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pedropascallme · 2 days ago

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Deny Me

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader

Summary: “'I’m fine,' you squared your shoulders, as if adjusting your posture was all it would take to convince the men around you that you were sturdy. 'I could understand a couple weeks—I could understand a month. But six weeks is—that’s appalling. It's not fair.'”

Warnings: Allusions to smut (masturbation) (minors DNI!!!!), canon typical violence, detailed descriptions of wounds, hospital imagery, allusions to PTSD, reader experiences panic attacks and a bout of depersonalization, smoking, implied age gap (ages not mentioned), enemies to frenemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, I know little to nothing about how the military works, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: So. Um. Never played COD. Barely understand the various plot lines it follows. But I DO understand that a man in a mask is inherently sexy. And that is my truth! Part two up soon <3

You hated Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

With every fiber of your being, you hated him.

You hated how he was so quick to pull rank; how swiftly his friends became his subordinates.

You hated the way he always spoke with such a cold, calculated indifference.

You hated the way he squared his shoulders to remind everybody of his stature; his status.

You hated his Britishisms, the way the pet names rolled off his tongue in your direction. And from anybody else, you might be fine with it, but when he called you sweetheart it made your stomach roll over itself.

You couldn’t tell why.

You hated how rookies acted as if he were some semi-legendary Adonis beneath his stupid fucking mask—which you’d also grown to hate.

You knew what he looked like under the balaclava; under the skull faceplate that made his eyes look so sunken and so attentive.

And who cares that his features matched so nicely? Who cares that his profile was just as carved as the rest of him? Who cares that the deep scars that crisscrossed over his left cheek looked almost silver under the fluorescent lighting of the barracks?

It didn’t matter that he was handsome. It didn’t matter that it was his face you thought about late at night, alone in your bed.

Certainly, he was no Adonis.

You hated the smirk in his voice, and the crease between his eyes, and the piercing edge of his gaze.

You hated that you knew, deep down, that your dislike of him was born out of convenience; that you loathed him for all the reasons that, in another life, you would’ve thrown yourself at him with open arms.

You hated that you knew you had become dead set on despising him because it was easier than the alternative.

He was an acquaintance, at best—a coworker you’d grab a beer with, under different circumstances. Mostly, though, he was a pain in the ass, and a detriment to your sanity.

You hated Ghost more by the second.

So why was it that, as you came to, bleeding out on the hard ground, he was the only thing you could think about.

You heard voices above you, a droning cacophony of accents and alarm that overlapped with each other, dissolving as they mingled with the ringing in your ears.

“Took a beating—”

“—fucking exploded before we—"

“—man down, but she’s—”

“—was beyond fucked.”

“She’s breathing,” you recognized Kyle’s voice above the panicked yelling. “Soap—she’s up.”

The first thing you noticed was how dry your mouth was, and a viscidness that clung to your side.

You tried to sit up, pushing back on your elbows against the dirt beneath you, and were met with a sharpness that ran up your lungs. You winced, coughing dry pain.

Your vision was blurry—almost watery, as if you were trapped beneath a sheet of ice and looking up through it. Still, you managed to track Gaz’s movements as he approached at a cautious speed to kneel beside you.

“Don’t move—” He held his hands out in front of him, trying to encourage you to lie still without having to touch you. “Where’s the worst of it?”

You stared at him blankly, only half registering his words.

“Everywhere,” you wheezed, and there was that same pain shooting up your lungs again, back with a vengeance. You squeezed your eyes shut, “Ribs. Left side.”

“Johnny!” Gaz’s voice carried in a way that made your skull vibrate, and you shuddered.

“C’mere, lass,” even in your sorry state, Soap’s accent was hard to miss. He gave Gaz a pat on the shoulder, encouraging him to stand and replacing him by your side. “Take yer kit off.”

“Buy me—me a fucking…” you heaved, “Drink…first…”

“Aye, she’s fine!” Johnny laughed, throwing a smile over his shoulder, though the wrinkles near his eyes weren’t deep enough for it to be sincere. “Yer bleedin’. Need t'let me dress the wound, Sergeant.”

You stared up at him, possibly concussed; definitely shell-shocked.

You swallowed the bile that rose in the back of your throat, trying to remember how you’d gotten here.

There had been open fire; there had been movement, and a tense argument between yourself and Ghost about who should lead the charge; there had been a brief period of satisfaction after you’d convinced him to let you stay up front.

There had been landmines.

“Nae, look here, lass—stay awake,” Soap snapped his fingers in front of your face. You must have begun to fade out when you tried to recall the details. He reached to unclip your chest rig, “Yer kit—”

“No.” you shook your head, and it made you feel like vomiting, but you didn’t stop. You felt a deep-seated dread pulse down your spine, and you needed answers.

You needed one answer.

“LT?” You looked at Soap, who stared back at you with a sympathetic frown, confused. “Where’s—where’s Ghost?”

“Oi,” a heavy boot stomped the dirt a few inches above your head, “Look up.”

And there he was—seemingly unscathed. It made your stomach burn, a sloppy mixture of frustration and something else. Maybe disappointment, maybe embarrassment.

Maybe.

If he had done things his way, it would probably be him on the ground right now. And if you could just hurry up and die, you wouldn’t have to eat your words about being able to front the line.

How long had he been standing there, anyway?

Your voice was shaky as you addressed him.

“Want—” you rasped, “Want you to do it.”

Soap exhaled audibly through his nose, glancing up at Simon with sharp eyes through a furrowed brow.

If words were exchanged, you didn’t hear them; and when Ghost took Johnny’s spot on the ground next to you, you didn’t see it happen, once again fading out.

“Gotta open your fuckin’ eyes, sweetheart.” Ghost’s words snapped you back to attention. He said it as if he were chastising you for forcing your way to the front of the line and, successively, getting yourself blown up.

You wanted to argue, tell him it was his fault for yielding to your demands, but all you could do was look up at him while he stripped you of your chest rig and pressed down hard around the sticky spot on your side. The action made your muscles flex, and you clenched your jaw through the unbearable pain that ran through you.

You might’ve grabbed at his forearm, but your body was numbing itself too quickly to register your own movements.

The last thing you saw were his eyes, almost frantic as he scanned your body.

But it couldn’t have been real fear—likely a figment of your imagination. Something to focus on as your body grew colder. Probably just a trick of the mask.

You wanted to rip it off.

~~~

You woke hesitantly.

You felt cold, but it was only skin deep; nothing like the chill that had infiltrated your bones when you’d started losing blood.

With a shallow sigh, you opened your eyes.

The infirmary.

You felt a level of reassurance in knowing that, if you died now, at least it would be in the comfort of a medical cot and not on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

There was an IV stuck into the crook of your elbow, padded with cotton and medical tape to keep it in place. You couldn’t feel it, but you winced at the thought of the needle in your arm, and the bruises that were scattered around it.

“Morning.” You registered Gaz sitting on a chair next to the cot.

You breathed, happy to see him. He didn’t look tired, didn’t look concerned—you wondered if you had even been here for more than a few hours.

You shifted, propping yourself up with your pillow. The pain that had been plaguing your side seemed to have been reduced to a dull pulse, but you still huffed at the feeling as you resituated yourself.

There was a piece of fabric—a shirt—draped over your stomach that you didn’t recognize. You tugged at a loose string on the hem, noticing the blood stains that had crusted over the material.

It didn’t bother you; it was probably your blood.

“Hi.” You smiled halfheartedly at Kyle, who watched on as you made yourself comfortable.

“How ya feelin’?” He tilted his head forward, smiling back at you.

Gaz was one of the few people you had bothered to get close to.

It wasn’t on purpose, and it wasn’t as if you put effort into shutting everybody else out—Gaz was just easier.

As much as you appreciated Soap’s friendship, and Price’s guidance, Gaz had the innate ability to listen. He knew when to shut up, and when to keep himself scarce; he knew when to add his two cents, and when to make himself available. He managed to be kind and collected, even in the most outrageous of scenarios, and you found him to be a tranquil presence in an otherwise stressful line of work.

Maybe it was because he was closest in age to you; maybe it was because he knew where to get cigarettes; maybe it was just the urge you had to form a bond, to experience the type of friendship that was always depicted in old Vietnam War movies.

Whatever it was, Kyle was the closest friend you’d ever had in any platoon. And you appreciated him immensely.

“Like I got blown up.” Your smile morphed into something more sincere, and Gaz laughed quietly.

“Happens.”

“Sucks,” you responded pointedly. “But I feel better than I did.”

Gaz just nodded, his lips still curled into a soft smile.

The doors to the infirmary opened with a loud scrape against the linoleum of the floor, and Soap walked in carrying a tray of paper coffee cups. He tsked at the sound of the doors, cringing slightly as they swung shut and produced the same grating sound.

“Christ, haud yer wheesht.” Soap muttered, toeing the scratch on the floor before squaring his shoulders and making his way to your bedside.

“Come bearing gifts, Johnny?” You watched him put the tray down on your cot’s side table.

“Bottoms up, lass.” Soap handed you one of the cups, and you popped the lid off to hasten the cooling process of the coffee.

The aroma of the drink on its own was enough to perk you up, and you smiled at the men who sat beside you.

“You Irish it up?” You quirked a brow, smiling at Johnny as he sipped his own coffee.

“Scots have a bit more, eh, practicality than that.” He smirked.

“And I wouldn’t let him.” Gaz chuckled, blowing gently on his own coffee.

The three of you drank in silence. The coffee was black, bitter, but it warmed you up and helped you relocate your senses.

“So,” you popped the lid back onto your cup, putting it onto the tray that Soap had left on the side table. “How’d I end up here?”

“Passed out before evac,” Gaz sighed into his coffee, clearly not too keen on having you relive the series of events. “Got you here without much trouble.”

“Aye, y’were fine,” Soap finished the rest of his coffee and tossed the paper cup into the trashcan nearest to your bed. “Wound was shallower than we thought. Fucked up yer ankle, mild burns, couple cracked ribs, but—” He gestured to your chest, which was mostly bandaged. “Fixed ye up nice.”

You looked down at your body, really taking it in for a moment.

Your chest felt heavy, constricted by the bandages that covered your ribs and side, and your ankle was wrapped, but looked much less serious. There was something sticky on the irritated portions of your skin, probably bacitracin.

“What’s this?” You finally brought attention to the shirt that still rested on your lap.

“Ghost’s.” Soap didn’t explain.

“Couldn’t find anything to wrap ya up with—fucking disaster out there,” Gaz picked up Johnny’s slack, “Used his shirt instead. Couldn’t let you bleed out, though I doubt you would’ve, either way.”

The image of Simon removing so much of his kit just to get to the t-shirt beneath it in the middle of an evac zone made you smile. You tried not to dwell on the heat that crept into your abdomen.

That explained why it was covered in blood, at least.

You nodded, sighing. “I wasn’t out long, then?”

Soap pursed his lips, almost smiling. You looked at Kyle for a straight answer.

“How long have I been here?”

“Day and a half…maybe—little more like two,” Gaz smiled sheepishly. “They’ve had you pumped full of everything. Morphine, the works.”

“Knocked ye out good.” Soap laughed.

“Better than dying.” You sighed, shaking your head. You reached out for your coffee again, finishing it in a gulp before passing the cup off to Soap to toss it for you.

“Chest feels alright?” Gaz took the lull in conversation to ask again about your state of being.

“Tight, but…” The ache was still there, and the bandages were a bit snug, but you could manage. “Yeah. Feels ok…”

“Just rest.” Gaz still didn’t look worried, and that made you feel more at ease with the situation.

“Haven’t a thing goin’ on, next few days.” Soap nodded, doubling down on Kyle’s suggestion that you commit to relaxing.

The doors to the infirmary scraped against the floor again, but you didn’t bother looking at who had opened them, assuming it was a nurse coming in to check your IV or replace your bandages.

Soap and Gaz briefly made eye contact, glancing at each other in their peripheral after watching the doors open, but you ignored it as reflexive; a nod to each other in support of their insistence that you rest.

“And after that?” You knew you were looking too far ahead—you didn’t even know how long it took ribs to heal—but a little taste of optimism from your friends would be encouraging.

“You’re out of commission.”

The deep Manchester growl rattled your train of thought, and you turned to look at Simon, who stood in front of the doors.

“What?” You looked at him incredulously—surely he couldn’t be trying to punish you for nearly getting killed; surely you had misheard.

“You’re not goin’ back out there.” Simon’s eyes flickered over your body before he let his razor-edged gaze land on your face.

“Just—with the state yer in, lass—” Soap tried to soften the blow, brows furrowing into a gentle expression.

“Not in any state.” Ghost finally moved from his spot by the doors, and in several brisk strides he was by your bedside.

You tried to chalk it up to the fact that you were lying down, but you couldn’t help but feel as though he was looming.

“You were out o’line.” You could practically see his sneer beneath the balaclava, lip curling into an ugly, twisted shape as he lay into you.

And for what?

For the first time since waking up, there was a shock running down your body; not out of any physical discomfort, but out of pure rage.

“I was doing what I enlisted to do.” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and trying to ignore the twinge of your muscles as bruised flesh rested on bruised flesh.

He stared at you for a moment; unmoving, unblinking.

“You join the army to get y'self killed?” He said it like he thought it was funny, and that’s what really did it for you.

He could’ve excluded you from any ops in the near future. He could’ve yelled until he was red in the face about how your stubbornness and lack of awareness consistently and unnecessarily put you in harm’s way.

That much you could’ve understood. Respectively, it made sense; it was true.

But the edge of mirth in his voice as he mocked you whilst you lay drugged-up in the infirmary made your blood boil, and the morphine could do nothing to stop that.

“You can’t do that.”

In an effort to save face, you turned your attention back to Soap and Gaz, trying to shut Simon out.

“He can’t do that,” you searched their eyes for signs of support, something you could leverage, “We have a pecking order. Price has to—to...”

Your sentence fell off when you saw Soap giving Ghost a pointed look, Gaz staring at the floor, frowning.

“It’s only six weeks,” Kyle tried to highlight the silver lining, looking back up at you and giving you a timespan to consider, “Just till we can be absolutely sure you’re okay.”

“We…” Soap sighed, still looking at Simon with a subtle glare, “It’s just to make sure yer in the best shape possible, lass—nothin’ personal.” He chanced a glance at you, smiling, and you scoffed.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to stare straight ahead at the foot of the cot. “Your idea, Lieutenant?”

Simon stared down at you, saying nothing, but when you side-eyed him you could see a glint of something in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know: It had definitely been his idea.

Even if you had only been bruised, you were certain that he would've suggested the same timeframe for you to stay on bed rest, under the guise of healthcare. A sadistic form of punishment that saw you wasting away while your friends continued business as usual.

“You’re being irrational,” you scowled at him, letting your arms drop down to your stomach to give your chest a break from supporting them. “And—not for nothing—kind of a dick.”

“Easy, Sergeant.” He glared down at you.

“I’m fine,” you squared your shoulders, as if adjusting your posture was all it would take to convince the men around you that you were sturdy. “I could understand a couple weeks—I could understand a month. But six weeks is—that’s appalling. It's not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, sweetheart.” Ghost, too, squared his shoulders, and it had the effect he surely desired; you shrunk into yourself slightly. “You wanna talk about appalling? You let me know when you ‘ave to dig shrapnel out of a subordinate.”

He turned on his heel without so much as a nod towards Soap and Gaz, and you felt just as upset about his disregard of them as his vitriol towards you.

“Lieutenant!” You called after him, “Ghost!” You were aware that the conversation was over, but you were still keen to argue. “Simon!”

The doors swung open and shut again with the same piercing scrape against the floor.

You glared at the doors, your disgust at Simon heightened in your state of exhaustion.

“Johnny?” You didn’t look back at Soap, still focusing your anger on the doors.

“Aye.”

“More coffee.”

~~~

A week later, you were back on your feet.

The nurses had given you enough ibuprofen to last a lifetime, maybe two, and then they sent you on your way.

The hurt was still there; every time you coughed; every time you stretched your left arm too suddenly, but it was fading.

It wasn’t really the pain that bothered you now. It was more so the waking worries, the shakiness of your breath, and the way you jerked awake each night in a frenzy of twisted blankets and sweat and nausea.

You tried to suck it up; you were hardly the first soldier to have an experience like this. You tucked your head between your knees when you had to, but never your tail between your legs.

You refused your need for help. You refused to acknowledge any weakness.

You hated the notion that this stretch of forced bed rest was only proving a dismal point; you weren’t cut out for the task force. The people that whispered in the halls about you being nothing more than something for the men to look at were likely finding their evidence in this extreme shortcoming of yours.

You kept your distance from Simon in order to avoid any further conflict. But he always did a good job of making himself unavailable, even at the best of times, so you hadn’t had to tiptoe around the barracks.

You walked into the mess hall on a whim. Your appetite was still mostly touch-and-go, but you knew the least you could do for yourself after everything was eat.

Gaz waved you over to the usual table, and you set your tray down across from Johnny.

“Need a new callsign.”

“Don’t like Bravo-Nine?” Gaz looked at you over a spoonful of applesauce.

“No, not—you know what I mean. Soap; Gaz; Ghost; Berserker.”

You’d been doing a lot of thinking over the course of the week; maybe Berserker wasn’t you.

And you’d laughed at the thought initially—of course she wasn’t you. That was the whole point. She was a projection, symbolic of you. It’s not like Simon was Ghost.

You had rolled your eyes at the comparison, trying to stifle any more thoughts of him.

Eventually, you’d decided that the ritualistic version of yourself was inadequate—or perhaps you were inadequate to call her a representative.

You were no Berserker. You were the Sergeant who cracked three ribs in one go after going in blind and setting off a landmine.

"Hard thing to change," Gaz quirked a brow, "Sticks with you."

“It’s a good name.” Soap picked at his fingers.

“Feels wrong now,” you tried to explain, “A berserker would’ve been able to handle some scrapes.”

“A berserker would jump’t the chance to run onto a landmine.” Johnny countered with a smirk.

“Thought about your other options?” Gaz spoke up again, stopping an argument before it had the chance to begin.

He was always good at that.

“What about, uh…” He tilted his head back, squinting at the ceiling as he tried to come up with something.

“Tits McGee?” Soap laughed at his own suggestion.

You flicked a pea from your tray at him, but it veered off track and hit Gaz in the cheek.

“Oi!” Gaz wiped the moist spot it had left on his face with his hand, cringing. “No friendly fire at the lunch table.”

Soap barked a laugh, and you kicked him under the table as you stifled your own laughter.

“What’re you lot on about?”

And there was Simon.

Always when you least expected him; ready and willing to ruin a good time.

Ghost sat down next to you like it was nothing; like he hadn’t just chewed you out a few days earlier for nearly dying.

He was taking up too much space—at the table and in your head. You tried to ignore him, but your smile wavered.

“She’s changing her callsign.” Soap gestured to you with his chin.

“Doesn’t feel like a true berserker,” Gaz smiled, eyes darting between you and Ghost. “Tell him.”

Kyle knew how upset you were, and he had said he wouldn’t get in the middle of it. But it was clear that he was now attempting to take on the role of peacekeeper, if only to keep mealtime pleasant.

You shot Simon a sidelong glance, nodding in response to Gaz’s prompt. You didn’t want to grace the Lieutenant with a verbal reply. He didn’t deserve one.

“I suggested Tits McGee.” Johnny smirked into his drinking glass, and this time you stomped on his foot under the table. He winced through a chuckle.

“Fair idea.” Ghost huffed out what could’ve been mistaken as a laugh.

You grit your teeth.

“What about something…scarier…?” Gaz spoke as the thought came to him, looking at you again. “Give Ghost a run for his money.”

Soap swallowed the water in his mouth, eager to toss out suggestions.

“Reaper.” He let his voice drop an octave for emphasis.

“Spirit.” Gaz quirked a brow at you, expectantly, as he silently asked for your input.

“She wouldn’t wear it right.” Simon shook his head, crossing his arms.

Your nails bit against your palms. It seemed like you couldn’t do anything right, as far as he was concerned.

“Shut up.” It came out muttered and withdrawn, but it felt good to get it out all the same.

“You ‘ave something t’say, love?” Simon looked down his shoulder at you, and the moment you looked back up at him, you knew you’d made a mistake in thinking you could keep it together.

“Yeah,” you glared, standing from the table. “Fuck you.”

You left without clearing your tray.

~~~

You never thought you’d find a barracks bed so spacious, but your own bed felt huge compared to the medical cot you’d recuperated in.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyelids, appreciating the silence and warring with yourself about why you always let Ghost get under your skin the way you did.

You heaved a sigh, stretching your arms out. You made sure to rest your left arm at a more practical angle even when you extended it.

Relief for the rest of your body wasn’t worth the jolt in your side.

After the incident at lunch, you fell into a repetitive pattern; mind wandering to Simon, chastising yourself for letting him live so comfortably in your head, then trying to focus on something—anything—else.

And you didn’t appreciate the way your body reacted to the thoughts of him, warmth swelling in your stomach and fingertips grazing your waistband.

It was a losing battle.

He had the ability to be kind, and it was a rarity, but a welcome one.

When you’d started as a rookie, you understood why people worshipped him; he was strong, capable, and, for the most part, managed to stay humble.

He was competent. And that was nice.

For a while, even you had fallen victim to the cult of personality that trailed him—it was hard not to.

He was just a person, a soldier like any other, but he could seem like so much more than that at times. You admired him, his drive, his passion.

He was merciless in his work ethic, unforgiving in his reproach, but he had his moments.

You’d knocked on his door early on into your time at the base.

It was nothing more than a work-related rendezvous, impromptu but necessary; you had reports he needed, and that was all. But you still felt a sort of buzz, a sense of pride nipping at your heels for being trusted enough to take on a task as menial as paperwork.

He’d opened the door, and you’d been left to stare up at him.

“What’s'is?” He nodded his chin down at your hands.

“I—the reports you needed,” you handed them to him, “They’re all in proper order.” You hesitated, “I think.”

He had stared down at you.

“You think?”

“No, I…I know. They are.” You didn’t want to be overly confident, but you did feel as though the reports looked good—better than good, even.

“Good to be certain.” He’d folded the reports, almost fidgeting with the paper.

“Yeah,” you nodded, unsure of what to say now. “It’s...all there.”

There was another pause. He let your words hang in the air, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the threshold of his room.

“But, uh—that’s all,” you nodded again, trying not to squirm in the silence he created. You looked at the ground. “Thanks for…trusting me, Simon.”

You turned to walk back to your own room, but he cleared his throat.

“Simon?” He seemed confused, and for a moment you wondered if you had gotten his name wrong, “We on a first name basis, love?”

“I just—that’s your name…” You'd probably gone pale at that point, but you tried to recover. “I figured, I mean, in your own room…do you want to be Lieutenant?” You stuttered through an explanation.

He had narrowed his eyes at you then, but there was no malice in his gaze; if anything, he just seemed more confused than he had been.

“Ghost is fine…” He spoke as if he were questioning himself.

“But you’re not Ghost,” you doubled down, smiling sheepishly, “I mean—not here, you’re not. Not to me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really think of you as Ghost unless we’re…out, somewhere,” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the words spilled out as you tried to avoid the repercussions of disrespecting a superior officer. “And—I dunno. You’re kinda scary when you’re Ghost. Your name…suits you…”

You searched his eyes, still trying to read whether his bewilderment would morph into anger.

“It humanizes you. And I…I like that.”

“You like Simon.”

“Yeah.”

He shifted his weight. “A’right.”

You waited for more, but it never came.

“Yeah,” you repeated, finally finding the willpower to walk away. “Goodnight, Simon.”

“G’night.” He watched you leave before shutting the door.

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, despite yourself. So you tried to remember what had made you hate him in the first place, just to torment yourself further.

It had been the day following that conversation.

He had been brusque, finding you in a common area with Gaz, playing a watered-down version of blackjack—no bets, just yelling and laughing as you continued to fall short.

“Redo them.”

“What?” You’d looked up from your hand.

“Redo them.” He repeated as he dropped the stack of reports onto the table in front of you.

The reports you had been so excited to hand over to him.

“But what’s—”

“Fix. Them.” He’d gritted out, and you didn’t have the strength to look him in the eyes. “And be fucking certain they’re in order this time, sweetheart.”

“O—ok…” You conceded to his demand and rested your palm on the stack of paper in a gesture of submission.

He walked out without another word, leaving you to stare down at the reports he’d returned to you, feeling well and truly insufficient.

You had decided, in that moment, that you hated Ghost. And you hated Simon Riley just as much.

You had never been able to figure out why exactly he had switched up the way he had; if you had done something to get on his bad side, if it was delayed payback for calling him by his name. No matter how curious you got, you never asked, simply putting him on your bad side, too, just to keep things fair.

You heaved a sigh, sitting up in bed and staring at your room.

It was messy in a very minute way. You had clothes that needed washing, and a stray sock on the floor; your bed wasn’t made and there were reports on your desk that needed filing.

Clean to an onlooker; filthy to a soldier.

Your eyes wandered to Ghost’s shirt where it hung on your door.

You still hadn’t given it back to him, too dead set on eluding him at all costs after the ordeal in the infirmary, but it was casting a dreary shadow in your room. You didn’t want it near you, despite the way you’d clung to it when you’d woken up, and despite the way you’d managed to avoid returning it even when you’d had ample time to do something as simple as hanging it on his doorknob.

You didn’t know whether you should treat it as if it were a talisman or an omen, but given that it was stained in your blood, you leaned towards the latter.

You stared at it for a few moments before finding the motivation to get up and grab it off the hook it had been dangling from.

Maybe you could treat it like an olive branch, even if it was only for this particular occasion.

He’d have to offer you a whole tree to make you consider allowing him on your good side for anything else he’d put you through.

~~~

It was relatively quiet in the barracks, and you felt like you were missing out on something. But you knew it got like this sometimes; weeks of high energy often resulted in a lull.

Simon’s room was at the end of the hallway, shrouded in shadows where one of the hall lights had gone out. His door had the same menacing energy that he did, and you felt insane for comparing the man to a door.

But were you really that far off?

Rigid, unfeeling; Ghost was essentially just another fixture—in the barracks, on the force, in the quiet corners of your mind.

You quickened your pace in an effort to get this over with. The sooner you gave him his shirt back, the sooner you could quell the feelings of frailty and lousiness, the sooner you could rid him from your thoughts—at least for a little while.

You stood in front of his door, and before you could question your true intentions, you knocked.

He opened the door in a huff, and you found yourself taking a step back. He didn’t say anything, fixing his unforgiving gaze on you.

“This is yours,” you held up the shirt, “Figured you might want it back.”

You watched his eyes scan the shirt in your hand before flicking back up to your face.

“Covered in your blood.” He looked like he was quirking a brow beneath the balaclava, and you suddenly felt irate—why wear the mask in his own room?

“Well, I haven’t really had time to wash it, considering…” You motioned up and down in front of your chest with your free hand. “But, um…Johnny said it was yours, and I felt bad holding onto it, given that I don’t really have any…need for it now.”

“Why would I want it back?” His tone was flat.

“It’s your fucking shirt.” You heaved a sigh, realizing that your attempt at diplomacy was going unheeded.

“Don’t want it.”

Nothing else. Not a word—not a ‘thank you’ or a ‘happy to see you out of bed.’

Nothing to suggest he even cared about what had happened, or that he had any inkling of what was still going on in your head. He didn’t even question you about your outburst in the mess hall. He was completely cold, fully detached.

Typical.

“Well,” you swallowed the urge to push him, to see his feet slip out from under him and watch him stumble. “Fuck me for trying, Simon.”

You turned to make quick work of walking away, fidgeting angrily with the shirt in your hands. But he was clearly in the mood to argue.

“Oi—” You heard his footsteps behind you, “You mad?”

You scoffed. “Shut up.”

“Are you mad at me?” He clarified, catching up to you as you stormed down the hallway.

You didn’t answer him until you got back to the door of your room, opening it, and standing in the doorframe.

It gave you a sense of power, being in your own space.

“Am I mad at you?” You swiveled to stare up at him, your tone venomous. “Fuck you, Ghost.” You could no longer deny yourself the satisfaction of shoving him, and you pushed against his chest hard enough that he swayed back slightly.

“Watch it.” He glared down at you like he was trying to burn a hole through your head.

“Please—or what?” You challenged, “You’ll make me sit on the sidelines for an extra week? You gonna snap my neck in my own fucking room?”

Once you started, you couldn’t stop, and every single issue you had with him was coming to the surface.

“You won’t do shit. You never do shit—not unless it’s in the job description. You ignore everything so dutifully, Simon, like it’ll just disappear if you don’t give it the time of day,” you were yelling now. “Cause that’s what you think, right? That problems and people will vanish when they realize they’re not good enough for Lieutenant Riley?”

“Wasn’t personal, sweetheart—you’re in no shape to be out there.” He sighed, and it just fueled your rage.

“I don’t take anything you do personally,” you pressed a finger into his chest for emphasis. “You walk around here like you own the place, Lieutenant, and you don’t. You don’t get to call all the shots—I don’t care what kind of hard-on you get for the authority you have in one-four-one.”

