#and i saw the notif and thought i was still dreaming

[phanchester]

put in the tags where you were and what you were doing when basically i’m gay came out

[cuteniarose]

consider: emran x suiren?? what r ur thoughts?

Well… first of all, Emran is 25 years older than Suiren, so do with that information what you will

Second, he’s her uncle’s sibling, and while they aren’t related by blood I feel like there’s still some line there that’s being crossed

Third, yes, Emran is genderfluid, but he is a man sometimes and Suiren is a lesbian (though this one is the least of my concerns, tbh, lesbians can do whatever the fuck they want, I'm not into that exclusionist bullshit)

But if we put all that aside for the sake of argument.. I honestly don’t think Emran is Suiren’s type? Character-wise I think they’d match well, his happy and freedom loving personality would speak to her anarchist spirit (though I do think she’d get annoyed with that overly positive attitude really, really quickly) but looks-wise he’s just too androgynous for her liking. We all know she’s weak for a certain someone else with green eyes and pale skin and black hair (does Kuvira look like she’d belong in this family or am I losing it?), but the butch vibes have to be off the charts for her to be really interested. Also he’s happy with life as an acolyte at one of the Air Temples while she’d rather die than live there and meditate all the time and wear orange 😂 So the most I could hypothetically see them as is a one night stand, or perhaps a short term relationship, but nothing else

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[misserabella]

@ entersandman

summary; spencer turns to pornography to pay for his phds and careers, but what happens when his secret identity gets revealed? and by no one else than you?

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, imagine is spencer on the pictures, suggestive messages, only fans, straight out porn, live porn stream, sub! spencer, dom! reader, mommy kink, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, sexting, dirty talking… i can’t remember the rest!!

a/n: happy (kink)october!!!

@ entersandman has started a live!

your whole body thrummed at the notification, your thumb quickly pinching on it to open the app, your hungry eyes ranking over the supple soft skin of his toned chest and abdomen.

@ pin_klily; god

@ yourprettyprincess233; i’m so early!!!!!

@ idealisticashee77; so hotttt

your eyes scanned the upcoming and flowing comment section of the stream, your fingers quickly typing to receive the protagonist of your wet dreams.

@ puredoll; hi pretty boy

his hand was slowly caressing his growing erection from over his clothes, and his sultry voice filled your ears, making you squirm.

“hey, doll.” you could hear the hint of a smirk on his tone.

you bit down on your lip.

@ puredoll; missed me?

he hummed, squeezing his crotch with his veiny hand. “missed you so much, baby. you weren’t here the last time.” you could almost see him pouting. cute.

you smiled. he always made time for you, it was as if you two knew each other. by the longest time, you had been following his socials, and had become part of his only fans. you had bumped with his account two years ago, and since then you’d been completely hooked. you could still remember the post that caught your attention.

@ entersandman

@ entersandman; would you play with me? i promise i’ll be a good boy.

you weren’t very fond of porn, you barely watched it, but once you entered on his twitter and saw the little snippets of his only fans that he’d post to gain more followers… it was over for you. you didn’t even know you were into more submissive men, always having been the submissive one in your sexual encounters, but once you heard him moaning and begging for more to the camera, completely at the mercy of his watchers, so pliant and responsive… you became obsessed.

you had never bought something as fast as you had bought the membership for his only fans.

he was just so… special somehow. his voice so beautiful, even more when he’d whimper and moan to the camera. and the content was so good…

it honestly made your day to come back home to pictures of him.

@ entersandman

@ entersandman; take my clothes off? yes ma’am.

that or his simple comments, like;

@ entersandman; feeling so needy right now. can i bury my face on your pussy, mommy?

he really knew how to get a rise out of you.

@ puredoll; sorry pretty, i was busy. but i never stopped thinking about you…

his hand squeezed his cock once again and a little sound escaped his throat.

“you thought about me?” his breathy voice came through and your thighs squeezed against the other. he sounded surprised, and happy, glad even. as if he thought about you just as much as you thought about him, which was not possible.

@ delicioussin; take the pants off +50$

@ helplesswhore; i wanna see your cock +100$

@ secretiveloveee; play with us

@ puredoll; you see that, baby? they’re waiting for you. why don’t you give them a show?

spencer groaned, his eyes squeezing shut, he couldn’t help the jumping of his dick, not when you talked to him like that.

“should i take this off?” he tugged at his pants, and the chat went crazy, money flowing in, and he chuckled. “alright, alright…” his slim fingers easily snapped open the button, and pulled down the zipper, pushing his pants just the slightest down to show the streamers the sight of his fully erect dick and the stain of precum surrounding his tip.

@ puredoll; haven’t touched yourself and you’re already dripping, so cute…

spencer couldn’t swallow down the moan that left his throat, his cock twitching in need for his hand. he cupped it once again, his length clear as day through the flimsy material. he was big. really big.

“you see this? look what you do to me…”

you moaned at the neediness of his tone, your heart skipping a beat when he pleaded with a “can i take them off?”

@ kittypurr555; get rid of them +100$

@ morppheus_2; show us your pretty dick +100$

@ needyneedyneedy; god he’s so hard!!! +150$

@ uttermostlust; i’m salivating +50$

@ puredoll; so good at asking for permission baby… go ahead, show mommy

he whimpered. and god, you’ve missed that sound so much. fucking finals. fucking school… one of your hands came down to your chest to pinch your nipples as he quickly pushed down his underwear under his balls in between ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’’s. they looked so full. and he was so fucking hard… what you’d do to have him in your mouth…

@ p0rnlover5663; +200$

@ babybluebaby; +150$

@ ashtonishingstamina69; +100$

your tongue licked your lips as you took in the sight of his reddish pretty tip, beaded with precum, the veins that decorated his shaft and the little curls at his base.

a whine left spencer’s lips when his hand wrapped around his cock. “mommy… i’m so hard…” you sighed, smirking at his neediness and tone. gently laughing at the lustful comments in the chat, you typed your response.

@ puredoll; i can see that baby, why don’t you fuck your hand for me, hm?

“fuck…” he moaned as he quickly followed your order, his hand slowly pumping his cock as his chest quickly increased in breaths. his back slightly arched, and his free hand harshly gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

@ puredoll; that’s it, you’re doing perfect, pretty. tell me how good it feels

“it feels so good mommy… so good…” he moaned. money was easily flowing into his account, the chat increasing in thirsty comments. “i wish it were your hand, your mouth…” he was begging as he sped up. the hand that was touching your breasts came down underneath your panties, finding yourself soaked through. you moaned as you started drawing little circles on your puffy throbbing clit. “i need you mommy.”

your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth capturing your bottom lip in a vice grip. you could draw blood if you wanted to. your hips bucked against your own hand when another whimper came through the screen. “fuck.” he looked so pretty, his neck (the last thing you could see, since his face was out of frame) and chest were flushed, lungs quickly taking in air as his hand worked his cock, his thumb gliding against his slit in little circles.

“see this? this is how i’d touch your pretty clit, mommy, would make you feel so good…” your eyes rolled at his breathy whine. jesus christ.

@ purringkitty7; my godddd +50$

@ allsheeatsisdickk; i’m literally dripping +50$

@ itsbonercl0ck; +100$

“would you like that mommy? or would you prefer to have my mouth? fill it with your cum over and over again? suffocate me with your pussy and use me?” you moaned, topping with your non dominant hand –since the other was busy plunging two fingers inside your gaping hole-. “please use me mommy, i want you to use me…”

@ puredoll; such a fucking dirty mouth, baby… i bet you’d love that, huh? to be my little toy… beg for it.

spencer moaned, his cock jumping in his hand. his adam’s apple bobbed right before he went ahead and complied.

“please mommy… can i be your toy? please let me be your toy mommy, please… i need it. need to be your pretty toy.”

your fingers curled against your g spot as his words made you moan and clench.

@ puredoll; good boy, baby, such a good little toy for me

spencer cursed, his pace around his throbbing and leaking dick increasing. you smirked.

@ puredoll; slow down… they want to see…

spencer whined but followed the order, deciding to play with his balls instead, showing off the length of his cock with light grasps and jerks of his hand, making it bob and slap against his lower stomach, precum staining his porcelain skin.

spencer was biting down on his bottom lip harshly, his dick twitching in need of release. his hazel eyes trailed along the comments and donations. looking for you. for directions.

@ puredoll; good boy… is all of that for me?

he moaned. “it’s all for you mommy, all for you.” he went back to slowly pumping himself. you fucked yourself at the same pace. “are you touching yourself for me, mommy? am i making you feel good?”

you could almost scream in ecstasy. why did he have to sound like that?

@ puredoll; so good baby, so good…

to that he whimpered, his hand moving faster. just the thought of you touching yourself because of him, of how he sounded and looked, making his mind dizzy and the pressure building in his lower stomach to grow faster than before.

“mommy i’m so close… i can’t hold it.” he whined, his hand going impossibly faster. “can i cum? please can i cum? wanna cum inside of you mommy, wanna fill you up, please…” those words brought you closer to your own orgasm, moans spilling from your lips as your finger curled against your g spot over and over again.

@ iseered633; so hot +100$

@ bestgirlint00wn; fuckkkkk +150$

@ octoberween666; +50$

@ punkypurr; +60$

he kept begging, whining, moaning, whimpering… until he saw it.

@ puredoll; cum.

it was immediate, instant, hot white and creamy spurts of cum coating his hand and reaching up to his chest as he became a babbling whimpering mess for you, his eyes rolling back as his hips fucked into his hand needily.

your orgasm hit you just as fast, triggered by the sight and sound of him coming undone. your back arched as your fingers kept thrusting, curling, fucking you dumb.

both of you rode your highs until there was nothing left.

you watched as spencer laid there, cock still twitching slightly against a pool of cum on his stomach, his chest heaving as he tried to found his breath.

@ puredoll; good job baby, looked so pretty coming for me

“thank you mommy.” he flushed, as always, feeling conscious of his disarray and state in front of the camera. “thank you for coming, i’ll see you next time.” and with that, he ended the live.

spencer posted hours later on his twitter.

@ entersandman

@ entersandman; i see your name and i go crazy

it was another boring day at school. philosophy classes were really kicking your ass.

the professor had gone on a tangent of rambles to which you could not keep up with. that was until he took a deep breath and questioned.

“so, can anybody tell me if abstract concepts, like numbers, really exist?”

someone, someone you hadn’t seen before in your class, which was pretty weird, rose his hand. you couldn’t see much, except for brown hair and his back, clothed in a white shirt.

“yes?”

“from a platonist perspective, abstract concepts exist in a non-physical realm of forms, accessible through intellect and reason. in contrast, nominalists argue that these concepts are mere human constructs without independent existence.”

that voice.

your whole body tensed, your eyes widening and breath hitching. you could recognize that voice anywhere.

entersandman.

“correct, …?” the teacher paused, awaiting for a name.

“oh, reid. spencer reid.”

your heart was about to beat out of your chest. quickly after the class was dismissed since it had come to an end. you were fast at getting out of there to take a look at him.

casual. be casual.

just one glimpse.

but when he left that class and walked into the corridor your eyes couldn’t leave his face. his perfect face.

your heart almost stopped then. hazel eyes, messy curly hair, small nose, pink full lips and high sharp cheek bones. you were fucked.

you could perfectly be gaping like a fish right now, drooling even. he was handsome, pretty, attractive, hot, everything. he was everything. and he was so tall…

you almost moaned when he passed by your side and could smell his cologne.

god…

you could feel yourself getting wet already.

you turned to see him walk away to what you supposed would be his next class. he was here. entersandman was just meters away from you, in the flesh. he was real.

but he didn’t know you knew. he didn’t know who you were. he didn’t know you were the girl that had made him come many times, on and off camera.

but you were gonna let him know.

you had a plan.

that night you came home to more posts coming from spencer.

@ entersandman; thinking about you tying me up with my tie, using me to get off, mommy. want to be your boy toy so badly… can’t stop thinking about your lips on my neck, leaving marks that won’t go away as you take all you want from me.

@ entersandman

@ entersandman; i’ll beg if i have to, baby, i just wanna be in between your thighs

you smirked, your mouth salivating at the sight. so needy…

time to move. you opened his profile and pinched on the message option.

you thought for a minute before typing the decided words and hitting sent.

@ puredoll

somebody’s needy today, aren’t you spencer?

spencer was busy reading his assignments for university when his phone buzzed, a new message notification. his eyes widened when he read your username, fingers scrambling to quickly type his password, unlock his phone and get into the app. but all blood drained from his face when he read what you had written him, more specifically his name.

how did you know it? how did you know him? how?!

you chuckle as the minutes pass and he doesn’t answer.

@ puredoll

cat got your tongue baby?

what a pity, you know i love it when you’re loud

@ entersandman

how do you know?

he bit down anxiously on his bottom lip, his heart was about to burst out of his chest.

