends, just in the two years you’d been with the band. They stuck around for a few weeks, a month or two tops, and then they were gone, and Billy would start bringing around a new one.

“I don’t know,” you hum. “Seems like maybe it’s different this time.” You hoped it would be, at least. You really liked Camila, she got involved and tried to get to know the rest of you guys a lot more than any of the other girls Billy had brought around. She didn’t know much about the technical side of the music, but she made up for that in enthusiasm. Plus, it would be nice to have another girl around, in a more permanent sense. You’d known that rock music, and The Dunne Brothers band itself, were a real boys’ club, but man did it really fucking feel extra like a boys’ club sometimes. 

“I hope she stays. She got us that spot in the paper last week,” Warren said. That was true, too. Camila would come along to every gig and take photos the whole time, and then submit them to the local papers to try to get the band a little spot in the ink. It didn’t work, usually, but you all got lucky with the last one. It was more than surreal to see the shot of the five of you up on stage, rendered in newsprint black and white. 

Things were picking up, in a subtle way, sure, but a way none of you could ignore. You were booking more gigs, more people in the area were recognizing you. Hell, you were getting out of Pittsburgh fairly often, booking in Ocean City and Philly and Wilmington and a half dozen other places. It felt good. Really fucking good. It felt like you were proving your talent, your worth in this band, with every crowded and well-received show you performed. 

“Alright, sound check!” Billy called from the stage, gathering your attention. “We’re just gonna do one song and make sure everything is good.” 

You pushed off the bar and made your way to the stage, slinging your bass over your torso as you went. 

“Let’s do When the Sun Shines on You, yeah?” Billy asked, stepping up to the mic. You all started in on the song, and you immediately lost yourself in playing your bass. As usual, as the song progressed, you and Eddie seemed to drift nearer and nearer to each other on the stage. Your parts, musically, already played off of each other so often, so it only made sense to you that it was reflected physically. It was as if you and Eddie were playing to each other, or at each other, a frenetic conversation. During the more intense songs, you would drift so close that your hands almost bumped each other whilst playing, before you’d sweep around and head back to your side of the stage.

When the song was done and the sound was thoroughly checked, you sat your bass down and stretched your arms over your head. The guys vacated the stage quickly, but you came to sit on the edge, swinging your legs and looking out at the venue, where the employees were readying the space to open soon. Shortly after you sat down, Camila ambled over to you, her camera dangling from a strap around her neck and a sly smile on her face. 

“Hey, Camila,” you smiled, nodding at her. 

“Hey,” she said brightly. “So.” 

The way she drew out ‘so’ into three syllables was incredibly suggestive, and you only raised your eyebrow at her in question. She stepped closer, lowering her voice as if she was about to impart a secret. “What’s the deal with you and Eddie?”

For a moment, all you could do was blink at her. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “I think every stranger in this building could tell there’s something there. So, what is it? Are you guys a thing?”

You burst out into bright, sharp laughter, shaking your head. “God, no, Cami, it’s not like that at all. There’s nothing going on between me and Eddie.”

Camila weathered you with a stare, both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Right. Sure. I have never seen two people behave the way you do when there's ‘nothing going on’.”

You laughed again, deftly changing the subject to talk about her and Billy, hoping to god that your cheeks weren’t dark with blush. Were you that obvious with your crush on him? The thought was so mortifying that it made you want to die. For a while, you had managed to convince yourself that it was a minute, meaningless thing, your crush. That it had only come to be because he’d helped you learn those songs back in ‘67, helped you earn your spot in the band. You had assumed it would go away after a while, but it didn’t. All it did was grow into something more pathetic and embarrassing every time you saw him, because there was no way he was experiencing the same turmoil over your relationship, and more importantly, there was no way you could act on your feelings even if he was. 

Later, the whole group of you were hanging out in your garage, getting drunk off the cases of beers Warren bought immediately after you left the gig. You were curled up on the middle cushion of your ratty leather couch, feet tucked up underneath you and a beer nestled in your lap. Graham was on one side of you, fast asleep on the arm of the couch, his own empty beer bottle having fallen from his prone hand and rolled away. Eddie sat on the other side of you, one arm stretched on the back of the couch behind you, his thigh touching yours. Billy was drunkenly playing some old nursery song on Graham’s guitar, and Warren was loudly (and also drunkenly) cheering along with it. 

Camila, who was sitting on the rug next to Billy, caught your eye from across the room. She looked pointedly from you to Eddie and back to you, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question. You narrowed your eyes at her in return, imperceptibly shaking your head. She shot you a disbelieving look, but dropped it for the moment. 

“I’m starving,” Warren said suddenly, hand to his stomach. 

“Of course you’re starving, man, you’ve got the munchies,” Eddie laughed. 

“My stomach is eating itself,” he responded pitifully. 

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. “Alright, I hear you. I’ll go get you a snack.”

“I love you more than anyone else here,” Warren said emphatically as you stood, and you just laughed at him, ruffling his hair as you passed him. 

“I’ll help you carry stuff out,” Eddie announced, getting up to follow you across the yard and to the house. 

You walked up the back steps, before stopping abruptly at the door and peering inside to see if any lights were on. Not expecting your sudden stop, Eddie walked directly into you. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, but you couldn’t help but acutely notice how close to you he stayed. 

“Okay, my whole family is asleep in there,” you said, turning around to face him. You were standing so close that your face almost met his chest before you looked up. “That means we have to be absolutely silent on this mission.”

“Mission?” he asked, amused. 