“Sergeant—” You could tell it was taking effort on his part to stay stoic as he stood in your line of fire, and a vicious part of you wanted to see him break and fight back.

You wanted him to give you a good reason to hate him. Something that might finally stick.

“I’m not fucking finished,” you cut him off, eager to express every single detail about him that made you feel so incensed. “You are the epitome of ego, you are indisputably one of the most self aggrandizing people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. All you are is a fucking killer, just like the rest of us, but you seem to think you’re God’s gift to SAS—because what would one-four-one be without you, right, Simon? What would any of this be without you!”

You took a deep breath, and it made your ribs settle over your lungs uncomfortably, but you were nowhere near done.

“You act like you don’t care about the praise, the commendation—but you fucking do, and that’s why you turn your nose up at it. Cause you think you deserve it. And why the fuck should you acknowledge any compliment to your skill? Why should you acknowledge something that you already know to be true?”

Suddenly, you were cackling; manic with hatred, confused by your hostility towards him.

Ghost stood silent, and you wished he wasn’t wearing the mask so you could see his face and analyze how your words were hitting him.

You wanted to see the upset on his features—never mind how pretty he might look, carved in agitation.

“You don’t pay attention to the way people shy away from you, or the way the rookies worship you, or the—fuck, Simon, the women! You don’t care about how girls look at you! Because it’s what you think you deserve!” You couldn’t stop yourself from throwing that detail in, but you quickly recovered from your thinly veiled barb of jealousy.

You lowered your voice, wanting to hammer home how deeply, truly repulsed by him you were.

“You are so fucking aloof, it’s insane,” you hissed, “Ignore me all you want, Lieutenant, but I’m not fucking going anywhere. Am I mad at you? Fuck you, Simon.” You focused now on catching your breath, but you wanted to make sure he knew you meant it: “Fuck. You.”

He hadn’t moved the whole time, staying in the same spot in front of you throughout your rant.

Maybe he was thinking about the situation at hand. You wondered if he had actually listened to anything you said, or if he was too baffled by the fact that he was being screamed at by a subordinate to even hear you.

Maybe he’d hit you. You would, in his position.

“S‘at all?” His tone was casual, maybe a bit gruffer than normal, but that did nothing to subdue your rage.

All you’d really wanted was a reaction, and he wouldn’t even give you that.

“Get the fuck out.” You took a step back, slamming the door in his face.

You leaned against the door, breathing. Your side felt like it was splitting—maybe the stitches were under pressure, or your ribs had been held too taut against your lungs when you yelled.

You’d take an ibuprofen later. Now, you clutched his shirt in your fists, and tears slid off your cheeks to mingle with the bloodstains.

~~~

An hour or two later, you felt somewhat more under control.

You tried to shrug off your emotions, burying them somewhere to keep them guarded and stop them from getting to you.

You shoved Simon’s shirt under your bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

You saw no point in wallowing—you’d had a week to do that in the infirmary. Now you just wanted some semblance of peace, a good night of sleep.

Distracting yourself with paperwork seemed just as good. But your hands were shaky, and you quickly grew frustrated.

Be fucking certain they’re in order. You heard the words in Simon’s voice, clear as day, as the memory bounced around in your head.

You shoved yourself up from your desk chair at the same moment you heard a knock on your door.

You hesitated.

“Yeah?” You called out, walking slowly towards the sound.

“Got you something.”

Gaz’s voice was cheery, and you let out a brief sigh of relief upon hearing him—initially worried that Ghost had come back for retribution.

Relief may not have been the proper word. Still, you opened the door.

“Didn’t even ask who it was.” Gaz smiled when you ushered him in.

“What’d you bring me?” You ignored his teasing with a grin.

“First," he made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed, "Tell me if you’ve got a light.”

You quirked a brow at him, taking the hint. You rummaged through your nightstand to locate a lighter, finding one and handing it to him.

“Solid,” he took the lighter, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. “Go ’head.”

You smiled, shaking your head with an amused huff. “Inside?”

“You deserve it.”

“With my…” You tried to appeal to your better judgement, the stitches in your side a reminder of the turmoil your body had only just experienced.

Kyle looked at you expectantly, holding out the pack, and you let your sentence trail off as you fished a cigarette from the box.

“Terrible influence, Garrick.” You perched the cigarette between your lips, waiting for him to light it for you.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he smiled, watching you puff smoke as he lit your cigarette. “You need a vice. Heard you tore LT a new one.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. You moved from the bed to open the small window in your room, resting your hand on the sill and watching the smoke trail up into the night air.

“Word travels fast,” you almost smirked at the knowledge that people had heard about your row with Ghost. “He had it coming.”

Gaz got up from your bed and walked over to lean opposite you against the window.

“Only person that’s ever done it,” he wedged the window up a bit more when the smoke blew back into his face. “Long as I've been here, at least. When Soap’s mad at him, he just listens to songs about stickin’ it to the English.”

“I know,” you ashed the cigarette, smiling, “I have his playlist.”

Gaz laughed, and you stamped the cigarette out on the outer part of the sill, walking back to your bed and taking a seat. Gaz watched you, analyzing your movements before he pulled the chair from your desk and sat.

“You, uh…” He chewed the inside of his cheek, “He was glued to you, Ghost was. Wouldn’t leave your side.”

You furrowed your brow, looking up at him in confusion. You didn’t know where this was coming from—or why Kyle would bother to tell you right now, rather than while you were still in the infirmary. Or why he'd tell you at all, for that matter.

“He wasn’t there when I woke up.” You scoffed halfheartedly, unsure of what point you were trying to argue, or why you were trying to argue it.

The thing is, you had questions—but it was easier to inquire with a reserved disbelief than it was to ask anything up front.

“He was there before that, though,” Gaz fiddled with the lighter, flicking it on and off. “We—y’know, Johnny and Price and I—we made him leave.”

“Just because?” You tried to sound amused, but the curiosity gnawed at you.

“Needed a shower, hadn’t eaten.” Gaz put the lighter down on the desk. He rolled his shoulders back, pressing his palms to his thighs with a sigh.

“So?” You prompted when Gaz had stayed silent for longer than you anticipated.

“So, just…” He cracked his neck before looking back at you, “Maybe try not to take it all out on him.”

“Take what out on him?” Your tone went sharp, and Kyle made a face.

“You know what I mean,” he backed down slightly, but continued with his effort. “I think he’s…unhappy.”

“I get blown to smithereens and we all throw Simon a pity party?” You felt your skin growing hot, unnerved by the notion that you were supposed to go about business as usual after such an event, while everybody around you seemed to have more sympathy for Ghost and the grave he’d dug for himself.

“You cracked three ribs!” Gaz smiled, trying to ease the sudden tension.

“It was enough for LT to throw a hissy fit over!” You snapped back, perhaps a bit too harshly, and Gaz let his smile fade, ready to concede to you.

You continued to seethe for a moment longer, staring at Gaz’s feet. He dipped his head down, trying to get you to listen.

“I think he’s unhappy because he wasn’t there when you woke up.” He said simply, his voice gentle. He wasn’t trying to upset you, just attempting to share his opinion and see whether or not it improved anything.

“Hardly my fault…” You frowned, finding his gaze again and crossing your arms.

“Yeah, no, I know—believe me, I know,” Gaz rubbed a hand over his face, “But he was…so…He was fucking besides himself with worry—or, I mean, it seemed like it. Didn’t leave the infirmary til we pushed him out a few hours before you came to. And I think he was really set on being there to see you through it.”

Gaz looked at you. You looked back, tilting your head in silent encouragement; you were listening.

“It’s like he…built up this idea in his head about…” he trailed off, “And then it didn’t happen. And he doesn’t want to feel stupid, so he’s just angry instead.”

You nodded, taking in the revelation that maybe Ghost wasn’t mad at you, but at himself; that he was facing a similar struggle from you as you were from him.

It didn’t make you feel better. If anything, it made you want to knock sense into him all the more.

You’d laid out your cards—it was his turn now. If he had such big feelings, he could either suck it up and ignore them, or he could come out with them. And nothing Gaz said or suggested could make you change your mind.

You scoffed, shaking your head. But you smiled a little, subconsciously reassured.

“That’s my hypothesis, anyway.” Gaz shrugged, returning your smile ten-fold, and you felt yourself relax a bit, feeling the tension dissipate.

“Big word.” You laughed softly.

Gaz grinned. “Read a book or two.”

You reached out to snatch the pack of cigarettes from him, fishing another out for yourself before pushing the box back into his hands. He put them away, handing you your lighter.

“Not joining me?” You nodded towards the pocket he’d shoved the pack into, speaking through your hands as you lit the cigarette.

“Nah,” he shook his head, sighing. “There’s…mm—I didn’t come to see you just so we could talk about Ghost.”

“You talked about him,” you mumbled, “I listened.” You moved to the window again. “What else?”

“We’re shipping out,” Gaz sighed, “Next week.”

You went quiet, picking at one of your fingernails and watching your cigarette burn.

“…Without me.” Your words came out small, disappointed.

“Yeah,” Gaz’s voice went soft around the edges. “First time in—”

“Yeah.” You cut him off.

You knew how long you’d been in 141; and it felt like eons to you, despite the fact that it had been only a tiny fraction of the time everybody else had been on the task force. You didn’t need the reminder now—not when you already felt like an outsider.

“All of you, then?”

You looked back over your shoulder at Kyle, and he nodded.

“Price too?”

He nodded again. You took a long drag of your cigarette.

“In and out,” he tried to make it sound like fun—and really, it was, to an extent, but your thoughts were elsewhere. “Won’t even be a full forty-eight hours, way we’ve got it planned.”

You smiled—he always downplayed it, but you wanted to believe him.

Without Gaz and Soap around, you’d be bored out of your mind. You could handle a couple days, but anything longer than that seemed dreadful.

You didn’t let yourself fall into the vortex of thoughts that opened up relating to Simon; you refused to acknowledge the way your stomach tensed at the idea of him on a mission without you, the way sweat beaded on the skin of your back at the notion that you wouldn’t be there to watch him—you didn’t know what the feeling was, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“I believe you.” You flicked the cigarette out the window.

“Good.” He said simply.

It was another hour of banter before Gaz decided to call it a night, by which time the strange feeling in your stomach had begun to feel more akin to a hunger pain.

“Hey,” he nudged you with his shoulder as you walked him out of your room, “Don’t think too hard about it, yeah?”

“About what?”

“Ghost—and him being…”

“Being Ghost.” You offered sardonically with a smile to match, but Gaz took it in stride.

“Mm,” he nodded, “Ghost being Ghost.” He added, “You were the one that wanted his help, remember.”

He didn’t clarify, but you knew he was talking about how you’d pleaded for Ghost to be the one to treat your wounds as you lay bleeding.

You nodded, sighing an affirmative.

When you shut the door behind Gaz, you found yourself standing frozen in the same spot you had been in after shouting at Simon.

It was significantly more tranquil now, but it still made you feel a sense of unease.

Did you feel bad? And if the answer was yes—did you feel sorry for yourself, or for him?

You got in bed and curled into yourself, suddenly feeling like it was too big and almost wishing you could be back in the infirmary.

At least you could sleep in that cot; the morphine drip kept you in a steady, sleepy haze and removed all of the anxiety induced by your near-death experience.

Against your better judgement, you threw your hand over the edge of your bed, contorting yourself as comfortably as you could to lean down and grab Simon’s shirt from the spot you’d chucked it beneath the bedframe.

If he was so adamant that you keep it, you felt as though it was only fair for you to use it.

You draped his shirt over the foot of your mattress, and you instantly felt as though the bed had shrunk down to fit you exactly; it was cozy, it was made for you, and not hundreds of recruits just like you.

He took up too much space at the table and in your mind, so what was a little space in your bed?

It’s not like this changed anything. You were still upset, still frustrated, still completely and utterly confused. Simon’s shirt was simply an added presence that helped quell the shakiness in your hands as you moved to switch off the light.

And it added a bit of fuel to the thoughts you’d deemed taboo.

~~~

You hadn’t been trying to count down the days until the force left, but it was hard not to. You knew that them leaving base would mean radio silence and a consuming sense of loneliness.

You couldn’t tell if the feeling in your gut was a product of the unfortunate event you’d just lived through, your intense dosage of Advil, or just the crushing fear of being left behind.

So, you’d tried to make the most of things as the week went by; and maybe you sat at the dinner table a little longer than you needed to, even when Simon cared to join; maybe you didn’t say anything when Soap tried to look at Gaz’s cards over his shoulder.

You wandered into the transport bay on the morning they were set to leave, and they were all standing at the ready.

It almost had you laughing; little toy soldiers, all lined up.

“Where you off to?” You sidled up next to Soap as he fiddled with his chest rig.

“Need to know basis.” He grunted, pulling at the strap around his shoulder. He looked up at you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, returning the smile.

“Then tell me all about it if you come back in one piece.”

“Always do, lassie.”

You cringed. “Don’t tempt the fates, Johnny.”

Gaz appeared in your peripheral, and you turned to him.

You couldn’t decipher his gaze; if he was nervous or if he felt sorry for you.

“Gonna miss ya out there, Sergeant.” He smiled softly at you.

“Yeah,” you walked over to him, slinging an arm over his shoulder, “I know.”

“Always the picture of humility, you are.” He smirked, and you punched him in the arm.

“Take care of yourselves.” You knew they would—they always did. And it wasn’t like you had anything to worry about; it was one operation, a brief mission to wherever the hell, and you’d see them in a few days’ time.

As cocky as Soap could be, he was right: they always came back in one piece.

Unlike you.

Price cleared his throat, cutting short the banter between you and the Sergeants that flanked you.

“Captain.” You looked up, offering him a nod.

“Sorry to see you sitting this one out.” He was being sincere—that was something you appreciated about Price; he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. “Won’t feel the same without you.”

“Yeah, well,” you still didn’t know how to take a compliment from him, “I’ll be good as new, soon enough.” You added; “Only a month left, and then I’ll be back at it.”

He nodded, and you saw his cheeks broaden, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t let that arm go stiff, Sergeant.”

“Roger that.” You responded with a similarly minute smile.

You turned your attention back to Gaz and Soap, hoping that getting enough face time with them now might hold you over while they were gone.

Ghost stood in the corner, checking guns for loose ammo and saying nothing. He barely looked your way, and when he did, you tried to hold eye contact.

Maybe you were trying to scare him, wear him down a bit and make him nervous. Realistically, though, the man that stood a few yards away from you would never consider you a threat.

And you knew that. But you couldn’t admit that you were looking at him just to look.

You wanted him to squirm under your gaze now the way that you always did under his.

The door to the bay opened and you knew it was best to see them off before they loaded—you were a soldier, not a would-be widow; you couldn’t bear the feeling of being left behind, but the idea of watching them leave was even worse.

“Alright,” you rolled your neck, trying to appear indifferent to their departure. “Be good.” You looked pointedly at Soap, who nodded, saluting.

“Aye.”

“You too.” Gaz pressed a finger to your chest, feigning menace, and you rolled your eyes as you watched the Sergeants gear up to go.

Ghost still hadn’t said a word, but you found yourself being pulled into his orbit as you turned to leave.

It was no big deal. He was standing by the exit, anyway.

Still, you stared at him as you walked out, waiting for him to say something. Or not.

He gave you a curt nod in an effort to catch your attention.

“See you in a few days, sweetheart.” He kept his voice low—maybe out of habit, maybe because he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to hear him.

You huffed at him, frowning at him but refusing to respond.

His eyes shifted beneath his mask, but he didn't speak anymore. And you didn’t care.