@ puredoll

so dry… you hurt me baby, thought you’d be happy to talk with me

@ entersandman

i am, it’s just…

@ puredoll

for all that matters, i’ve gotta say that you’re prettier than i thought, with those puppy eyes of yours and big brain. got me so horny in class…

spencer’s cheeks reddened, his heartbeat loud on his ears, his whole body flushing and cock jumping in his briefs. something about having gotten caught by someone, by you, made his mind fuzzy and his desire stir.

so you’re in his class? which one?

@ puredoll

so quiet… what’s on your mind, hm?

@ entersandman

sorry, so you know who i am

@ puredoll

i do

he swallowed.

@ puredoll

such a dirty boy… going to school by day, stroking your cock for the internet by night.

he groaned, feeling his cock stir.

@ puredoll

and i bet you love it, huh? love the attention. my attention.

@ entersandman

yes

@ puredoll

yes what?

he moaned, biting his lip.

@ entersandman

yes, mommy.

@ puredoll

good boy, spencer.

holy fuck. he could come just by the sound of you calling him by his name. one of his hands came down to his hard dick, squeezing, his lip harshly bit in between his teeth.

@ puredoll

you’re quiet…are you touching that pretty cock of yours for me, baby?

@ enteresandman

fuck. yes, mommy.

@ puredoll

so dirty… let me see.

spencer groaned and quickly followed your orders, opening the camera and hitting the record button, showing you the imprint of his hard cock from underneath his flimsy pajama pants as he stroked it.

@ puredoll

someone’s needy, mh? who are you this hard for, huh baby?

@ entersandman

you mommy, only you.

@ puredoll

yet you have so many clothes on… why don’t you take them off for mommy, huh?

@ entersandman

like this?

he sent you a pic of his completely nude body, and you bit down on your lip.

@ puredoll

exactly like that baby, now go ahead and use your hand

and he did, making sure to show the length of his cock to the camera as he slowly pumped it, whimpering curses and begging for you. yet this time, his face could be seen, eyebrows scrunched, jaw slack as moans spilled out and puppy brown eyes shining with lust.

@ puredoll

so fucking pretty… fuck spencer.

your thighs pushed together as your cunt quickly slicked up.

@ entersandman

please… can i go faster mommy?

@ puredoll

yes baby, go ahead

he moaned and once again pressed record as he sped up, stopping every now and then to play with his balls before going back to stroking the leaking head of his cock.

‘look what you do to me.’ he muttered to the camera, voice sultry and raw.

one of your hands came down towards your pussy, your hand cupping it from over your clothes as a groan left your lips.

@ entersandman

wishing it were your hand, mommy.

@ puredoll

you’re driving me crazy…

@ entersandman

have been thinking about you… want to make you feel good, want to make you cum

@ puredoll

yeah?

@ entersandman

yes…

your hand pushed into your pants and panties, sighing when you felt how wet you were.

@ puredoll

i’m so wet for you, you always get me like this…

spencer moaned, the image of you touching yourself for him driving him crazy, his hips thrusting up into his hand.

@ entersandman

fuck, doll…

you quickly pushed your clothes down, exposing your drenched cunt to the air, your fingers sliding easily through your folds before stopping over your clit and drawing tight circles that made your thighs shake and your back arch.

@ puredoll

you want to see?

@ entersandman

yes please, please mommy…

you smirked and hit record, pointing the camera in between your legs, filming how you touched yourself for him, letting out little sighs and moans before plunging your fingers inside yourself and curling them to hit your g spot.

spencer couldn’t handle it. the sight, your sounds and the fact that this was you, the girl he had been fantasizing about for months on end, touching herself for him, pushed him straight to the edge.

he came so hard his load hit his chest as he moaned loudly. he shakily recorded the remains of his spurts with whimpers as he made a mess of himself and his hand.

and when you returned the favor with a video of your own release, creamy cum surrounding and dripping from your fingers, he knew he had to have you.

and soon.

a/n; this took so long to write. anyways, would you guys like a second part? leave your comments and reblog and like if you enjoyed it!🤍

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ I could never hate you;

Pairing; fem!reader x nishimura riki Warnings; Suggestive but very very angsty Words; 3.278 Synopsis: When Niki returns to his parents’ countryside home, memories of a past love resurface, along with the regret of losing you. Despite his rising fame and a new girlfriend, Niki can’t escape the feelings he still has for you. As tensions mount, both of you are forced to face the unresolved emotions from your past relationship. Amid stolen glances and painful confrontations, Niki must decide whether to fight for the love he once had or move on, knowing that the weight of his mistakes might be too much to overcome. A story of love, regret, and second chances. My Masterlist;

A/N; Sorry for breaking your heart but I've been having a rough few days and had to let it out somehow haha. Jokes aside, I hope you like reading this, likes and comments are always appreciated, thank you so so much! All the love I've been receiving is just... thank you guys :(

As Niki stepped inside the familiar house, memories overwhelmed him. He vividly recalled the first time he visited his parents' new home in the Japanese countryside. It was a spacious house, tastefully decorated and equipped with the latest appliances. The backyard featured a pool and a small garden for growing crops. His mom took pride in eating the vegetables she had cultivated herself.

Niki felt genuinely happy for his parents—they had finally achieved their dream of living in a tranquil environment. He felt even prouder knowing he had contributed to the house's cost. Secretly, he loved it too: escaping the noise of the cities and enjoying a restful night’s sleep in his serene bedroom.

He also remembered you. You were one year older than him, kind and thoughtful. The first time he saw you was on his eighteenth birthday, when you delivered something to his mom.

There you were, carrying two boxes of eggs. He could still picture the way your dark brown hair framed your shoulders and your shy smile as you handed the eggs to his mom. He didn’t know your name, your age… nothing. All he knew was that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Niki glanced around the living room and inhaled deeply, the familiar aroma of his mom's cooking filling the air. Letting go of all his worries, he rushed to the kitchen, where his mom was busy preparing his favorite meal.

“Mom!” Niki called softly, hugging her from behind and resting his head on top of hers. He had longed for her motherly affection.

“Riki, you’ve grown even more!” she said, her voice full of emotion as she admired her son. “Sit down. I’ve been cooking just for you!” she added warmly, heading to the fridge to grab more food for him.

Niki ate in silence, his heart brimming with love as he savored the delicious meal his mom had prepared. He had missed it all—the food, the house, the quietness.

Later, as he helped his mother wash the dishes and chatted about his bandmates, the doorbell rang. His mom jumped slightly, glanced at the door, and then at Niki. She removed her wet gloves and looked at him again.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” she said gently, her hands softly caressing his face in a soothing gesture. Niki tried not to dwell on it and continued with the dishes. He finished quickly, but as he walked upstairs, he heard his mom’s voice from afar, accompanied by someone else’s.

A sudden pang in Niki’s chest made him pause and take a deep breath. His body recognized the other voice before his mind could. He missed her. He tried to ignore it and went upstairs to his room, where he threw himself onto the bed and closed his eyes.

His phone lit up with a notification. As he picked it up, his wallpaper caught his eye. It was a selfie from his girlfriend, taken when Niki had asked her to be with him. She had long blonde hair, caramel-colored eyes, and a gentle smile. She was sweet, pretty, and entirely unaware of how Niki couldn’t stop thinking about you. He told himself it wasn’t his fault. When he was in Korea with his bandmates, it was easy to forget you. You weren’t there to remind him of your tender smile or your soothing voice.

But when he talked to his parents, you always seemed to come up in some way. You lived just a few roads away in a stone house surrounded by a farm. Your family worked tirelessly, tending to the animals and crops. They were beloved in the town for their produce at the local farmers' market, and Niki’s parents were no exception. His mom couldn’t get enough of the eggs and fruits your parents sold, while his dad often visited your farm to learn about raising chickens, hoping to start his own small flock.

Riki shoved the phone under his pillow and shut his eyes again, praying a nap might help. But as he reached for the covers, your voice rang out once more, clearer this time. He stood and wandered to the window, spotting you waving goodbye to his mom.

You looked different. Your hair had grown longer, now dyed a deep bluish-black, cascading in soft waves down your back. You seemed fuller, your figure more mature and hypnotizing. The curves of your body highlighted how much time had passed since he’d last seen you. As he observed you, your eyes met his.

Had your eyes always carried so much sadness? he wondered. They hadn’t been like this before—now they were empty and cold. He broke the connection quickly, already regretting getting up. Retreating to his bed, he pulled the covers over himself, wishing you’d leave him in peace, if only in his dreams.

A soft knock at his bedroom door stirred him from his thoughts. He glanced over lazily as the door creaked open, revealing his father, who stepped inside and sat down beside him on the bed.

“Hello, son. How was the drive?” his father asked gently as Ni-ki sat up, still groggy.

“It was fine. I was starving, but Mom already had plenty of food waiting for me,” he replied, his yawn betraying his lingering exhaustion.

“I have something to tell you,” his father began, his tone turning serious. Niki straightened up, now more alert. “I invited Y/N over for dinner. She’s been helping your mother with the crops, and we wanted to show our appreciation… In my defense, I forgot you were arriving this afternoon. I thought you’d come later tonight—”

“Dad,” Riki interrupted, “it’s fine. You don’t need to act like she’s a ghost. I’m okay.” Ni-ki lied, hating how much his parents knew about his feelings for you. His father studied him closely, reading his expression with ease.

“Are you sure you’re alright? She’ll be here soon,” his father said kindly, clearly trying to gauge his son’s comfort.

“I’m not hungry,” Riki muttered, avoiding his father’s gaze and shifting his focus to the window. “I ate a lot when I got here. I’ll just… sleep,” he added, hoping the subtle hint would stop his father from pressing further.

“Alright,” his dad replied, offering a gentle smile as he stood and quietly closed the door behind him.

Niki exhaled sharply, frustrated by the tension now lingering in his once-safe haven. He closed his eyes, determined to rest, but memories of the last time you’d been in his room refused to leave him…

You sat on his lap, his oversized t-shirt swallowing your smaller body. Your hair framed your face in soft waves, and your cheeks were flushed a deep pink. Your hands cupped his jaw, fingers brushing over his warm skin. He was shirtless, dressed only in black sweatpants.

“I hope you stay as sweet as you’ve always been…” you murmured, a soft smile lighting up your face as your fingers glided across his cheeks. Ni-ki was preparing to leave for Korea again to focus on his career; Enhypen was finally gaining the recognition they’d worked so hard for.

“Come with me,” Ni-ki pleaded for the fifth time. “I could probably get you a job at Hybe. Maybe you could start as an assistant in the graphic design department and work your way up. You’re so talented, I—” His words dissolved as your lips silenced him with a gentle, lingering kiss.

“I… will… be here… waiting… for you,” you whispered between kisses, your voice firm yet tender, trying to make him forget about the idea of taking you away. You knew your family relied on you to manage the farm’s administrative side—the vital work that kept everything running smoothly.

Ni-ki stared into your deep brown eyes, his hair falling across his forehead as your hands cradled his face again. He was so attractive, so carefree, and so utterly in love with you. Your cheeks burned, your lips glistened from his kisses, and he couldn’t help the fiery desire growing inside him. His hands traced up and down your bare thighs, as though trying to memorize every inch of you.

You rested your head against his chest, savoring the heat of his touch as his hands wandered gently over your skin.

“Ni-ki…” you whispered, your voice soft as your eyes met his. In that moment, nothing else existed—just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

Ni-ki regretted that night. He regretted not making you his. He regretted giving himself to the girl he now called his girlfriend. He regretted it because deep down, he knew you were the only one who’d ever stirred these feelings within him. Maybe it was love, but he had been too scared to name it.

Back in the present, Ni-ki tossed and turned in bed, unable to find comfort. You were downstairs, eating dinner and laughing with his parents, while he lay upstairs, lost in memories, wishing things had turned out differently. Like a coward.

You had ended it, but he knew the blame was his. He’d been too weak to break things off, so he let you take the burden—ignoring your calls and texts for days, going out with his friends, drinking until he could forget, and kissing someone else. It had been just a fleeting moment, but one he regretted immediately. Everyone had known he messed up. The silence from his friends spoke volumes...

“Mom,” Ni-ki called softly as he entered the kitchen, where you and his parents sat eating. His mom shot to her feet, concern flashing across her face as she realized what was coming. She glanced at you briefly, and you responded with a forced smile.

Ni-ki stood in the doorway, his black hair falling over his eyes as usual. He wore a loose T-shirt and sweatpants. His gaze landed on you, seated beside his mom, across from his dad. Your hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and you wore a simple black top. But your eyes—those deep brown irises—looked darker than he’d ever seen them, filled with hurt and emptiness.

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to sound nonchalant.

You offered a thin, artificial smile, your voice almost breaking as you said, “Hey, Riki.” You avoided his gaze, focusing on your plate as you tried to finish your rice. Ni-ki’s chest tightened at the sound of your voice.

“Is there something you need, sweetie?” his mom asked, concern evident in her tone.

“I’m hungry. Can I sit down and eat?” Ni-ki asked, his voice barely audible, searching for a reason to stay. His mom glanced at his dad, who answered cautiously.

“Of course, son. Sit down,” his dad said.