“Yes. The very important mission of providing famine relief to the dying Warren Rojas,” you nodded solemnly. 

“If you want me to be quiet, you have to stop being funny.”

“I can’t help my charisma, you’ll just have to be strong, Eddie boy,” you responded, and he nodded seriously, doing his best to keep a straight face. In your drunken state, you fumbled with the knob of the door trying to get in, and cursed yourself for the noise. Your parents knew about the band by now, obviously, and being as you were an adult at this point, it was not like they could stop you from being in the band even if they wanted to. However, you weren’t exactly of age quite yet, and if they found you standing in the kitchen, drunk and with a boy they weren’t fond of at that, you’d have hell to pay.  

Finally, you managed the knob and swung the door open slowly. You turned to Eddie and pointed to the pantry, mouthing the word ‘chips’ to him. He nodded, tip-toeing his way over in exaggerated movements that made you want to fall to the floor with laughter. Instead, you turned your back to him and headed toward the fridge, intent on grabbing some of the water bottles that your parents kept on top of it. You were able to reach one, but the rest had been pushed further back by someone, and your fingertips could only brush the plastic, not grasp them. Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, and you turned to see Eddie watching you struggle. 

“Let me help,” he whispered, stepping forward and reaching above your head. His free hand went to your waist to balance himself as the other grabbed enough bottles for the group, passing them down to you one by one. You did your best to ignore his hand, to ignore the way it set every single nerve ending of yours on fire. When he was done grabbing water bottles, you turned around to go, but Eddie didn’t move. Moments passed, and the two of you stood there facing each other in the dark of the kitchen. Dimly, you were aware that Eddie’s hand was still on your waist. It would be so easy, you thought, to cross the mere inches between you and just kiss him the way you’d imagined doing dozens of times before. It would be so easy to just drop all of the water bottles on the floor and grasp his face instead, so easy to– 

But no. The only thing that could come out of you making a move on Eddie or him making a move on you would be teasing from the rest of the band, probably even them suspecting that the only reason Eddie suggested you for bassist way back when was because he had a thing for you, not because you were talented. But you were talented. That was why you got the spot in the band. It didn’t matter how true that was, though; the minute you became anything other than one of the guys here, your very integrity would be questioned. 

You stepped backward until your back was against the fridge, putting some space between the two of you. Eddie cleared his throat, the sound impossibly loud in the otherwise quiet room, and stepped back as well. This had been your dance for the last two years; get close, closer than close, tip-toe right up to the edge until all there was to do was take the leap or fall backwards. Every time, for one fleeting moment, you thought you’d finally decide to take the leap, but you never did. And neither did he. So, the dance continued. 

“Let’s get out of here before my parents wake up,” you said, and Eddie nodded, turning around to lead you back to the kitchen door. When you got back to the garage, the two of you distributed chips and water, before sitting back down on the couch. Eddie’s arm stretched back out along the back of the couch, your thighs touching. Just like you had been before. Just like nothing at all had changed. Because nothing had, had it? Nothing ever did. You couldn’t decide if that thought was a relief, or a thorn digging ever deeper under your skin.

tag list: @eonnyx @celestialstar111 @whataloadofmalarkey @sapphiclm

[trollprincess]

It says a lot about how my mental health is right now that I was going to bring clonazepam with me to work and I didn’t want to risk doing anything stupid. (Honestly, I’ve taken my daily limit already. I shouldn’t take more at all.)

I’m just … some days I’m tempted to start a GoFundMe to afford to quit my full-time weekend job and just let my burnout crumble away for a month or two. But this is where my health insurance is, so I can’t do that.

I end up pushing myself to finish podcast episodes for all the wrong reasons, when I just want to be able to focus on doing it for the reasons I started in the first place. Yesterday I killed time at work telling a coworker about different fires because he wondered if you die quickly if you burn to death. I think I mentioned a good eight different disasters over the course of an hour because I hit on the Happy Land Fire, the Station, Bradford City Stadium (and by extension Hillsborough and Heysel), the Cocoanut Grove, and probably would have done the Triangle Shirtwaist factory and the Beverly Hills Supper Club if I didn’t already tell him about those.

Uvalde was hard to research, write, and record on an emotional level, and I’m maybe in a little bit of denial about how hard it hit. I don’t know. You hear a kid tell a 911 operator they know how to handle these situations because their dad taught them what to do *in a school shooting* and it gets stuck in your head.

I’ve got therapy on Monday, and next weekend I have mostly off from my weekend job. (I didn’t have enough vacation time to take all of Sunday off, but I’ll only be there eight hours on what’s usually a twelve-hour shift.) I could use the break. But I can’t afford the break. I would love to sit out in the sun in one of my new swimsuits and cross-stitch, and instead I’ve got to knock out podcast episodes to keep up with my bills.

So yeah, not in a good place mentally at ALL. The money situation is not helping. I’m pissed at myself for hitting the damn pothole because now here’s me having spent my entire paycheck on tires for a car I’d trade in a heartbeat if this area had dependable public transportation.

Anyway, I’m going to add the QR codes for my donation links because I really, really, really need help right now, and because my mental health is just getting worse, and because working until I break down is supposed to be how you get ahead and all it’s doing is burying me.

So if you can help out, even if it’s just a little, I’d appreciate it. If you can share, I’d also appreciate it. If you’re a literary agent who wants to get a disaster podcaster a book deal … where have you been?! I’ve been looking for you FOREVER. Jeez.

I shall also add a photo of my dog sleeping in his favorite chair. Because look how fucking cute that piglet is.