But when you walked out of the transport bay, you could feel your heart racing, challenging your mind.

~~~

Admittedly, it was calmer with them gone. But you were bored, and feeling more outcast and alone than you’d care to confess.

It gave you time to work on the reports that had started to pile up, and even more time to debate where exactly you stood with Simon.

And then you debated whether that was something even worth debating.

He was an asshole. He was your superior. But he was also, in a twisted sort of way, your friend.

And you’d never heard him call Soap or Gaz sweetheart.

He was an ally in dark times, who used his own clothes to stem your bleeding—something he’d only done because you, in your weakest state, had begged for his help.

And you still didn’t really know why you had asked. And you didn��t like the fact that the time you spent alone with your thoughts was bringing you closer and closer to figuring it out.

You thought a lot about Gaz's words, his explanation for Ghost’s behavior: he’s unhappy, he wanted to see you through it, he built up this idea.

You still couldn’t fully wrap your head around what the idea Gaz had mentioned was, and you had been too proud to ask for any clarification.

Simon’s shirt was still unceremoniously draped over your bed, and despite the comfort it brought you, you tried to ignore it.

Two days came and went, and by the third day you had allowed the initial drops of worry to seep in.

It didn’t last long before the whole dam exploded.

And then it all started to blur together, like you were lying on your back in the dirt again, feeling like your head was being held underwater.

In the early hours of day four, commotion in the hall roused you. It wasn’t as if you had been asleep, but facing such loud noise after midnight still made you grumble as you padded to the door and flung it open. Walking down the hall, you didn’t care that you were barefoot, too intent on giving into the curiosity that was tying your stomach in knots.

You heard Price’s voice first, the sharp pinch of his words as he demanded everybody move out.

That was your first tip off that something was wrong.

And then Soap rushed past you without so much as a first glance, let alone a second, as he booked it in the direction of the infirmary. There was a hand on your shoulder, then, and Gaz offered a look of sympathy, but his eyes were glazed over and intense in a manner that didn’t suit him at all.

He tripped over himself as he followed Soap.

“Gaz?” You called after him, suddenly frantic and in need of answers.

One answer.

“Garrick?” You started to follow him, but it didn’t feel real; you felt like you were looking down at yourself as an outsider, your legs moving on their own as you sped barefoot down the hall, floating. “Kyle!”

That finally got him to snap to attention, but he kept walking as he spoke to you over his shoulder.

“Ghost—” his voice was shaky, and you had to wonder what had happened—what he had seen, “Direct shot.”

You felt a final tug at the knot in your stomach, and you thought you were going to be sick.

You stopped following Gaz, standing still in the middle of the hall. You felt directionless.

You drifted through the barracks in an unstable haze, almost numb but still all too capable of feeling the anger that had started to bubble within the uneasiness of your stomach.

He was supposed to be untouchable, unstoppable—invincible.

But he was bleeding out in the infirmary just like you had.

He was merciless, yes, and he was unforgiving—but he had his moments.

You wouldn’t have taken a bullet for him. Would you? Certainly, you would’ve done something.

You would’ve tried.

If you had been there, you would have forced him to do things the way you wanted to, the way you always did. Forced him to see it your way and come to an agreement in your favor; forced him to walk in the direction you chose; forced him to follow your pace, stayed in front of him like you always did; forced him to follow your trail.

And he would’ve listened, just like he always did. Because he, in his own way, seemed to approve of your drive.

And then maybe he would have walked back into base on his own two feet. And it could’ve been you lying on a cot in the infirmary.

As it was meant to be.

Somehow, you found your way back to your own room, some guiding force helping you shut the door, pushing you towards your bed.

The numb and the melancholy made way for a stronger sense of fury the moment your eyes fell onto his shirt, wrinkled and pushed to the foot of the bed.

In a fit of blind rage, you grabbed it and began whipping it against the bed; a toddler throwing a tantrum. You smacked it against your mattress as hard as you could, trying to strike fabric with fabric until the fear dissipated.

Because that’s what it was. Fear.

Because without Ghost, what was 141 worth?

Without Simon, what was any of this worth?

There was a knock on the door, and Gaz pushed himself into your room without waiting for a response.

“He’s—”

“Get out.” You were panting, still clutching the shirt in a white-knuckled fist.

“Listen, Ghost is—” Kyle looked exhausted.

“Get the fuck out!” You screamed, burning your lungs in the process and letting the pain in your ribs punish you from the inside out.

You didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

Gaz closed the door in a hurry, and you continued to watch on. He cast a vague shadow beneath the door, and you waited to see if he’d venture back into your room.

“He’s going to be fine,” you heard him sigh behind the door, “He’s up. He—bloody hell—he tried to tell them how to do the stitches.”

You breathed.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath.

You heard Gaz’s footsteps echo through the hall as he walked away, and you crumpled over your mattress. The anger and fear didn’t vanish with this new revelation; it all worked together to create an anxious giddiness.

He tried to tell them how to do his stitches.

You knew he was a good nurse in a pinch, but you were fairly certain that he didn’t know how to do stitches. You didn’t even think he knew how to sew.

Cocky motherfucker.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that lingered from your outburst, or the sense of relief that flooded your senses, but when you pushed yourself up against the headboard of your bed, your hand found its way beneath your waistband.

You had to get this energy out somehow.

So you circled your fingers around your clit, thinking about him—not for the first time, not for the last—and tried to find some kind of relief to distract yourself from the rollercoaster of emotion you’d just been on.

You reached for the shirt that you’d left in a heap on the bed, straining your fingers to curl against the spongy spot on your front wall. But the effort you put into stretching for the shirt where it lay on the edge of the bed made your side split at the exact moment you began to call his name.

And you started sobbing.

It was pained, not at all reluctant—an all at once reboot for your body, shedding itself of all the intensity you’d just put your mind and heart through; finally accepting that you yourself had been hurt, and that you had no idea how to bear this cross.

You stopped trying to make yourself cum, planting yourself face down on your pillow and biting into it to silence your wails. But the tears kept coming, and soon you were pressing your face into nothing but a sopping wet piece of bedding, stained with your tears and your drool and your snot.

You clung to the shirt, subconsciously bringing it up to your face.

It smelled like the iron in your blood, crusted over and lingering in the woven material. And beneath that, his scent still clung to it. You breathed deep, huffing the smell of him.

You must have looked absolutely insane. And you felt like you were; choking on your cries, burying your face in fabric that had been soaked in your own blood.

But it was ok.

He was ok.

And you were in love with him.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

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transformers-spike · 4 hours ago

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I cannot be the only one who wants to bang peepaw Alpha Trion plEASE TELL ME IM NOT ALONE 😭

I will never stop being an old man enjoyer. Give us your spike, peepaw

“I’m relieved we aren’t the only ones in this universe.” The words echo in his processor like sand in the desert wind. Fading in and out of consciousness under the rubble, he clings onto the softness of your voice, the faded edges of your smile burnt into his memory. He cannot make sense of your shape anymore, it’s a blotch of ink in his vision, something he recalls but cannot fully visualize. His mind reaches out to you, so close yet so far away. With every step he takes, you grow smaller, and still, you patiently wait for him with your arms outstretched. Like old times. You are dead. This he knows. Unequivocally dead. His digits twitch, warnings encapsulate his vision, reminding him each and every nanoclik of wakefulness that the next in-vent could be his last. He can’t help himself. Duty has led his life for so long, bestowed upon him by his creator, and he cannot fall back now and forgo his promise to protect Cybertron. But he is weak; pain receptors growing numb from the boulders crushing his frame, limbs quivering from a battle long lost. Primus forgive him, allow him this final comfort. Cycles ago, your crew had first established contact with Cybertron. It was a message sent across space, a simple signal that would tie your fates forever. The Council debated answering, fearing you could pose a threat to their planet, but there were only three ships with only a handful of members each. They chose fraternization over static silence. Communication was difficult, but somehow, someway, you understood each other just enough to arrive on their planet. Surprise struck him when he saw your kind, small, frail and soft to the touch. Your people were just as startled as them, but in your optics he saw something greater; a delight in meeting fellow sentient beings. They took in your crew and treated them like brothers and sisters, communicating through gestures and drawings. You could not speak their language, but they could learn yours. Knowledge was shared among you, tales of your worlds, their history, your technology, your people… Perhaps your place among your own was what drew him to you. Standing on the sidelines, you watched and took notes, occasionally serving as a sketch artist to exchange information. The others were mingling with the Council, asking questions, telling stories, showing what machinery brought you to them. But you kept your distance, politely nodding along and busying yourself with your notebooks. When he approached you, taking slow careful steps, you nearly dropped your pen in shock. His size was already intimidating by Cybertronian standards, but for a human? He could barely imagine the primal fear you felt when met with someone of his stature. You recovered quickly despite it, uneasy but maintaining your composure. Having knelt down to your level, he offered you servo, the sand within it shaping into a miniature version of your ship. You blinked, clutching your notebook to your chassis. Then, after a drawn out silence, you smiled, optics gleaming with wonder. That was the start of your companionship. You would sit in his servo, looking up at the night sky, speaking words he could barely understand but tried his hardest to learn. He recalls bits and pieces, meanings he managed to grasp through what you taught him. It wasn’t long until your time together grew intimate. As a prime, he was so focused on his duties that he barely got the chance to relax, much less interface. Things were… difficult due to the size difference, but there were workarounds. Charge runs through his fuel lines at the memory. How you would brush your digits against his valve, testing the waters so to say, before slipping your servo inside of it. There was no true relief in the interface, no way for you to properly satisfy each other. But you were both content, savoring every moment of your companionship. You would press your lips to his spike, working your servo in and out of his gushing valve. It made his frame shudder and his optics glitch.

He touched you much the same way, digits rubbing at the sensitive nerves between your thighs, gazing down at you lovingly as you grit your denta and arched your optical ridge in pleasure.

#transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers one #tf one alpha trion #alpha trion x reader #valveplug

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ladykailitha · 6 hours ago

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Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 13

It's a race to the finish line as we are nearing the end. I am quite proud of this little story. I started posting the weekend the Olympics ended and continued until almost Thanksgiving!

The final two chapters will come out tomorrow and Friday.

In this we have Steve learning progress is not a straight line, Dr. Hughes is brilliant, and Eddie's dreams come true.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

The year just flew by, with Steve and Eddie working in the off season. Andy and Haley called them crazy.

“You’ll only burn him out,” Haley said, “then he won’t make it to the trials, let alone the Olympics, Steve.”

“I know you think this gung ho approach is going to do the job,” Andy agreed, “but it’s just not sustainable. You’ll wear him out before it’s competition time again.”

Steve looked back and forth between them in open mouthed shock. “You guys honestly think I would take advice from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Fuck off.”

They were flabbergasted that he would speak to them that way, as if they hadn’t spent the last year mocking both Eddie and Steve’s progress in the pool.

Steve just shook his head and walked away. He was doing much better now. He could get in the pool up to his waist and duck under the lane divisions, but he couldn’t put his head under the water. He had even tried kneeling into it, but he had jumped out of the water so fast, he left a huge wake behind him.

It took him two more weeks after that to even put his toe in the water again.

He had never been so disappointed in himself. Not for him. Oh no. But for the look of pity on Eddie’s face when he turned around after having booked it to the lifeguard tower.

Dr. Hughes had admonished Steve for feeling that way. “Your recovery is not predicated on how Eddie feels about it. And I highly doubt it was pity, Steve. You know Eddie better than that. He was concerned for you. As I’m sure Robin was too.”

Steve was forced to acknowledge that he just wanted Eddie to be proud of his progress.

“Steve,” Dr. Hughes said gently, “we’re all proud of your progress. You can go into the water all the way up to your chest. That is a long way from freaking out over putting your foot in the water.”

He took a deep breath and let the words of encouragement slide over him like waves in the ocean. Oh how he wished the pool was just the ocean. Dark, fathomless and deep. Unknowable and therefore conquerable.

He explained the feeling to Dr. Hughes.

“The ocean doesn’t bother you?” he asked tilting his head to the side.

Steve frowned for a moment and then shook his head. “It’s not clear like pool water. I can’t see the bottom and know how far it is for me to drown.”

“Oh.”

A smile spread over Dr. Hughes face. “I’ve got the best idea.”

“What are these?” Steve said pulling out the weird goggles.

“They’re for tanning booths,” Eddie explained with a grin. “They’re so you can’t see.”

Steve frowned at them for a moment. “What am I not supposed to see?”

Eddie just continued to grin without saying a word. He put them over Steve’s eyes and led him through the halls. As they did, Steve started to hear waves crashing and the sound of gentle breeze.

“What the hell?” he asked, but Eddie continued to lead him on without a word.

He led Steve to the edge of something and that’s when he spoke.

“Just dive in,” he murmured. “It’s okay, we’re here for you.”

Steve was about to ask who else was there, but it didn’t matter. He trusted Eddie not have anyone there that would make fun of him. So he dived into the water and just swam. It felt so good to just let himself go. To just swim properly for the first time since the accident.

Then he touched a wall. He let his body sink and hit solid floor. The water only came up to his chest. But there was no way they would have let him dive in the endless pool or the kiddie pool.

He tore off the goggles and looked around. He was on the other side of the pool from the door.

“What the–”

On the side of the pool were Robin, Eddie, and surprisingly Dr. Hughes. Dr. Hughes was sitting in one of the folding chairs Steve often sat in during staff swims, Robin was standing next to him with her phone held out, and Eddie was crouched by the edge in case Steve panicked and needed to pulled out of the pool quickly.

He let out a startled laugh, pushing his hair out of his face. “That was amazing!”

“You did it, pretty boy!” Eddie shouted. “You swam in the big pool.”

The sound of the waves and wind cut out and Robin put away her phone with a grin.

He waded over to the edge of the pool to where Eddie was crouched. “So I did. Was this your idea, Dr. Hughes?” he asked, looking around Eddie to the seated man.

He smiled fondly. “It was. We’ll slowly build you up to not needing the sound, then not needing the goggles. The brain for all its complexities can be easily tricked.”

Steve laughed out right. “That’s brilliant!” His smile turned into a grin as he looked up at Eddie.

“Uh oh...”

But before he could get out of arms reach, Steve grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the water. Laughing and splashing around.

Robin turned to Dr. Hughes and murmured, “Thank you. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Dr. Hughes said. “He really wants to get better. To overcome his fears and that makes him...hmm...I’m not sure easier would be the right word. More teachable, perhaps.”

“Despite all his dad’s faults and trust me he had many,” Robin said solemnly watching her best friend, “Clint could tell Steve loved the water. Like really loved the water and he did everything he could to make that happen for Steve. It’s just too bad the bastard got so wrapped up in winning he forgot that.”

Dr. Hughes nodded. Steve was happiest in the water and if he could help him get that back even just a little, then Dr. Hughes considered it a success.

The Olympic trials had finally arrived and Steve was nervous as hell. Not only because Eddie was going against Jason Carver to be on the team and Billy being there, but because Bob Newby. He was one of the best and he was worried Eddie wouldn’t live up to his exacting standards.

Thankfully Bob came over right before the meet started to chat.

“I’ve been hearing some really good things about your boy, Eddie,” Bob said after they exchanged pleasantries.

Steve grinned. “He’s good, Bob. Like proper talented, good.”

“I can’t wait to see him,” he replied with a nod. “I was hoping to see another name on this roster, was a little sad you weren’t on it.”

Steve blushed. “If I felt better about that damn pool behind you, I probably would have. But I just can’t. Not right now.”

Bob gave his elbow a squeeze. “I feel that. I’m just glad that they offered the coach position to me first. Their second choice was Billy fucking Hargrove.”

Steve leaned his head forward in surprise and disgust. “Are you kidding me? He barely medalled, why would they want him?”

“I don’t know,” Bob said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Bribery. That would be the only reason for it. Straight up Olympic bribery, like fucking Salt Lake City didn’t blow the cover on that particular can of worms.

“Well, it’s good to see you again,” Steve said. “I’ve got go get my boy ready.”

“We’ll talk more after the meet,” Bob said.

Robin walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Eddie is going to do just fine.”

Jason, who had been walking by, scoffed. “Your boy is throwing up chunks in the locker rooms.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Like your beloved coach wasn’t doing the same thing at the last Olympic trials and he still made it. So fuck off.” He waved his hands at Jason, who stomped off with a scowl.

Robin smirked. “He was throwing up because someone told him one of the other athletes was gay.”

Steve smirked back. “I’ll just go check in on Eddie. I’ll be right back.”

He walked into the looker room and everyone started pointing out the direction of the hurling. They knew who Steve was and they sure as hell knew who he was coaching this year.

“Eds?” Steve murmured walking up to the stall.

“Fuck man,” Eddie murmured. “Me and my band play to actual fucking crowds and I’ve never been this nervous before.”

“That’s because you’ve never had the chance to be seen on the world stage before,” Steve said soothingly. “I think you’d be throwing up before a performance if you were told that there was a talent scout in the audience who if they liked your stuff would be giving you a contract.”

Eddie stopped to consider that. “Oh yeah. Okay. I see your point.” He stood up and opened the door to the stall. “You gotta level with me coach, am I good enough?”

Steve took his head in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “You are. You are one of the best swimmers I’ve ever seen and you have got this in the bag.”

Eddie gripped Steve’s wrists and nodded. “I’ve got this.”

He opened his eyes and saw how close they were. It would take absolutely nothing to press their lips together. Just tilt his head up.

Then a locker door slammed Steve jumped back, dropping his hands from Eddie’s face. His own face was burning.

“Steve...” Eddie murmured, holding out his hand to him. “It’s okay.”

“I want to so bad,” Steve muttered back. “But I’m coach, I can’t.”

Eddie smiled. “If I make it to the Olympics, you won’t be. Bob will. So just think about that for a moment.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “You’re a menace, Eddie Munson.”

“You love it,” Eddie said, leaning into his space.

Steve playfully pushed him off. “Go blow away all the judges, rockstar.”

Eddie saluted and led the way out of the locker rooms, out to the pool, a fond Steve following behind.

The stands were stacked to the gills of all their friends and family. Max wasn’t trying out for the Olympics this year, opting to wait until she was older before she tried out. Steve and Susan were very proud of her making that decision for herself. She would be sixteen next time and they, and Robin thought it would the best for her.

It was going to be a crazy week. Having over a thousand athletes all vying for the same fifty spots. And a lot of those spots would be filled by the same people across the board.

Steve wasn’t sure what was worse: for first and watching everyone else beat your time or go last and be forced to watch all the amazing athletes go before you. Well Eddie was about to find out.

He was in the first heat on the first day for his first event and most of his heats were also on day one. Which thankfully, Jason was not. Jason was in the middle of the week and had been complaining about it to everyone who would listen longer than five minutes.

Chrissy Cunningham was at the end of the week. The first heat on the last day.

Steve gave Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Show the country who’s the best, Eddie,” he murmured. His hand slid down Eddie’s arm and he gave his hand a squeeze too.

Eddie smiled brightly and then tucked his hair under his cap. He padded over to his podium and started warming up his limbs. The whistle blew and he pulled down his goggles and got up on the podium. He crouched on it backward, still as can be, waiting for that shot.

BANG!

And Eddie arced into the pool backward, the strong lines of his body sending butterflies to the base of his rib cage and his heart rate rabbited.

Eddie was beautiful. There was no denying that. The last two years had taken him from a scrawny teen to a whipcord strength. His tattoos were beautifully on display and Steve let out a shuddering breath.

Robin took his hand and they watched as Eddie cut threw the water like a hot knife through butter. He was exquisite.

It was nerve-wracking every time he went into the water, but every time Eddie emerged from the water in the top three if not the top spot.

They watched and waited the whole week as others did the same.

When the results were tallied up at the end of the week, Eddie, Jason, and Chrissy were all going to the Olympics in London.

Eddie came bounding up to Steve. “Better get packing for London, pretty boy. I’m going to the Olympics!”

Steve laughed as he spun them around. “All right, all right!” he cried, laughing. “I’ll come watch you compete!”

“Yay!”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure if he could handle going to the Olympics and watching other people live his dream. But he’d do it. He’d do it for Eddie.

He’d do anything for Eddie.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #olympic steddie #olympic swimmer au

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raginglesbian2006 · 6 hours ago

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Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 4: Stardust

Chapter warnings: Alastor being Alastor

When our love was new, and each kiss an inspiration.

But that was long ago, and now my consolation

Is in the stardust of a song.

Masterlist

Time seemed to stop for Alastor.

Those bright, beautiful eyes he had fallen in love with in the mortal world, turned to look at him, acknowledging his presence.

His ever-present smile wavered a bit, just until those eyes turned away from him to look at Lucifer.

Despite Charlie’s cries for help and Lucifer’s aggressive disapproval, all he heard was silence. His glowing red eyes bore into the back of his beloved’s head.

You’d gone to heaven, of course you did and he knew that for a long time. He had scoured the ends of hell for your presence but found none who held even a shred of your likeness. He was relieved at first, knowing you would be spared from his violence, knowing you would be safe.

But it wasn’t long before he felt a sense of longing, desperation, and want to have you with him. He knew that if he played his cards right, his powers would help him grow stronger. He would be strong enough to bring you back to him.

Even if it meant he had to rip out those striking wings of yours.

Those very wings that blocked his vision now.

He let out a static sigh, ordering his dead heart to calm down as he approached the party.

“Now, now, Your Majesty,” he started, letting his hand act as a barrier between the two of you. It is rather uncouth for royalty like you to act in such a brazen way.”

His eyes shifted to yours, holding your skeptical gaze. He could feel not a smidge of recognition deep within those irises.

His stance faltered for a fraction of a second before his grin widened as he turned to the king of hell who was still seething.

“Why not give this angel a chance to explain themselves, hm? Unless you’re incapable of behaving like an adult, let alone a king?” Alastor jeered.

Hearing this, Lucifer turned his blood-red eyes to Alastor, gritting his teeth and speaking, “And I think you should behave like the easily disposable subject you are.”

Charlie, feeling a murderous staring contest begin between the two, intervened.

“Dad, this angel has come to give our hotel their blessings,” she explained, moving over to you, “And they have proof from Sera! Right?”

Her nervous eyes shifted to you, begging you to try to quell this disharmony.

“Your daughter speaks the truth, Lucifer Morningstar,” you said, summoning the scroll into your hands and holding it out for him.

Lucifer snatched the scroll to read it himself, his eyes moving over every word. Alastor leaned over to look through it as well. As soon as he reached the end, he let out a guffaw.

“Oh, this is hilarious!” Alastor exclaimed, wiping away a fake tear, “The High Seraphim pitying us helpless demons?”

Alastor let out a dramatic sigh, holding a fist over his chest, “Oh how…,” his static faded, only to grow louder as you felt his presence nearing you, “....delightful.”

With a tap, your cane transformed into your weapon. You pointed the sword right at his neck.

All eyes were on the two of you and silence grew, save for the quiet static that prevailed.

“You have a lot of guts trying to intimidate an angel,” you spoke, shifting your gaze to meet his, “especially since you’ve,” your eyes trailed down to his dress coat, “met one already.”

Alastor’s eye twitched as he shifted back with uncertainty. His ever-present grin straining as he tried to compose himself.

“And I don’t think that encounter went quite well for you,” You continued, your gaze piercing his soul.

He had never seen you like this before. Your eyes had always been one of his favorite things about you, having always held so much love whenever they looked at him.

But now, those very eyes he’d adored were holding him down in place, watching him like a predator stalks their prey.

Before he could lose any more of his composure, your eyes turned to find Lucifer’s.

“Your Majesty,” you started, snapping your fingers to get rid of the scroll held in his hands, “As you can see, I am here by the order of the High Seraphim. She sees potential in this establishment and I do too.”

Lucifer’s stature was still guarded, but his demonic form had calmed down a bit, his horns having disappeared completely and his eyes slowly returning to their normal state.

He stole a look at his daughter, her pleading eyes softening his resolve.

Letting out a sudden laugh, he walked up to you and pulled you down by your collar, making sure you were at eye level with him.

“If you try to hurt my daughter,” he glared, “I’ll drag you down to a place worse than hell myself…permanently.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Your Majesty,” you said, cooly.

With a huff, he let go of you, rolling his shoulders back. He met Charlie’s gaze with a tired smile. She returned it with warmth, an unspoken understanding resonating between them.

“So,” Charlie looked at you with a gigantic grin, “When do we get started?”

You tilted your head, “I’m sorry?”

“Gosh! I have so many ideas to work with! I’ll show you my charts! There’s this excellent daily schedule I’ve planned for the guests, sin-free of course-”

“Hun,” Vaggie interrupted, “Maybe we should…help them settle first?”

Charlie gasped, “Right!”

She grabbed you by your arm with a giddy disposition, “I have just the right room for you! Let’s go!”

Vaggie and Lucifer followed her as she dragged you upstairs, watching you like a hawk.

The rest of the hotel residents stood there in silence, before Niffty spoke out excitedly, “I like them.” She then hopped away happily with her broom, searching for her next pest victims.

“I’m…. gonna go head out for a while, see ya later Angie!” Cherri said as she walked out of the hotel.

Angel Dust and Husk looked at each other, not sure what to make of the situation. A sudden and loud crackle of static alarmed the two of them.

They turned to see Alastor seething, his smile morphing into a sickly grin. They followed his line of sight to the newly arrived angel who bore a soft smile as they patiently listened to Charlie’s excited ramblings, disappearing into the long halls with Lucifer and Vaggie in tow.

A pop sounded behind them as they watched Alastor fizzle away into the shadows.

“What’s the deal with ‘im?” Angel asked Husk, who merely shrugged, too tired and drunk to care.

You looked around the room Charlie had brought you to. It was quite spacious, decked out with a comfortable queen-sized bed, a few tasteful decorations, and a balcony overlooking the Pride ring.

“The washroom’s right there and we serve 3 meals a day- the food and accommodations are all free, of course!” Charlie explained.

“The bar is open…whenever Husk feels like it, to be honest,” she admitted sheepishly, “but he’s a guest too so…”

Charlie trailed off, looking around.

“You….don’t have your luggage?” she pointed out.

“Oh! I do,” you said as you snapped your fingers twice. Your suitcases, numerous books, and everything else popped into existence, covering almost every inch of the dark red carpeted floor.

Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer looked dumbfounded.

“I..umm..may have packed a bit too much…” you said with an awkward smile.

Charlie regained her composure, “Don’t worry, take your time unpacking and settling in! We’ll just be out of your way!”

She dragged her father and girlfriend along with her, shutting the door behind her.

“Well that was something,” Vaggie started.

“I can’t believe an actual not fallen angel is in our hotel!” Charlie exclaimed, jumping on her hooves in the hallway.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this, Charlie,” Lucifer sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand, “Heaven, listening to us for once? Hah! As if.”

“Dad…,” Charlie placed a hand on her father’s shoulder, “If we don’t give Heaven a chance, we’d be bigger hypocrites than Heaven themselves!”

“Guess there’s no helping it,” Lucifer smiled, holding his hand over his daughter’s, “I won’t be able to be with you all the time though, still have official stuff I gotta handle from the castle.”

He turned to his daughter’s girlfriend.

“Maggie,”

“Vaggie-”

“Can I trust you to take care of my girl when I’m not in the hotel?”

“I’ll protect her even when you’re here, Your Majesty,” Vaggie stated, “I’m not gonna let an angel of all beings harm her.”

“Awww, you guysss,” Charlie beamed as she hugged the two, “I appreciate all that but I can take care of myself too!”

“No doubt about that, dear,” Lucifer smiled, reaching up to ruffle her hair.

“C’mon, let’s give them time to unpack,” Charlie giggled, gesturing to the room of the new arrival, “And let’s give ourselves time to unpack…this situation.”

As soon as they were about to take a step, you popped your head out of the room with a smile.

“All done!”

The three looked back with wide eyes.

“Already?” Vaggie exclaimed, “ It's been like what…a minute?”

“Ah well…. angelic magic can go a long way,” you said, “I took the liberty to make a few tweaks to the room if you don’t mind.”

Charlie, growing curious, walked up to the room, “Of course, as long as…”

Her voice trailed off and her jaw dropped.

The room had been completely transformed. Soft blue replaced the red hues that once decorated the walls. White drapes surrounded the bed canopy and the windows. A few potted plants were placed where it best suited them, and all your necessities were neatly arranged in their appropriate places.

But the most drastic change of them all was the seemingly infinitely extending ceiling enveloped in a fitting angelic aura.

“Oh, don’t worry about the ceiling, it won’t disturb the rooms above this one,” you pointed out, watching Charlie shake her head in disbelief, “I just needed some space to stretch my wings.”

Vaggie and Lucifer stood behind Charlie shortly after, their mouths gaping like the princess.

“You’ve settled in already,” Lucifer chimed.

You sheepishly shrugged in reply.

It wasn’t long before you had to bid them goodbye as they left you to your devices.

You sighed and plopped yourself down on the bed. You opened the bedside drawer and took out a jewelry box.

Opening it, you could see all the little trinkets Molly had made for you, the few golden cranes that Oliver had forged as a gift for you. You smiled, wondering what the two were up to right now in heaven.

Your emotions took a somber turn when your fingers felt the cool looped metal hidden beneath everything else. Holding it up, your eyes found the red ruby seated in the center of the ring.

The ring you’d come to heaven with. The ring, as St. Peter had described, was a parting gift from someone who loved you.

Someone….who loved you.

You wondered if you would find them someday—the person who gave you this ring. Surely they must’ve made it to heaven? Or perhaps condemned to hell?

Are they still here? Have they been thinking of you?

Do…do they still love you?

All those questions plagued your mind ever since you entered the gates of heaven. And they have never left you in peace.

Putting it back safely within the confines of the box, you slid the drawer close, turning your attention to your other prized possession.

A radio.

You’d made it so that it could play music with or without a station nearby. Although it took several attempts for you to get it right, on top of making sure you did not damage the gizmo, you knew it was worth all the hassle.

Something had drawn you to it when you first saw it sitting on the shop shelf collecting dust. Call it love at first sight, if you will.

You turned the dial, smiling when music played through. It was a song about love- a reminiscent memory of it.

Sometimes I wonder, how I spend

The lonely nights

Dreaming of a song

The melody

Haunts my reverie

You lay down on the bed, letting your wings rest on either side of you. You feel a lone feather float down towards your face. You reach out to catch hold of it, right before it landed on you.

And I am once again with you

When our love was new

And each kiss an inspiration

You twirl the feather in between your fingers as your mind wanders.

You must find them -the person who loved you.

But that was long ago

And now my consolation is in the stardust of a song.

You must.

A/N: Sorry for the late updates. Trying my best to juggle my academics with writing. I can't promise regular updates, at least not until I get into med school but I'll try my best to not keep ya'll waiting. Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx,

@fairyv-ice , @sonatabee @preciousbabypeter,

@mo-0-o

@goddesslilithmoriarty, @cyannese-rose,

@readergirlstuff, @nealeart,

@dollsgate, @cherry-cola-100

@dark-mark @hey-there-you @missa-archdevilme

@diffidentphantom, @eris-norwega

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x angel!reader #ne me quitte pas

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fanfictionstuff · 2 days ago

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Amaimon x Student Reader (8)

My love for Amaimon is still going strong.

This part is different than I had planned but then I had an idea that snowballed into this

You’re sitting on your bed with your friends. Izumo and Shiemi stare at you in disbelief as you recount the situation with Rin during lunch. Izumo had snatched you as soon as you stepped out of class. Unknowingly to you, the only reason Amaimon hadn’t intersected is because an hour earlier, Mephisto had called him, ordering him not to bother you after school. Amaimon had tried to argue it doesn’t bother you, and it doesn’t but Mephisto began a speech emphasizing the significance of friendship for humans, particularly during their teenage years. However, Amaimon tuned out after the very first sentence.

“So, Okumura told Amaimon that you love him and want to marry him and have kids?" Izumo asked, struggling to comprehend that Rin actually said all of that.

You groan. "Yes and no. He didn’t mention love, but he did tell Amaimon that I wanted a genuine relationship with him that would eventually lead to marriage and kids.” Your stomach twists as the memory of the interaction floods back. "God, I thought I was going to be sick; it was awful.”