An uneasy silence settled over the table. Ni-ki’s unexpected appearance after claiming he wasn’t hungry left everyone confused. Dinner continued, but the tension was almost unbearable. He stole glances at you now and then, the longing in his chest growing stronger, but each time your eyes met his, he quickly looked away.

“Y/N, darling, could you go pick a watermelon from the garden? You always know how to pick the best ones!” Ni-ki’s dad said warmly.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, managing a small smile as you got up to leave.

Outside, the warm breeze brushed your face, but it offered no comfort. Tears welled up and spilled down your cheeks. You tried to suppress the sobs, the knot in your throat tightening painfully. Quickly, you wiped your face and focused on selecting a watermelon wanting to just get this over with. But as you turned to head back inside, you saw Ni-ki leaning against the doorframe.

You thought about walking past him, but then his hand touched your shoulder—warm and familiar.

“Can we talk?” Ni-ki asked, his voice low and raspy. You took a deep breath, turning to face him. His tall frame loomed over you, his presence so close that you could feel his breath on your skin.

“Maybe we should,” you said coolly, trying to maintain your composure. You set the watermelon down and sat on the small step between the garden and the house. Ni-ki followed, sitting beside you.

He couldn’t meet your eyes. Shame and anxiety clouded his face. His hands fidgeted in his lap, and you noticed it. You could see how much he’d changed—his sharper features, his thinner frame, his longer hair. He’d grown so much over the past year, and you hadn’t been there to witness it.

“I want to say I’m sorry,” Ni-ki began, his voice thick with regret. “I never meant to hurt you. I don’t know why I acted the way I did, and I know it doesn’t make it right. I should never have kissed her, not when I was with you.”

“That wasn’t what hurt me the most,” you said, your voice trembling as tears threatened to fall again. You lifted your head to look at him, struggling to hold yourself together. “What hurt was how you ignored me for days, and when you finally did acknowledge it, you wouldn’t let me speak. I was ready to forgive you, Ni-ki. I wanted to, so badly…”

Ni-ki heard the crack in your voice and turned to face you. He saw the tears sliding down your cheeks, each one a testament to the pain he’d caused. That sight broke him the most. You—his anchor, the one who had always been there for him—were crying because of him.

“I couldn’t face you after that,” he whispered, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You leaned into his palm, finding comfort in his touch, but it no longer felt the same.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, how your sister had grown up and found a boyfriend. You wanted to hold him, kiss him, but it didn’t feel right—not after everything that had happened.

“How are the boys?” you asked, breaking the silence. Ni-ki’s face brightened slightly.

“They’re good! We’ve been working hard and promoting a lot. People are starting to take us seriously,” he said with a flicker of pride. “Oh, and Jake bought a new collar for Layla. It’s adorable!” He pulled out his phone to show you, but as the screen lit up, her face appeared as his wallpaper.

Riki froze, glancing at you and noticing your expression shift from curiosity to sadness.

“This is Sun Yeon, my girlfriend…” he said softly, almost apologetically.

“Good for you,” you replied coldly, standing up. Dusting off your jeans, you turned to head back inside. “Let’s just pretend we’re friends so your parents don’t keep walking on eggshells around us.”

Ni-ki stood up and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from opening the door. Slowly, he pulled you toward him, trying to make you face him, but you couldn’t. Tears you had kept hidden for so long began to fall freely, dripping down your cheeks like rain. Your heart ached as if it were being crushed.

“Don’t say that…” Ni-ki whispered, bending down to lift your chin, gently forcing you to meet his eyes. Your face was flushed from crying—cheeks, nose, and lips painted in a deep cherry red.

“What am I supposed to say, huh?” you snapped suddenly, pushing him away. Embarrassed by the tears you couldn’t stop, you struggled to regain control. “Congrats on getting over me so quickly? I hope you have a great life with her?” you yelled, shoving him backwards with force. “Does it feel good to know that, even after a year, I still care about you, and you’re with someone else? Does it feel good knowing I still love you while you love someone else?” you shouted, standing on tiptoes to meet his gaze.

“NO!” Ni-ki yelled back, startling you and making you stumble. “I FEEL LIKE SHIT EVERY SINGLE DAY. I REGRET WHAT I DID CONSTANTLY,” he roared, his eyes locked onto yours as he backed you into the outside wall. “I started dating her to distract myself from you. And it worked for a while, but every time I see you or hear your voice, the guilt is so heavy it makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Then why didn’t you contact me after I said we were over?” you asked quietly, your knees weakening from the closeness between you. “I waited for you every single day…” you confessed, your gaze locked with his. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, and you instinctively reached out to wipe them away.

“I thought you hated me…” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand reached up to caress your cheek.

“I could never hate you, Riki,” you replied with a sad smile, more tears streaming down your face.

That was when Ni-ki lost control. He couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to show you how much he missed you. Without another thought, he leaned in and kissed you.

It started as a gentle peck, a test. When you pulled him closer, his heart raced—he knew you were giving him permission for more. His lips crashed into yours, urgent and hungry. You slid your tongue across his lips, deepening the kiss. But Ni-ki didn’t let you take control. Instead, he wrapped his muscular arms around your waist, pulling you tightly against him.

A surprised moan escaped your lips, and Ni-ki used the opportunity to deepen the kiss further. His tongue danced with yours in a passionate battle for dominance. The kiss was fierce, filled with hunger and longing. Minutes passed as the two of you devoured each other’s lips until you finally pulled away to breathe. Your lips were swollen and glistening as if coated in an expensive gloss.

Ni-ki gazed into your eyes, as though unable to believe you were there with him again. He kissed your entire face with passion, then moved down to your neck, biting and kissing the soft skin there. The scent of your sweet perfume overwhelmed his senses. His long hair brushed against your skin, and suddenly, reality struck you.

“Ni-ki…” you called breathlessly, trying to push him away. But his lips stayed glued to your neck. “Riki, this isn’t right. You have a girlfriend,” you said more firmly, pushing him away.

The truth hit him like a brick.

“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened,” Ni-ki murmured, guilt consuming him once more. Even though he wanted you, and even though you wanted him, Sun didn’t deserve to be treated this way just because he couldn’t figure himself out.

“Maybe we should never see each other again,” you said coldly, anger bubbling inside you.

Ni-ki’s face fell, and he reached for you, grabbing your wrist.

“No, wait—Y/N,” he called, his voice desperate as he realized he’d made another mistake. “I didn’t mean it like that! I love you. Please,” Ni-ki pleaded as you started walking toward the house, ready to leave.

“No, you don’t. You don’t even know what you want. You don’t know anything!” you yelled without looking back.

“I’ll break up with her,” he said urgently, grabbing your hand just as you turned away. “I love you. Please, don’t leave…”

You froze, the weight of his words sinking in. Slowly, you turned to face him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell your parents I had to go and that I won’t be able to come here for a while. Goodbye, Riki,” you said, your heart breaking at your own words. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you walked away.

Ni-ki stood there, his heart heavy. But he wasn’t about to let you go. He couldn’t lose you again.

Taglist; @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay If you want to be added or taken off the taglist, just let me know!

[pleasureable]

Love Potions

Summary - Thanos was used to having girls throw themselves at him. As he got older, the feeling of simply using somebody for self-gratification became exhilarating for him. He never thought a girl could have him in a chokehold until he met you, pink haired and all.

Warnings - Mentions of weed, reader has pink hair again because yes, high school au, kinda short (2k word count, was too exhausted to make it any longer please forgive me), ooc thanos once again? please excuse any grammatical errors, not really proofread

A/N - Might be my last long piece on here for a little, I'll probably write some drabbles or head cannons here and there, though! Once again, thank you so much for all the love on Pink Goes Well with Purple, it warms my heart so much every time I see all the engagement on it.

Thanos never took anything, or anyone, seriously. Girls had always found him attractive, and halfway through his 7th-grade year, he realized he liked female attention. He had never genuinely liked someone, though. Every girl he decided to "pursue" was either too clingy or as he would put it, "too much of a cock-drunk bitch".

Knowing exactly how to play the game, he approached all his intended targets with feigned interest and used their obvious attraction to him to his advantage. He would stick around for a few days pretending to care about their likes and interests, then dump them like toxic waste once he got them into his bed. He loved how these girls would completely submit themselves to him, he loved how he could openly toy with them yet still have them begging for his love and affection.

Thanos loved the power.

He had woken up to his phone buzzing from its lying position on his nightstand. "20+ unread messages from Lindsey", the notification read. "Hop off my fuckin' dick, bitch" he mumbled in his groggy, half-awake state. He had gone to some random house party with his buddies the night before, all in hopes of getting totally shit-faced and finding some bimbo who would be willing to help him get his dick wet.

To his annoyance, friends of Lindsey's had taken candid photos of him swapping spit with some chick in a corner. He didn't care about Lindsey's feelings; he just didn't want to deal with her inevitable tantrum once she was informed of his actions. He was getting ready to dump her anyway as she was probably the clingiest of the girls Thanos had been with. Always going off on jealousy-fueled tangents regarding his flirty attitude toward other girls, always begging for him to "change his ways for her". Ha, in your fucking dreams.

Arriving at school, he was immediately greeted with the sight of her tear-stained face, "What the fuck were you doing last night, Thanos?! I saw you kissing some fucking bitch at that party last night!" She wept, though it clearly wasn't phasing him. Thanos wore a stone-cold expression as he walked through the halls of the high school with Lindsey hot on his trail. He spotted his history class and walked in, leaving her behind, the door closing firmly in her face.

The first few minutes of class went by in a blur, usual rambling from his teacher and stupid antics from his friends give a monotonous tone to his already shitty day.

Without warning, the classroom door swings open.

You walk in, clad in your black Aeropostale tracksuit, pink hair lightly curled with slightly red-rimmed glassy eyes. Students turn to look at you, some wearing an  expression reminiscent of admiration. "Oh! You must be Y/N", the teacher said. "Have a seat wherever, we were just getting ready to start class."

He couldn't help but check you out. To him, you were quite possibly the most beautiful, angel-like thing he had ever laid eyes upon. His eyes scanned you up and down, staring at the way your tits looked squeezed into your jacket, a small diamond-studded necklace with your initial resting perfectly between them. Miraculously, you opted to sit in the empty seat right in front of him. The smell of sweet perfume and hint of weed that clung to you was intoxicating, filling his nostrils and leaving him entranced.

You shattered Thanos' cocky facade in an instant, leaving his mind a complete blank. The fact that he felt a way no other person had ever made him feel before didn't go unnoticed by him, and he wasn't so sure he hated it. The chance to talk to you presented itself, and he immediately began racking his brain to figure out what to say; in the end, he settled on asking for something simple: a pencil.

"Hey señorita, you got a pencil I could borrow?" He asked. You turned your head and began to look at him over your shoulder, his breath hitched. Your eyes were breathtaking, everything about you was perfect. You pulled a pencil from the pocket of your sweatpants and handed it to him, your pretty manicured nails catching his eye. "You can keep it." You spoke, voice as soft as silk. The pink, glitter-ridden Hello Kitty pencil you handed him made him crack a smile, you were adorable.

You had just met him but even so, Thanos was already feigning for you. He wanted you, wanted to know what those pretty pink lips of yours taste like.

Class went by in a flash, the only thing Thanos recalled from the past hour was him admiring your curves through the openings on the back of the school chair. Once the bell rang, everyone began to exit the room. You left the classroom so swiftly that it was almost ghost-like, Thanos scrambled to leave as quickly as you did, not wanting to let you out of his sight. Just as he was about to follow you through the halls, his buddy caught up to him and grabbed onto his shoulder. "Yo T, that new girl? Fuckin' hot shit." His friend Nam-Gyu spoke. "Back off dude, I call dibs." Thanos said, jealousy apparent in his voice.

“What? Since when do we call dibs on girls?” Nam-gyu responded, his face twisting in confusion. Thanos never cared about girls enough to publicly claim them as his, but you were different. He could feel it.”Since now, man. She’s fuckin’ perfect, I don’t know what it is about her.” Thanos said, just the thought of you was already clouding up his thoughts in the best way possible. Nam-Gyu realized his friend was serious, he’d never seen Thanos act this way over anyone. As surprised as he was at his friend’s sudden new attitude, Nam-Gyu was still a tad bit annoyed he couldn’t have a piece of you. You were hot shit, after all. “Whatever, man.” Nam-Gyu huffed. 

The last thing Thanos really remembered from today was going into the boys bathroom to hide from Lindsey (and to smoke some weed), as she was still currently hunting him down like some deranged serial killer. He hadn’t seen much of you since history class, though he could probably blame that on the blunt he had hit. He remembered seeing slight flashes of pink throughout the day, but that’s about it. He kept a mental image of the way you looked at him when he asked for that pencil, your pretty, doe eyes were unforgettable. 

The next morning, for the first time in a very long time, Thanos felt like he had something to look forward to that day. Knowing he got to see you again was enough for him to get out of bed with the energy mimicking that of a little kid on an intense sugar-high. 