Shiemi leans forward, completely invested in your story. “What did Amaimon say?”

“Just wait a moment; I’m getting there. So, after Rin demands that Amaimon leave me alone because I want a marriage and kids, he tells me to stop being foolish and that I deserve better, and Amaimon can’t give me what I really want.” Dropping your head into your hands, the scene replays in your mind. “I felt so sick. I tried to get up because I just wanted to leave; I was sitting next to Amaimon on the bench.” You shift closer to Shiemi, placing a hand gently on her thigh. “So, when Rin approached, I was beside him, and he was holding me like this.”

Both girls nod.

“So, mind you, I’m still sitting next to Amaimon, and his hand is still on my thigh. I start to panic and try to leave, but then Amaimon tightens his grip on my thigh and wraps his other arm around me like this.” You demonstrate by wrapping your arm around Shiemi. “Then fucking tells Rin, ‘Never say never.’” Shiemi and Izumo stare in disbelief, their mouths agape. “See! That’s how I felt. I mean, what the hell? You can’t just drop a bombshell like that. It’s clear he was trying to annoy Rin, but even with him not being serious, my heart just can’t handle it.”

Izumo leans forward, clearly engrossed in your story now. “Talk about being heartless. So, are you finally over him? That must have been difficult to hear, especially knowing he wasn’t serious. He didn’t have to say that in front of you; he could have mentioned it to Rin later instead." Beside her, Shiemi nods in agreement, her expression reflecting sadness for you.

Sighing, you also nod in acknowledgment. “Yeah, I agree.”

“So, you’re really over him?” Izumo raises an eyebrow.

“I never said that. I have a date with Amaimon tomorrow”

“You idiot.”

“What? Haven't you been listening to me? He is perfection; I love him, and I don’t care if he doesn’t feel the same; he’s like a god. Just pure perfection.”

Izumo wrinkles her nose. “I can almost see you drooling.”

“I’m not—am I?” You quickly reach up to check your mouth. No drool.

Shiemi tilts her head. “What time is your date?"

"..."

Izumo gives you a disapproving look. “You didn’t set up a time?"

"...I was just so excited, and then Mephisto called, which interrupted everything..."

“So, you don’t even know if you actually have a date since nothing was confirmed," Izumo says, rolling her eyes. Your stupidity when it comes to the demon king never ceases to amaze her. “The boys are right; you should get your head checked.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Okay, go ahead. You have his number, right?”

“Yup.” You feel confident as you pull out your phone, ready to send a quick text to the demon king. However, when you open the messaging app, that confidence quickly fades away.

Izumo rests her head on her fist, intently observing you. “Come on, ______. Send 'Perfection' a message asking about tomorrow's date," she mocks, referring to the title you’ve given to Amaimon.

Me: Hi

Shiemi and Izumo lean in closely to read your messages. "Oh wow, ‘hi’? Look at you, being all irresistible!" Izumo scoffs. “Are your hands seriously shaking?"

Perfection: Hi

“Look at him, on the same level as you. Can’t stop that Casanova."

“Shut up.”

Me: When are we meeting?

The eagerness to see Amaimon's response gnaws at you, making your heart race with uncertainty. Your friends watch your every move with a mixture of amusement and concern.

After what feels like an eternity, a new message finally appears.

Perfection: Tomorrow, 7 pm. Be ready.

You beam at the message, your smile so wide that your cheeks begin to ache. “See? We have a date! I told you!”

“Okay, genius, do you know where you’re going? How should you dress?”

You turn your attention to your wardrobe. "Ah, help me choose something!" Shiemi eagerly nods in agreement, excited by the idea of picking out cute outfits with friends. She nearly swoons at the thought of this ‘girlfriend’ moment, while you can’t help but swoon over the prospect of a date with Amaimon. Izumo rolls her eyes, muttering, “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

You step out in a black bodycon dress that stops, so it just barely covers your butt. It nearly leaves nothing to the imagination. “What about this one?”

“Why do you even own a dress like that? I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you’ll leave this bedroom comfortably in that dress.”

“I know, I know. I’m kidding. I’ve just never tried to on. I ordered a cute black flowy dress online, and this one came instead. They sent me a replacement and told me not to bother with sending this back.” You explain how you ended up with the dress. “Really though, it’s getting kind of cold. I probably shouldn’t wear a dress, right?” Shiemi raises her hand. “You’ve got some tights that you could wear, right?”

“Yes, so I should wear a dress?”

“What if he tries to put his hand up the skirt?” Izumo questions.

Your face starts to burn at the idea. “…I’m going to wear a dress.” You turn towards your wardrobe, ignoring Izumo’s insults as you rummage through your clothing. “This dress is cute, right?” You hold up a simple long-sleeved dress in your favorite color.

“I’m not talking to you anymore.” Izumo rolls her eyes, standing up from the bed. “You’re insane. I’m leaving. Bye.”

You grin, waving as she leaves the apartment; it’s almost nine. She has to be back in the dorm before curfew.

“Shiemi, what do you think?” You question, holding the dress up for the blonde.

-------------------------------------------

I hope I look okay. You gaze at your reflection in the mirror, adorned in your carefully chosen dress and a stylish jacket. You’ve sent selfies to Shiemi, Izumo, and Paku; all three have assured you that you look fantastic. Yet, with a date set with your dream guy, doubts creep in, making you second-guess everything about your appearance. But you have no time to change your mind; there’s a knock at your door. Your eyes flicker to your watch, seven on the dot.

You quickly rush to the door, not wanting to keep the demon king waiting. "Hi, Amaimon," you say, grinning at him. To your surprise, he’s dressed in a similar style to when you first saw him, though he’s missing the jacket this time. You unabashedly let your eyes roam over him. “Let’s go.” He demands, staring into your eyes.

“Where?”

“Big Brother told me that it’s customary for humans to go out for dinner and a movie.” He holds up his phone to show you purchased movie tickets. “Big Brother chose the movie and bought the tickets.” He slips the phone back into his pocket before you can see what film it is. "Oh, okay."

You follow Amaimon out of the apartment, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As you walk down the street towards the theater, you can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious under Amaimon’s intense gaze. And then it hits you - you have no idea what to talk to him about.

“So… how was your day?” You ask, trying to break the silence.

“Fine,” Amaimon replies, giving you nothing to work off of.

“So, are we eating first?”

“No. The movie starts soon.”

It’s a horror movie, and although you’re doing well as an exorcist-in-training, which you might drop if Amaimon decides he’s in love with you. For some strange reason, horror films really get under your skin. So, your first awkward dilemma is that you don’t want Amaimon to discover just how jumpy you are during movies like this. The second awkward issue is the seating arrangement Mephisto reserved in advance. This cinema offers a couples' option where you get a drink, a snack, and specially designated seats—love seats. They’re a tacky red color and barely wide enough for two people to sit comfortably. These seats are meant for couples looking to enjoy a cheesy date while sitting close together. There’s even a weird heart on the back wall. Amaimon doesn’t even bat an eye.

As you both take your seats in the designated couple’s area, the closeness of the love seats makes your heart race even faster. Amaimon sits casually, leaning back as if it's nothing out of the ordinary, while you are acutely aware of the warmth emanating from his body next to yours.

As the movie begins, the lights dim, casting shadows throughout the room and enveloping it in suspenseful music. You steal a glance at Amaimon, who appears completely unfazed by the eerie atmosphere. But when the first jump-scare flashes on the screen, you can't help but flinch, your hand instinctively reaching out to grip his arm tightly.

Amaimon shifts slightly at your touch, turning his head to look at you with a raised eyebrow. Amaimon stares at you without a word, his expression unreadable in the darkened theater. You quickly release his arm, feeling embarrassed for your reaction. But to your surprise, Amaimon doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. Instead, he shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours as he leans in slightly to whisper in your ear.

"Are you scared?" His voice is low and has a child-like curiosity to it.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the proximity of his breath on your skin. Swallowing nervously, you shake your head. “No. I’m just jumpy with movies.” You admit awkwardly.

As the movie progresses, you try to focus on the screen, but it’s a bit hard with your soulmate sitting beside you, watching you jump at ridiculous points. Amaimon seems content to watch the film unfold, occasionally stealing glances at your reactions out of the corner of his eye.

In a particularly tense moment of the movie, a sudden jump scare catches you off guard, causing you to let out a soft gasp as you instinctively lean closer to Amaimon. He makes a subtle shift, inviting you to rest your head on his shoulder, and you find yourself increasingly relaxed against him as the film continues to unfold.

As the tension in the film reaches its peak, a sudden loud noise makes you jump. You grasp Amaimon's hand tightly, and he doesn't flinch at your touch.

The movie eventually ends, and as the lights come back on in the theater, you realize how close you are to Amaimon. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you quickly pull away, standing from the seat. “That’s a bad habit you have.” Amaimon casually comments, tossing a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Huh?”

“Always pulling away from me.”

“What?”

“Come here.” Amaimon orders.

You step closer to him.

“Closer.”

Another step.

“Closer.”

You stare at the distance separating you two; there is no way to get closer. Amaimon growls when he sees that you aren’t going to budge. He reaches for your wrist and pulls you against him. “Pets should be obedient to their owners.”

You feel a rush of heat spread through your body as Amaimon's words overwhelm you.

His eyes lock onto yours, leaving you uncertain what to expect next from the demon king before you.

Amaimon's thumb glides softly across your cheek, his touch unexpectedly tender in contrast to his earlier commanding tone. "I don't like it when my pets disobey," he murmurs, before drawing you into a kiss.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #blue exorcist x reader #amaimon #blue exorcist fanfiction #amaimon x reader #amaimon x oc #amaimon ao no exorcist #amaimon blue exorcist #mephisto pheles #i love amaimon

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thcophagy · 2 days ago

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while it had been easy at first to chalk lana's behaviour down to nothing more than some drunken teasing of a girl who'd finally been allowed to let loose for the first time in months, sully had been forced to quickly recognise that there might have been some seriousness behind her lingering touches and suggestive words. he didn't have a habit of fawning over girls her age, it was already rather rare that he have any excuse to interact with any and even then, despite his marriage problems he'd never had any real desire to seek comfort else where, though his fear for being deemed a bad father and ruining the lives of his kids had been the driving force behind that abstinence. it made little sense to him to see her so unabashedly flirting with him, especially when she'd had the whole night to find company with men her age. it was inappropriate on various levels but no matter how he looked at the situation, sully was the one who held the power over her and therefore it was his responsibility to approach her with caution, he didn't want to embarrass her with his reprimanding but the alternative was to let her carry on till they got to a point neither could return from. "lana-" her perfect mouth lingering close to his ear had him huffing out a shaky sigh, momentarily succumbing to the pleasure of having her close before he forced himself to straighten back up and focus, his hands tightening around the steering wheel with the amount of strength it was taking to not reach out for her. the combination of having not received any kind of sexual attention other than that of his right hand for months and being unable to escape lana acting like some nymph hellbent on breaking his loyalties, there was little hope of his body not reacting to her casual groping. she didn't have his hand on him for long before he moved it away but she undoubtedly would've felt his cock beginning to perk up just from those brief few seconds. he might've been trying to stay steadfast in his gentle refusals but his body was telling a different story, one of being desperate to be touched again, to be put to use after so long. the mention of his wife's name was like being hit with a splash of cold water, it reminded him of what should've been glaringly apparent in that moment but seemed to have grown distant from their little world within his car. his face grew warm at how casually she mentioned the conversation she'd overheard and he was quick to try and defend not only himself, but the state of his relationship. "that's- that's nothing for you to be concerned about." it was true but that didn't mean she had to do anything about it, he had long since given up trying to initiate any kind of intimate contact and had instead learned how to life without it, for the most part at least. it wasn't something that his nanny needed to be worrying about, it was for him and his wife to deal with when they both felt like they were ready and until then, he'd seek his respite alone when he needed to. her hand once again moved over to his crotch where the fabric of his thin pajama pants were doing very little to convince her of his disinterest and like before, sully reached down and pulled her away, though this time he left his hand wrapped around her wrist and tried not to think about how delicate it felt engulfed in his much larger hand. "lana, please. it's okay. you- you do plenty for me already. i don't want anything more. this is... it's inappropriate." as calm as he tried to sound, his face told an entirely different story. jaw tight, scruffy cheeks flushed red, he'd already looked less put together than usual considering he'd rolled out of bed to come get her but it was obvious she was worming her way under his skin.

lana wasn't used to men like sully, but, then again, men like sully weren't the sort who sought out her services. none of her clients who were married with kids had the level of care and respect for their families that mr. landry clearly did, most even viewing them with some level of resentment, as if they were to blame for a man's unhappiness. he wasn't the sort of guy she attracted in her real life, either— or, perhaps she herself wasn't as attracted to the sturdy, dependable types like him. he was obviously very handsome, but it wasn't until she saw the way he treated those around him that she really began to feel smitten. it was the sort of infatuation that made her a little crazy, never quite certain of just what she'd do in order to have him, and that potential for a loss of control scared her. she needed to feel like she was in the driver's seat of her own life, making her own choices and relying on no one but herself for her own survival, otherwise she'd swing to the other extreme and end up feeling like a helpless victim of the universe. it made sense, then, that she would have to be the one to take the first leap when it came to exploring a new side of her relationship with sully. "don't say that," she said with a playful giggle, gently smacking him on the shoulder. after taking a pause to wet her lips and let her gaze do one last trail up and down his form in the driver's seat, she leaned closer until her faintly glossed lips were very nearly grazing his earlobe. "i've got a real active imagination..." without delay, and as swiftly as if it had never happened, lana settled back into her seat, though she remained turned towards him with her touch ever present. had he been born later or vice versa, they might have had the chance to meet organically, and who knows what kind of connection they could've had in that case. she could've ended up becoming mrs. landry, or, more likely, he would've been just another in a long list of flames that burned too hot too fast and exhausted themselves within weeks. though the circumstances behind them meeting in this way seemed unfortunate, something about how unplanned it all was made her feel like maybe it was fate. when he didn't initially shoo her away, lana took it as a sign that he had accepted her advances, and so she brought her palm down to rest directly over his crotch, pressing down in order to get a feel of his cock through the flimsy fabric. "but i am worried, mr. landry! your wife—" becoming flustered by his gentle removal of her hand, she fumbled over her words before quickly correcting herself. "i heard her... on the phone... your wife, talking to her sister about how you two haven't fucked in seven months— that's before you hired me!" a fact she herself was quite reaffirmed by, as it was definitive proof that she wasn't the cause of any problems in their marriage. his attempts did little to derail her now that she'd gotten her mind set on tempting him, going right back to groping at him over his pajama pants. "d'you wanna find somewhere to park instead maybe? then i'll take care of you, just like you need..." her eyes darted from his crotch to his face, watching to see how his body responded to her touch.

#* . ⊹ sullivan & lana › threads #* . ⊹ sullivan landry › threads

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heavenknowsffs · 2 years ago

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#now you do #no but like...#this gu* was trying to flirt with me and that's fine #he was pretty #but then the wsy he approached me?? no that was not it #major red flags #first he tried to approach me when i was alone #and then when my friends came along he gave up #then when i was alone going to the bathroom she stroked my hair and i was like? bro idk you #and he was all ;))) but that's... not how you first talk to someone #then after that he came up to me and tried to dance with me and i said sorry idk you #and he went and like??? no bitch i don't #and then he asked for a kiss and i said no obvs bc of everything prior and he kissed me on the cheek still #and then i was like wtf if you touch me again it's on bitch i will fight you #thankfully he left but like???#treat women with respect and you'll get laid cuz you're not ugly at all #but that attitude?? will not get you anywhere at least with me

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yuukiiqwq · 7 months ago

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Satoru was confident that you liked him back. He was positive. He had no doubt in his mind that you were going to be his pretty little wife. Is he getting ahead of himself? Sure, he is, but he's that confident. That's until he noticed how he hadn't received any chocolate from you.

It was Valentine's Day, and he still hasn't received any chocolate from you. Yeah, he had a mountain worth of chocolate from all those people who gave him it, but where was yours? He couldn't find it anywhere. He was sure that you would have placed your chocolate on his desk since you hadn't given him his. He double no triple checked all the chocolates, yet he could not find the one that has your pretty little name written on it. He continued to search through the chocolate pile for the fourth time today.

He must have missed it, right? Or did someone steal it? He swear he's going to hunt that person to the end of the Earth. Who dared to steal something that was rightfully his?

"Satoru, calm down."

He looked up at his best friend, who was trying to hold down a laugh at his panic.

"She'll probably give it to you later. The day just begun."

Right. Suguru is right. You'll give him his chocolate later. He's a good boy. He can wait.

That's what he told himself, but Suguru and Shoko have already received theirs this morning, and his is still nowhere to be found. Where is his chocolate? You're just sitting there in your seat, looking all pretty as if Satoru is not going through a huge dilemma because of you.

He couldn't help his hands that kept inching itself closer to the chocolate you gave Suguru. He wouldn't know if he snatched it, right? Suguru had received a lot of chocolate! He wouldn't know if he took it... was what he convinced himself before Suguru slapped his hand away.

"Satoru," he sighs.

"But Suguru!!!" Satoru whined as he sunk down into his seat.

"Be patient. You'll get yours soon."

But how soon is soon? Satoru isn't exactly known for his patient.

It was the end of the day, and still no chocolate from you. He asked Suguru and Shoko to leave first because he thought you would finally give it to him when both of you were alone. But you haven't. Where was his chocolate?

The two of you were approaching the exit of school, so Satoru made a quick decision, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into an empty classroom. He quickly shut the door and locked it.

"Satoru?" You asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"My chocolate."

"Your chocolate?"

"My chocolate from you! The symbol of your love towards me!"

"I didn't make you any," you replied smoothly. "Forgot to make them yesterday, so I woke up early today to make them, but I guess not early enough. I only had time to finish Shoko's and Suguru's. I didn't have time to make yours. Otherwise, I would have been late."

Satoru swear the world just ended. He looked down at his chest because he swears his heart ripped out of his chest at your words. Nope. Still alive. Why is he still alive in this cruel world? You had no chocolate for him? None? Not even a crumb?

"That's fine with you, right? I mean, you got a bunch of chocolate from other girls! You don't need mine."

He swear he is about to burst into tears. He didn't care about other girls. He didn't care about their chocolate. He wanted yours. How could you be so cruel and deny him of your chocolate? To reject him like this? He was devastated. No. Beyond devastated. Where is the closest cliff so he can jump off?

Pure silence radiated the room as Satoru tried to comprehend this horrible situation. Then he heard a small giggle slip pass your lips. That small giggle soon turns into a full-out laugh.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Satoru," you say as you try to stop laughing.

Was this funny to you? Why were you laughing at his suffering? Do you know how much he looked forward to today? To receive the cute little wrapped up chocolate you made for him? He dreamed of today, and you didn't have chocolate for him?

He then sees you reach into your bag and pull out exactly what he had imagined. A cute little chocolate box wrapped up in a baby blue color with a touch of white ribbon to finish it off. Fuck. He thinks he just got a heart attack seeing your chocolate. His chocolate.

"Princess, please don't joke like that to me ever again. You scared me half to death. I was going to jump off a cliff," he whined as he took the chocolate from your hand.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior. "Stop being dramatic, Satoru. It's just chocolate."

A look of offense dawned his face as you utter those horrendous words to him.

"Chocolate? Just chocolate?" He huffed at you. He can't believe you as you treat this amazing god send gift as just chocolate. "Don't you dare call this just chocolate! This! This right here is proof of your undying love towards me!"

You laughed at his antics– "You're getting ahead of yourself, Satoru."

He delicately placed the chocolate safety away in his bag, treating it as a prized possession. He's looking forward towards white day. He already knows what he wants to get for you. He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face against your neck as he mutters– "You won't be saying that after I wife you up."

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mellowwillowy · 4 months ago

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𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Yan! Sugar Daddy who fell in love with you at first sight in the cafe he often visited for his daily to-go coffee. He had seen lots of beauties but you were the first to catch his breath.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who tried to woo you, he tried his best to not scare you and subtly flirt with you. It took him a huge courage to approach you and ask for your number.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who found out you were still just a college student who was most likely to be struggling with financial issues, or so he assumed from how most of the students there were.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who took his time bonding with you before subtly offering an arrangement with you, a mutual arrangement of a sugar relationship. Instead of sex, fancy dates, or a plus one to those higher-ups events, he wanted your company all the time if he could.

You were wary and hesitant but his silver-tongued nature convinced you that this would change your life for the better.

While you were inexperienced in most of it, Yulian made sure to make you feel comfortable about it and him. The weekly allowance and PPM were enough to make you never lift a single finger to work anymore.

The more you spent time with him, the less it felt like an arrangement. It felt like a man treating you with utmost respect while spoiling you with luxuries you would never imagine to have.

But with such great benefits came a great price. You noticed that you had been seeing your friends less because of the attention you had on him.

You noticed the higher-ups never stopped sneering at you for being a commoner or his pet whenever you attended the fancy events with him as his plus one.

You noticed how you had almost less to none freedom, always heavily guarded by what seemed to be his bodyguards. Who was he and why did you even need this sort of protection?

One day you decided to trick his bodyguards with your flat-out white lies so that they'd leave you alone. They did not expect someone like you to ever lie and put them at risk so they left you alone.

All you did was wander around in awe, checking the grand balcony to go to the washroom as normal people would.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who was seething in rage when the bodyguards came to him, tricked by your childish lie. But there was no way something bad would happen with this slight mistake right? You were not his spouse by any means.

But oh did everyone know you were someone he fancied for the first time in his whole life. Part of his brain just tried to look at this mistake in a bright light and it backfired.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who had to be endlessly teased by his great-for-nothing cartel friend. He had to endure the stress of losing you and the risk of not being able to take you back.

It's not like the Drug Lord couldn't help him, it was simply humiliating for him to endanger you by not keeping a close eye on you.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who could track you down in less than a week and ordered a mass slaughter on the faction that imprisoned you. You were not wounded terribly but a wound was still a wound.

Yan! Sugar Daddy was just a confidant to the Drug Lord and an infamous lawyer. You only knew he was a lawyer but never the lurking threat of his other occupation. No wonder he was always wary of his surroundings.

How could someone from such a cold underground world have the heart to fall in love with you? That was what you thought when you woke up to his concerned face.

Weeks passed and it didn't take him so long to propose to you, for you to become his spouse.

"I truly love you, dear. I have never even once seen our arrangement as something strictly business instead." He showed you a velvety box with a diamond ring in it. "I admit, it was not the best approach but I thought I could work my way into your heart while profiting you with all the benefits and luxuries you could have from me."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I wanted you to see how capable I am."

Something told you that nothing good would come out of your refusal. And instead, logic swarm into your brain. You had been in an arrangement with him for almost a year already and had never even once felt any hardships.

He was nice to you, downright kind and loving even. He cared for you deeply and wouldn't hurt you in any way. It was your fault that you broke free from the barrier of protection he granted you.

With great fame and luxuries, came all sorts of threats. He wasn't disloyal like those higher-ups. He didn't belittle you like others would. He loved you.

Even if you didn't love him, you knew how great it felt to be loved by him. There was not a single loss from this arrangement which was a marriage, right?

#Yulian the Corruption #LIfE Project #LIfE Project 5k celebration #LIfE Project 7 Years Anniversary #Yandere x Reader #Yandere x GN Reader #Yandere Scenarios #Yandere Imagines #Eat well all of you Yulian simps

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lokissweater · 3 months ago

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hey! i really love your fics and i have a special request 4 my 19th birthday ( aug 16 ) . can you do inexperienced yuuta x inexperienced reader or frat boy/play boy yuuta x shy nerdy reader? I really luv u and it would mean alot 2 me if you did this,feel free to say no or ignore this if you want! no pressure!

OH MY GOODNESSS i could never ignore this! i can ABSOLUTELY cook this one up for you and i hope i met your expectations!! i wanted to release this right on your birthday, so here is my gift to you! <3 ILY you’re so sweet thank you for sending in a request!

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finally.

{frat boy/playboy yuta okkotsu x nerdy f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu is a typical popular frat boy player who’s never been told no, but at one of his regular parties where he spots your pretty little self in the kitchen, and you turn him down? his entire existence resets as he then cannot stop thinking about you and tries his absolute hardest to change the impression you have on him.

warnings: college au, afab!reader, fluufff, mentions of alcohol and drinking, yuta LOVES you, he’s a little weenie at first, character development yuta, no smut in this one!, cursing, party fight, protective yuta, yuta fights someone lol, slight sexual themes but really nothing.

word count: 5k

authors note: OH HOW I LOVE THIS ONEEE!! i hope i’m feeding you guys well this week with these fics hehe!! IM WRITING A FREAKY ONE FOR THIS NEXT SO STAY TUNED!! love you love you <3

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yuta okkotsu was the biggest player and frat boy to ever plague your college campus— having parties literally every other night and trashing the absolute fuck out of his frat house after every single one, living in the privileges of popularity as he was without a doubt the hottest man there.

he absolutely relished in his reputation, loved the attention, loved the stares he got, and had a body count that absolutely shot through the roof in numbers.

and yuta was quite literally a typical frat boy. he was loud and obnoxious, the most stubborn hot headed man to ever exist on the face of the planet, passed the time playing beer pong for fun and drinking, and had girls practically at his feet, him never having to work for anything to get in his bed and fuck.

until he met you.

you had timidly walked into one of his frat parties one night, shy, cutely nerdy, a little scared and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, your energy an entirely different one from his own as he watched you a little too much throughout the night, rehearsing his perfected plan of getting girls into bed with him as he finally spotted you alone in the kitchen after a while, approaching you.

yuta flashed you an attractive polished smile as he leaned up against the kitchen counter, practically cornering you in as you eyed him alarmingly.

“hey,” he sipped at his beer. “what’s your name?”

you awkwardly shifted, wondering where the hell your best friend was as the biggest player you’ve ever heard of was talking to you.

“y-y/n…” you stammered, your gaze barely looking at him but giving a small smile through your nervousness nonetheless.

“pretty name for a pretty girl,” he hummed. “you’ve never come to my parties before, have you?”

you shook your head no, your doe eyes finally peering up at him.

“welcome then!” he chirped smoothly and leaned closer to you, his breath faintly smelling of alcohol. “you here by yourself?”

“no i’m with a friend, actually.” you laughed awkwardly, your cheeks red with embarrassment but smiling politely through your discomfort, not wanting to offend him in any way.

yuta nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. “did you lose them?”

“i— i guess so—”

“you can stick with me then.” he shrugged, a sly smile on his face as he sweet talked you, it slightly faltering when he noticed how uncomfortable you looked, but carrying on anyways. “you wanna head upstairs? maybe we can—”

“no thank you.”

he paused.

no?

“no?”

he was yuta okkotsu. no girl has ever told him no before.

you shook your head at him and gave him a sugary smile, your tone kind and polite as you started to walk away from him. “i’m sorry, i think i see my friend over there though! thank you for keeping me company, i hope it wasn’t too much trouble!”

he watched you walk away then in your tiny little skirt, and he felt stupidly offended. absolutely stupidly offended as he slightly scoffed and shook his head, taking a swig of his beer, his body and mind literally glitching with the foreign feeling of rejection.

yuta tossed his empty beer bottle lazily in a black garbage bag and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his long legs already pulling him over to the beer pong table in the living room, opting to forgetting the entire encounter he had with you altogether and shaking it off.

except he couldn’t. he couldn’t shake it off.

his brain was buzzing and utterly reeling over the thought of your timid nature and soft spoken words and pretty pretty face from that point forward, thoughts that aggravated him to no end that bubbled up every time he ate, slept, was in class, and did basically anything.

he didn’t know why it was happening. he didn’t know why you took over his every fucking thought as he only interacted with you for like five minutes. but your aura was different. so poised, so shy and gentle, and it was like a red string was physically pulling him towards you everywhere you went.

yuta saw you around campus a lot more after that, you sticking out like a sore thumb and blinding his vision whenever you walked past him, your smile sweet and respectful towards him that lasted only a millisecond as you walked down further, his eyes watching you over his shoulder, soft.

you conversations with him were nothing but polite and casual as he tried to talk to you again and again, your body language guarded and careful, but your voice like silky honey, speaking to him with more kindness than he deserved.

yuta never seemed to be able to get past the invisible wall you built in front of him.

“a girl like her isn’t gonna go for a guy like you, yuta.” one of his frat brothers muttered to him, having been fed up with yuta’s moping and grumbling around the house ever since he saw you.

“and why not.” he gruffed, his arms tightly crossed over his chest as he leaned back on the couch.

“because she’s nothing like us.” he emphasized. “she’s a nerd, respects herself, is way too good for you, and would never let herself waste time with a guy of your reputation.”

his frat brother patted him heavily on the shoulder. “just go back to the ones you usually go for. they’re easy.”

yuta only rolled his eyes and stood, but he really couldn’t deny what he had said. you were too good for him, way too good for him, his life completely mismatched from yours— paths never meant to cross as he solemnly watched you from afar, wanting you to smile at him the way you smiled at others, wanting you to talk about your precious nerdy interests and your studies with him like you do with your friends, and wanting you to just simply look at him longer than the usual casual hello you gave him.

but you never did.

in an attempt to try and talk to you again without seeming like an absolute fucking stupid creep like last time (something he quickly realized), he started throwing parties at his frat literally every single night in hopes of you showing up, scanning the crowd and sulking in a corner when he couldn’t find you, the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every time you didnt make an appearance.

he tried to go back to his old ways and hook up with the girls he usually did, tried to bury you in the back of his mind and go back to before, but he just couldn’t, his mind foggy and preoccupied with thoughts of you that invaded his every neuron, making him kiss his hook ups back lazily or straight up just cancel on them— stopping all together in the end.

it had been months, and yuta sat bored out of his mind on the living room couch during another one of his parties, not a single drop of alcohol in his system as music pumped and drummed through the frat that made his headache ten times worse.

these everyday parties were pointless.

he sat up and trudged to the kitchen, pushing past his friends for a beer until he froze.

there you stood, finally, leaning against the kitchen counter all by yourself, just like how you were when he first saw you.

his eyes flew open and he quickly smoothed over his white t-shirt with his hands, heart hammering against his chest so hard that it traveled down to his ribcage as he approached you, internally freaking the fuck out.

“hey y/n,” he greeted quietly and calm, trying his absolute hardest to convey sincerity towards you. “how are you doing?”

your eyes snapped to his and you leaned back a bit, but smiled. “hi yuta! i’m doing okay. how are you?”

he could practically see the wall you had in front of him, your posture timid and cautious, and his eyes only grew more insecure.

“i’m good! do you— do you want a drink? or something? i could—”

“oh it’s okay yuta! i’m fine,” you answered shyly, a grin on your breathtaking face.

yuta gnawed on his thumb, looking around the kitchen for something, anything that could fix the image you had on him.

the fridge.

“do you um—” he walked over to the fridge, almost stumbling over his own shoes as he opened it. “do you want maybe apple juice? or— or i have chocolate milk? or sunny d i drink like an entire dozen a day but—”

you giggled.

his head snapped over to you and watched your pearly smile, shining just for him for a moment, his shoulders slowly relaxing.

yuta sheepishly scratched the back of his neck and laughed along with you.

“sunny d would be great!”

he stared blankly, and then quickly nodded. “o—okay! yes sunny d—”

he ransacked through his fridge, knocking over several cans of energy drinks and beers before he finally found the sunny d’s in the back, tearing one out from the pack and closing the fridge.

“here you go.”

your cheeks glowed pink as you shyly took the small bottle from his hands, a cute wobbly smile on your face that made yuta’s chest clench.

precious.

he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“i wanted to apologize—” he strained out. “for the way i spoke to you when we first met.”

you stared at him.

“it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable, and i acted like a complete dingbat with the things i said, so i just—” he scuffed his shoe against the kitchen floor. “i’m really sorry.”

you were quiet, big doe eyes blinking up at him in shock— until your frame gently deflated, eyes softening for him.

“you don’t have to apologize yuta honestly.” your soft voice soothed him, a sound he craved to hear everyday since the moment he met you. “i don’t think any less of you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“you don’t?”

you shook your head cutely, beaming. “i don’t.”

he felt like he could breathe again.

your invisible wall slowly and gradually crumbled away the more you got to know yuta after that. he was still a little flirt, but only a little flirt with you, and he still did his frat boy job duties everyday, but he toned down the parties massively and stopped playing beer pong and drinking just for fun.

it would be a lie if you said you weren’t hesitant about yuta to begin with. you knew of his reputation and the risks you ran with befriending him the way you were— you well aware that he was trying to win you over, but you saw something different in him that he didn’t show to anyone else, and you trusted him, the goodness of your heart always giving people the benefit of the doubt.

he was trying his absolute hardest for you and changing his bad traits, wanting to become a person that deserved to be with you as he listened to you ramble on and on about your classes and your studies all of the time, him smiling adoringly at you because he genuinely loved so much hearing you talk to him and listen to anything you had to say— and yuta was falling practically head over heels over the way you gushed about your little nerdy interests, your eyes shimmering every time.

“and what’s this one called?” he asked softly.

you glanced over. “that’s the corpse flower! they only bloom for two to three days every two to three years.”

“only for two to three days?!” he whispered harshly, the ambiance in the botanical garden quiet and serene as you both observed the different kinds of breeds, flowers being your specialty of knowledge.

and he wanted to know all about it, even though he had a pamphlet in his hand that told him everything.

he wanted to hear it from you.

“and this one?”

he pointed to a vibrant scarlet red flower.

“that’s the cardinal flower. they attract little bees and hummingbirds!”

your words were gentle and polite, your eyes sparkling at all of the different flowers in front of you.

“oo! and this one—” you stopped suddenly, slowly retracting your hand and looking at him bashfully, your cheeks redder than ever.

yuta’s eyebrows furrowed. “what? why’d you stop?” he looked to where you had been staring. “what about this one?”

“sorry!” you sputtered. “i felt like i was getting carried away and talking way too much…”

you laughed it off, but yuta only shook his head.

“no you weren’t. you weren’t at all.”

you peered up at him shyly.

“you can talk about anything you want with me wherever we are, y/n. i like it when you explain to me these things, or anything you know really.” he ruffled your hair. “i like listening to you.”

your cheeks adorned a pinky shade as you took in what he said, and you smiled so so big then, nodding.

“so what’s this one?” he pressed again, lightly.

the bed contained a mix of white and purple flowers, small and dainty as they swayed to and fro a bit with every breeze.

“those are pansies,” you leaned over the railing. “i like these especially because it looks like they have another pair attached to them on the other side.”

“like a little buddy,” yuta commented.

you laughed softly, “yeah! like a little buddy.”

he pointed to a specific pansy that had one white flower and one purple flower on the opposite side.

“that’s you and me.”

“is it?” you grinned. “who’s who?”

“you’re the white one and i’m the purple one,” yuta absentmindedly turned and grabbed your hands gently, playing with your fingertips— and you let him. “because you’re pretty and really fucking smart and way too nice to me, and i’m a douchebag and sometimes i’m a mean and scary old fart.”

you giggled loudly at his joke, shaking your head. “nuh uh. i don’t agree.”

“you don’t?” he quirked an eyebrow, a silly smile on his face.

you shook your head again. “you’re genuine yuta. really genuine. and you’re funny, you never make me feel embarrassed for the things that i love, and you make others happy!… sometimes.”

yuta laughed, “sometimes?” he softly placed your hands back at your sides. “yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“but you make me happy, always.” you finished off.

his eyes lit up like a firework. “really? so does this mean you’ll finally say yes to going out with me and give me a little kiss?”

you snickered and covered your mouth, your cheeks flushed. “nuh uh.”

“aww mannn,” yuta groaned and leaned against the railing, but turned his head to the side after a few seconds and looked at you, giving a tender smile.

your eyes continued to sparkle over the flower beds in front of you, but yuta’s eyes only sparkled at the one flower in front of him.

that’s where he started calling you flower.

“that’s okay!” he leaned back up. “i’ll keep trying.”

and boy did he try. each and every single day yuta tried as he brought you little treats from the campus cafe, or helped carry your textbooks to wherever you went, brought you neatly packaged flowers or sometimes would even pull his car over when he saw pretty ones on the side of the road, getting off and running to pluck them, handing them to you through the window with a goofy grin.

everything was bliss between you two, and your world only got brighter as you hung out with him.

but for yuta, his world got a little complicated.

his former hookups only grew sour once they found out about you, the girl yuta seemed to spend every waking hour with, completely blind sighted to the fact as they thought he would’ve dumped you months ago already.

and his frat brothers were just bothered. yuta wasn’t managing the frat like he used to before, like he was supposed to as their leader, neglecting the collective reputation they all had with him not sweet talking the entire female student body, or their parties not running every single night anymore— and even when they did run, yuta wasn’t ever even there to begin with, he was with you, something they quickly realized.

“you have to cut it out man,” one of them said. “this frat is turning into a shit hole because you keep spending your time with that girl—“ he stopped. “who the fuck even is she? i mean if it was layla fine everybody knows layla but—”

“who she is is none of your fucking business?” yuta snapped. “and just because i’m not sending girls for you to jerk your dick with doesn’t mean this frat is turning into a ‘shit hole.’”

some of the boys snickered.

“you wanna run the maintenance on the house? you wanna call up the fucking board and ask for the ten thousand fucking permits we have to have for our parties every year? you think you can run that?”

“no—”

“then be my fucking guest.”

“okay fine, i’m sorry man.” he sighed. “we haven’t had a party in a week though, we have to throw one tomorrow and you have to be there. then ill call it even.”

yuta snorted. call it even? whatever.

he begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to be there whatsoever but softening up to the fact that maybe he was neglecting his frat a little too much.

so when he called you up that day for your nightly phone calls, yuta asked for your attendance.

“i know— i know parties aren’t really your thing…” he pursed his lips, staring up at the ceiling as he had you on speaker. “but i’d feel a lot better if you were there… and you won’t be alone! you’ll be with me the whole time so—”

yuta sighed. “…i have been neglecting the frat a little bit, and they’re pissed at me.”

you gasped softly, “they are?”

“yeah but i don’t give a fuck.”

you both giggled.

“but i do want to make them somewhat happy so that’s why i gotta throw this party… can you come? it’s okay if not flower don’t worry—”

“of course i can go yuta!” you spoke cutely over the speaker. “as long as you give me a sunny d i’ll be okay.”

he laughed.

“i feel like…” you struggled. “them being mad and what’s happening with your frat is partially my fault yuta… i’m sorry.”

your voice was so worrisome, you feeling tremendous guilt on the other line as you bit your lip.

“what?” his eyes narrowed. “no flower, absolutely not. why would you think that?”

“because i keep asking you to hang out with me,” you spoke softly. “and i feel like im hogging you from your frat boy duties.”

yuta chuckled and shook his head. “i would ten times rather spend time with you than hang out with these fucking dummies.” he sat up on his bed. “i love it when you ask for me flower. keep doing it please. whatever that’s happening with my frat strictly has to do with me okay? not you.”

you grinned on the other end, your heart giddy. “okay.”

so the night of the party, you showed up to his frat looking absolutely gorgeous in your tight little dress, his hands instantly clamming up and his throat closing at the scent of your strawberry perfume and lovely face alone.

yuta tried so hard to keep his eyes respectful and not drift down to your ass or the way your perfect tits squeezed out from the top, almost physically slapping himself when he accidentally touched you way lower than he should have when guiding you through the crowd.

everywhere he went people were greeting him or passing him shots, him quickly acknowledging everybody and downing whatever they gave him as you shyly and timidly stuck to his body (which he loved).

yuta taught you how to play beer pong that night and cheered like an absolute fucking idiot whenever you would make it in, drinking the cups for you instead as he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, which made you a little weak in the knees that he catered to you so much.

the party was actually way more fun than the both of you expected, especially for yuta, because he proudly had you on his arm as you walked throughout the house, you trying your absolute hardest to ignore the stares you got from different girls and not uttering a single word about it to yuta, not wanting to burden him and take his focus away from rejuvenating the frat and his brothers.

all was bliss, until it wasn’t.

“is this her? the girl you’re always talking to?” one of his frat brothers stumbled through the crowd, the one that argued with him the day before, drunk off of his freaking mind as his eyes raked over your body like nothing.

yuta instantly picked up on that and stiffened, “yeah.”

he tried his best to swallow his annoyance and be civil as he gently placed a hand on your back and softly ushered you forward, you shy and clinging onto his shirt. “this is y/n.”

“h—hi.”

“i see why you abandoned us for a nerd man!” he slurred. “she’s fucking hot. never seen tits look so good—”

your breath hitched.

“the fuck you just say?” yuta tugged you behind him. “the hell is wrong with you man? don’t talk about her like that.”

you noticed several eyes looking over.

“what!” he hiccuped dumbly. “they do! why are you getting pissed—”

“i don’t give a shit!” yuta snapped. “don’t talk about her like that!”

he scoffed, swaying a little. “what, like you actually care about her anyways—”

“are you fucking serious?” yuta stepped forward and you tugged him back, your eyes frantic as they scanned over the crowd forming and back to him.

“no yuta, he’s drunk it’s okay—”

“she’s just another one for your body count, once you fuck her you’re gonna leave—”

yuta slipped from your grasp and lunged at him, tackling him and towering over him on the ground as he fisted his shirt and jerked him up, yuta landing punch after punch to his face as the crowd yelled, cheered and recorded around you.

“yuta please!” you tried to get his attention, your chest heaving in a panic as you watched the other guy land a hit on yuta, not wanting him to get hurt over you at all whatsoever.

yuta dodged another coming hit and beat the shit out of him, grueling him down to a mere pulp as everything around him went completely white and fuzzy, his body stinging with absolute rage.

he was furious.

finally, several other frat brothers broke through the crowd and pulled yuta off of him.

“that’s enough that’s enough!”

“guys stop!”

quickly, you grabbed yuta’s hand once they put him aside and tugged him away from the crowd, speed walking to the front door.

“you’re out of the fucking frat you piece of shit!” yuta practically roared behind him as you pulled him. “you’re out!”

your trembling fingers hurriedly turned the knob and opened the door, dragging him out down the steps to the porch and across the grass, not saying a single word to him yet as he kept breathing out desperate apologies to you with every step.

once you both were a safe distance away from the house and just a tiny bit down the street, you let go of his hand and turned to him.

“—fuck im sorry i’m sorry im so sorry—” yuta shoved the base of his palms into his eyes as he threw his head back, “i just fucked everything up between us i—”

yuta knew you would never want to be with a guy like him, especially one that couldn’t keep his shit together and resorted to violence the way he did minutes ago, right in front of you. a guy like that didn’t deserve you. you deserved way way fucking more. and as he tore his palms away from his face, eyes looking up at the night sky, he knew he completely messed up his chances with you for good.

his head snapped down to look at you, his eyebrows pinched and eyes contorted in absolute guilt and agony as he placed his bloody knuckled hands on your little cheeks.

“i’m so fucking sorry he said those things to you like that that was not okay flower,” he emphasized. “and i’m so sorry i beat him when you told me not to i— i just couldn’t stand there when he was talking to you like that man—”

he dropped his hands and cursed, his arms going up as he covered his eyes again.

“yuta it’s okay—”

“no,” he shook his head and looked at you. “no it’s not okay. you deserve way more than this and no matter how fucking hard i try to do better, the life i built before you just doesn’t let me.”

his eyes got so sad, saying words he didn’t want to say, but knew he had to. “you shouldn’t be around a guy like me flower, you really shouldn’t. fuck— i don’t want you around a guy like me. you’re too precious for that. i’m gonna end up screwing you over like i always do—”

“yuta stop.” you raised your voice a little, your tone one he’d never ever heard come out of your mouth, firm and serious in contrast to the sweetness you always gave him.

he shut right up.

“come sit down with me on the curb,” you pulled his arm. “please.”

he followed you and sat down next to you on the side walk with his head down, you taking in how yuta only had one little cut next to his eyebrow, pride funnily bubbling up in your chest as you realized how good he actually fought.

he did that. for you. he made a scene out of himself and protected your name.. for you. although you hated that he got into a fight, you knew he was trying so so hard for you, going above and beyond for a year now trying to fix himself to be a better man deserving of you, and you were immensely touched, no one having put even close to that amount of effort like he was in your life.

“you don’t get to decide what i deserve yuta.”

his eyes shot in your direction “but as a friend i’m telling you—”

you huffed as you grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.

you kissed him.

yuta’s eyes were blown astronomically wide as you did, his heart no longer beating as he could’ve sworn he was dead right now, not believing that you were actually kissing him.

him.

you pulled apart from his lips with a smack, your hands still on his red cheeks. “a guy who’s willing to literally change himself without me having to ask, trying to be better for me everyday without fault for literally a year, doing everything he can to make me happy? definitely deserves me yuta. you deserve me.”

you pecked his forehead softly and pulled back again, his body going numb when you did. “so what if you beat the shit out of him? i would do it too if someone was talking to you like that i don’t care. i’d lose but i’d do it,” you giggled. “i didn’t like the fight because i don’t want you getting hurt, ever, period. but you literally scrapped him up like it was nothing, so i don’t have anything to worry about.”

he shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes. “no flower that’s the thing you’re too sweet to me, i don’t want you justifying—”

“yuta be quiet!” you whispered harshly, giving him a silly grin. “you talk too much.”

you reached up and very very gently pecked the little cut on the side of his eyebrow, feeling a cool calming waterfall wash over his body at the feeling of your soft lips finally on him, something he’s wished upon every star for.

“you’re so good to me yuta, truly you are. and i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say this because i’m always nervous but—” you smiled endearingly. “i do want to go out with you, and i do want to give you little kisses. all of the time.”

yuta slowly let his forehead fall against yours, feeling like he was in a dream as the only emotion he felt at the moment was bliss. pure honeyed bliss as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, his face burying in your silky hair.

his hard work had finally paid off, and he had every fucking intention of keeping up that work until the day he dies, wanting you, his shy and timid precious little flower forever in his life— you changing him for the better so much that he finally feels like he’s properly healthy, in more ways than one.

“we’re going out tomorrow,” he mumbled into your hair. “bright and early. i’m gonna take you to get breakfast, and then we’re gonna go to that aquarium you’ve been wanting to go to for weeks now, and then i’m gonna buy you a souvenir, and then i’m gonna take you to get your nails done—”

“yu!” you pulled back and giggled happily. “you don’t have to buy me anything my goodness. just you is enough.”

he bit his lip, smiling like a fucking idiot.

“really?”

“really.”

“well too fucking bad i’m gonna do it anyways.”

he pulled you back in as you laughed and buried his face back into your hair, not wanting to break away at all, feeling like the richest douchebag in the world as he finally had you as his.

you scooted your face up then and nudged him, him pulling a part in response as you proceeded to plant another sugary kiss to his lips, yours lingering as they melted into a perfect mold against his mouth, yuta’s heart absolutely soaring, your red invisible strings close together at last.

he finally had you.

finally.

and he was never letting you go.

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hedgehog-moss · 4 months ago

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Last spring my neighbour asked if I could let Pirlouit mow the grass around his barn from time to time, which Pirou was happy to do at first but if I left him there several days in a row he got pretty sad about being alone (lots of wistful, melancholy braying). So this year when my donkey was hired for this job again, I went for a different formula: for the past few weeks I've been bringing all the animals to the neighbour's barn for an hour of landscaping services now and then at apéritif time.

The fence is extremely not Pampe-proof so I have to have my apéritif while sitting on the road in a strategic position from which I can toss a stick in her direction if she tries to escape, but other than that I've been really enjoying this peaceful evening ritual, just sitting there reading and watching the animals while feeling like I'm doing my neighbour a favour. Pirlouit doesn't get all the grass to himself anymore but I've learnt that he prefers to be rich in friends than in food.

You'll notice that Merricat is present in every photo, looking alert. She too has been hired, but for the thankless job of Thought Police. She may look like she's just napping on the warm asphalt with not a care in the world...

... but she is working! Keeping an eye on the llamas, always.

I've discovered that in a specific context my three cats can act as precogs and warn me of Pampe's future crimes. My theory is that they developed this skill because of Poldine, who loves cats. Any cat who enters the pasture will soon be noticed and (lovingly) chased by Poldine, who wants kisses. Cats not only do not want llama kisses, they don't differentiate between individual llamas. They are all potential kissers. So even if it looks like she's all relaxed, Merricat is constantly monitoring where the llamas are and what they seem to be planning. If we are on the other side of a fence and Pampe approaches it a bit too slyly, Merricat will jump to her feet, ready to flee (and I will toss one of my anti-Pampe sticks, and say NON.)

Merricat and I are a very good team! We've foiled several of Pampe's plots, but we need to be on the road for Merricat to remain wary (if we were in the pen Pampe's escape attempts would involve getting away from us and the cat wouldn't care.) Cars are rare so it's okay (plus it's so quiet you can always hear them coming), and on the few occasions when someone showed up and asked why I was having apéritif on the road, I pointed at Pampe and they were like, "Ah! Didn't see her here. Good luck!"

"Hedgehog-moss, you're exaggerating. Pampe can't be that—"

She is! She is. And she always seems to notice when Merricat is on a bathroom break and I'm absorbed in a book.

There was one evening though, when she got distracted by a fascinating new idea. I don't claim to know what's going on in this llama's head (except when she's looking at a fence, then it's easy) but as you can see, once I brought the animals to the barn Poldine started eating flowers, Pirlouit started eating grass, and Pampe started eating the wall.

After a moment she slowly circled the barn, then stopped and lay down right next to it, settling down in a comfortable position but with focused ears and her head still turned towards the wall. It was suspicious behaviour, but on the other hand she now looked so uninterested in the road that I decided to take a risk and run home to bring back some dinner—and she didn't move while I was away! I even brought Pandolf, who is usually banned from these soirées because he would disturb my Merricat alarm system. He was happy to be finally included.

It's unclear if Pampe was eating the wall, talking to the wall, or carefully examining various parts of the wall as Step 1 of 27 of a complex plan only she understands, but she stuck close to the barn all evening instead of lying in wait by the fence so I was able to have a picnic in the grass rather than on the road, which felt more bucolic. I know that "Pampérigouste has a new, mysterious project" is a worrying sentence but at this early stage (feasibility study) it felt to me and Merricat like a little holiday!

#crawling along #if you look at the Pampe & The Wall photos you can see the adorable little goatee i gave poldine when i sheared her <3 #it suits her she looks very elegant

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pprodsuga · 9 months ago

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tides of regret | heeseung

summary: in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.

notes: aaand she's here! this is 24.4K words worth of my heart and soul. consider this a token of my appreciation for welcoming me on enhablr. i sincerely hope you enjoy it. <3

deep cuts: #1

warnings: angst/internal self doubt, playful banter, dirty talking, praise, slight degradation, oral (m and f receiving), dry humping, fingering, mentions of exhibitionism and face sitting, nipple sucking, spit, brief moment of anal (tongue only), condom removal, unprotected sex, creampie.

For @enha-stars – may this story rip you apart and stitch you back together.

masterlist

Incheon feels lonely at three in the morning.

The overhead lights being turned off because of the lack of travelers at this hour makes the airport feel bigger than it actually is. It’s too quiet without the familiar sounds of luggage wheels on the linoleum or overhead speakers announcing flight changes every ten minutes. You don’t think you’ve ever been to an airport so early in your life.

It’s quiet enough to leave you alone with your bothersome thoughts. In the years you’ve been away from home as you studied abroad, you can’t help but feel a gravitational pull towards life in Seoul and the people in it. The familiarity of your home outweighs the adventure you once yearned for in your youth, and now you’re left with the exciting notion that, this time, you’ll know when you’ll be coming back.

The terminal has an abundance of seating. Your backpack rests on the seat beside you as Jay double checks the gate number while the rest of your friends find a spot on the seats next to you, attempting to find an ounce of comfort in the dimly lit area.

“I know leaving early saved us hundreds of dollars, but I need sleep,” Sunghoon says from beside you. His usually well kept hair falls in all sorts of places like he woke up without a second thought and hailed a taxi the minute he opened his eyes.

“You’ll thank me later,” Jay says. “We can sleep on the plane.”

“Our flight doesn’t leave for another two hours,” Jake whines from beside him as he yawns. “How am I supposed to sleep on these god forsakes chairs?”

“Quit whining and try,” Jay retorts. He looks behind him to see the rest of your friend group approach before glancing over to you. “Doing okay?”

“How come Y/N gets preferential treatment?” Jake beckons.

“Because she isn’t a nuisance like you,” Jay immediately fires back before diverting his attention towards you again.

“I’m alright,” you say, stifling a yawn behind your hand. “Just cold and sleepy.”

“Hopefully they turn off the damn AC,” Sunghoon says as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. “I feel like my veins are being injected with ice.”

“It’ll warm up when more people come,” Jay reasons. “I wish there was a coffee stand that was open. I need a cup.”

“I could go for one,” you agree. “I’m trying to stay awake for the next couple of hours so I can sleep on the plane.”

The rest of your friend group appear behind Jay and you look down to check your phone for any notifications when Heeseung catches your eye. It takes you by surprise and you abruptly look back at your screen and busy yourself by aimlessly scrolling through social media as he attempts to occupy the empty seat beside you, but Jake beats him to it.

“I’m gonna freeze to death and then all of you are gonna have to deal with my frozen body.” Jake dramatically slouches down onto the seat until his head finds your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek as if trying to find comfort in you. “Jesus, Y/N, you’re so warm.”

You laugh. “I wore layers.”

“You’re gonna regret that when we get on the plane,” Jake mumbles.

Heeseung, from the corner of your eyes, opts to move to the seats in front of you. You try not to pay him any mind.

You snort. “Yeah, well I can take these layers off while you freeze until you become an icicle.” Jake hums when you let your head fall onto his.

“You know I’m not built for the cold. Australia’s my home.”

“And yet you moved to Korea,” Sunghoon provokes.

Jungwon and Riki are rummaging through the bag of snacks you’d brought for an early breakfast until the restaurants and coffee stands around you open up. Jake’s right, it’s far too cold to stop shivering, but you suppose you’re grateful that the discomfort distracts you from sleeping too early.

“I can’t believe we’re finally going on this trip,” Sunoo says from above you. With your head still on Jake’s, you turn to look at the boy speaking. “I’m really excited for you to show us where you’ve been for the past four years.”

A tiny smile graces your lips. “I’m excited to show you around London and Paris. The latter is a two hour train ride. My friends and I would go every few weekends or so to explore the city. Pictures and videos don’t do them justice.” You sigh as you reminisce. “I really did think that I’d end up living there when I graduated.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Missed home too much, I guess.” You shrug. “Though, I can’t believe Riki went through a growth spurt in the last two years that I was gone.”

“You went back to Okayama before Y/N came back for holiday break, right?” Jungwon asks, looking between the both of you.

“That’s right,” Riki says. “I was sad that I couldn’t see you before you went back to school.”

“Now he’s twice my height.” You gesture at the younger boy. He’s too shy with the sudden affection and chooses to bury his head in Jungwon’s shoulder. “You were so little.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

“I can’t believe you’re fluent in English now.” Jungwon pushes Riki off of his arm. “You, Jake, and Jay are kind of scary when you speak English.”

“It was a little hard at first. I used to watch a lot of American cinema so I could understand it better than I could speak it. But I can’t lie, it’s fun being able to talk to them in English.”

“You were so cute trying to string phrases together during your first summer back,” Jay coos. “Texting her in English was funny because she couldn’t understand the difference between spelling.”

“Poor Jake.” You pull your head from his and look down at him. “You probably had aneurysms looking at my grammar.”

You lift your head to see that the aforementioned has fallen asleep amongst the conversation with his mouth slightly ajar and soft snores echoing past your ear. You don’t move when Jay asks if you want Jake off of your shoulder, but you shake your head.

Conversation falls flat when the group unanimously decides that sleepiness is overtaking the need to socialize. Jay keeps checking his watch to look out for the time while your eyes try to look anywhere but at Heeseung.

It’s odd, the way two people can lose a friendship overnight. The heartbreak that came with romantic rejection wasn’t nearly as bad as realizing texts and phone calls were far fewer in between the moment you had arrived back in Europe to finish your studies. It hurt to know that neither one of you felt comfortable enough to see each other when you were back in your hometown unless the two of you were invited to hang out with mutual friends.

Still, seeing Heeseung after he had rejected your confession felt like a punch to the gut.

Long gone were the days of being able to send him unimportant updates about your life abroad or what you were doing at any given summer day back home. You couldn’t ask him to go to the restaurants you used to frequent near his house or yours. You certainly couldn’t call him at random hours because you were bored and missed his voice.

It wasn’t for the lack of trying. It felt like things might've gone back to normal after a short period of not talking, but your texts going unanswered and your calls going to voicemail was all you needed to know.

Perhaps it’s why you’re comfortable spearheading this vacation with Jay, who had made it a point to visit you in London when you’d chosen to stay behind instead of going home for the holiday break. The two of you had never spent time alone prior to then, but it touched you that he’d go out of his way to dedicate an entire day to visit you when he was there for a family vacation.

Coming back to Korea the summer after graduating felt like you were making the right choice, even if your head was telling you to find a home in Europe. Still fresh from your unresolved rejection, stepping off of the plane and knowing you wouldn’t be returning back to your university’s town made the uncomfortable reality of coming face-to-face with Heeseung sink in. You’d have to live with the consequences.

But it’s been eight months since you returned, six months since Jay’s dad was gracious enough to offer you a position on his marketing team, and five months since he encouraged your entire friend group to take a trip to your old stomping grounds.

The proposition felt too sudden, especially with how little experience you had working with his team, but you’d spend an evening with the Park family for him to consider you an honorary member. Though, you’re sure Jay might’ve told him something happened between you and Heeseung, especially after telling everyone you wouldn’t be coming home for the holidays.

To this day, you haven’t uttered a single word to your friends about what happened the night Heeseung rejected your love confession. If you know him as well as you think you do, you don’t think he's told anyone either.

“Cafes are opening up,” Jay notes. Sunghoon’s ears perk up. “Three of us should go get food and drinks while the rest save our seats.”

The airport overhead lights must’ve turned on while you were deep in thought. Jay’s right, the coffee stands have opened and it’s likely due to the new influx of travelers who’ve arrived at the airport. Foot traffic is still light and you know Jay wants to get ahead of the crowd.

Jake has woken up because of the growing murmur around him and lifts himself off of your head to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. He yawns once more but tries his best not to fall asleep again.

“How long was I out?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take,” Sunghoon answers.

“Sorry for sleeping on you,” Jake apologizes.

“It’s okay. You needed it.” He scrunches his face, not used to the new lighting. “Jay, I’ll come with you to get coffee. I need to stretch my legs.”

“I’ll help as well.” Heeseung speaks for the first time in a while and his voice nearly catches you off guard.

“Sure.” Jay gathers everybody’s orders before the two of you follow him around the terminal.

The line isn’t unbearably long, but with Heeseung towering behind you, it feels like you’ve been standing for hours. You shift from one foot to the other in order to find a happy medium to no avail. Jay orders for the group and you pay attention to him more than you care to when you realize Heeseung is now standing beside you to make room for more people to wait in line. He’s considerate like that and you hate it.

When the baristas are finished with your order, you reach for the bag of sandwiches in your haste to escape Heeseung. But your fingers touch the steam and you drop the bag into the counter with a hiss.

“Careful,” Heeseung says. “Don’t get hurt, please.”

Your clumsy nature was always something he teased you for. Heeseung sounds so sincere about his worry that you think you’d rather him pour all of the hot coffee on you instead.

“Thanks.” You grab the bag with so much as a single moment of eye contact before realizing Jay has started walking back.

Breakfast is eaten in silence. Everyone is too tired to speak, save for Jake whose twenty minute nap has rendered him a little more awake than the rest of you. You and Sunghoon share your egg sandwich and chocolate croissant respectively without a word spoken between the two of you.

Meanwhile, Heeseung is staring at the way your thighs are close to Sunghoon’s. He had shifted his body closer to yours in order to form a makeshift table so that sharing pastries wouldn’t result in crumbs on the floor. You can feel Heeseung's gaze on your kneecap and it makes your face flush.

Sunoo and Jake offer to throw everybody’s trash away when you’re all done eating. The airport is in full swing by now and everyone has said their graces and apologized to Jay for giving him a hard time with how early they arrived.

It seems that sleep has threatened to overtake you. You’re waiting in line to scan your plane ticket and board the aircraft, but the sudden warmth of the airport has caused you to yawn a few too many times. Riki’s standing in front of you and his height makes for a perfect makeshift wall to lean on. Or, that’s what your tired brain is telling you, because you slouch forward and let your cheek rest against his back as you close your eyes.

“Sleepy girl,” you hear him chuckle. You merely nod in acknowledgement.

Your comfort is short lived when he softly nudges you because the line has moved. Soon, you scan your ticket and give the airline agent a smile as thanks before waiting to set foot on the aircraft.

Sunghoon notices your dropped shoulders and wordlessly takes your backpack off of you.

“You don’t need to do that,” you say with a frown when you see Sunghoon carrying your belongings with him.

“Let me hold it,” says Sunghoon. “You look like you’re about to fall over with the extra weight.”

“If you insist.”

“Let us take care of you, yeah?” Jay interrupts, bumps his shoulder with yours. “You’ve been running all over Europe these past four years and we’ve only seen you a handful of times. You deserve to relax on this trip.”

“I can’t believe you guys are being so sweet on me. I know that’s ending the second we get back to Korea.”

The two boys laugh. “Well, it’s only fair, I guess. You’re like, the mom friend.”

“Jay is the mom friend.” The aforementioned doesn’t argue.

The squeeze of the aircraft is tight and you’re desperately trying to look for your seat. It seems that Sunghoon is sitting in your row, which excites you, but you’ve come to realize that you’ve obtained the ungodly middle seat. You make peace with it for a brief moment before Heeseung clears his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s switch seats,” he says from behind you. His ticket shows the window seat right next to yours. “I know you hate middle seats.”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking.” He says it with a smile and it makes you cower into yourself. “You should move to your new seat so we don’t hold up the line.”

Heeseung suggests it in a way that is reminiscent of the days where he’d give up his sweet treats because you wanted a taste. It tugs at your heartstrings but you don’t have time to think about that when you notice how the plane is starting to fill up.

Reluctantly, you slide into the window seat while Heeseung and Sunghoon follow suit. Your seat belts are buckled and in no time, the aircraft takes flight.