Once at school, he made b-lined for his history class. He was the very first student there but he didn’t care, all he cared about was getting to see that certain pink-haired angel walk in once again. As students began to pile into the class, he finally caught a glimpse of you. Your white lace camisole gave you an ethereal glow, complemented by the delicate, gold heart-shaped locket around your neck. Your fitted jeans accentuate your curves, and the subtle shine of your belly piercing added a touch of allure. Just as Thanos felt like you couldn’t get any better. 

Though, for obvious reasons, Thanos wasn’t the only boy who had his eye on you. Once you had sat down, his jaw began to tighten when he noticed Myung-Gi practically having a staring contest with your body. His pre-existing hatred for him only grew the longer Myung-Gi’s eyes lingered on you, a little green monster marking its territory inside of him. 

Thanos reached out his hand to tap your shoulder. “Hey, you got another pencil I could borrow?” he asked, a sheep-ish grin making its way onto his face. He realized the stupidity of his question but deep down, he just wanted to get a one-up on Myung-Gi. His breath hitched once more as you turned around to look at him. “What happened to the one I gave you yesterday? Lost it already?” You asked, “Lost? Nah, it’s just playing hard to get.” His dumb joke made you laugh a little, and to him, it was like pure music to his ears.

“Well if I give you another one will you lose it?” The flirty undertones of the conversation had begun making themselves apparent. While Thanos was pretty appealing, it was clear he was the kind of guy you wouldn’t necessarily want to be romantically involved with. Just because you wouldn’t date him didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun with him, though. “If losing it means I get to talk to you again, then no promises, beautiful.” Thanos playfully replied, topping his sentence off with a wink. Cute, you thought. “Well then in that case, here you go, handsome.” You handed him another pencil, My Melody themed this time.

You two had spent the rest of the class period chatting, with the occasional scolding from your teacher for laughing just a little too loud. Once the bell had rang, Thanos stopped you in your tracks before you could exit the classroom, “Why don’t you give me your number so that we can hangout sometime, beautiful?” He asked. For maybe the first time in his life, Thanos The Great feared rejection. He had always thought of himself quite highly, but you were greater than every god or goddess that had ever lived. He didn’t want to mess this up.

You smiled. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a pink gel pen and swiftly wrote your digits down on the soft skin of his hand, to his relief. “Send me a text soon, grape jelly.” You shot him a playful glance before turning around and vanishing into the sea of people flooding the hallway. For a moment, he just stood there, admiring the neatly written numbers on his hand, his heart full. 

Upon his arrival home, Thanos immediately ran up to his room. Throwing himself onto his bed, his mind began to ponder on what to text you. His desperate need to have you was becoming unbearable for him, he needed more than just a conversation to fill the you-shaped hole in his heart. Just as his mind felt as if it was continuously falling into a seemingly endless hole of contemplation, his phone buzzed, signifying the arrival of a text. “You down to get high, grape jelly?” The text read, the stupid (but cute) nickname confirming your identity to him. It was as if his fingers had a mind of their own because in an instant, they began typing up a reply.

 “Of course, sweet thing. Where are we meeting?” 

“Meet me at the park near school in an hour.” You replied.

Excitement was all that was running through Thanos’s head at the thought of spending alone time with you. You were completely and utterly heaven sent.

He began to blast music while laying on his bed, just staring at the ceiling in an attempt to pass time. He continued to fantasize about you, everything about you. Your angelic facial features, your body, your voice. The way you looked at him for the first time. He hadn’t known you for even a week, yet already you were making him feel things that girls he’d known for years had never even come close to making him feel. 

Laying there, in his current state of rumination, Thanos realized this was the closest he had ever come to feeling peace in a very long time. 

When enough time had passed, he snapped out of his thought-induced daze and began to make his way downstairs. Being careful not to wake his parents up, he unlocked the backdoor to his house and shut it behind him, starting to make his way to the designated meet up spot. As soon as he started approaching the park, he noticed a silhouette sitting down at a dimly-lit bench. Getting closer, he recognized the unusually colored hair. 

“Hey, beautiful.” He called out. You looked up from your phone screen to see that now-familiar purple headed man. “Hi.” You responded, a gentle smile taking its place on your face. You passed Thanos the already lit joint in your hand once he took a seat on the bench next to you. He took a hit, paused briefly as the smoke lingered in his lungs, then exhaled, letting the thick cloud roll from his mouth. Taking turns passing the joint amongst yourselves, a peaceful ambience fell upon you both. A sense of calm wrapped around your mind, pushing away the slight nerves you were previously feeling caused by the idea of being alone with Thanos. “I like you, Thanos.” You spoke, the marijuana giving you the courage to speak your mind freely.

“I’ve had my eye on you ever since you got here, beautiful. You’re breathtaking.” He responded. You turned to look at him, tilting your head slightly. “So that’s what the flirty attitude was about?” Giggling, it was all starting to make sense to you. “Of course. Just look at you.” He began to scoot closer, maintaining eye contact. Your pretty, red-rimmed eyes looking up at him made him smile. The sense of euphoria was almost palpable, as if the air itself buzzed with an electric warmth, wrapping you both in a blanket of bliss and exuding a feeling of weightlessness.

Thanos had gotten so close to the point where the tips of your noses were touching. Your current situation felt like a dream, a dream which you didn’t want to wake up from. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, heart racing as the air between you seemed to grow thicker, filled with an unspoken sexual tension. “K-kiss me, please.” You whispered, the need to feel his mouth on yours becoming hard to endure. He pressed his lips to yours, his breath warm against your skin. The kiss deepened, his lips parting slightly to explore yours slowly, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slid to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer, the intensity building with every second that passed.

As you pulled away, both of you were left breathless, your lips tingling and a bit swollen from the intensity of the kiss, cheeks flushed. “You’re good at kissing,” you said, feeling a bit dizzy from the lip-locking. “I could say the same thing about you, pretty girl.”

You ignited a fire within Thanos, and its cause was inexplicable. Maybe it was your friendly and gentle nature that drew him to you, but whatever the case was, you made him want to be better. You had him under a love potion, and he wasn’t planning on breaking the spell anytime soon.

[tpwk-formula1]

Biggest Fan - CL16

Requested by @nina-or-anna-or-nora "Heyy!! 💕 I saw you were asking some requests so I have one for an Smau!! (If you want to do it ofc) I was thinking about the reader being kinda like Sabrina or Olivia (a performer) and then Charles being like her biggest fan🤭just a super cute fluffy thing and he goes to every show he can or posts her and stuff🥹"

AN - Had so much fun writing this SMAU for you! Don't be afraid to send in requests that aren't apart of the Pizza Menu! I love Sabrina but I'm not a die hard fan so I have no idea how many outfit changes she has or the order she performs so if it's a little messed up I apologize! Also LMK if you wanna see me do this with more drivers and make it a little series of the drivers being head over heels for their girl friend!

Summary: Just Charles being in love with Y/N... and basically everyone in the F1 community!

Charles insta stories over the fall break

Twitter

Charles instagram

Liked by landonorris, youruser, carlossainz, and 2,090,513 others

charlesleclerc We're ready for you Austin ft. Y/N and all the fan gifted hats that will make an appearance this weekend tagged carlossainz and youruser

user5 I love how he makes a post for work and still finds a way to get Y/N in there

user6 your honor... it's them. It's always them!

youruser I'm ready to be back in my home soil!

user7 I constantly forget our girl is from the US charlesleclerc you mean MY girl user8 Charles will never learn to share charlesleclerc not when it comes to MY Y/N youruser alright calm it down you charlesleclerc yes maam

user9 I hate feeling single but I do love you guys!

carlossainz Will I ever get a post with just us?

user10 Carlos... they're a package deal user11 If I don't expect anything less, you shouldn't either youruser damn... catching strays carlossainz Y/N I thought we were friends!

load more comments

Your insta story

user12 how does it feel to be living my dream

carlossainz he's been smiling at his phone for 10 minutes because you posted him

youruser I love knowing he loves me as much as I love him

user13 his eyes

charlesleclerc that's one lucky man

youruser he really is!

user14 I love the way you guys love each other

landonorris you guys disgust me with how cute you are together

youruser you wish this was you huh? landonorris I miss when you were to shy to interact with us... kinda a meanie youruser you'll learn to survive

Twitter

your Instagram

Liked by charlesleclerc, yourbff, oliviarodrigo, and 3,092,172 others

youruser Thanks for the warm welcome home... see you in a few weeks for Vegas!

Look for a surprise tomorrow around noon YeeHaw time!

charlesleclerc Ooooo I wanna know the surprise

user18 I can't believe I have notifications on and Charles is still here before me

charlesleclerc you snooze you lose! gotta be quicker than that! youruser love you need to be a bit nicer! user18 no this is on me... I should know no matter how much I love you Charles just loves you that much more! user19 I'm sobbing at this! Charles is so unhinged when it comes to Y/N

landonorris Can I also know the surprise

charlesleclerc NO!

user20 YeeHaw time is SENDING me! For anyone confused she's talking about CST

user21 THANK YOU! It makes so much sense now that you've explained but as a non F1 Y/N fan I didn't realize she was in Texas haha

user22 I love their height difference. I forget just how SMALL Y/N is.

Your Insta Story

charlesleclerc I can't wait to watch you!!

user23 HOLY SHIT! I can't fucking wait!

user24 omg! I'm so excited for this!!

landonorris: I hope you have a ticket saved with my name on it!

youruser: I do including the rest of the grid... spread the word pleaseeee

user25: Oh to be in the US rn to experience this concert! I just know it's gonna be amazing

Twitter

Charles Insta story during the show

Max's Insta story during the show

Youruser: Max! hahaha you had me cracking up in the first slide... then tearing up through laughter in the second. Thank you so much for finding time in your title fight to support!

maxverstappen1: I wouldn't have missed it! Had to see what all the hype was about. Please invite me again

Grid Members Stories (Lando, Carlos, Oscar, Yuki, Liam, Franco)

[ellieslob]

★ streamer ellie!

ways to help palestine!!!

S★ she started with fornite and minecraft gameplays but went viral for playing girly video games and screaming with pure rage and desperation if she loses or if her chat tells her the outfit she made was ugly asf😭

S★ she deadass will say “u guys clearly don’t know about fashion like i do” n then pull outfits like this:

S★ she used to be so fucking afraid that her face reveal went like dream’s that she posponed that shit for like a year. when she finally did it she ended the stream, turned off her phone and went to bed covering her body completely, while sniffing and crying “my career is over ”

S★ after her face revealed her account went even more viral, people started to make thirst traps of her and edits, videos, even fanfics, she got a little more comfortable with showing her face. her favorite edits were to songs like ride, baby by me, hey daddy (daddy’s home) and a song in spanish called vaquero, they were just so funny to her😭

iloveellie: she’s daddying so hard‼️

ewisinthechat: aw you guys really see me as a father figure?😺🫶

brondon444: 😭

kvcjjsaj: 😭

loverboydsa: 😭😭😭

“hey why is everyone crying in the chat, is everyone okay?”

S★ she really loves the cat emojis, specially this one 😻

S★ out of all her platforms (aside from twitch) she uses twitter the most, she tweets without a second thought in that head, without filter, like zero hesitation and then apologizes if she said something way too controversial.

ewisinthechat2: have you had that feeling when someone is so stupid you want to stab your eye with a fork? #kys

ewisinthechat2: k, i guess u have not😅…

S★ she was practically new to tiktok, so the first moths she had her likes public, she didn’t even know that was possible on the app. but if you click on it all you could see were shit post and memes that a dad would like, all except for a big section of aprox thirteen videos, one after the other, all with the same girl.

sckerforellie18: did u guys saw ellie’s likes? i think she’s stalking that poor girl😭

slaybabesew: HAHAH WAIT IS REAL, IS SHE HER GILFRIEND???

elliesaheymamasg: she’s so hot wait😩

heyemogirlbb: it’s her @girlypop66

S★ the chat started to tag you to every single one of her videos on tiktok, her photos on instagram, tagging you on things like “hi, could you please date my mom?🤗” or “my new mommie😻” EVEN in her questionable tweets telling you “we know she’s crazy but give her a chance😭”

S★ one day you waked up to your phone being practically broken from all the notifications, you still had your little pink iphone 6 and you had to buy another one because of it.

Instagram

girlypop: hi um i don’t think we really know each other but people are tagging me on your videos😭 love them though

S★ ellie was in a stream, the chat had to make her laugh and spit the water so she was reacting to videos that her chat had send her. when that notification appear on the screen, she read it, gulped the water, looked dead ass serious at the camera and turned off the stream.

elliewilliasm: omg hi, im so sorry i didn’t know, I’ll tell them to spot

elliewilliasm: spot*

elliewilliasm: STOP**😭

you laughed in your new phone, she was funny, and for what you had seen in all the posts that you were tagged on, very pretty too.

girlypop: hey would you like to grab coffee sometime?

ewisinthechat: TO EVERYBODY IN THE CHAT, THANK YOU, YOU GUYS ARE THE FUCKIN BEST, LOVE YALL, IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE YOU, XOXO😻😻😻😻

GIVEAWAY COMIN FUCKIN SOON💯💯‼️

S★ she was exhausted when she jumped to her bed, after all the crying, screaming, jumping and the extreme tweeting that just said “YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES”, she unlocked her phone again.

elliewiliasm: yeah sure :)

REBLOG AND COMENT

IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAG LIST

[ramp-it-up]

... As Hard as I Did

Photo credit

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. Now he knows he wants more than just one night with you, so much more. Do you feel the same?