For the next hour, Heeseung looks like he wants to say something to you. The headphones you've brought do well to cancel out the noise, for the most part. You can see from the corner of your eye that he glances at you from time to time, but you ignore it and choose to get comfortable for the long haul.

When you notice the flight attendants come with the beverage cart, you take it as a cue to get comfortable and try to get some sleep for the next few hours. Likely due to the lack of sleep from the night prior, you fall asleep as soon as your head rests against the plane.

You don’t hear Heeseung requesting an extra bottle of water for you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you come to, you’re barely able to register that it’s time to eat the first meal on the flight. You take your headphones off and put it in your backpack as you blink the sleep out of your eyes.

“Chicken or beef?”

Heeseung looks at you, expecting an answer.

“Hm?”

He laughs softly. “Chicken or beef?”

Your eyes dart between him and the flight attendants when you realize they’re about to approach.

“I heard them asking people which meal they want,” Heeseung explains. “So, chicken or beef?”

“Beef.” You clear your throat.

“Beef it is.”

Sunghoon requests chicken when the flight attendant arrives. Heeseung orders beef for the both of you before you get the chance. If he notices you looking at him strangely, he doesn’t comment on it.

The food comes quicker than expected and the meal tastes decent, though you’re trying your best not to elbow Heeseung as you cut away at your portion. He seems engrossed in the movie in front of him while you peek at what he’s watching—Iron Man, to no one’s shock.

You soften a bit at the nostalgia that comes with Heeseung and Marvel, namely the rainy days in your youth spent marathoning the superhero movies. There had been one year in high school when he’d dressed up as Tony Stark and you as Pepper Potts despite a few girls your age whispering behind your back at the matching costumes out of jealousy. You don’t think you can think of the franchise without thinking of Heeseung.

The memories almost bring a smile to your face. Heeseung seems to notice you glancing at his screen in between bites. You avoid eye contact when you realize he caught you staring and focus on cutting your meal, praying that Heeseung will stop looking at you and watch the movie instead.

But he takes one earbud out and holds it to you.

“Do you want to watch it with me?” He’s halfway through. You tell him such but he doesn’t care.

“I don’t want to jump in halfway through.”

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t done that before.”

Heeseung says it with such nonchalance that it makes your stomach drop. He sees the way your eyes falter for a moment and the way you glance between his hand and the screen. You try to come up with excuses to refuse his offer, but you’ve got eight more hours until you land.

“Sure,” you settle. Heeseung gives you one headphone and resumes watching.

Between the meals being picked up and tray tables being put away, you manage to fall asleep in your seat. Sunoo sits in front of you and upon coming back from a quick bathroom trip, sees your head resting on Heeseung’s shoulder with his cheek propped on your head. The two of you are fast asleep despite the credits rolling and he can’t help but snap a quick photo.

You wake up some hours later when Sunghoon says your name. The cabin lights turning on temporarily blinds your vision as you wake up when you realize you’d managed to push yourself back enough to rest yourself against Heeseung’s arm.

“Oh God,” you say in shock, pulling yourself and the seat upright. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, like he means it. “Sleeping on planes is uncomfortable. But I know you know that.”

You nod. “Yeah. It's too hard to get comfortable.”

“I can’t believe we’re spending two weeks in Europe. I’ve never been outside of Korea and Japan before. You’ll have to help me with my English.”

“Jay or Jake can also help with that.” You say it with a yawn and Heeseung’s eyes cast to the floor for a brief moment. You barely notice, gathering your own belongings as the flight descends.

“Yeah, I guess they can.”

When you land, the familiar disorientation of the time difference truly wakes you up. It’s eleven in the morning when the plane door finally opens and Jay’s moving a step ahead of you as he occupies space in the aisle way to grab his belongings. You follow suit and wait for your turn to exit amongst your friends and other travel goers.

Stepping out of the plane and into the familiar terrain of the Heathrow Airport reignites your attentiveness and you smile at the fond memories of being greeted by your university friends upon arriving. The familiar atmosphere of English travelers milling around the gate warms your chest with nostalgia.

You wait for the boys to emerge before signaling Jay, who follows beside you as you walk towards the baggage claim area. You lead him with little trouble down the escalator as the rest of your friends follow suit, yawning in an attempt to wake themselves up.

“It’s weird seeing you in your element,” Jay comments as he stands beside you, periodically checking the turnstile for his luggage. “A good kind of weird.”

“This airport might as well be my second home,” you tell him. “It feels routine to wait for my luggage at this point.”

“I’m tempted to sleep when we get to the hotel but I don’t want to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is.” Jay pulls his luggage.

“Yeah, that’s smart. I think we should take an hour to freshen up and find a place to eat before we go exploring.”

“I can already hear Jake whining about it.”

The two of you share a laugh. “He’ll just have to get used to it. We can have an early night and rest up before we explore tomorrow.”

“He slept on the plane, for the most part,” Jay informs. “Surprisingly, he didn’t snore as loudly as he usually does.” He spots your luggage and takes it off of the belt for you.

On the other side of the carousel, Heeseung and Sunoo are standing together to find their own luggages.

“You guys looked pretty cozy,” Sunoo comments. “It was nice seeing you two like that again.”

“It felt nice,” he mutters. “I really missed her.”

Heeseung doesn’t have to tell Sunoo what happened between the two of you for him to know that you two aren’t as close as you used to be. The older boy feels nearly ashamed that his own friends have caught up on his awkward demeanor.

“Well, she’s back for good and we’re here on vacation. Try not to dwell on whatever it is that’s making you think too hard.”

Heeeung laughs. “I’ll try, Sunoo. It’s just hard when we’re not as close. How can I compete when we’re in her college town and how will I talk to her in Paris?”

“Well, you never know,” Sunoo says as he picks up his luggage. “Anything can happen in the City of Love.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The hotel itself is modest in size. Quaint, old cobblestone surrounding the entryway like you remember it. The people are busy walking in and out of the meeting rooms in the lobby as you walk to the concierge to sort out the rooming situation. Jay stands beside to help distribute the keys and the employee behind the desk bids you a good stay.

The view from the fifth floor is spectacular already. You catch glimpses of the streets of London below you, street lights decorating the sidewalk and flowers surrounding the city. This feels like the London you remember and it adds a slight pep in your step.

“Alright, it’s decided that three of you are gonna share,” you say as you reach the first room. “The other four will be split into two rooms and I’ll get a room for myself.”

“That’s not fair,” Jake huffs.

“I refuse to share a room with any of you.” You pocket the key to the single bedroom. “Plus, Jay’s mom helped me make the arrangements when we planned the trip.”

“Favoritism,” Jake coughs. You nudge his side.

“To make it fair, everyone will pick up a key card without knowing the room number and flip it. That’ll determine who you room with.”

“Alright,” Jungwon says. “Fair enough.”

One by one, your friends pick their key cards and discover their roommates. Jake, Sunoo, and Riki are the unlucky three who will be rooming together for the duration of the week. Jay and Sunghoon are in the room directly across from theirs while Heeseung and Jungwon share a room.

“Let’s meet at the lobby in an hour,” Jay suggests. “We can get some lunch and do some exploring before deciding on dinner.”

“We can take it easy and sleep early tonight,” you add in. “I know that flying internationally is always a bitch and I try to time my sleep when I need to.”

The eight of you part ways. Your suite has a beautiful view of the sky and the room itself makes you feel like the main character of a romance film. The bed is just to your liking with pillows stacked to the nines. It feels nice to have a moment to yourself. With your friend Yunjin backing out of the trip at the last minute due to family conflicts, you hadn’t had time to think about anything other than arriving at the hotel safely.

You busy yourself with a shower and freshen up, pulling out options for you to wear for the rest of the night. You settle with something stylish yet comfortable and put enough makeup on your face until you’re satisfied with the person staring back at you in the bathroom mirror.

True to your word, you enter the lobby when you said you would. Jay and Sunghoon are already downstairs by the seats. Sunghoon stands to offer you the loveseat but you decline politely and sift through your phone until the rest of the guys arrive.

When they do, it’s like all eight of you collectively agree that hunger has overtaken you. You know of a nearby cafe that serves sandwiches from your days in university. You lead them to the quaint restaurant that has your friends staring at the art on the walls as you greet the cashier and order.

It’s a slow moment for the eight of you as you all eat in relative silence, the sound of quiet slurping audible from the coffees everyone has chosen to drink.

“Did you spend a lot of time here?” Jungwon asks.

“Around the area, yeah,” you say, looking around. The outdoor seating area is just towards the edge of the street with the weather being a cool, cloudy day. “I loved coming to cafe’s like these with my friends after class. We’d study until they kicked us out and then go for a drink or two.”

“We should go to a pub while we’re here,” Jake suggests. “I’ve always wanted to see an English pub. We have a few back in Australia.”

“I know just the place! My friend’s brother owns it and they know I’ll be in town for the next week. It would be nice to catch up with them.”

“Hopefully your friends here kept you out of trouble,” Sunghoon teases. You flick him with your fingers.

“I’m the most responsible one out of you seven and don’t you forget that.”

“Do you miss being here now that you’re back?” Riki asks in between sandwich bites. “God, I love London already.”

“You’re going to choke if you don’t slow down.” He apologies and takes a single bite. “Well, I think I miss my friends a lot. I don’t necessarily miss being in university, but I miss the freedoms that come with it.”

“I still can’t believe you spent four years of your life here,” Sunghoon says. “That’s insane when you think about how you cried when your aunt took you to Tokyo for a week when you were in middle school.”

The boys laugh and you frown. “I was twelve, okay? You wound me. But yeah, I think I grew out of my shell in high school and had this urge to travel but didn’t know how to do it. I was surprised when my parents encouraged me to apply to King’s College, even more so when I got accepted.”

“You’ve always been too good to stay in one place for too long,” Jake says. “We got close until halfway through our first year of high school, I think. I always got the sense that you wanted more than what our hometown could offer.”

“I always wanted to move to the heart of Seoul eventually. But I think I needed to come here in order to figure that out.”

“Would you really have stayed in London if you had the chance?”

You avoid looking at Heeseung, whose attention averted from his phone to you.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “But what I do know is that I’m happy to be back in Korea and I’m happy to be traveling to Europe.”

“You always did have that sense of adventure,” Heeseung says. “I remember you were the one who always got us in trouble when we explored a little too far.”

“Your mom was pissed that time I walked a little too far down the shoreline when we went to Jeju.” The memory feels warm despite your discomfort at having Heeseung’s eyes on you. “I didn’t know who she wanted to kill more, me or you.”

“Definitely me. You could do no wrong in her eyes.”

“What happened?” Sunoo asks.

“My family and Heeseung’s took a trip to Jeju Island when we were around seven, if I remember correctly. I’d taken swimming lessons and thought I could show off my new skills at the beach we were at, but there was a wave that was a bit too much for me to handle.”

“She was nearly swallowed by the ocean.” Heeseung hits his knee with his palm as he recalls the memory. “I mean, I was seven and it seemed like the wave was gigantic but to my mom, it must’ve been just tall enough that she could see over it.”

“She yelled at him for the rest of the night because she had to pull me out from under the water,” you add. “I was fine. My parents laughed it off but his mom was so pissed at him for not telling me to come back to the shore.”

Echoes of laughter fill the space. It feels nice to be able to laugh like this with Heeseung, temporarily forgetting why you were so awkward around him in the first place.

When the check is paid, you lead the group around the area. Sunghoon takes out his camera and captures everything that inspires him while Sunoo and Riki are off to explore the shops around. It brings warmth to your chest to see your friends enthusiastically exploring the space you once called home. It had been a dream of yours since Jay came to visit and let you drag him around town for the day. Having them with you feels like you’re healing a part of yourself.

You duck into the quiet bookstore you used to frequent while you were a student. Filled with novels and trinkets from floor to ceiling, it feels familiar to you.

You get lost in thought when you glance at the books in front of you and you don’t notice Heeseung approaching.

“Still love books?”

“Jesus,” you gasp, clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Seems like you still scare easily.” You hate that he knows you so well. Clearing your throat, you put the book back.

“Yes, to both. I used to come to this bookstore a lot when I had free time.”

He looks around. “It looks like a nice place.”

“They have a reading nook in the back. The owner is this sweet older woman who was the first person to help me with my English when I first moved. I think she let me read books for free because I used to bring her sweets.”

“That sounds like something you’d do.” You cast your eyes to the floor. “It’s crazy that there’s parts of you that I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” you mumble solemnly. Heeseung’s eyes bore into the side of your face as you pretend to look at the titles of the books.

“Do you talk to your college friends often?”

“All the time. My closest friends live all over the place. Two of them are from the area, one went to live in the States, and a few live in Busan.”

“I’ll bet it was nice to have some Korean friends when you moved. I remember you used call me to tell me about your first semester here.”

You can’t help but think about the first few months after you moved when you would call Heeseung for a bit of comfort when things felt too overwhelming. With Korea being nine hours ahead, you always felt a little too bothersome phoning when it was the middle of the night for him, not used to the time difference. But he always answered you or called back when he had the chance.

You’d spend hours on the phone, talking to him about how difficult it was to learn English and how making friends was not as easy as you thought it would be. Navigating the city felt lonely and isolating because you’d barely made friends in your classes in the first few weeks. Heeseung was there through all of it, reminding you that being eighteen years old in a new country made you brave despite feeling like you were a failure for not grasping a hold on life like you thought you would.

Falling asleep on the phone with him became a routine, too. Whether it was you who fell asleep after a long day or Heeseung, who had stayed up listening to your worries, the sound of his breathing made it feel like you were back home in Korea instead of exploring a grand new world.

Soon enough, you could talk your way around and piece together conversations with your classmates until you’d found friends who shared similar interests. Heeseung was the first person you told and the first person to tell you how proud he was that you extended your roots to learn about yourself away from home. You always thrived off of his praise as if making him proud was something you never sought out to do, but appreciated when it happened.

But that was four years ago. Whatever friendship you had with him then is not the one you have with him now.

“It was nice,” you settle. “I miss my college friends. You might get to meet some later in the week.”

“Nice,” he mutters to himself when you walk past him. “That’s really nice.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The rest of the week is spent in your old stomping grounds, from touring your campus, to shopping, to sightseeing. The eight of you split up more often than not to explore different areas based on mutual interest. You find that Heeseung tends to gravitate towards you and you aren’t sure if it’s because he feels guilty for rejecting you or because he genuinely wants to explore what you want to do.

Still though, at least one other person joins you. It feels nice to have a buffer to avoid any awkward conversation or moments, especially when Heeseung trips over his words trying to talk to you.

The week goes by too quickly for your liking. Spending time in London has felt like coming back home, in a way. You’ll always have your memories here and this city will remain the same when you return in the future. Now, it no longer feels like the place you escape too because things got too hard back home.

Even with Heeseung next to you more often than not, you’ve found a happy medium The awkwardness dissipates when you set aside your indifference to show everybody your favorite places, watching them explore the city for themselves.

As expected, Riki and Jake have spent a little too much on clothing with the hopes that they can fit it into their luggage on the way back. It fits miraculously.

Your friend Leo, the one whose brother owns the pub you used to frequent, tells you he’s excited to see you after all these months. It’s a Friday night when you arrive, seeing it well populated. But it’s rather early in the evening before the rush hour, so you enjoy the relative quietness before people rush in.

Heeseung, on the other hand, has been in a stupor for the latter half of the week. It began when he managed to talk to you in the bookstore, but blossomed when he watched you navigate your way around the city. You barely looked at your phone for directions and had no problem switching to English when you greeted shop owners. Hearing you speak fluently in a language you once struggled with in your childhood made him feel somewhat removed from your life. The two of you used to joke that he was always better with English. Now, the tables have turned.

The fear that you’d told your school friends about what transpired between the two of you plants itself in the back of Heeseung’s mind. He worries that your friends won’t like him and that you’ve scorned his name, but he chides himself just as much as he worries because he knows you and how deeply you care about people.

Heeseung wishes he could go back in time to change what happened. He wishes that he’d admit his mistake and confess to you before you left. It had taken him a long time to confront his own feelings, but seeing you back in Korea made him realize he didn’t care if the relationship was long distance or not. He didn’t care as long as you were in his life.

The months spent apart without phone calls or texts were agony. He loathed hearing what you were up to from your mutual friends or when he accidentally watched your Instagram stories. Seeing you happy without him made his heart lurch, not out of possessiveness, but because he wished you were comfortable enough to share those moments with him.

To boil it down, Heeseung hopes this trip can undo a year’s worth of his ignorance.

But before he can think about that, your exclamation pulls him towards a strange man before you.

“Leo!”

The sheer volume of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung, who eyes the bloke the second you make a dash for him. His heart winces when your arms wrap around the stranger’s neck and as he spins you around, squeezing you for good measure. He isn’t pleased when Leo settles to let his arm rest around your waist instead of letting you go. He’s even less so when you don’t attempt to separate yourself from him.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Leo says with a boyish grin, accent making Heeseung nearly roll his eyes.

“This is Leo.” You let your head rest on his shoulder for a brief moment. “He’s one of my friends from university. I think we met in, what, second year?”

“Second year, auditing class with Professor Donahue on Mondays and Wednesdays,” he says. “God, that class was so boring.”

“He’s the friend whose brother owns the bar,” you explain to them. You introduce Leo to each friend respectively. “Jay and Jake are my friends who are fluent in English.”

“You can speak it and understand it as well, right?” Leo asks as he shakes Heeseung’s hand.

He nods while giving him a tight smile. “Just a little. I’m practicing.”

“Nah, you sound perfect already.”

Heeseung feels indifferent to see you in your element with people from your past. The bartender, who is Leo’s brother, tells you the first two rounds are on the house after he checks IDs. Riki and Jungwon are excited to have their first pub experience after you make them promise to take it slow and drink lots of water in between.

“It’s a bit weird seeing her be like that,” Leo says to Jay with a laugh. “When we first got to know each other, it was me who had to tell her to watch how much she drank.”

“Y/N, drinking?” Jake asks. “No way. Back in Korea, she got drunk maybe twice a year.”

“She and a mutual friend, Elizabeth, were as thick as thieves. They were like a package deal before we all graduated and until she moved to the States. They’d always go a little too hard after exam season was over or if people invited them out on a Saturday night.”

“Y/N’s always been the responsible one out of the bunch,” Jay adds. “In high school, there was one time she got so drunk that she nearly scaled the roof of my friend’s house. Heeseung nearly fell off trying to get her down. After that, she swore off alcohol.”

Heeseung makes a few comments in the conversation as he watches you catch up with Leo’s brother and as you facilitate conversation between the rest of the guys. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes there’s a lot he doesn’t know about you.

The two of you talked less as you became more comfortable in your environment. At first, Heeseung took it to heart and made the assumption that you’d chosen your friends in England over him, but a stern conversation with his mother made him realize he was being juvenile. He could only comfort you so much when he was oceans away. It was probably a good thing that you were talking to him less because that must’ve meant you were as overwhelmed or scared like you were when you first moved to England.

You’d still call him a few times a week before bed–when Heeseung was getting ready for the day–to update him on everything that happened in the past week. You two texted more frequently than you conversed, sending him pictures of new places you’d discovered or him sending photos of your mutual friends with sad faces at the notion of you not being able to be there with them.

Heeseung had always felt a bit jealous of your time abroad. He loved Korea, but he yearned for the same sense of adventure you once had. Only, he hadn’t figured it out until halfway through university when it was too late to transfer or apply for a semester abroad. When Jay had proposed this trip and that his father would expense half of it, he jumped at the opportunity to go.

Although, he didn’t know it would hurt him this much.

Hearing you talk about your life here made him feel like it was his fault that he barely knew your life in England. It was so easy when the two of you lived a few blocks from each other; he’d run into you with your other friends on the street or know exactly where you were likely to be at any given moment. He knew you felt the same way about him too, as you always knew where to find him if you really needed him.

But it feels like this is the first time he’s seeing you for who you are as an adult, not the child that he grew up with.

Surely, Heeseung always knew you had a good head on your shoulders. You were always the more outspoken one who stood up for what you believed in, no matter how big or small. You never backed down if someone was giving you a hard time and it was one of the reasons why Heeseung had struck up a conversation with you as you two played in the sandbox after a few kids had stolen the toys he was playing with. That sense of responsibility and gratuity followed you into your adolescent and teenage years, too. Not once had Heeseung heard anyone say a bad word about your character. He’d like to think he had something to do with it, but deep down, Heeseung knows it was all you.

When you confessed nearly a year ago, Heeseung felt like his heart might’ve ceased to function properly. Truth be told, he’s never taken his daydreams about being your boyfriend too seriously. He always wondered if it was normal to develop small crushes on your girl-friends at a young age and wondered if those butterflies in his stomach was because of how often his other friends at school would playfully tease him until they stopped. Jake and Sunghoon had been people who teased him for having a girl as his best friend until they befriended you too, and Heeseung was satisfied when they stopped with their comments. They, too, could understand why Heeseung was so keen on keeping you around.

But the butterflies never quite left him. Your smile was too bright. Your voice was too angelic. Everything about you and how you fit into his life felt a little too perfect; Heeseung hated cliches in his youth and this felt like one big cliche joke. He knew his mother didn’t approve of the girls she’d see him with, even in college when he got into his first serious relationship. She wasn’t as enthusiastic about her as she was with you. At the time, the frustration seemed too biased until it ended in a way that made Heeseung realize his mother truly knew what was best for him.

Heeseung never considered the possibility of dating you until you confessed your feelings for him.

As much as he plays off being the spontaneous, go-with-the-flow type of person, Heeseung gets scared when things go unplanned. He backs away from courage and from moments that make or break his character. He likes to play it safe unless he can make a calculated risk in his favor, choosing to let others fall flat on their face and learn from their mistakes. Heeseung had never considered the possibility of you having feelings for him either. That fateful summer night is one he will always remember, especially in the way the light in your eyes dimmed when he told you he didn’t feel the same.

He remembers your quick apologies and the way you backed away too quickly for his liking. He had tried to reach for your hand to tell you it was okay and that he didn’t feel awkward about it, but you’d shook your head and merely told him you’d see him later. Heeseung had never seen you leave so abruptly. But he figured you’d get over it, as you typically do when things don’t go your way. You’re resilient like that.

Heeseung assumed you needed time to heal from the awkward encounter and hadn’t reached out to you for a week. He didn’t think much of it at the time and hadn’t made plans with you until he realized you’d be leaving for Europe the week following. By then, it had been too late, because he stopped by your house the morning after you left.

Getting together with Seulgi after you left felt too easy. He knew she’d always had a thing for him but brushed her off for reasons he couldn’t fathom until he bumped into her a few weeks after you’d left without so much as a text or a voicemail. Feeling a bit irritated at your wordless departure, Heeseung took Seulgi out on a few days to take his mind off of you.

Except, it didn’t work. Heeseung found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to go out to dinner with you when she was sitting in front of him. When she’d texted him to thank him for his time, Heeseung imagined the kind of things you would say after your first date. When he kissed her for the first time underneath the twinkling lights of a local fair, Heeseung pictured you as he closed his eyes. The fantasy was ruined when Seulgi’s perfume touched his olfactory senses, pulling him back into reality. The guilt of kissing somebody who wasn’t you ate at his chest the moment he saw Seulgi smile at him from where he stood.

He tried his best with her but broke it off when the unrest overtook his mental wellbeing. It was amicable, for the most part. All Heeseung knows is that his parents (along with all of his friends) were happy that he hadn’t continued with that relationship.

“Y/N used to talk a lot about you, Heeseung,” Leo says, bringing the aforementioned out of his thoughts. “We’d be out at dinner or something and she’d always run outside to answer your calls.”

“Really?” Heeseung says out of surprise. He didn’t know you did that.

“You bet,” Leo replies. “She talked a lot about Korea when we’d hang out with our friends but she seemed to talk about you the most.”

Heeseung wonders if you told him about what happened between the two of you the summer before you left.

“I’m flattered.” Heeseung honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He chooses to tell the truth. “I missed her a lot. I grew up with her living a few blocks away. It felt weird not to be with her when I went to college.”

“Y/N said the same thing. Every time she’d be homesick, she’d tell us she needed to call you.” Leo’s words bring a warm flush to Heeseung’s face but he chooses to blame it on the alcohol.

“I heard my name,” you say as you walk to where they’re sitting. “Not talking shit about me, my dear Leo?”

“Never,” he teases. “Although, I’m sure I still have some pretty photos of you and Elizabeth at this very pub.”

“Oh God, please don’t.” You push his shoulder when he moves to reach his phone. “Those do not need to see the light of day and you definitely need to delete them.”

“How else am I going to blackmail you?”

“You’re the worst.” You look cute when your nose is a bit red from drinking. You always did suffer from redness to the face when you drank. “I can’t believe Elizabeth and I let you into our friend group.”

“Hey! I was the one who introduced you to her in the first place.”

“I’ll bet if I texted her right now, I’d have it in writing that she’d choose me over you.”

“Okay, you don’t need to do that because she definitely would.”

The group laughs and conversations flow nicely as a few other friends from your university days join you later in the evening. It feels like a reunion, of sorts. It feels especially wonderful to have most of your favorite people under one roof despite the slight language barrier. But everyone seems to get along well enough, especially Riki, who has taken a liking to your Japanese friend you met on your first day of orientation.

When the room gets too hot, you make your way outside where you’re fenced in by a metal barricade. It’s cold outside, but the alcohol running through your veins keeps you warm enough that you decide not to go back to ask for a jacket. Heeseung wants to follow you but stays still in his seat when he sees Sunghoon exit the door after you leave.

The wine in your hands is still halfway full. You’ve decided that you’ve taken the lead far too many times this week and that Jay can handle getting everyone home. It’s your fourth drink of the night, just enough to keep you buzzed for the duration of your time at the pub.

You register the door sliding open and make room for Sunghoon when you spot him over your shoulder.

“Your friends are really nice,” he comments, leaning on the railing next to you.

“They’re the best,” you say with a fond smile. “I owe them a lot. I only started enjoying my time here when we became friends.”

“You know, I was a little worried that you wouldn’t be happy when you moved to London for the first time.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I think a lot of people would describe you as brave and as someone who will dive in head first to things that scare you, which is true for the most part. But I think people rarely pay attention to the vulnerable side of people like you because it looks like you have it all together.”

“I was a total wreck when I first moved,” you said. “I don’t know if you remember the few times I called you when Heeseung wasn’t able to pick up.”

“Oh, I remember. That was the first time you cried to me and now you have no issue getting your snot on my sweaters.” You swat his arm at the joke but he dodges you just in time. “I remember Yeji getting worried about you too. She was so young and always said she wanted to be brave like you.”

“Sweet girl,” you say.

“The two of you are similar. I watch out for her a lot, you know? Our relatives always think she puts on a brave face and don’t think twice when she talks about her fears. They always tell her she’ll be fine, but it’s hard to actualize that when you don’t believe it.”

“I thought about coming home a few times when things got really hard,” you confess. “I was out of my depth because I couldn’t speak English very well. I could only speak fragments and getting my way around campus was so hard.”

“I don’t know how you did it, if I’m being honest. But I’m glad that you stuck around long enough to see what your life would be like.”

“Me too. I’d really love to think I’ve become a better person now that I’ve gotten the chance to know myself beyond the comfort of my home, you know? I love you guys and I love my family, but sometimes being back in Korea felt like I was listening to what was expected of me instead of what I wanted.”

Sunghoon laughs. “Yeji said the same thing a few weeks before we left for London. Part of me thinks she’s considering studying abroad. I found a few college brochures in her room.”

“Don’t you know better than to snoop inside your sister’s bedroom?”

“Yah,” he says. “Yeji steals too many of my sweaters and she said I could get them back.”

“You’re just too easy to make fun of, Hoonie.”

A comfortable silence passes over the both of you. The audible sound of people talking amongst themselves and the beautiful lights of the city illuminate what makes London so beautiful. It isn’t until Sunghoon speaks that you pull yourself out of your daydreams.

“I heard you that night,” Sunghoon confesses.

“What are you talking about?”

“The night of the bonfire.I know you told Heeseung you liked him.”

You turn your head to him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you’d tell me whenever you felt ready,” he says with a shrug. “You went back to London a couple of weeks later and I wanted to spend time with my friend. There never seemed to be a right time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and balances from one leg to another. “You looked really sad, Y/N. I’ve never seen you look that way before.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Sunghoon listens as you sigh and you push yourself from the railing. Your back touches the cold metal as you look beside yourself to see him.

“I deluded myself into thinking Heeseung might’ve felt something for me too,” you admit. “It’s not that girls and boys can’t be friends, but towards the end of our friendship, it was like something shifted.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’d…touch me longer. Hugs, pulling me by my waist at parties, lingering near me at Riki’s bonfires, that kind of thing. He started playing with my fingers a lot more. Heeseung never used to touch me like that. He’d interrupt conversation with guys to pull me away. I always knew what he was doing but I liked him so much that I didn’t care if he interrupted a good thing between me and someone else.”

Sunghoon purses his lips and watches as you look ahead at the glass doors to see your friends laughing. “I noticed that too.”

“When we were alone, it felt like he was one sentence away from telling me he loved me more than a friend. Not that platonic crap that the eight of us tell each other, but the deep shit where that kind of love comes from kindred souls.”

“Heeseung’s too stupid to see what’s good for him anyway.” Sunghoon pulls a laugh out of you and he’s glad to hear it.

“But then I confessed to him the night of that bonfire.” You bite your lip at the memory, willing yourself not to tear up. “I mean, you heard him. He told me he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to ruin our friendship because it was perfect as it was.”

“And then you heard he’d gotten together with Seulgi.”

“Yeah.” You nod once and look down at your drink.

“They weren’t together long,” Sunghoon says. “She wanted more but he didn’t want to give that to her. The boys were confused because he seemed to be really happy with her until he broke it off so sudden. I always thought it was because he felt too guilty after rejecting you.”

“What did the guys think?”

“Riki hated her. I have a feeling it was because she wasn’t you, though. I think Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jake were surprised when he’d gotten together with Seulgi after you left and were trying to be nice about it. Jay was indifferent, but then again, you two weren’t as close as you were with the rest of them until he visited you while you were away.”

“Did his opinion change?”

“Definitely. Heeseung had a period of time in the new year where he went on a couple of dates with her, telling us he might’ve made a mistake by breaking things off too soon.” Sunghoon shakes his head as he tells the story. “Jay was unbelievably pissed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how he gets when he’s angry. He’s quiet and doesn’t talk until he’s calm. But it was like a volcano erupted, or something. Jay came back mid January to find out Heeseung had been seeing Seulgi for a couple of weeks and completely lost it on him. He said things about not knowing a good thing if it spat in his face and how he ruined every chance of happiness because of his own doing.”

“Wow…I didn’t know Jay said that.”

“It was scary. Heeseung tried to fight back and say it was his life and that Jay didn’t have a right to say what he could and couldn’t do, but the poor guy never stood a chance. Jay asked him if he would be happy if you came back to see him dating Seulgi and that shut him up real quick.”

“What do I have to do with it?” you ask. “He rejected me before I left.”

“I don’t know,” Sunghoon says truthfully. “I always thought that Heeseung was trying to redeem himself through Seulgi. But I guess we’ll never truly know.”

“It’s been almost a year,” you reminisce. “You’d think I would’ve gotten over him by now after spending time in Europe with, well, other boys.”

“He’s not just any guy who rejected you,” Sunghoon says. He looks out at the street, finding the words to say. “You two had been best friends since before me or the guys got to know either of you. There’s a special kind of bond between people who grew up together, you know?

“I think a large part of you misses being friends with him. Sure, rejection always stings, but it’s knowing that you don’t have your best friend that hurts you more.”

“Jeez,” you chide. “You always know how I feel.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m just observant. I know that it’s hard to be on this trip because Heeseung’s trying to be that friend you once knew. He probably feels guilty for giving you the cold shoulder during your first few weeks back in Seoul.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well he’s not doing a great job showing it. Life would be easier if he left me alone.”

“But do you want that?”

You cast your eyes to the floor. “No, I don’t.”

Satisfied with your answer, Sunghoon nods.

“You know, I knew Heeseung had feelings for you the night we played spin the bottle just before we graduated high school.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hoon. He never liked me.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Do you remember what happened that night?”

“Vaguely. I remember that being my first time trying alcohol and Jake having to cut me off when I couldn’t walk straight.”

He nods. “When you were sober enough to string a few sentences together, some girl suggested playing spin the bottle. When it was your turn to spin, it landed on me.”

You make a face. “Ah. I do remember kissing you.”

“Well you don’t have to look grossed out,” Sunghoon teases. “Everyone knew it was awkward because we’d been friends for like, five years at that point. We were both so flustered that the kiss lasted for maybe two seconds before everyone cheered.

“Heeseung was pissed. I saw him looking at me like I’d killed his family, or something. I swore I could see steam coming out of his ears. He wouldn’t talk to me for a week because I’d been your first kiss.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious.” Sunghoon laughs at the memory. “He wouldn’t answer my texts. In the group chat we were in, he’d acknowledge everyone but me. It wasn’t until a week later when we were all hanging out that I told him there was nothing between us and it was awkward to kiss you in front of our friends.”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “Huh.”

“I’ve never told anyone that,” he confesses. “I doubt anyone remembers us kissing except for him. I assumed this would be a story I’d tell you and the guys when you both eventually got together.”

He murmurs an apology. “It’s okay, Hoon. I’m glad you told me. I guess I’m just…confused. Why did he reject me if he allegedly liked me?”

“I wish I knew. He was miserable when you left and refused to talk about you moving back to Europe for your final year abroad. Heeseung was really sad when he found out you weren’t coming home for Christmas break.”

“I couldn’t bear to see him. I was so heartbroken and the friends here tonight were consoling me in the way they knew how. I knew I’d be a depressed wreck if I came back home.”

“That makes sense,” Sunghoon affirms for you. “I’m glad you met up with Jay while he was here, though. You got some kind of Christmas gift from home.”

“Me too. I feel like Jay and I got closer because of it. I knew he could tell something was off but he didn’t say anything about it. Something tells me he knows more than he cares to say.”

“You know Jay.” You both nod. “More observant and caring than the rest of us. Part of me thinks Heeseung’s jealous of your new friendship with him since the two of you basically planned this whole trip on your own.”

“Well, Jay has more international travel experience and his dad knows the right people,” you say with a shrug. “I spent four years of my life here. It makes sense.”

“To us, yes. To Heeseung? I think his feelings cloud his judgment.”

“He never used to confuse me,” you admit. “We used to talk about how much we hated when people made us guess how they felt or what they were thinking. We always said it was unfair if you make people you love, make you guess their intentions. But he’s doing that to me and it’s been driving me insane.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I watched him date girls in high school. I watched him with what I thought would be his first serious girlfriend during our first year of college before he went through that short hookup phase. God, that hurt me so bad and I couldn’t say anything because it wasn’t my life.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it was brave of you to confess to him,” Sunghoon tells you. “I don’t say that as a cheap cop out to make you feel better either. You know me, I’m really sentimental about things even if I don’t come off that way. To confess your feelings to someone who you love…one can only hope to hear that someday.”

You nudge your shoulder with his. “You say that like you didn’t have girls begging for a date.”

Sunghoon laughs and you know what he means.

“You’ve always been the bravest of all of us,” he continues. “I think the reason why I wanted to be friends with you when we were kids is because you didn’t take bullshit from people. I was too shy to stand up for myself between my career as a figure skater while trying to be a normal kid. You and Heeseung offered that kind of normalcy. I could see you two in the bleachers at my competitions and then we’d go out for ice cream like it was any other day.”

“Well, now you’re going to make me cry.”

“I mean it, Y/N. You’re a great friend and a great person. I hope Heeseung hasn’t fucked things up too bad that you leave his life for good.”

You shiver. “Me too.”

“Talk to him,” Sunghoon advises. “Do it before we leave. You’re removed from your life back home.” You open your mouth to refute but he beats you to the chase. “If it doesn’t work out, then you’ll know your answer when you go home and you can resume your life without Heeseung in it.”

Sunghoon leaves you alone with your thoughts but makes you promise that you’ll join the group soon.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you walk back into the pub, Jake clouds your personal space before you can even think about ordering another drink.

“Jesus, Hoon. Couldn’t you have offered Y/N your jacket if you guys were gonna be out that long? Poor girl looks like she’s about to freeze to death.

Jake’s affinity for the dramatic never ceases. Your friends look at your goosebumps and the way you’re acclimating to the warmer temperature inside while Sunghoon merely rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you say. “We only came in because I started to get cold.”

“Let me get my jacket for you,” Heeseung says as he rises from his seat.

“No.” You’re sure you say it too abruptly, but you can’t bear the thought of wearing his clothes after the conversation you just had. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“Stop being stubborn and wear a damn jacket,” Leo chides, wrapping his coat around your shoulders. “You have this habit of never bringing one when you need it and it drives me crazy.”

“But that’s what I have you for, don’t I?”

As you tug the material closer to your body, Sunghoon watches as Heeseung stares at Leo with a hard expression.

“Not when you’re back in Seoul, you goof.” Leo takes your empty glass. “I’m glad you have these guys back at home. They seem really good for you.”

“I love them a lot.” You say it so tenderly with your head tilted as you look at the boys you’d call family, only for them to coo at your clearly vulnerable, inebriated state.

“My mother, my older sister, and best friend,” Riki says with a hiccup as he engulfs you in a hug. “Seriously, I would be dead in a ditch without you.”

“I don’t know a better person,” Sunoo chimes in from where he’s seated.

“There was one time where Y/N had this lemon phase where she couldn’t stop drinking lemonade or eating lemon candy,” Jake tells the group. “Now I think of her every time I see something yellow.”

“That’s kind of fitting though, isn’t it?” Leo asks. “Yellow for sunshine.”

Everybody agrees and it makes your cheeks and neck warm up. You hide yourself in Leo’s jacket, but God, Heeseung wishes he could hide you in his arms instead.

Still, he can’t help but agree with Leo. If there’s any truth to his words, it’s that you are made of pure, unfiltered sunshine.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, all eight of you board the train for a two-hour ride to Paris. For the next five days, you’ll be acting as a tourist rather than tour guide, for the most part. Jay volunteers to take the lead since you did most of the heavy lifting in London. You do, however, chime in to give him a few recommendations from your prior visits to the city.

Sunghoon’s advice plagues your thoughts, so much so that Jungwon has had to guide you out of the hotel and into the cab before arriving at the train station. Both he and Sunoo look a bit worried about you, but you wave them off and tell them you had one too many to drink. You know they don’t believe you but you’re grateful they don’t press on.

Paris is much more beautiful than you remember it, and it’s likely due to the fact that you’re here on vacation, not because you wanted a weekend getaway to escape the stress of midterms and exams. The people are just as indifferent as ever. You’re able to practice some of your basic French to order coffee and pastries for everyone. It’s a feat that leaves Heeseung impressed and you try not to acknowledge him when you see his jaw drop.

The hotel itself is more beautiful than the last. You have the room with the balcony and double doors leading to a breathtaking view of the buildings and streets below. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, even if the streets are littered with trash and the people are a bit too loud. It still feels charming.

The rooming situation is the same as London, with you in the single room and the rest of the boys to fend for themselves. This time, Jungwon, Jay, and Sunghoon are sharing the three bedroom with Heeseung and Jake sharing another, and Sunoo and Riki in the other double. The hotel must’ve miscalculated the rooming situation and put your single room at the end of the hallway away from the others, but you aren’t complaining.

The first few days are filled with happiness and dread, namely when you see Heeseung as you begin your day. He has a knack for making you laugh until you come to the notion that you really shouldn’t be finding his jokes very funny because he doesn’t deserve that kind of reaction from you.

In fact, he doesn’t deserve your attention after ignoring you for as long as he has. Seeing Leo again brought up memories of crying in his flat with Elizabeth and drinking too much wine to forget the pain temporarily. Your friends invited you to a night spent in the pub after Leo begged his brother to close it for the night so that you could have a free space to drink and talk about Heeseung until your voice gave out.

Your irritation carries over and Heeseung can tell when you move away from him when he tries to stand next to you. He’s hurt but he tries to understand that you have a right to be, even if he knows in his heart the reasons why he acted the way he did. He just needs to find time to talk to you, even if the conversation doesn’t end the way he hopes it will.

With two days left on the trip, you’ve eaten your way through the streets of Paris and have done your fair share of shopping. Each of the boys had bought you a small token of their appreciation (Heeseung paid for your latte, Jay purchased a small wallet from Prada, Jake gifted you new sunglasses, Sunghoon a charm for your bracelet, Sunoo a bowl of pasta for lunch, Jungwon a pair of earrings, and Riki a new jacket that looks similar to his from back home). It warms your heart to know you have people who care about you enough to show and tell you.

The Eiffel Tower calls your name one late afternoon and by the time you all manage to walk up, the sun is setting below the horizon. There are couples around Heeseung who are taking photos left and right, one of which asks him to take a few pictures for them. He can’t help but wish he was in their place, asking a stranger to take a photo of the two of you as he kisses the apple of your cheek. Heeseung snaps a few good ones before the couple thanks him.

It doesn’t help that you look like a walking goddess. Truth be told, Heeseung wanted to buy you more than just coffee when the boys agreed to each give you something as a token of their gratitude. Heeseung had come up with a list of ideas he wanted advice for, but it was Sunghoon who’d told him to keep it simple for your sake. He was right, as always, because you thanked him with a pleasant smile instead of ignoring him like you had in the days prior. Heeseung gets the feeling that you wouldn’t appreciate a grand gesture from him right now.

He hates that he can’t read you like he used to. He hates that the other friends know you better than he does, and he hates that he’s in the City of Love and he can’t call you his girlfriend.

Riki and Jungwon are more perceptive than they let on. Heeseung sees the way their eyes dart between the two of you and how they’ve been trying their best to navigate the new dynamic. Riki, especially, hadn’t been receptive of Seulgi the first time Heeseung invited her to a bonfire. Heeseung had overheard the younger boy telling Jungwon it wasn’t the same without you there and that he’d rather go home than spend another minute getting to know someone who wasn’t you.

At the time, Heeseung was beyond irritated and refused to speak to Riki for the rest of the night. Now, however, he understands why Riki acted the way he did.

You look so beautiful underneath a Parisian sunset. Heeseung knows he’s staring. He’s grateful that you’re too preoccupied with Sunghoon taking photos of you. But God, he wishes you’d laugh at him like that.

“You should talk to her,” Jake says from beside him. Heeseung jumps at his sudden appearance. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I want to.” Heeseung says it out loud for the first time. He wants to work it out with you and get his best friend back in whatever way you’ll allow. “I miss her, Jake. I miss being her friend and I fucked up when I rejected her.”

Heeseung doesn’t notice Jake’s eyes widen at the sudden admission. Jake had his fair share of theories and considered Heeseung to be his best friend, but even he knew there was a limit about what he was willing to share and what he kept to himself. Heeseung’s friendship with you was something he stopped trying to learn a few years after he got to know you; Heeseung had a soft spot for you and had no problem letting people know that. It wasn’t until you mentioned to Jake that you hadn’t spoken to Heeseung in months that he knew something was up.

“She clearly cares about you,” Jake says. “She wouldn’t be on this trip if she didn’t.”

“But she’s been ignoring me the past three days. And before you say it, yes, I know that she has a valid reason to, but I’m hurt and I want to make things better.”

“You have to let her take the reins and let her talk to you when she wants to,” Jake advises. “You know how she is. Y/N’s headstrong and she might not know how she feels right now, but she always knows what’s best for her. You’re good for her, Heeseung. Let her come to that conclusion on her own.”

Heeseung relinquishes his breath. “You’re right. I just…miss her. A lot. Things will never go back to the way they used to but I don’t think I want them to. I used to pray every night that I could somehow make everything like it was before that night but now I want more than that. She deserves better and I want to be better for her, not that coward who was too scared to try something new with the person he loves.”

His friend’s words bring a smile to Jake’s lips. “Well I, for one, believe in you. I think the rest of the guys do too.”

“I know,” Heeseung says softly with his eyes on you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

You can’t believe you leave Europe in two days as you sip your wine. Jay’s father was gracious enough to reach out to his friend at the hotel’s restaurant to negotiate having this meal compensated. It’s a gesture you hold onto and make a mental note to write a thoughtful note when you settle back in Korea. Jay sits next to you and partakes in the wine activities with you, namely picking out two different bottles to share with the table. Talking to Jay like this makes you feel otherworldly, like you’ve gotten more experience out of life since you chose to study abroad. You feel lucky, in a sense, that your life has given you more than you expected it too.

The younger boys head upstairs after dessert and bid you all a goodnight in case they don’t see you before falling asleep. For the next thirty minutes or so, it’s the five of you laughing away at the hotel bar like old times, reminiscing about embarrassing moments from high school or how difficult it was to hear Jake’s Korean when he first moved.

The Australian leaves as soon as he yawns. Sunghoon, a little too tipsy upon standing from the bar table, presses a gentle kiss to your head when he says goodnight to the rest of you. Jay gives your arm a reassuring squeeze and you understand for the first time that he always knew you better than he let on. He says goodnight and tells the bartender to charge his room whenever you two close the tab.

Now, you and Heeseung are sitting together, mere inches apart as the Parisian sky twinkles with stars above the two of you.

Neither of you know what to say. You fidget with the glass and contemplate on whether you should head up as well. Heeseung can sense your awkwardness and wish he hadn’t messed things up so badly that you can’t stand to be alone with him without thinking of an escape plan. He misses when the two of you could sit in complete silence and still feel comfortable around one another.

“Thank you for showing us around,” he speaks up before you can make the decision to leave. “I remember you talking about all of the places you showed us when you first moved here. I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Really?”

Heeseung nods. “I used to be so jealous that you got the opportunity to travel abroad every time you talked about it. But I think I like it better this way, with you as the tour guide.”

That brings a laugh out of you and Heeseung can’t help but smile. He doesn’t care if it’s the alcohol allowing your walls to come down. He’s grateful for the chance.

“I used to write down places I wanted to show you,” you confess. “There were so many places that reminded me of where we’d used to hang out as kids. It always felt like there was a part of you with me.”

His heart melts. “I wish I could’ve visited you while you were here. Your friends seem pretty cool.”

“They are.” Heeseung watches you smile. “They’ve been with me through a lot and helped me get over this fear of failing in a different country. My friend Suki, who now lives in Tokyo, was the first person to really get me out of my shell and convinced me to go out. Awkward Y/N? Going to clubs?”

“You know how to dance, though. I bet you killed it.”

“A little too much, perhaps. I didn’t date or hook up much, but there were a few times that I did.” Heeseung’s heart begins to sink as does his hope. This is not where he wanted to lead the conversation but his ears perk up at your next point. “But I wasn’t happy doing that so I stopped making out with random guys on the dance floor.”

“If only thirteen-year-old you could see you then,” he teases. You bump his shoulders with yours and he feels electricity running down his arm.

“I think I did a good job adjusting and learning. There were times where I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing with my life because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay in London or go back to Seoul. That burden felt too much.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back home.”

Your head whips to look at Heeseung, who can only sit and watch as your eyes begin to water.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I texted and called you?” you ask meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you see me when I came back?”

“I know.” He gulps. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry.”

You sniffle and Heeseung wants to cry too. “Everyone came to pick me up at the airport. I kept looking for you but you weren’t there. Jake had to pull me away from baggage claim because he said you weren’t coming but I didn’t listen. I told him he was wrong. You always come.”

Heeseung’s soul breaks with every crack in your voice and with the way your lips quiver. He sees your mascara beginning to smudge and resists the urge to wipe it away so that your eyes may look fresh and dry.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I have no excuse.”

“I wanted my best friend but you never showed up for me. You didn’t call or text me when you knew I was home and I had to wait until Riki’s bonfire to see you.”

“I was an idiot and stupid,” is the only answer Heeseung can come up with. “I used to be so scared of change. You left the country and I had to start thinking about what I wanted to do with my life but it was so hard without you in it.”

“Then why did you leave me?”

His heart shatters.

You’ve turned away from him in an attempt to walk back to your hotel room. However, Heeseung has learned his lesson. He doesn’t let you stray too far and gently tugs your wrist to pull you into his chest and is surprised when you don’t fight him off of you.

He doesn't care that your tears have stained his shirt or that you’re hiccupping into his clothes. All Heeseung wants to do is let you know he’s here for you now, despite his past mistakes and clouded judgment. Heeseung loves you for your bravery and vulnerability. He can only hope you understand that.

“Let’s go to your room, yeah? I can help you take your makeup off.”

Whether from the alcohol or your need to be near Heeseung, you let him guide you to the elevator. He digs in your purse for your room key and coaxes you to sit in the bathroom while he locks the door. This routine feels a bit familiar; in his youth, he learned how you like to take your makeup off and get ready for bed after a particularly rough night drinking. He could never understand why he hadn’t minded taking the extra step and to keep himself sober when you were in the vicinity, but he understands it now.

Heeseung meets you in the bathroom and washes his hands before putting your hair in a ponytail. He bites his lips when he sees your fresh tears and mutters another apology, forcing himself not to wipe away the tears with his fingers. Instead, he lets you blot them with a tissue before gathering makeup remover in his hands and gently smears it all over your skin.

“I didn’t like change,” he says after a quiet beat. “I was too cowardly to take what I wanted, even if the person I wanted said they wanted me too. I don’t know why I didn’t chase after you that night or why I thought you needed space before you left. I don’t have an explanation for any of it except to say that I was a coward who never wanted anything to change between us.”

Heeseung warms a wet cloth and wipes the balm away until he’s satisfied and moves on with your favorite cleanser, rubbing it between his hands until it foams.

“I think, deep down, I’ve always loved you more than I led on. I can’t think of any moment in my life where you weren’t there or times that I didn’t want you around. Even when we were in elementary school and everyone kept saying we would get cooties from each other, I wanted you with me.”

He lets you wash your face and applies the rest of your products on as you once taught him.

“I’ve always had this sense of pride when it came to being your friend. Everyone always talked about how cool you were because you always knew what to say and when to say it. I love that about you, you know. You have a way of making people feel like they’re really special. I don’t know why I was so afraid of that.

“I love who you are and what you believe in. You make the world a better place for everyone around you. How you treated me was a small fraction of why I love you. I love your passions and that you aren’t afraid to chase after them. I love that you stick with the same boba order even though you tell yourself you’ll try something new. I love that you hate the beach but go with us every time we ask. I love when you get a little drunk because you don’t fight me when I want to take care of you.”

Heeseung swallows. “But mostly, I just really love you.”

You open your eyes for the first time. Heeseung can only stare.

“You really hurt me.”

He glances down. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What hurt the most was knowing you weren’t going to be there as my best friend, Heeseung. I could handle your rejection. I could find a way to get over you. But I could never get over losing our friendship. I never wanted you out of my life because it’s better with you in it.”

“Please don’t get over me,” Heeseung croaks. His own eyes begin to swell and he forces a choked sob down his throat, aggressively wiping his eyes to rid himself of tears. He presses his forehead against yours. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. Heeseung swears he feels the blood rushing to his ears as he anticipates your response and he’s sure that even if what you say isn’t what he wants to hear, he’s happy to wear his feelings on his sleeve for once in his life.

“I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

Heeseung’s heart stops beating. He doesn’t kiss you even though he wants to. He doesn’t take your hand and pull you into him like his heart tells him to. Instead, he whispers a quiet thanks and is surprised when he hears you laugh.

“I can’t apologize enough. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do or say anything.”

“I know,” you whisper. Heeseung's hands are dangling awkwardly by his side. He feels like pushing his forehead against yours was too much. But your hands reach for him and you give him a squeeze.

Heeseung throws caution out of the window and envelopes you in a hug. He feels your body melt against his and can’t help but look at the way you’ve folded into his chest in the bathroom mirror, with your head in his neck and his cheek on the crown of your head. Heeseung missed holding you like this–with your bodies intertwined as if you were two soulmates who were forced apart upon creation.

He stroked your back with his hand and kept the other secured around your waist. Your soft breaths touch his skin and it feels like he’s got electricity running through his veins.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers again. “I will keep apologizing until you know the depth of my regret.”

The boy feels like he’s floating when you press a soft kiss to his exposed chest, mentally thanking Jake for forcing him to let loose and unbutton a few.

“You could start by staying with me until I fall asleep,” you say. “Like old times.”

He tries not to punch the air. “I can do that.”

Heeseung waits in the bathroom until you’ve changed into comfortable clothing. He isn’t surprised when he sees you in shorts and an oversized shirt. It’s reminiscent of what you used to wear when you’d sleep in the guest bedroom in his house or vice versa, but now that he’s acknowledged his feelings for you, he can’t help but coo at how cute and sleepy you look.

You tuck yourself in bed with the blankets to your chin and he completely melts to the floor. You pat the spot next to him and he sits on top of the blankets.

“Under the covers, silly.”

“I don’t want to rush it,” Heeseung says in a panic.

“We aren’t rushing. We’re two best friends who got each other back.”

Heeseung has never been more relieved. Though, he knows you’re a stickler for outside clothes in bed, so he makes the decision to take your key card and change.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says when he notices you rise from your spot on the bed. He holds two key cards to prove it and leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to change and then I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He comes back ten minutes later. It warms your heart at the sight of him and you feel the comfort in your body when he slides underneath the covers.

You surprise yourself when you move to lay your head on his chest with your arm around his body. Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind, though, and he pulls you closer to him like you’ve done it a million times before. The two of you have wanted this for too long to make it feel awkward.

“What did Jake say when you came into the room?” you ask.

“He was half asleep until I turned the light on but he asked me if we resolved things. I told him yes and then he asked if I was staying the night with you when he saw me leaving.”

“Am I right to assume he was more excited about having the room to himself?”

Heeseung laughs. “That you are.”

“Deep down, I think Jake knew we’d find our way. I think they all did.”

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers once more. You quiet him with a kiss to his cheek.

“I know, Hee. We can talk more tomorrow. For now, let’s sleep.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, Heeseung wakes up before you do and frowns when your body’s all the way on the other side of the bed. He leans over your sleeping frame and brushes strands of hair from your face, admiring how serene you look in your sleep. For a moment, Heeseung ponders if it’s too soon to wake you up the way he’d like to, but if last night was any indication about how you felt, he’d be willing to take the chance.

He leans down to kiss your forehead and both of your cheeks repeatedly until your eyes flutter open. Heeseung thinks he could listen to your laugh every morning with the way you wince at the sunlight and how his lips touch your skin. Still, your gaze finds its way to Heeseung’s and you can’t help but smile.

There was a brief moment before you fell asleep that you’d wondered if you’d been too quick to forgive him. But for as hurtful as the past year was, you can’t help but acknowledge the steps he took during the trip in an attempt to undo all of the contempt you had built for him. You owe it to yourself to be happy with Heeseung.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” Heeseung says with his morning voice that sounds a little too good for seven in the A.M. “Did you sleep well?”

“Slept like a baby. I feel like one too.”

“That’s because you are a baby,” Heeseung teases, kissing your cheeks and then the tip of your nose. “My baby.”

“I really want breakfast but I’m too lazy to get up from the bed.”

“We could always order in. I’ll pay.”

You shake your head. “I’ll be too tempted to stay in bed and it’s our last full day in Paris. Let’s just get ready and have breakfast at the hotel restaurant?”

The both of you are halfway done eating breakfast when the rest of your friends trickle in, joining your table and the ones next to you. It takes them a while to wake up, but it’s Sunghoon who speaks up first.

“I’m assuming you two talked?”

“And made up,” you say with a tilt of your head.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says proudly, sipping on his coffee.

“I’ll let that slide since we’re all friends,” Heeseung jokes. You laugh and, for the first time in a while, you don’t feel guilty about it.

“I had the whole room to myself, too. I woke up and didn’t have to fight anyone for the bathroom,” says Jake.

Riki nearly spits his juice out. “You guys slept together?”

“Not like that!” you’re quick to exclaim. “He just slept over. Slept. As in, we closed our eyes and actually slept.”

“Both of us knew we needed our beauty sleep before dealing with the six of you asking us questions,” Heeseung adds. “But for your information, we made up. We still have things to figure out, but we’re back to being friends.”

“Hopefully more than that,” Jungwon coughs behind his coffee. He merely smiles when Heeseung looks in his direction.

“I think you two should spend the rest of the day by yourselves,” Jay suggests. “We can either meet up for dinner or whenever we have to check out.”

“I second that,” Sunoo agrees. “You two clearly need to talk.”

“I wanted to go shopping with Y/N again,” Riki says with a frown. Jake presumably knocks his shin with Riki’s, who clears his throat. “But you two should totally hang out without us.”

“I think we might,” Heeseung says, holding his hand out for you to take. He stands from his seat and encourages you to stand as well, leading you away from the table. “Thanks for the breakfast, Jay!”

“I’m choosing to be the bigger person because Y/N’s been through enough,” Jay mutters when Heeseung is out of hearshot, making the table laugh.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

“You know, I think the reason why I had such a hard time reaching out was because we’d never gotten into something that serious before,” Heeseung admits. The gelato in your hand isn’t as good as you remember it, but it does the job to cool you down on a particularly warm afternoon.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when we were kids and how hard it was for me to talk to you about anything that was action movies or superheroes?”

“God, you and your Superman cape from fourth grade,” you snort. “You wore that thing to school everyday. Your dad had to wash it every night otherwise you’d refuse to go to sleep.” Heeseung shuts his eyes at the memory.

“You were the only person I felt comfortable pouring my heart out to, you know. You were always the first person I called when I needed someone to talk to, but then I was the reason why you got hurt…I think part of me didn’t know if I was allowed to reach out to you.

“It’s a stupid excuse, I know. But when I heard you were coming back to Seoul a few weeks before you did, I couldn’t help but think about how many times I could’ve texted you.”

“Yeah, you could’ve.” Heeseung merely nods at your agreement. “We’ve been through a lot over the years, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“I just wish I had come to this conclusion when it happened. I was so caught up in graduating and focusing on how I felt that I didn’t consider how you must’ve been dealing with all of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so selfish in my life.”

“I think the time you refused to let me be friends with Jake because you said you needed friends aside from me was your second most selfish moment.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Quit it. I was thirteen, okay?”

Neither of you particularly care to do any sightseeing today. It feels nice to walk side-by-side without the company of your other friends. The juxtaposition of how you felt towards the beginning of this trip compared to how relaxed you feel surprises you a tenfold, but you suppose that comes with genuine apologies and forgiveness.

You’re willing to admit Heeseung looks criminally good in black jeans and a striped button down. He wears his clothes so effortlessly yet still looks like he could’ve taken his wardrobe from a magazine. You’ve always found it a bit unfair that Heeseung always manages to look so cool without trying too hard.

“You’re staring,” he mutters, looking at you from the corner of his eye as the two of you walk down a cobblestone street.

“I’m not,” you lie. You turn your head to avoid his gaze, but Heeseung thinks he likes seeing you this shy. It’s new territory for him, one that he wants to explore.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Why did you forgive me so quickly?” Heeseung asks. “I appreciate it, I really do, but a big part of me feels like I don’t deserve that just yet.”

It takes you a while to answer. Why did you forgive him as fast as you did? For a week and a half, being in close quarters with Heeseung made you feel nothing but anxious and on edge, so why were you able to allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him?

“I’ve always held onto the idea that you’re a good person,” you begin. “I’ve always admired that you intend to care for the people you love and make them feel like they have a place in your life. You’ve always made me feel safe, like I could run to you when things got too hard.

“What you did was in poor taste, sure, but making bad decisions doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I know you, Hee. I know how you get when you’re faced with a difficult choice and how long it takes for you to come around. I was justifiably hurt but I think a part of me always knew you’d fix it somehow.”

“I wish I could feel deserving of that kind of forgiveness.”

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t feel like what I’m saying is true. I’ll admit that I shocked myself with how quickly I let my guard down with you…but you’re Heeseung. You've been my best friend since the first grade and you’re the boy I happen to have a really big crush on.”

Heeseung bites his lips at your confession, willing himself not to be too forward as to kiss you in the middle of the street. He sees your bravery and the way you’ve put your heart directly in the palm of his hand, acting out of vulnerability even though the both of you knew he hurt you once before.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, Heeseung grabs your hands and locks his fingers with yours, squeezing three times to tell you he loves you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon comes and goes with little to no plan. Heeseung’s a bit worried that he hasn’t heard anything from the boys and he’s rendered shocked that you’ve taken it upon yourself to let the day take you where it may instead of finding the next spot to visit.

As if on cue, Jay texts him with plans for the evening.

jjongcaprio: 20:00, Pétrelle. It’s a five minute walk from the hotel

jjongcaprio: I made reservations for you and Y/N tonight. Don’t worry about me and the boys, just take her out on a romantic date

jjongcaprio: The bill’s covered. The reservation’s under your name btw

heeseung: bro i cannot ask you to do this

jjongcaprio: You don’t have to. You and I both know Y/N deserves to be wined and dined

jjongcaprio: Plus I saw you looking at a few restaurants when we were on the train. I managed to pull some strings for you and got a last minute reservation for tonight

heeseung: thank you jay…i really don’t know what i’d do without you

jjongcaprio: It’s really not a problem, bro. Promise me that you’ll try to be happy with her. The guys and I are rooting for you two

“So,” Heeseung clears his throat as he looks up from his phone, “I think you and I should go out for dinner.”

“Where are you thinking of going? I can text the others and see if they’re done sightseeing, or whatever it is they’re doing.”