Word count: 1.9K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic is connected to the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after KYD IV, but I feel it can be read as a stand alone. It is in answer to this ask. Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run is making me feral. I can write these two ALL DAY!!!! Y'all are gonna have to deal with this for a while, sorry not sorry.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Bucky is in love. The angst! The fluff! The morning after! Bucky wakes you up the best way he knows how, thorough female receiving oral sex, edging, manual sex, teabagging, squirting, nipple play, begging, use of Daddy, bukakke, cum play, Bucky cooks for you, google translate Romanian, the "L" word, allusions to cock riding.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

James Bucky Barnes had slipped and fallen in love.

Steve was so right.

It came out of the blue last Monday when he met with you about a painting, and here he was the very next Sunday morning, holding you in his arms. The ruse of him being a fully legitimate art dealer and not a crime boss had been quickly done away with by the media and your friends, and the fantasy of wooing you met the reality that you did not come to play.

You called Bucky on his bullshit and that made him fall even harder for you. He was honest about his plan to go legit and careful with your feelings, not immediately turning to physicality as he did with every other woman. There was something special about you that was worth the wait.

The five days had been an eternity for both of you, and Bucky had been like a teenager, unable to last very long. He was determined to set that right today, and also to tell you how he felt.

Bucky Barnes knew very little fear, but wondering if you returned his feelings was shaking him to the core.

He held to his original dream of making you smile at him forever, but those dreams had grown to thoughts of a life together, a home you could build together, and the thought of what kids together might look like.

Bucky smiled and held you closer as you snuggled deeper into his embrace and threw your leg over his hip. He caressed the soft skin of your thigh as he argued with himself. He was too old for this; he would be an old man when your kids were just going to college, but that didn’t stop him from making Steve go with him to Cartier yesterday after your event.

Steve grumbled, but he was still smitten with you from his conversation with you yesterday, so he didn’t protest the 5 carat purchase that Bucky made. His best friend just asked Bucky some pertinent questions like:

Had Bucky told you that he loved you?

Did you love him?

Did you even want to get married? To a criminal?

Did you want to have kids with Bucky?

Bucky just stared at Steve, creating the opportunity to goad him.

“But all that aside. If you don’t lock her down, I just might. I’ll close the deal swiftly.”

That left Bucky’s blood to boil while he prepared for dinner last night, but when he opened the door and saw you standing there, every negative vibe left his vicinity.

And now, you were here, warm and beautiful, and naked, in his grip. He was going to take full advantage of the few hours you might gift him today. He didn’t want to risk you running away after he told you his feelings.

He lifted your thigh and positioned himself most where he needed to be.

—--

You moaned in your sleep. You dreamed that Bucky was eating you out again, but you couldn’t quite feel his kisses and slurps to your folds, only whispers of sensation, like air. It was so frustrating, so you grabbed Buckys’ hair and scratched his scalp, trying to encourage him to be rougher.

He moaned and you smiled, calling his name.

“James, please….”

Your eyes fluttered open to the unfamiliarity of Bucky’s bedroom in the morning light. Your legs were spread wide and Bucky’s head was pillowed on your thigh, his hot breath teasing your pussy. 

“What are you doing?”

You looked down to see him staring at your most intimate parts and smiling.

“Mmmm. Good morning Frumoasă. I’m about to check an item off my long list of what I want to do to you…”

He pursed his lips and softly kiss your lower ones. You shivered and continued playing in his hair. You laughed, music to Bucky’s ears. He smiled up at you.

“Oh, so you have a list, do you?”

“Yes, an extensive one at that. I will show you later, but right now…”

Bucky moved to kneel and shoved his hands under your ass, serving you up to him as on a platter. His eyes moved from your fluttering cunt up your soft belly and your beautiful breasts to your face. He leaned forward to give you a sound smack on the lips.

“I was wondering if I was going to get a good morning kiss.”

That eyebrow arched and he moved down your body again.

“That’s all in my plan, Frumoasă. Just be patient. ”

You pulled Bucky’s hair as his long, thick tongue licked through you to your soul. You shuddered and Bucky smiled, then those lips took hold of your clit and sucked ruthlessly as he brought one hand up to push two fingers inside you, the squelch of your wetness so gloriously obscene. He stopped and just pumped those fingers inside you, listening.

“Hear how wet you are for me? It’s a dream come true.”

You reached with grabby hands for him to stimulate your clit as all he did was fuck you with his fingers and hold you open for him. You were on the edge of madness. And it seemed that was where Bucky wanted you.

“Jamie….”

“Atât de nerăbdătoare Frumoasă. savurați momentul.”

Somehow, you knew he was telling you to wait. 

“Please, please, please James. Eat your pussy please!”

Bucky’s eyes rolled back into his head. You begging was his weakness, what he wanted to hear from since day one. Then he realized what you’d said.

“... Did you say… that this pussy was mine?”

You smirked at him, feeling the brat.

“Maybe…”

Bucky frowned and slapped your clit, causing sparks of pain and pleasure to roll up your spine and wetness to gush out over his fingers.

“Ow! Yes! Yes! This pussy is yours, Daddy, please eat it.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and his cock, which was hard against his abdomen, jumped.

“Seems you know the magic words, Frumoasă.” 

Bucky rewarded you with his mouth clamped over your clit and his eyes locked on yours as you watched his tongue working in his jaw. He was eating you out like a professional. You arched into his face, clit hart and throbbing, ready to give him…

He pulled away as you gasp/screamed in outrage, then whimpered and pouted.

“Please Daddy!”

“Oh, you’re ruining me, I can tell. But tell me, Frumoasă, tell me…”

He regarded you now with a new possessiveness. Impossibly, it made you wetter.

“What else of yours is mine?”

You squirmed under his attention and he rewarded you with another finger in your cunt and all three curled against that electric spot within you.

“What about this ass?”

His pinky bullied into your tighter hole, and you arched as he leaned down to suck your clit like saltwater taffy.

“Oh shittttttt! Yes! Fuck yessss.”

Bucky was grinding his cock against the sheets now, possessed by the sight, taste, and feel of you in his hands. He could actually taste that you were close now, and he wanted it almost as much as you did, but he abandoned you again. He looked up at your body.

“What about those glorious tits?”

He reached up to pluck both of them of them ruthlessly over and over as he continued to finger fuck you. His breath was ragged and his face a mask of desire, but he still had a modicum of control.

“They are next on my list.”

“W-what do you mean?” 

You were thrilled and scared at the same time.

“Nu-ți face griji pentru ea frumos, doar ai răbdare.”

And his face was busy again between your legs, which were shaking around his ears. He held one down with one hand as he fucked you with the other.

“Shit, Daddy! I’m gonna….fuck! I’m gonna…”

Bucky nodded and looked up at you, then he told you to cum with his fingers and you shattered, gushing into his mouth and all over his bed.

Bucky leaned up and groaned as he played in your wetness, using that hand to begin to jack himself over your shuddering body.

“Can I come all over you, Frumoasă?”

“Yes, Daddy…”

Bucky groaned and then manhandled your nipples.

“Cum all over me, Jamie.”

Then he roared as you moved so that you could suck his balls.”

“Holy, shhhhhhitttttttt!”

You were circling your own clit as the first hot drops of his cum sprayed over your already heated body. You came one more time as he focused on your breasts and left a hot, sticky mess all over you.

Your eyes were closed as your shivered because Bucky’s hot mouth was sucking his spend off your nipples. He alternated between kisses, bites, and laps against your skin.

“James! Gotdamn! I–”

“I know, I know, Frumoasa. But I can’t get enough...suportă-mă, iubito…”

—---

Later that Sunday, around noon, you sat, twice showered, marked, edged, and fucked to within an edge of your life as you ate the brunch that Bucky made you. You were ensconced in one of his plain white tee shirts and some of his boxer briefs and socks, and he was looking at you hungrily.

You laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Bucky smirked, happier than he’d been in a good while.

“Do you want more…?”

Despite the debauched things you’d spent the morning doing, you blushed and looked down at your plate. You felt like a slut. But in a good way. You loved sex with Bucky. It seemed like even his pleasure was focused on you. It was unlike any other relationship you’d ever had.

“I’m sorry. Do you regret it?”

Bucky stopped eating and tipped your head up by your chin with his fingers. He looked worried and you melted. You bit your lip and decided to go for it.

“No. Because I love you.”

Bucky’s fork clattered to his plate and his eyes grew wide while your bright smile faded. Then he frowned.

“Fuck.”

He looked mad.

“I- I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s too soon. I’m sorry, just forget that I said that.”

“No! Shit…”

Bucky grabbed your head and kissed you, the strawberries and cream from the waffles flooding your senses as his tongue found yours. When he was done, he grinned at you.

“I was pissed for a second, but not at you. What you just said is all I’ve ever wanted. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that I love you, too and here you are, saying it first.”

You rolled your eyes, although your soul soared. You pulled away and took another bite of food.

“It’s not a competition, James.”

You said it through a full mouth.

“Hmmmm. Maybe not. But I do love you more.”

He took another, bigger bite of food and you shook your head at him.

“You are insufferable.”

Bucky grinned.

“Get used to it if you’re gonna be my girl.”

“Your girl? Oh?”

Bucky wiped his mouth, then picked you up and placed you on his lap.

“Y/N L/N. I love you. And I want to figure this thing out between us. I want you to be my girlfriend while I figure out how to be the best man for you. Then maybe… “

You stopped him with your finger on his lips.

“Listen. One step at a time, Jamie. I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes. You are the best man for me. My man. I’m along for the ride.”

Bucky kissed you, then stood up and threw you over his shoulder as he moved to his couch.

“Speaking of riding. There’s my list to attend to.”

You screamed and laughed as Bucky slapped your ass. 

——

Next part Here!

All feedback is golden, babies! Let me know how you feel. ✨

[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

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

One Last Time

Summary: Three years ago you buried Logan on the day you were supposed to get married. When your friend calls you, telling you that she saw Logan at the bar she was at right at this moment, you had to check for yourself if she was right. Not knowing that the night would end with you in his bed. And a surprise weeks later you were not ready for.

Pairing: Logan x fem. reader

Rating: E

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, grief, alcohol, smut (unprotected sex), masturbation, cum play, unplanned pregnancy, me setting myself up for a part two of this fic that I haven't planned because all my brain thinks of is having babies

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Marvel Masterlist

You didn’t believe your friend when she called you to tell you she had seen him. 

Logan. 

Because it could not have been him. 

You had buried him almost three years ago on a rainy day. The day that was supposed to be your wedding day became the day you had to say goodbye to the man that had saved you in so many ways. 

You met Logan almost seven years ago.

He quite literally saved you from getting smashed by a car that had been thrown at you during an attack where you found yourself at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

He found you after, when you were about to be brought to the hospital for your broken leg, asking if you’d be okay. 

You didn’t really think you would see him ever again. 

But Logan became a frequent visitor during your time at the hospital. He insisted on bringing you to the appointments after, stating that had he been quicker, your leg wouldn’t have been broken. You stopped reminding him after week three that if he wouldn’t have been there you would probably dead. 

It would take him almost a year to ask you out on a date. 

And the rest, as they said, was history. 

You had been in the middle of your last wedding dress fitting when the call reached you. Charles Xavier, a mentor and friend of Logan, had called you to tell you to come to the school where Logan was working right away. 

It was there that you learned that Logan had been killed during a mission.

The whole year after was a blur of heartbreak, anger and grief. 

It had taken you a long time to learn to live with the hole in your heart, that Logan’s death left in you. 

So there was no way it was Logan that your friend saw at the bar. 

You found yourself getting dressed in the dead of night to take a look anyway. 

A very anxious cab ride later you found yourself walking towards your friend, hugging her as she told you he was still sitting at the bar, getting drunk. He’d been drinking since she got there three hours ago for her date. 

„And you’re sure?“ You asked, voice tight. She nodded. 

„There even was another dude there earlier and he called him Logan. I… I wouldn’t call you if I weren’t sure baby,“ she said and you nodded, taking a deep breath. 

You weren’t even sure why you were here. 

Was it because you had to see with your own two eyes that your friend was wrong? Was it because deep down you still clung to the hope that everything that happened in the last three years had just been a bad dream?

You didn’t know. 

So you weren’t prepared for the way your heart almost stopped once you stepped inside the bar and found him sitting at the bar. 

You felt your friend squeeze your hand as you slowly walked towards him, not sure what you would actually do once you stood in front of him. Instead you sat down three chairs down from him, ordering yourself a beer before you allowed yourself to fully look at him. 

He was older than your Logan. 

Greys in his hair and unkempt beard. There were deep lines around his eyes. He looked tired. Yet the moment he turned his head, his eyes finding yours you couldn’t deny that somehow this was Logan. 

Just not the one you knew. 