“I mean just us two.” He stands awkwardly when you’ve turned your attention to him, his feet planted on the sidewalk beneath him as if that’ll help steady his beating heart.

“Like a date?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “Like a date. I, Heeseung, am asking you out on a date. Tonight. At eight.”

“I, Y/N, would love to go on a date with you. At eight.”

The twinkle in your eye and your coy nature makes him feel like a teenager again. He leads you into the hotel and walks you to your door before stepping back as you step inside.

“We’ve got an hour and a half before we need to leave. I’ll come by and then we can walk together. The restaurant is only a five minute walk, so you can wear those new heels I know you feel guilty buying.”

“They’re really pretty though,” you rationalize.

Heeseung nods. “Gorgeous, actually. Maybe you’ll be as tall as me if you wear them.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Heeseung bites his bottom lip as you disappear behind the door, locking eyes with you until you’re completely out of sight. Flirting with you like this is a completely new phenomenon for him. He’s only daydreamed about what you might say if he said something a little too suggestive or how you might act if he dedicated a wink in your direction. Heeseung had never considered that he’d be the one flustered, cheeks reddening to the point where he starts to feel shy.

His nerves are endless as he picks out an outfit for tonight. Heeseung sends a quick text to his parents, who had pressured him into bringing nice clothes for a fancy dinner, and spends a few minutes updating them on the events of the past few days. His mother is pleased, to put it lightly, and sends a handful of emoticons to display her happiness. His father tells him words of encouragement before making Heeseung promise to bring you for dinner as his girlfriend, not just his best friend.

With the last touch of his cologne, Heeseung looks at himself in the mirror and tries not to think too hard about how he looks. You’re Y/N, his best friend since he can remember, and you’ve seen him with snot dripping from his nose.

“I look fine,” he says to himself in the mirror. “Y/N will like the look because your mom picked it out and we know those two agree on everything. Absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Heeseung’s only regret is he doesn’t have a bouquet of flowers to present you with as he makes his way to your hotel room. He wipes his palms on his trousers and takes a deep breath before knocking on your door.

When it opens, he’s met with the sight of you in a short black dress that hugs your hips to accentuate your body. The dress itself is an elegant, spaghetti strap number with a flattering neckline paired with jewelry that makes your skin appear to be glowing. Your heels match well with the dress you’ve chosen, so much so that Heeseung’s jaw drops when his eyes rake over your body.

“Wow,” he mutters. “Just…wow.”

“I’m not used to you being speechless,” you say mildly, closing the door behind you.

“You look gorgeous,” he sputters. “I shouldn’t be seen with you tonight.”

“You’re dramatic, Hee.” You give him a once over and Heeseung thinks he wouldn’t mind you checking him out as you please. “You look handsome as ever.”

He beams at the compliment and holds his arm out for you.

“Shall we?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung knows the type of person you are and what you value, yet he still renders himself shocked when you allow him to take control of the evening. He knows you don’t need to have the expensive consequences that come with a first date or to be sipping the most luxurious wine to be happy, but Heeseung can’t help but feel like you deserve to feel as elegant as you look every once in a while.

The host leads the two of you to a table with the most gorgeous view of the Parisian scenery. The twinkling stars paired with the dimly lit restaurant adds a romantic touch to the evening. Heeseung mentally thanks Jay for preparing wine recommendations so neither of you have to think too much about it.

For a moment, he’s worried that he’s reached too far out of his depth. The fanciest thing Heeseung has ever done with you is eat ramen after prom in your best outfits because you both came to the conclusion that prom should be spent with someone you actually like. It’s funny in hindsight when he thinks about it now.

You look so beautiful like this, allowing yourself to be taken care of by him. Talking to you over the table feels like you’re back in Korea before all that transpired. The food is impeccable and Heeseung thanks his lucky stars that he and Jay got it right. You sing praises left and right.

Dinner ends much quicker than he’d like as the two of you finish dessert. The waiter tells him the bill has been taken care of and Heeseung sits in his seat awkwardly as you look out the window to see the view from outside. But he hears the live band in the background and sees a few older couples slow dancing from where he sits and makes up his mind.

“Do you want to dance?”

You pull your attention to him. For a moment, he thinks he’s asked the most absurd question known to man when he recalls all the times you refused to make a home on the dance floor until you’ve gotten at least four drinks in your system.

You surprise him.

“I’d love to, Hee.”

The room disappears when he leads you to the dance floor. He mimics the other dancers and takes the lead, swaying your bodies back and forth to the melody of the music. You smell of vanilla and cinnamon, a scent so distinctly you that it makes him grin like a man in love.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say against his neck. “I won’t lie when I say I feel like a princess.”

“That’s because you are a princess,” Heeseung says, kissing the top of your head. “You deserve to be treated like one.”

“I can’t believe you pulled this off so quickly. Don’t restaurants like these require reservations?”

He chuckles nervously. “About that…Jay helped me with the details. I was looking up restaurants to take you to if I got the chance before our trip ended. I guess he saw the list and chose the most romantic one out of the bunch.”

“I owe Jay a thank you.”

“We both do.”

“I feel lucky to have people in my life who care about me this much,” you say. “I’m so happy you’re back in my life.”

“I’m happy to be in it.” Heeseung squeezes your waist. “Deep down, it’s always been you that I’ve loved. There’s not a single person who makes me feel the way you do.”

“Yeah?”

You feel him nod. “I’ll say it until you believe me. I’ll even yell it in this restaurant right now.”

“Please don’t,” you laugh. “I believe you.”

The sound of the melody overtakes the conversation. You feel Heeseung’s steady heartbeat as he expertly moves your bodies together on the dance floor. When you close your eyes, you think of this moment and how badly you want to commit it to memory, no longer in anguish over the tribulations of the past year. It feels nice to let go of your worries, even better that you have Heeseung back.

“I really want to kiss you,” he murmurs under his breath. You pull your head back.

“Then you should kiss me.”

Heeseung wastes no time and pulls you into him, one arm around your waist and the other behind your neck. His mouth finds yours when he decides he loves the taste of red wine on your lips. It feels poetic to be kissing you for the first time as you’re both dressed to the nines in the middle of Paris. To him, kissing you feels like a breath of fresh air and the start of something new. For you, kissing him feels like coming home.

When he pulls back, you search for his eyes.

“Take me back to the hotel,” you whisper.

Heeseung feels his heart drop.

“I’m sorry. We can go back now.”

You grip the collar of his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt when he moves. It’s only then that Heeseung sees the want in your eyes and the pure lust that clouds your pupils.

“Take me back to the hotel.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

By the time your elevator reaches your floor, Heeseung’s dress shirt is completely unbuttoned with his toned chest exposed. You’re barely able to detach yourself from his mouth when he pushes you out of the contraption. Your hand reaches for his as you pull him towards your room, digging through your purse when you feel Heeseung’s lips on the back of your neck.

“You look sexy in my jacket,” he mumbles, pressing wet kisses to your skin.

“L-Let me find the key.”

“So sexy.” His hands slide up the side of your body until he grips your waist.

When the door opens, you pull Heeseung inside with you and lock it shut before pushing his dress shirt off of his body, exposing his muscular build and broad shoulders. You aren’t shy about hiding your lust, gazing all over his chest and abdomen as you feel your core drip with arousal.

“I like it when you look at me like that,” Heeseung says. He reaches for your hand and places it on his chest. You take the liberty to glide your nails down his abdomen, feeling the way he tenses underneath your touch.

“I’m really wet,” you say as you eye the tent that has grown in Heeseung’s pants.

“Are you?” he asks. “You won’t mind if I check?”

You shake your head and Heeseung takes that as a green light, his hands finding the soft fabric of your dress before pushing his hand underneath it. He whimpers when his fingers come in contact with your wet lips. It’s adorable, the way you push yourself against him to chase his lips while he fingers smear your wetness across the fabric of your panties.

“Bed,” you mumble against his lips.

He follows where you pull him, loving the way you take control when you push him onto the mattress. Heeseung distracts himself to catch his breath from the overwhelming sense of pleasure to realize that you’ve started to undo his belt buckle and take his hard cock out of his pants.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want your cock in my mouth,” you plead, looking him in the eye. “Please let me.”

You sit politely on your knees as you unbuckle Heeseung’s pants. His chest rises and falls in anticipation and he looks down at you to see that your mouth is watering at the sight of him.

He’s already fully hard; he has been since you started unbuttoning his shirt in the elevator. You spit directly onto the tip of his cock and he bites his lip at the sudden contact before watching as you swipe your hand up and down himself.

Heeseung doesn’t want to think about how you learned to do what you’re doing to him. He doesn’t want to think about the boys you’ve kissed or the people who got to see you like this before. What he does know, however, is he’s the only person from here on out who will see you on your knees if he can help it.

Your mouth envelopes the head and Heeseung emits a short grunt. The tension between you two begins to slowly dissipate as you fit more of his cock inside of your mouth. Your tongue expertly traces every ridge and vein as you push your throat down onto him, causing Heeseung to put his palms on the mattress and throw his head back.

You hum around him when he moans. He’s itching to put his hand behind your head but refuses the idea, letting you set your own pace. Heeseung watches as you switch your angle, sitting up to rest on your knees to push your head further down on him. He witnessed as you spread your legs, a choked moan coming from his throat in conjunction with a particular gag from your mouth.

There’s spit everywhere. It’s trailing down your lips and connecting to his cock when you pull yourself from his body. It’s seeping to his pants and he’s about to speak up when your motion attaches itself to his sensitive balls, licking at its warmth while your hand strokes him from atop.

“That’s it. Fuuuuck.”

He bucks his hips once and curses. Heeseung feels your mouth envelop one of his balls, the pressure of your mouth around it making him feel a kind of euphoria he didn’t know was possible. Your mouth moves to the other to give it the same treatment before retreating back to his cock. This time, your hand massages him from below as you suck on him.

When you look up at him and wink, he decides enough is enough.

“Baby,” Heeseung pants, attempting to push your head off of him. He thinks it’s so sexy that you’re turned on while giving him a blowjob. “Baby, please stop. I don’t wanna come yet.”

You oblige and take your mouth off of him with a popping sound. You sit back and Heeseung stares at you through drooping eyelids in pure shock and amazement at how you’ve managed to pull him to a near orgasm as quickly as you did.

“Come here,” he beckons with his fingers.

He attaches his mouth to yours and pushes his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring the warm, wet walls you have to offer. Heeseung decides that he loves the feeling of your tongue against his and lets you suck on the muscle.

You take your dress off to reveal sheer panties with nothing else on. Heeseung’s jaw drops at your beauty, but he also cannot believe how sexy his best friend’s body is. To him, you were sculpted from the hands of Aphrodite herself with great love and care. And it’s all for him.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, hovering over your body to press kisses to the valley of your chest. You let his hands roam and spread your legs to make room for him.

Heeseung’s head travels back to your chest and you watch as he envelops your right nipple in his mouth. “Your tits are just perfect.”

He makes a show out of it, hands cupping your breasts to massage them as his mouth works on you. He pushes your tits together and shoves his face between them, inhaling your scent while his tongue gathers whatever taste your body gives him. Heeseung moves to your left nipple and uses his tongue to flick the hardened bud over and over again until you’re arching your chest into his mouth.

He grinds himself into your core with his pants still loose around his legs. It brings a moan out of your throat and he swallows it whole with his lips pressed firmly against yours. The friction feels delicious with the fabric of your panties against the hardness of Heeseung’s cock. He grinds against you with the help of your hips rolling into his, your natural wetness coating his cock in your essence.

Heeseung moves his head to kiss your jawline, moving his mouth all over the expanse of your neck until he kisses right below your earlobe. You let out a particularly loud moan when he does, and Heeseung curses.

“Shit. Yeah baby, make those sounds for me. Let me hear your pretty moans.”

His mouth attacks the area again and you aren’t shy about it. Your hands tangle in his hair as he kisses your neck and grinds his cock against the wet panties, which have by now molded to the shape of your pussy.

Heeseung groans at the feeling of a particularly wet gush and lifts his hips enough to elicit a whimper out of your mouth. He experimentally lifts his hips again to align himself with you as he did before. The pressure must feel so good because your mouth hangs open with your eyes boring into his.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Does my baby feel good?” You can only nod and he doesn’t blame you. “That’s a good baby. Fuck, you’re so wet, it’s driving me crazy.”

Heeseung feels your legs wrap around him and the way your heel pushes his lower back into your core. He takes the hint and quickens his pace, wanting nothing more than to see you come for him.

“You gotta come for me now, pretty girl,” he coaxed. “You deserve to come. Won’t you do that for me?”

Heeseung is sure that he’s never seen or heard anything more erotic compared to the vision of watching you come. Your mouth opens with breathy moans as you focus on your pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut as if you’re trying to savor the moment in your mind.

“Atta girl,” Heeseung praises when your hips grind into his. He keeps himself still and lets your body take over.

You eventually come down and realize Heeseung has yet to come, but that’s the last thing on his mind. He sinks his body down to come face-to-face with your crotch and licks the come off of the soiled fabric of your panties. The sheerness gives him a sneak peek at your pussy, and he groans when he licks a slow, fat strip up your slit.

“You taste so fucking delicious, baby.” He licks at you again, faster this time. “Tastes like milk and honey.”

Heeseung kisses your wet panties over and over again, his soft lips providing jolts of pleasure. His hands roam around the soft flesh of your thighs and squeezes them as if he remembers you’re all his to touch. The feeling is one you want to commit to memory, but it seems like Heeseung knows your mind is working overtime because he reaches his hand to find yours and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

You let his hand go when he pulls it from you to slide the useless barrier down your legs and to undo the straps of your heels. He takes great care to kiss your skin tenderly, starting by your ankle and making his way down just shy of where you need him the most. Heeseung repeats the process on the other leg until he comes face to face with your glistening core, licking his lips as if he doesn’t know where to start.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says before placing a soft kiss to your clit.

He repeats the motion, kissing your folds like they’re delicate antiquities that need to be handled with the utmost care. His lips become covered with your essence; he feels you squirm underneath him and uses the expanse of his palms to gently pry your legs open for him, soothing the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Heeseung tentatively licks your slit and decides he loves the sound of your moans when he has his mouth on you. He does it again, dragging his tongue to feel every ridge and crevice that he’s yet to explore. His mouth feels like a warm comfort with the slow pace he sets, licking you as if he’s trying to tell you how much he loves you without saying it.

“You taste divine.”

You look down below to see his hair covering his eyes and brush it away with your hands. Heeseung looks right into your soul and you feel your heart clench, causing you to roll your hips into his face. He merely buries his nose close to you until he bumps your clit with the tip, pushing his wet muscle into you deeper.

When your moans get lighter and your breathy sounds are the only audible thing in the room aside from his own moans. You open your eyes to see Heeseung humping the mattress below you. The sight is so erotic that you can’t help but let out a loud whine at the thought of Heeseung pleasuring himself while pleasuring you.

He brings his fingers to your pussy and sways his fingers back and forth until he foregoes his slow pace, favoring a faster one. He abuses your swollen clit while you can only lay there and watch him play with you. Heeseung expertly inserts his middle finger into your seeping hole and bites his lip to concentrate on getting you to come again.

“I need it,” he confesses, bringing his mouth to lick you as he adds another finger. “I need you to come for me again, baby. Can you do that for me?’

“Yes, Hee,” you pant. “I wanna come so badly.”

“You can do it, baby. You’ve been such a good girl tonight, giving me the best head and letting me make you come. I think you deserve to feel good.”

“I do,” you nod rapidly. “Fuck, I think I’m coming.”

“That’s right,” he coos, hammering his digits into you while his tongue laps up the juices leaking from your pussy. “So good. You taste so fucking good. Give it to me.”

He doesn't relent until he’s satisfied. Heeseung cleans the come from your lips as best he can while sneaking his hand to his cock, pumping himself as he tastes your orgasm on his tongue.

“You’ve crazy,” you mutter as you settle from your high, loving the feeling of Heeseung’s mouth tenderly licking you clean.

“For you.” He pulls his face away and wipes the back of his hand before pressing a kiss to your clit.

When he rises to take his pants and boxers off, he sees you with your arm covering your face.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Perfect, actually,” you sigh. You remove your arm to see him with his cock in his hands and motion him to come towards the edge of the bed as you crawl on your knees before sitting upright to pull him into a searing kiss.

“That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Heeseung says against your mouth. “It’s better than porn, if I’m being honest.”

You grab his cock and stroke him. “I’ll consider letting you take a video of me when we get back home if you fuck me right now.”

“Turn around,” he says after an open-mouthed kiss.

You follow his instructions and he groans to himself as you present your perfect pussy to him again. Heeseung sinks to his knees and smacks your ass before shoving his tongue into your hole. He spreads your asscheeks apart and digs his nose against you, licking up the wetness and remnants of your orgasm like it’s his last meal. His tongue licks up your body until he finds your wrinkled muscle and presses a soft kiss to your tightest hole.

The surprise comes to him when you moan softly. Your body doesn’t jerk away. Rather, you spread your legs further for him and Heeseung moans against your pussy before bringing his tongue to lick over the muscle again.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, dipping his tongue back in.

“Better than I imagined.”

“You imagined my tongue in your ass, baby?”

You nod. “I’ve always wanted to know what that feels like.”

Heeseung doesn’t give you a verbal answer. Instead, he spits into your hole and watches it dribble down to your pussy, licking his way from your incredibly wet folds to your hole once again. He licks over the expanse with the surface of his tongue one, twice, three times before you’re whining for his cock. He wastes no time tearing open the condom and hurriedly places it on himself.

The first stretch of his cock in your pussy makes him see Heaven. The sharp gasp that comes from your mouth is music to his ears and he’s careful to sink himself into you slowly, inch by inch until you’re telling him he can go further.

His cock impales you at such a perfect angle that it has you falling to your elbows, your back arched so perfectly that he’s sure you’d be the most popular pornstar if you really wanted to be. He keeps half of his cock in you to allow you to adjust, but he underestimates just how cock hungry you are because you back yourself until he’s filling you to the brim.

“Baby’s such a slut, isn’t she?” Heeseung wonders out loud. He grins when you nod. “I love you like that. So dirty for me.”

“Only for you,” you say, cheek pressed to the mattress when Heeseung thrusts in you.

The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. It doesn’t take long for your wet juices to glisten over the back of your thighs and onto Heeseung’s. His hands find purchase on your hips as he pulls your body close to him, loving the way your choked moans become muffled by the mattress below.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” he moans with detailed thrusts. “So. Fucking. Wet.”

He climbs on the bed and plants his feet on the blankets, holding your body in place as he pounds into you from above. The angle has you seeing stars and rips moan after moan from you.

Heeseung grins wickedly. “Such a fuckable body. So perfect.”

His degradation paired with praise ignites a fire inside of you. You can only moan louder to let Heeseung know exactly how he’s making you feel and you can’t help but think you deserved to be fucked exactly the way Heeseung is fucking you.

The pleasure feels like an explosion of a thousand suns. Your body is warm from the hours you’ve spent in the hotel room and your neighbors getting a good night’s sleep is the least of your concerns. Heeseung’s cock drills into you from above like he’s a sex god and it nearly brings you to tears.

He turns you over carefully until you’re laying flat on your back with your head propped against the pillows. He steals one from you and puts it underneath the small of your back to create leverage before lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing himself in again.

Heeseung thrusts like he’s got to prove just how in love with you he is. Your wanton moans fill the room with his low grunts as his cock continually hits the one spot that makes you see stars, over and over again.

But you know he could do more to make you feel better. He must notice you in deep thought because he slows his hips.

“What is it, baby?” Heeseung asks when he notices your eyebrows knit together. “Is this okay? Do you need me to stop so we can take a break?”

“Take it off,” you whisper. His hips have faltered and his pace stutters at your words.

“Take what off?”

“The condom.” Heeseung nearly chokes. “Take the condom off.”

“Baby—”

“I just wanna feel you.”

Heeseung curses and his hips automatically drill into yours at the request out of pure shock. He can’t lie to himself. He’s thought about it multiple times since you left for Europe and as he’s come to term with his feelings for you. The cute fantasies about taking you on dates to dinner or drive in theaters transform into daydreams about dirty affairs in his bedroom with his seed leaking out of your perfect hole.

Still, he doesn’t believe it.

“Please, Hee,” you plead, arching your chest towards him. “Let me feel you. Don’t you want to come inside me?”

“Fuck,” he falters, his forehead on yours. “You can’t just say that…I can’t be risky with you.”

“Yes you can.” He watches you bite your lip and feels your hands push him off of you. Heeseung doesn’t put up a fight when he slips out of your warm hole and feels your hands grip his cock, desperately trying to tug the condom off of him.

Heeseung sees the pathetic rubber in your hands when you bring it up for him to see. It’s glistening and his mouth drools at the sight, lips parting enough as if he stares at it in disbelief. He groans lowly in your ear as he peppers a few wet kisses to your neck.

You spread your legs wider in the air and grip his cock in your head, pumping him a few times before letting his bare tip rest against your hole. His sharp intake is enough to make you bite your lip.

“Pussy’s so wet,” he says against your neck, pushing an inch inside of you. “God, I could come like this.”

“You can.”

“No, baby. Gonna fuck you the way you deserve before I come.”

With that sentiment, Heeseung pushes himself inside of you until he’s fully sheathed within your walls. He relishes the way you gasp at the sudden movement and he uses this angle to his advantage, positioning his ear next to your mouth to hear your delicious sounds.

He moves his hips at such a pace that it makes you feel like your body’s bouncing on top of the soft mattress below you. Heeseung presses his chest against yours to kiss you like his life depends on it, tongue invading the privacy of your mouth but you couldn’t care less where his mouth goes. He can feel your nipples on his skin and groans into your mouth when you clench at a particularly hard thrust.

“S-So good,” you stutter against his mouth with a breathy moan. Heeseung feels your arm around his shoulders, scratching at his back. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mhm,” he coaxed. “Such a good baby. You look so pretty underneath me.”

With a new sense of purpose, Heeseung lifts himself to push himself into you at a deeper angle. He forces his hips into you harder, your hands coming to your chest to cup your tits to give you something to hold in the meantime.

“That’s right, beautiful. Squeeze your tits for me.”

You do, pinching and twisting your nipples until you hear Heeseung moan above you. It sounds nearly animalistic, the way his throat emits a groan that sounds so primal. He sees the dirty smile you paint your mouth with and leans his head down to press a kiss to your forehead before his hand comes to your cheeks, squeezing them between my fingers.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” Heeseung asks, hips rolling against your own pelvis. When you nod, he gives you a nasty smile of his own and gives you a few harsh thrusts for good measure before pulling himself off of your chest with his cock still inside of you.

Heeseung sits on his knees and pulls out just far enough where his hot tip remains buried inside of you, relishing in the panty breaths you emit as he watches your chest rise and fall. You look so beautiful to him with your hair messed up against the pillow beneath you and with a few faint hickeys on your chest and neck. Heeseung thinks that all of his wildest dreams could never compare to how gorgeous you look when you’re positioned directly where he wants you.

You don’t complain when he pulls out to rest his cock on your wet, bare pussy. You wince at the loss and let him slide himself up and down, biting your lip when he grazes your swollen clit over and over again.

The man above you lifts your right leg so that he can grip you tighter. You relinquish any control left in your body as Heeseung curses and kisses the side of your ankle. He dips the head of his cock inside and thrusts shallowly as if to tease, but you know he’s exploring all the way his cock looks like against your own body.

It feels euphoric. The whole affair is dirty, but it’s the kind of dirty that makes you want to do it again. It’s the kind of dirty that makes this night an event you’ll want to remember for the rest of your night because Heeseung had poured his entire heart and soul for you to take.

For Heeseung, this pleasure is less about knowing you have him permission to put himself inside you. You’ve always been so sure of yourself and your body; it’s something Heeseung has always admired about you as a person. Growing up with your insecurities of relationships and dating might’ve made you feel like a late bloomer; to Heeseung, your tendency to keep your head straight has always been a testament to how knowledgeable you are about yourself and about others. You save yourself for people who are worthy of you, and god, does he want to be worthy of you.

“I love you,” Heeseung whispers from above you. His eyes are closed and he pays no mind to the feeling your pussy gives him. Flashes of your memories stitch together like a film reel with your laughter as the soundtrack. He doesn’t think he wants to hear anything else for the rest of his life.

Just for good measure, he whispers it again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you.”

Heeseung opens his eyes to see your tender ones, cheeks flushed from the sudden compliment. He always liked that he knew how to get you to blush when no one else couldn’t. This time, a sense of pride blooms in his chest.

“I’ll never let you down,” he confesses. “And if I do, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“I know, baby.” Heeseung’s hand cups your cheek and caresses it. “I trust you.”

That’s enough for him to release your leg from his grip and pound himself into you like his life depends on bringing you to peak happiness.

Heeseung’s palms are planted firmly on either side of your body as his hips roll gracefully against yours, the hot, wet mess between the two of you splashing on both of your thighs. He watches your eyes close shut and as your back arches to relieve some of the pressure, feeling somewhat proud of himself when he watches as your hands grab at the sheets for stability.

There’s nothing that compares to watching you orgasm. Your eyebrows knit as if you’re concentrating while your mouth stands slightly ajar at the euphoric feeling of that single knot that’s threatening to come undone until it does. All of the girls he’s deluded into thinking he liked could never compare to the looks and sounds you’re making.

“That’s it,” he coaxes softly. “Cream my cock, baby. That’s a good girl.”

Heeseung feels you push and clench around him, gushing until there’s nowhere left for your come to go. He peeks down at where the two of you meet and groans when he sees his cock becoming painted in a sheer layer of white. It edges him on and the moment he locks his eyes with yours, his hips begin to stutter and he spills all he has to offer inside of you.

He comes with short breaths as if he can’t believe you’ve allowed him to do so. Your hips move up and down as if to milk him for all he’s worth while Heeseung’s trying his best to balance his body on top of yours, grateful that some of his gym workouts prevent him from completely collapsing on top of you to.

His come seeps from your bodies and he pulls out, a few droplets splattering on your pussy lips. He nudges the tip against it, smearing his paint across your canvas and marveling at the sight.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, eyes locked in at his handy work.

“I’ve never let anyone come inside of me,” you say with a fond expression. Your arm comes to brush Heeseung’s hair from his face before cradling his cheek when he looks at you in surprise.

“Really?”

You nod, biting your cheek. “Well, I always knew you were it for me. I didn’t want anyone else tainting what’s yours.”

“Mine?” he asks, catching his breath. “You mean it? You’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Hee.”

“All mine,” he mutters to himself in disbelief.

You still feel his cock working itself against you. He’s still hard, a wonder after your hours locked away in your hotel room. It makes you laugh.

“No one has ever compared to you either,” Heeseung says. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he continues toying with your pussy. “Even when I fooled myself into thinking I didn’t like you.”

You laugh. “Well that’s good to hear. I realized all the guys I went after while I was abroad either looked like you or reminded me of you.”

“I can confidently and stupidly say the same.”

Your laughs echo through the room. Heeseung pulls your body upright, not caring that your mixed come is leaking on his cock and his bare lap. He kisses you with tender care, lips moving at a slow pace while his hands roam over the expanse of your back while your hands are on his broad shoulders. Heeseung could live like this everyday if you’d let him.

You smile midway through when you feel his fully hardened cock against you. Heeseung apologizes quietly against your lips but feels you shake your head, pulling back to push him against the headboard until he’s comfortably seated.

He looks at your pussy when you hover above him, the white cream still sticking to you as you grip his cock. Heeseung can’t believe his eyes when he understands what you’re about to do. Before he can even think, you align yourself with his cock and sink until you’re stuffed with him.

“Shit,” he curses through his teeth.

“What good is coming inside of me if you don’t do it again and again, Hee?”

“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You don’t move just yet, opting to press small kisses to Heeseung’s face. You kiss his forehead, both temples, his nose, both eyelids, and the apples of his cheeks before placing a kiss to his lips.

“Before we leave, I want you to fuck me against that window,” you say, turning your head to the window that glimpses the city below.

“But people can see,” is Heeseung’s first comment.

“So?”

He chokes and when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, you can’t help but laugh at him.

“I’ve heard talk about your escapades, Lee. Why so shy with me?”

He smacks your asscheek. “Naughty girl. Didn’t know you were nasty like that.” Heeseung gives you that kind of teasing smile that has you folding for him all over again. “Alright then, humor me. What else do you want to do before we leave?”

“I’d love to give you a blowjob while we shower, too.”

“That can certainly be arranged. Anything else?”

You look around the room. “I kind of want to see you eat me out while I sit on the desk chair. Makes me think you’re some kind of secretary who’s desperate for my pussy.”

“I am desperate for your pussy,” Heeseung reminds you. “What if I’m the stone cold CEO and you’re the cute secretary whose ass I dream about?”

You swat his chest. “This is my fantasy. You can have yours when we get home.”

Heeseung raises his eyebrow. “Mm, you sure?”

“Positively,” you nod. Heeseung’s hands travel from your ass to your hips and guides you up and down his cock, letting you set the pace after the brutal first round from a few minutes prior.

“Gonna fuck you in and on my car, since you like being watched so much,” Heeseung teases. His words seem to make your pussy clench and hips move faster. He forgoes any shyness when speaking about his fantasies and spills his every thought.

“I always thought you looked so cute in your old school uniform. I’ve always wanted to take you in that skirt they gave you.”

“I’ll buy one of those sexy schoolgirl costumes and surprise you for your birthday,” you say, locking your eyes with him. “Oh, professor! Is there anything I can do to raise my grade?”

Heeseung laughs at your antics, but the images of you in the costume aforementioned makes his grip on your body tighter.

“I selfishly want to watch you suck me off while I play with the guys.” He says it in a way that makes him avert his gaze and you can see a faint blush on his face. “I-I saw this video on Twitter. It looks hot.”

“I can do that for you.” You kiss both of his burning cheeks.

“But mostly, I just want you to sit on my face. Mad at me? Sit on my face. Sad? Sit on my face. Happy to see me? Sit on my face.”

“Simp,” you grunt, thighs burning from pushing yourself on and off of Heeseung’s cock.

“And proud.” He smacks both ass cheeks again. “Now what do you say, baby? If you ride me until you come, you can blow me in the bathroom before I fuck you in front of the entirety of Paris. Can you do that for me?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, you meet Heeseung and the rest of the guys in the lobby while Jay checks out on behalf of all of you. Jake’s the first to see you coming.

“You’re glowing and I don’t know if I like that.” He raises his eyebrow at Heeseung, who has pulled you into him by your waist.

“At least some of us are getting laid,” you retort. “I don’t recall seeing anyone do the walk of shame even though you had the room to yourself.”

Riki and Sunoo don’t try to contain their laughter as Jake’s cheeks turn a shade of pink. He rolls his eyes when you look at him, but shakes his head and punches your arm with your first.

“Nah, I’m really glad you two got that out of your system and worked it out.”

“You guys had major sexual tension,” Sunoo comments.

“Thank God Y/N’s room was at the end of the hall,” says Sunghoon. “I don’t know how their neighbors felt but I can sleep peacefully knowing I didn’t have to hear all of that.”

“Okay, enough,” Heeseung laughs. “We get it, we had a lot of sexual tension and now we’re fine.”

“So you guys are boyfriend-girlfriend?” Jungwon asks.

“Y/N is my girlfriend and I am her boyfriend.”

“I will key his car if he hurts you again,” Riki tells you, looking at Heeseung after he’s finished speaking. You detach yourself from his waist and bring your arms around Riki to give him a squeeze.

“Thanks, Riki.”

“Okay, we should call the cabs right now so we can get to the airport early,” Jay says from behind you.

“Jay is such a dad,” Jungwon whispers.

He pays no mind to Jungwon’s words, instead focusing on the way Heeseung pulls you into his chest. It warms his heart in ways he can’t explain.

“Congratulations, you two. Let’s go home.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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