He raised one of his eyebrows as he looked at you and you blinked at him, processing your thoughts, thankful when the bartender interrupted your inner panic rising and set your ordered beer down in front of you. 

Thanking him with a nod you picked up the beer, bringing the bottle to your lips, taking three big gulps. 

Closing your eyes, your head lowered as you took some deep breaths, you were startled when you heard his voice. 

„Do I know you from somewhere?“ 

His deep, familiar voice making you tear up immediately.

Opening your eyes you looked up and turned your head to the side where Logan was looking at you with curious eyes. 

„I don’t think so. I knew another you though,“ you said, before you took another sip of your beer. 

Even in your drunken mind you knew that when you would wake up the next day you would regret this. 

But right now Logan was kissing you and you did not care how much it would hurt the next day. 

You were both drunk when the bar closed and because you didn’t want to part form him just yet you kissed him as soon as you were outside, before you told him that you’d really like to spend more time with him. 

Now you were in the shady motel room that he apparently called home, your back against the closed door, his lips on yours.

Parting your lips for him his tongue slipped into your mouth while his arms picked you up to pull you closer, his hands on your ass. He carried you over to his bed, lips never leaving yours as he laid you down. 

With your hands in his hair you kept him close, breathing him in. 

„Wanna ride your cock,“ you mumbled against his lips and he groaned. 

„Sure you can take me, princess?“ He asked and you grinned. 

„You wanna check?“

He chuckled as he knelt over you, making a show of taking his shirt off, your eyes hungrily taking him in. The thought that he had more scars than your Logan came to your mind, but you fought that thought down. 

You sat yourself up and got rid of your shirt and bra too, the growl that came from Logan’s lips making you shiver. He was the one who took off your jeans and panties before he got out of the bed and took the rest of his clothes off, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sucking your bottom lip in you parted your legs for him, one of your hands slipping down your body until your fingers dipped between your folds, playing with yourself. 

„She’s desperate for it, huh?“ He asked, chest heaving as he looked down at you. 

„So desperate to be filled,“ you sighed.

„Show me,“ he demanded, voice hoarse and you arched your back as you pushed two of your fingers inside with ease. 

You watched him watch you, one of his hands wrapping around his thick cock, pumping it slowly as you fucked yourself with your fingers. 

„Shit I can hear how fucking soaked you are, princess,“ he said, finally getting back on the bed. He watched you bring yourself closer and closer to an orgasm, his hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you just before you fell over the edge, making you whine in protest. 

Looking at him you gasped when he brought your finger to his lips, sucking them clean, humming like it was the most delicious thing he ever had. 

Before he could react you were straddling him, pushing him on his back, your hands grabbing both of his wrists, pressing them against the mattress as you felt the tip of his cock slip inside of you. 

With a cocky grin he looked up at you, his lips parting as you slowly let yourself sink down on him, his thick cock filling you inch after inch, stretching your inner walks until you were seated on his hips, his cock resting deep inside of you. 

„Fucking missed this,“ you moaned, closing your eyes before you began to roll your hips. 

It wasn’t long before he got out of your grip, one of his hands on your ass, moving you on top of him, his other hand playing with one of your tits. 

„Feels fucking perfect,“ he groaned, thrusting up into you and you had to stop yourself from crying out loudly. 

„Oh you liked that, huh?“ he teased and you nodded, sucking your lip between your teeth. 

„None of that,“ he said, his thumb pulling at your lip, tilting your head down so you had to look at him. 

„Want to hear you when I make you cum,“ he smirked, both of his hands grabbing your hips before he began to pump himself up into you, holding you still as he fucked into you in quick deep thrusts. 

„Oh shit,“ you cried out, your hands come to rest on either side of his head, keeping you upright. 

„Can feel her squeezing me,“ he grunted and you shuddered. 

„Cum for me, princess,“ he grunted, somehow even fucking up faster inside of you, his cock twitching. 

It was moments later that you exploded, your orgasm taking over your body, legs shaking, arms weakening as you fell down against his chest, his arms caging you against his chest as he fucked you through it before he came too, fucking you full of his cum. 

You wrapped your arms behind his neck, your face resting in the crook of he neck as you both panted against each other. 

You must have fallen asleep like that because the next time your eyes opened the room was dark and you were laying with Logan behind you under the covers. 

He was breathing calmly behind you and you let the familiarity of this situation allow to wash over you. Having spent countless night like this in your shared bed with another Logan that was now gone. 

You felt the tears before you even realised that you were crying, taking some deep breaths, before you slowly got out of the bed, careful to not wake him up. 

Allowing yourself a long look at this Logan you wondered what his story was, shaking your head to yourself before you began to get dressed. 

The sun was just rising when you quietly opened the motel door, taking one last look at him before you slipped out of his room. 

Calling yourself an uber you allowed yourself to shed some tears, feeling conflicted and confused about the last twelve hours. 

Without the intention to ever see him again, you did not check for a way to ever contact him again.

Not knowing that only six weeks later you would not only move into the same apartment complex he was moving into.

No, you’d find out that just because your Logan was infertile it did not mean every Logan was, as you stared panicked at the positive pregnancy test on the first night in your new apartment. 

[almostempty]

self esteem (joel x f!reader)

wc: 2.9k | masterlist | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 |

part 2 ⎯ part 3 ⎯ part 4

summary: Joel blows you off for your date. You end up blowing him when he shows up looking to score. Inspired by the song Self Esteem by The Offspring. 

tags/warnings: kinda mean/fuckboy joel, mild dub con, smut, PWP, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, joel comes on your tits, dirty talk, one (1) slap, choose your own joel era, reader is on some dumb bitch juice for this man (i would be too), hit and run, smash and dash,

a/n: PLEASE send any feedback, this is the first thing i’ve ever written and posted, i’m tryn’ to practice and gain confidence bc my dream fic doesn’t exist so i gotta write it, it’s scary to post, y’all are so brave wtf 

It’s purgatory. You’d made plans to go out tonight with Joel. It’s useless to expect him to show up, but you got ready and anxiously paced around your living room anyway. Checking your phone, at thirty minutes past the time he had said he’d pick you up. You sent him a text. His read receipts were on; he saw your message. Another thirty minutes pass agonizingly slowly. He hasn’t responded. You can feel a mild headache forming behind your eyes. 

You grab a drink from your fridge and collapse on the couch with a sigh. A mixture of anger, regret, and rejection churns in your gut. You shouldn’t have set yourself up for disappointment. 

No, he shouldn’t be such an asshole. You’ve got to stick up for yourself. Tell him off for his bullshit. The manipulation, standing you up, the lies. You know he’s using you. 

Unfortunately, you find the toxic rush addictive. The way he charms and seduces you after disappearing or acting like an idiot. You enable his behavior every time. 

And it’s sick that you like it. You like knowing it’s your door he knocks on in the middle of the night. He won’t take you on a date, but he still can’t stay away. 

No. Not this time. You’re done letting him waste your time with plans that never materialize. You’re going to practice all the things you should say. Tell him to fuck off. 

You grab another drink and return to the couch. The rejection is sinking in, and you’re feeling pretty low. You silence notifications from him in an attempt to take control of your thoughts. To stop waiting for it to light up with his name. You aren’t going to keep waiting for him. 

You shower and change into a big T-shirt and underwear. Returning to the couch, you turn on some trash TV to shut your brain off. It helps. Keeps you distracted. When it hits 2 AM, you crawl off the couch and turn out the lights. You hope you’re tired enough to sleep without Joel haunting your thoughts. 

You’re getting a glass of water to take to bed when you hear the knock at your door. Your stomach swoops and your body tenses with excitement. 

You’re fucked. 

You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face. 

He’s like a stray cat. Or, more like a tomcat. You know he’s gonna sweet talk his way in. You should ignore him. You should leave him outside on your doorstep, horny and alone. Let him feel rejected this time. 

You crack open the door and face Joel. He glows in the moonlight, stupid eyes sparkling when he looks at you. He leans an arm on the door frame and purrs at you. 

“Baby.”  

You roll your eyes. His breath smells like whiskey. 

“What the fuck, Joel? Where were you?”

He frowns. Big brown eyes try to weaken your defenses. 

“Work thing.” 

“Til 2 AM?” 

“One of the guys on the crew. Was his birthday, so we had to take him out.” 

You don’t believe him. You feel the urge to slap him across his scruffy cheek. You feel the urge to pull him in and kiss him. 

No. You can’t listen to that voice. The voice that still gets butterflies over him showing up at the door. He’s only here because all the bars closed, and now he’s looking to score. 

He preys on your moment of weakness. You’re in a debate with your inner demons, and he barges his way into your space. He moves like a blur. You blink and his rough hand is tracing the line of your jaw. 

He’s caging you in against the back of your door. He leans in closer. Hot breath fanning over your face. Your breath is still caught in your throat. You have half a mind to shove him off of you and begin your lecture, but he gives you no chance. 

He presses urgent kisses and bites along your jawline and down the column of your throat. A vampire at your door. You didn’t invite him in, but he’s got his teeth sinking into your flesh anyway. 

He smells like sweat, sawdust, and some over-scented men’s deodorant. Smells like a man, your lizard brain thinks. 

Trapped between him and the door, the closeness is intoxicating. His body is large and powerful and radiates a frenetic energy. Like he’s buzzing with need for you. You can’t help it; you like feeling wanted like this. Desired. The way he crashes into you like a feral beast—

“Wait.” Some sense flashes into your conscience. 

“Hmm?” he growls in your ear. His face is still buried against your neck while his hands grope at your body. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. His hands move to knead at your breasts through your soft, faded shirt. You fight to ignore the pleasure. 

“Joel.”

“Hmm.”

“You can’t just show up in the middle of the night after bailing on me and expect to get laid.” 

His hands slide under your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes you dizzy. He pinches and pulls at your nipples, and you fight back a moan, trying to refocus. 

“Joel!” you snap at him. 

“C’mon, I’m sorry, baby,” he coos into your skin. 

He rocks his hips against you, and the sensation of his hard bulge in his jeans against your soft skin sends a jolt of need through your nervous system. The words you practiced earlier slip further and further from your mind. 

“You can’t keep treating me like this.” You lob at him. The rest of your speech is hazy. You're grasping at sentence fragments, trying to remember the points you wanted to make. 

“Not gonna keep working.”

“Quit,” he replies sharply. 

“What?” 

One of his large hands slides up, still under your shirt, bunching it up, and wraps around your throat. He bites at your chin. Sharp teeth. He kisses your cheek. Soft lips. He nips your earlobe. You gasp. He sucks it into his hot mouth. Your eyes slam shut. 

You feel like you’re at his mercy, and the cavewoman inside of you just wants him to drag you to bed. 

“Quit arguing,” he grumbles. His deep voice in your ear sends a rush of arousal down your spine. 

“It’s not fair,” you protest. 

He shifts. His hands travel downward to squeeze at the plush skin of your ass. He tugs you forward and shoves his knee between your legs. You lose any train of thought. Cruel man. You don’t care anymore. You’ll let him keep tearing pieces out of your heart. As long as you can keep using each other's bodies. 

The pressure and friction of his thigh against your tingling pussy is the ultimate betrayal. You can’t stop the whiny gasps that come out of your mouth at the contact. 

He lets out a satisfied chuckle at that. Cocky bastard. 

“Not fair,” he repeats after you. “Hmm. Tell that to your wet cunt dripping on my leg, baby.” 

Your core flutters at his words. You feel your face flush, but it’s hard to argue with him. 

“I think you want me,” he continues. 

You try to glare at him. Your hips don’t care, though, as they roll against him. 

“S’alright, baby.”

You wish it were. 

“I only want you.” 

You desperately want to believe him. You shove that thought out of your mind. 

He pulls your shirt off and rakes his eyes down your body. He’s menacing. His broad shoulders and tense muscles loom over you. He’s fully clothed while you’re bare except for your wet panties clinging to your folds. 

Your chest heaves as you watch him. He has a carnivorous gaze. You’re prey with your soft body exposed; he’s a hungry predator waiting to make a lethal move. 

But he doesn’t strike. 

He moves painfully slowly. Tracing a finger down over your lips, down your chest, and belly, to the hem of your underwear. He slips the tip of his finger underneath and skates it across your skin from left to right. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, tense and twitching at the sensations. It’s too delicate. His expression looks like he wants to eat you whole, but his movement is restrained. 

“Know you do.” his voice washes over you, and a slight hum echoes in your throat. 

“You want me.” he husks. 

He pushes you back off his thigh. His hand dives further into your panties, and he drags his fingers through the pool of your arousal and spreads it through your folds. A smile breaks out on his face. 

“Yes,” you exhale as your body shudders. 

A look flashes across his features, and his eyes darken with lust. You peer down to watch his hand disappear in your underwear. 

“Say it.” He demands. 

“What?” Your eyes flick up to his. 

“Say it.” He repeats firmly. 

You writhe a little as he continues to toy with you. He’s wicked. Tracing circles around your clit, but not long enough to build a satisfying rhythm before he dips down and fills you with two fingers. He moves them lazily for his own enjoyment. 

You groan in frustration. It’s a tempting sound to his ears, but he doesn’t look amused. He’s waiting to hear it. 

“I want you?” you guess what he’s waiting for you to say. 

There's no use lying about it if that’s what he wants to hear. You want him. Even if you’ve been ruminating over his shitty behavior all night. 

“You askin’ or tellin’?” 

“Want you,” you repeat as a statement. 

He pulls his hand away completely. Your body jerks, chasing his touch. 

“Please,” you try. 

“Again.” he’s gruff. Ferocious as he demands you confess your desire. 

You sigh. Maybe for giving up so quickly or maybe because you always knew you would. 

“I want you.” 

He doesn’t relax. Or move. 

“Again.” He repeats like he’s a malfunctioning robot. 

“I want you, Joel.” 

“Again.”

“Please, Joel, I want you.” 

The hint of a smirk appears on his face. 

He taps your chin, encouraging you to part your lips. He slides his wet fingers in your mouth, along your tongue, and then removes them. He holds your open mouth, fingers around your jaw, and looks as if he’s assessing the quality of your tongue. 

“Prove it.” He commands. 

His tone does something to your brain.

Tomorrow, you might be confused at how he blew you off, but you ended up on your knees blowing him. But right now, you’re chasing a desperate need.

He steps back to give you space. You drop to your knees as he undoes his belt. Your eager hands work his jeans and boxers down far enough to expose his leaking cock. 

If you looked, you might’ve caught his condescending smirk, now fully exposed. 

You don’t look. You don’t wait for further instructions. You lap at his tip and tease with your tongue. You start working him into your mouth. 

The weight of his cock on your tongue causes you to moan. The vibrations cause him to moan right back. 

His arm shoots out to the door behind you for support. His head hangs, watching you move. 

“Fuck,” he groans at the sight of your lips wrapped around him. His clipped grunts and the way his core flexes encourage you. Your soft hand works in tandem with your mouth, and you’re drooling openly. You coat him in saliva. Messy. Your lips are swollen. 

When he breaches your throat, you slow down to focus on your breathing and swallowing. Little gags contract around the head of his cock as you focus on relaxing. 

“Fuck. Yeah, baby, show me you want it,” he rambles above you. 

You keep going and take him deep until your jaw aches and your pussy throbs. Hearing him react and spew filth at you stokes the fire in your core. 

“Knew your cock hungry mouth was waiting for me,” he slurs. 

A flash of embarrassment courses through you at that statement. 

You did wait for him. You should’ve said no. But it’s so hard when he shows up ready to go. You may be dumb for tolerating his actions, but you’re not going to turn down a man that looks like him and fucks like he does.  

“Eyes up,” he orders. 

You whine around him, looking up through your lashes. Obedient. With your eyes locked on each other, something passes briefly between you. Easy to miss, hard to describe. Like you could look at each other like that forever. Then it’s gone. 

He slides out of your mouth. Ogling the pornographic way spit trails between his tip and your tongue. The way your lashes are wet from trying to blink away the tears of exertion. 

“I did wait, Joel. Waited for you all night,” your voice comes out a little hoarse. You can’t be bothered if it sounds desperate. 

“‘Course you did,” he smiles and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Get up.” 

You don’t argue. He helps to pull you up, spins you around, and walks you the few steps over to your couch. He bends you over the armrest. You’re burning with need. 

He takes his time pulling your panties off. The way he has you presented for him makes you impatient. 

“Joel,” you whine his name in protest. 

“Quit.” He slaps your ass to make his point. 

You huff, but when both of his large palms spread your cheeks wider for his own enjoyment, another needy whine slips out of your throat. 

He chuckles darkly at you. 

“I’ll give you what you need,” he assures you before he sinks into your desperately empty hole. 

You groan in unison as he fills you. 

“So deep,” you murmur. He fits like he was made for you. Fills you up, so you can’t think of anything else. Can’t think of what you wanted to say or how you felt watching the time pass while you waited for him to show up earlier. 

“Always,” he agrees. 

He picks up a bruising pace. On edge for so long, you might go blind with the force of your building climax. 

He grasps your hair at the base of your skull and pulls, further arching your back and ripping another moan from deep in your chest. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind feels blank. The sounds of his hips slapping into you and your combined panting, grunting, and babbling turn to white noise. The consistent drive of his cock against the perfect spot inside of you has you hurtling to the edge. 

“Yeah, baby, I know what you want,” he croons. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and his other hand wraps around you to squeeze at them tightly. He remains steady and brutal with his movements. He does know what you want. And he keeps giving it to you. 

“Please, yes, don’t stop,” you beg. 

You wriggle one hand down to touch yourself. The pressure from your fingers around your clit brings you over the edge. You clench around him and gasp as you come.

“Yeah, that’s it. You come on this cock,” he rasps behind you as he works you through it. 

You feel the release melt your muscles, causing you to slump forward. 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, and you know he’s trying to hold on as he pulls out and pants heavily. 

“Turn around for me,” he demands, stepping back. “On your knees.” 

You obey and turn to kneel in front of him. He looks wrecked, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth hanging open. His fist wrapped around his cock, still glistening from your release. 

It’s a debauched scene. He’s still fully dressed, only as exposed as necessary. He charges towards his climax with frantic force. You pose for him eagerly despite your boneless, damp form. 

He looks so primal it makes you lightheaded. You bite your lip to stop yourself from letting a giggle out. Your face shines with a sated glow.

You tilt your head up and squeeze your tits together for him. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he rasps out like it’s the only word he knows at this point. Your glossy, swollen lips pout up at him. Like, you need him to finish for you. That sends him. He comes across your chest as you release your hands, dropping your breasts with a little bounce.. 

He stares at you as his breathing slows. His warm spend is rapidly cooling against your skin. You still have a glowy, dreamy look on your face. Content.

“You look so good like that,” he praises you. A flush creeps up your chest and neck. 

You stand up and grab your forgotten water from the coffee table. He tucks himself back into his jeans and fastens his belt. 

“You gonna buy me breakfast to make up for bailing?” you float the idea with a joking tone, but there’s hope behind it. 

“Sorry, baby, got a job early in the morning.” 

“Right,” you snarl at him as he leans in to kiss you. 

“How about dinner after?” he suggests and fishes for his keys in his pocket. 

“Okay, yeah, what time?” You ask. 

“Not sure when I’ll be done.” He’s not looking at you. “I’ll text you.” 

He turns, slips out the door, and then he’s gone. 

You’re still standing there, naked and dumbfounded, with his drying come across your tits as he drives away. 

You groan and curse at yourself. He’s not going to text you tomorrow. 

You should stick up for yourself. But he did say he wants only you. And the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right? 

-> NEXT

[its-avalon-08]

it all fell down (ln4)

part1

multipart story! next

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

The bustling streets of Monaco were as busy as ever, a stark contrast to the calm that Y/N felt inside. The rhythmic tapping of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the sleek office building. She had always loved the city, but now it represented something more than just beautiful scenery; it was her sanctuary, her fresh start.

"Morning, Y/N," greeted Claire, her assistant, as she handed Y/N her daily latte.

"Morning, Claire. Any updates for today's schedule?" Y/N asked, taking a sip of the coffee, savoring the familiarity of the taste.

"Just the usual. The meeting with the investors is at 10 AM, and you have a lunch appointment with Mr. Dupont at 1 PM," Claire replied, handing over a neatly organized file.

"Perfect. Let's make sure everything is set for the presentation," Y/N said, her voice steady and professional.

As the CEO of her own thriving marketing firm, Y/N had built a reputation for herself. She was known for her sharp mind, impeccable work ethic, and the ability to turn even the most mundane products into must-haves. Her company, InspireVision, had taken the European market by storm, landing high-profile clients and creating groundbreaking campaigns.

But behind the polished exterior and the confident demeanor lay a heart that had been shattered two years ago. The memories of Lando were locked away in a corner of her mind she seldom visited. The laughter they shared, the dreams they built together, the love that once felt unbreakable—all of it was a distant echo now. They had both moved on, or so she told herself.

sneak peek into lando's life

The sound of engines roaring filled the air as Lando Norris stepped out of his sleek, black McLaren. The circuit was alive with energy, mechanics bustling around, and the smell of burning rubber in the air. For Lando, this was home.

"Hey, Lando! Ready for practice?" called out Carlos Sainz, his teammate and close friend.

"Always, mate," Lando replied with a grin, adjusting his racing suit. "Let's show them what we've got."

The past two years had seen Lando rise to new heights in his racing career. He had secured multiple podium finishes and even a race wins. The world saw him as a fierce competitor, a young talent with a bright future. But beneath the helmet and the bravado, there was a part of him that still ached.

"Hey, Lando, I was thinking about grabbing dinner at that new place by the marina. You in?" Carlos asked as they headed towards the garage.

"Sure, sounds good. Need to unwind a bit," Lando replied, though his mind was only half on the conversation.

Racing was his escape, his way of pushing away the thoughts of what could have been. The nights were the hardest, when the adrenaline faded and the silence crept in. It was then that memories of Y/N surfaced—her smile, her touch, the way she used to laugh at his jokes. They had shared twenty years of friendship and five years of love, only to part ways abruptly. They had never spoken again, both too proud and too hurt to reach out.

back to y/n

Y/N's day was a whirlwind of meetings and phone calls. By the time she sat down for lunch with Mr. Dupont, she was mentally exhausted but maintained her poised demeanor.

"It's impressive what you've done with InspireVision, Y/N," Mr. Dupont said, raising his glass in a toast.

"Thank you, Mr. Dupont. It’s been a journey, but I have a great team behind me," Y/N replied, clinking her glass with his.

As they discussed potential collaborations, her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at it briefly—an update on the Monaco Grand Prix. She quickly dismissed it, burying any thoughts of the racing world and its connection to her past.

and here is lando again

The practice session went well, and Lando felt a familiar rush of excitement. After a quick debrief with his team, he headed out with Carlos for dinner.

As they walked along the marina, the city's lights reflecting off the water, Lando felt a rare moment of peace.

"You ever think about what's next, beyond racing?" Carlos asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Sometimes. It's hard to imagine life without it, though," Lando admitted.

"Yeah, I get that. But there's more to life than just racing, you know?" Carlos said, giving Lando a knowing look.

Lando nodded, understanding the unspoken words. There was more to life, but it was a life he had once envisioned with Y/N. Now, it was a blank canvas, waiting for new memories to be painted on it.

The two former lovers, now strangers to each other's lives, were both thriving in their own worlds. They had built walls around their hearts, focusing on their careers and new dreams. Yet, the echoes of their shared past lingered in the background, a silent reminder of the love that once was. Neither spoke of the other, living as though the other didn't exist. But fate had a way of bringing people back together, sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys

comment to get added to taglist

[navybrat817]

All Dressed Up

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.

Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.

He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.

“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.

“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”

Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”

The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.

“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”

“Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.

Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.

And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.

“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.

Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”

Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”

“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.

“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”

Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.

Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.

You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.

If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.

“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.

“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.

You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.

If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.

“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.

“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.

“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”

“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.

You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”

“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.

Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.

He could help fix it if you were lonely.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”

You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”

He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”

He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.

But to have an old lady…

“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”

Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.

“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”

He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”

“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.

Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”

You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.

He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.

He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?

Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”

“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.

The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”

“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”

“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”

The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”

Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”

“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”

“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”

And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.

So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[muletia]

MULETIA

GIVE ME OBSESSED! KNOCK OUT AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

[ btw it's perfectly fine if you don't 👍 I just think it'd be neat and I thought this would be funny ]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦

[tfp] obsessed!knockout x human!reader very mild 18+ content

summary: a relationship between individuals of two species in which one species obtains food or other benefits from the other without either harming or benefiting the latter

cw: obsession, yandere themes, possessiveness, suggestive, dub-con (not nsfw), clinginess, very messy relationship, knockout sends you spike pics lmao, reader's pov to knockout's pov

word count: 1400

You’re awakened from an unusually pleasant and long nap by the buzzing of your phone. You groan in displeasure, honestly preferring just a few more minutes of sleep, which, in your groggy, half-asleep state, feels like the best idea ever. You roll onto your other side and cocoon yourself tightly in your warm blanket, ready to welcome sleep back.

Your phone interrupts you again, but you’re determined not to give in. Pulling the blanket up to your ears, taking advantage of your partial awakening, and trying to fall asleep once more. That is until another vibration triggers a small earthquake on the coffee table. Whoever it is must have an extremely urgent matter to be this insistent. Finally, you give up. Reaching for the phone, you unlock the screen. What you see in the notification panel instantly banishes the last remnants of sleep from your body.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper.

A hundred and thirty-four messages. From none other than the Decepticon lunatic who, some time ago, forced his way into your life. Before you can even move, another message pops up.

You rub your forehead, unwilling to even think about the implications of such a message count. You have a general idea of what he’s after—this kind of behavior is standard in your… relationship—but you still want to know what exactly prompted him to send so many texts.

Most of them are just spam repeating your name, differing only in the number of exclamation marks at the end. Others threaten that if you don’t respond within thirty seconds, he’ll personally show up at your doorstep and demonstrate the consequences of ignoring his majesty. Occasionally, he mentions that he misses you, even though you just saw him yesterday. However, such sweet sentiments are rare. Much more often, he bombards you with seductive longing, praising your (exceptional for a human) skills in the art of interfacing and expressing how badly he wants you by his side to “refresh his memory” on the matter. As proof of his misery, he’s sent you pictures of himself in very suggestive poses, one high-resolution 4k photo of his swollen and leaking spike, and a video you don’t even dare to open.

The last shreds of your sanity, combined with a reluctance to spend money, stop you from tossing your phone into the microwave.

You don’t need more proof of him being a freak. In fact, don’t need anything from him at all, having been accidentally dragged into matters far larger—literally—than yourself. You never secretly dreamed of an alien who’d make it his goal to torment you simply because he’d taken a liking to you. And certainly didn’t ask your creator to have alien dick-pics pics sent to you.

You want to reply and tell him to kiss your ass and leave you in peace, but the last time you tried that tactic, Knockout didn’t contact you for the most blissful two days of your life. After that, though, his sulk ended. When his majesty decided to visit you, he didn’t leave your side for a week, demanding attention and constant physical contact. For someone who cared about maintaining his image, he looked particularly miserable back then—especially while begging for your “pathetic, fleshy, and frail” body.

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Massaging your face, wondering how much time you have to pull yourself together before Knockout shows up at your house, demanding attention. As it turns out, you have practically none, because even from inside, you hear something—or rather, someone—pulling into a driveway, revving an engine as if impatiently calling out to you. You don’t feel like testing the limits of his patience to see how long it takes before he punches a hole through a wall. And you’re absolutely certain that’s what would happen.

Before stepping out of your cozy home for who knows how long, a stream of colorful curses escapes your lips. However, even that doesn’t clear your mind enough to prepare you for the show your unwelcome companion is sure to deliver.

His desire to drag you out of your sanctuary grows with every click, because you should’ve joined him by now. Oh, what an ungrateful, pitiful little human you were. Hadn’t he drilled it into your head by now that such games weren’t part of his repertoire? That he hated being made to wait? Not to mention the audacity of ignoring him for a torturous two Earth hours without responding to his romantic messages. And on his day off, no less. The nerve.

Hidden servos itch to transform and barge through your door. To pull you close and extinguish his longing, to fulfill needs so intense they scared even him. Because during those two hours of separation, he genuinely felt like he was dying—though he’d rather deny it than fully accept the power of his affection. Signals, hints—those were fine. But never an open display of softer, warmer emotions. You didn’t need to know about them. No one did. As long as he had consistent access to you, as long as he knew you were nearby, existing in the same world as him, his true feelings remained locked away.

When you open the door, he immediately notices your displeasure. Had prepared for this sight; knew you wouldn’t be happy, but the lack of any enthusiasm stings his ego. He wanted to see a smile, hear praise. A sign that you weren’t doing this out of obligation, even though he knew the truth.

Plans to show how deeply offended he is, even as your presence excites him more than he’d anticipated. Without regard for being seen, he transforms instantly, mass-shifting as he pins you to the front door. Your sweet scent envelops him, teasing his senses. Stimulating places hidden from the eye.

He needs you. Your attention and touch. The taste of human skin he once found repulsive but now can’t get enough of.

“Someone will see you, idiot,” you hiss. A warning, but it’s already too late for reason to reach him.

He kisses your neck hungrily, greedily, drinking in your closeness. Reclaims familiar territory, leaving his mark again to remind you, just in case it slipped your mind, that you belong to him. Despite his greed, trying to be romantic. He doesn’t torture your skin, keeping a rhythm. It’s the least you deserve - he hasn’t taken that away from you yet.

“I don’t care,” he growls between kisses. Draws closer to your lips, pausing briefly. “Why did you ignore me?”

Resumes his ministrations, wanting to see how you’ll handle him this time. How you’ll manage to rein him in, always appreciating your fighting spirit. You matched his ferocity and determination, completing him. A spark and an extinguisher. Fire and ocean.

“Because I was sleeping,” you reply as if your absence hadn’t driven his processor to ruin. To the point of risking exposure just because he couldn’t control his desire. Your indifference sometimes infuriates him.

He huffs; that’s no explanation.

He’s not ready to pull away just yet. Truthfully, if it were up to him, he could shower you with affection endlessly, and even that wouldn’t satisfy his appetite. Leaves kisses at the corners of your mouth until finally claiming the cherry on top.

“Knockout,” you interrupt sharply, “someone’s going to see you.”

Reluctantly, he pulls back, fighting the flickers bursting in his spark and the wave of heat enveloping his body when his name escapes your lips. He shifts back to his original size and transforms, already opening the car door for you.

“Careful, doll,” he purrs as you settle inside. “Say my name again, and this will end with more than just kisses.”

Ignores your groan of frustration as he speeds off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

“Do you even care about me?” you ask, scanning the scenery outside the window, breaking a silence that had lasted a while.

He’s silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Or maybe too proud to admit it aloud? To let you into his spark and show you the chaos you’ve caused there? To shed thousands of layers and reveal his most intimate self?

No. He won’t give you that satisfaction just yet.

The seatbelt tightens around you slightly.

You smile, but he can’t quite discern what emotion you’re trying to convey.

[sungiescheotluv]

can i call you tonight? ⭑.ᐟ park jisung

pairing: park jisung x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.5k

tags/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, hidden feelings, incoherent writing of me being soft of jisung 🥹

summary: they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. in your case, your night-time calls with your long-time friend, jisung, reveal a lot more than the darkness of the sky.

notes: wow, wow, another post! wasn't expecting to post so soon, but i was writing for another project i'm working on and saw this post and said what the heck, let's give this a go! ☝🏾🤓again, this may be incoherent because i don't proofread this until later on (sorry for any errors) and because my feelings are a bit all over the place lmao. anyways, hope you enjoy and hope to see you soon! much luv <3

A lethargic film coats your eyes, the familiar sting of exhaustion winding your eyes shut. You should go to sleep. Quit this charade and call it a night. And yet, in the darkness of your bedroom, you pat against the soft expanse of your sheets, feeling around for a phone so bright you squint when brought to eye level.

No new notifications.

You huff into your pillow, definitely not pouting. Your long-time friend, Jisung, is away, chasing his dreams with his closest friends, NCT Dream, who are currently on tour. A busy year filled to the brim with schedules make it hard to keep in touch, much less meetup, but Jisung makes the effort. Whether it's at the crack of dawn or late into night, you can always rely on a call from him, explaining his day's events and asking about yours. You work odd hours, sleep odd hours too, so in a way, despite the distance between you, things still work like they had all those years ago.

From what he last texted you, he’d be able to call you in three hours - after the concert. It's a battery in your back, lighting up from a long day at work. It’d be late for you, but it didn’t matter. You wanted to hear from him -  his muffled chuckles at your lame jokes, his endless interest in what you were up to (even if it was never as interesting) and have his deep voice lull you to sleep. It was like he was right there with you, shrouded in the lowlights of your room, holding you close and never letting go. Not oceans away, not out of your grasp and out of your mind.

Just as you’d given up on his call, your phone buzzes against your pillow, the lowtone reserved for Jisung. With a tired groan, you press Accept.

“Did I wake you?”

It’s amazing what years spent together did to you two, no need for words to convey any and all thoughts. Well, some of them anyways.

“No, I was just dozing off,” you mumble. “How was the concert?”

“Good. The energy was threw the roof, the guys and I really enjoyed ourselves,” Jisung falls into his routine, back supported by a heaped blanket with his phone against his chest. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old,” you huff. “Any interesting signs?”

“None if you don’t tell how your day went,” he argues, and you roll your eyes.

Classical Jisung. Always attentive, always seeing right through you.

You relay your day to him, pinpointing how gorgeous the sky looked on your way back and how he would’ve loved the view.

“The picture I sent you doesn’t do it justice,” you explain.

“Getting to see it through your eyes is good enough.”

You cough, momentarily caught off guard by how much that made your heart flutter. “Anyways, the signs. We were talking about signs.”

Jisung lags a bit, an unconvinced hum coming through before he speaks. “Not any I haven’t told you about,” he hums, the drum of his fingers thumping through your phone speaker. “There was one that asked me to put my ring on their finger.”

“If you gave away that wrapped nail ring, I swear-”

“I didn’t even give it to them, I just took it off my finger and had it in the air,” he chuckles, stirring something warm in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

A wave of sheepishness washes over you, face buried into your pillow as you mumble. “It’s just…a nice ring, is all.”

“You think so? I would’ve thought you’d prefer the Chrome Hearts one.”

“It’s nice, but the nail one's better”

“Oh, I see,” he teases, all-knowing and you hope he’s none the wiser. Hiding things from each other is not your norm, but when they involved feelings that could fundamentally change the fabric of your relationship, you tried to embrace change. Maybe some hope too. That maybe he wasn’t calling you at late hours because you were available, but because he wanted to be with you as much as you did. “That’ll be the first place I visit when I get back.”

“What place?’

“The jewelry store where I got the ring,” he explains, dull fingernails tapping against the surface of his phone. It’s one of the things he does when he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, a habit you’re sure he’s totally unaware of. Regardless, it soothes the elevation in your heart rate, tingles running down your back like hot water. “Well, first stop is your place, then the store.”

“Matching rings is a bit..”

“What?” he asks, in that low tone that makes you putty in his large hands. “We’ve got matching shoes, hoodies that I had to restock because you keep stealing mine and matching necklaces. I don’t think rings are much of a stretch.”

You couldn’t argue there. Especially since you curled up in your bed in your latest steal - a simple black hoodie that is oversized and still smelt like him. You couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge how the faint scent of citrus, jasmine and him didn’t force you to count sheep. You also couldn’t bring yourself to admit the eruption of goosebumps over your skin when Jisung clasped the necklace on you, his fingers grazing your exposed skin in the process. It took everything in you not for your knees to give out right then and there.

“You’re only convincing me because I’m half asleep.”

“I see how it is. I’ll take it anyways,” he hums, a closed mouth giggle vibrating off his chest. It’s oddly intimate, being so close yet far away from him. “I wish you were here.”

Something ceases in your chest. Your heart? Your lungs? You’re unsure, but whatever it is has your eyes shooting open, a vague thump of your heart echoing through your weightless limbs. Usually, you’d be able to tread this line carefully, a tight-rope you’ve perfected to a science, but something about the darkness, the late hour makes you more vulnerable. More forthcoming.

You don’t deflect in a joke, or find some way to turn this back on him. You simply answer back. “Me too,”

You hesitate. “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Wow, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in the last five years.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, no - don’t go,” he chuckles, but there’s something in his voice that’s pleading. That makes you stay. “I guess, I just…that was sweet of you. Thank you.”

You turn your head, as if scorched by his loaded gaze. “Don’t mention it.”

A quietness falls between the two of you, one that doesn’t call upon ideal conversation but allows you to gather your cloud-like thoughts, to drift further into your dreamstate where in one reality, you’re able to confess your feelings and get your happy ending.

“If I fall asleep, just hang up,” you mumble, like the words escape you. “No need for an earful of my snoring.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jisung argues, and if you could, you’d roll your eyes. “It’s like white noise.”

“Are you seriously comparing my snores to white noise right now?”

“It helps me sleep, so I’d say so,” and then silence. Almost a deafening one, as if he’d realised the weight of his words and wasn’t sure what to say next. You gulped. “You know,”

“What?”

“You’re the only one I’ll talk to this late, right?’

You shift, suddenly hyperaware of every sensation inside and outside your body. “No.”

He hums, as if to say Huh. “I thought I was a bit more…obvious about things.”

That has your attention, your hand clawing just beside your lit-up phone. “Obvious about what?’

Silence again. And in all the years of your friendship - days spent indulging in sugary ice cream on sunny days playing hopscotch, running through your high school hallways to get lunch first, the prideful smile he had on your university graduation day - no silence has felt this way. Something other than comfortable, like the moment you teetered on the edge of your seat and held your breath for.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?’

And there he is, so sweet and bashful. Probably hiding his beautiful face behind his pretty hands, a downturned smile and flush against his soft skin. Oh, what you’d do to kiss the beauty mark against his cheek.

“Considering I don’t know what it is, then yes. I am.”

You have an inkling, because you’ve spent the better part of your life with him, but you’re not one for assumptions. You’d rather hear it from him.

“When I come back,” he starts, cautious yet earnest. “I’d like to take you on a…real date.”

“Platonically or?’

“There’s nothing platonic about the way I feel about you,” and you can hear it, the smile in his voice. And now, you’re the bashful one, again burying your face against bundled feathers as your cheeks burn like the sun. “What do you say?”

“That I’m glad I didn’t miss your call,” you chuckle, the leaps your heart fluttering against your chest that tickled with delight. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you smile. “Hurry back soon.”

“I’ll be home before you know it.”

And before you know it, he's at your door, smile sheepish and ring in hand. His hands tremor ever so slightly and it melts your heart, your hands folding over his as you lead him inside, a new chapter of your lives together unfolding.