#hi bestie here u go enjoy

[magicaldreamfox1]

Pete Hands Appreciation Post (for @kissporsche)

[kaeyachi]

gonna talk about kaveh thru the tags in case people dont wanna get spoiled

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.2k (10k+ including kofi/patreon exclusive drabble)

a/n: the teaser for this got way more attention than i was expecting lol i hope u guys enjoy the final product!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better at the time.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

The position made it so that Jungkook was technically sitting behind you. Since you were on Mingyu's lap and sitting sideways on the couch, you were now being sandwiched by both boys. Jungkook still kept a small distance, making you have to turn around in Mingyu's hold to look at him.

While you probably embodied the image of a deer caught in headlights, Mingyu seemed completely relaxed, hands still comfortably on your waist.

"I was actually just catching Y/N up," said Mingyu, an overly cocky tone in his voice as his hands continued to feel up and down your waist.

"Oh? Without me?", chuckled Jungkook, leaning a bit closer.

"What the hell is happening?"

"How much did you tell her?", Jungkook ignored you, staring directly at Mingyu. His eyes would occasionally trail down to Mingyu's hands on your waist, a sour look overtaking his face.

It seemed like you had missed a few chapters in the friendship; there was some unspoken agreement between the two in which you were the main character. While it bothered you to think that they'd discussed you in private, the enigma of it all also excited you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the way in which Mingyu's entire demeanor had become possessive when you brought up dating. The reason didn't matter when you were already beginning to heat up.

"Just caught her up a little on the, uh, situation," said Mingyu with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, "Did you know she was thinking about dating?", he asked Jungkook, ignoring your presence while still having his hands on you.

Mingyu's hand had made it under your shirt by now, feeling the warm skin of your back.

"Oh? Since when?", he finally turned to you, scooting up a tiny bit more.

Due to his new proximity, you turned your head around, facing Mingyu again. That proved to be a mistake, as Mingyu was even closer to you. Jungkook also took advantage of this, braving a few more inches in closeness and letting his face come closer to your neck. He pushed your hair aside for better access, simply breathing against you as he awaited your answer.

Responding was the hardest thing in the world. Your mind was simply not working at the moment, the situation being far too intimate for you to fully function. On one side you had the huge hunk of a man that was Mingyu, warm hands against the bare skin of your back all while you sat on his leg. On the other, you had the gorgeous embodiment of a boyfriend that was Jungkook, whose fingers were now slowly running up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake while he nosed at your neck.

You had your two gorgeous best friends giving you the best type of attention all while your brain fizzled with your tipsiness.

"Answer him, baby," murmured Gyu.

"I- I just," you sighed when Jungkook began leaving feather-light kisses on your neck, "just thought about maybe getting b-back in the market? To meet someone and-"

"But you have us?", Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, seemingly unable to understand the platonic nature behind your friendship.

"That's what I said!", added Mingyu.

"But I want a boyfriend, n-not-"

"Boyfriend? Baby ...", Jungkook disconnected from you, grabbing your head to make you twist your neck in order to look at him, "That's just an upgrade. You want a boyfriend? We'll give you two. You don't need to be looking around for some loser," his eyes gradually lowered to your lips as he spoke, breath heavy against them.

"K-Kook, I-"

"Please say yes? Please just ... Let me show you? We can show you together. Right, Gyu?", he murmured, mere inches away from your mouth.

Before you knew it, you were nodding, far too desperate to voice your desire.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had thought of kissing Jungkook before. Being one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen before, it was hard at first to keep your relationship with him fully platonic, having had to beat down a small crush you had developed on him at an earlier age. His kiss, however, was not something you could've ever predicted.

Even with the awkward angle, and Mingyu's hands still on you, Jungkook gave you the dizziest of kisses. He knew how to get you hooked immediately, starting with a heavy kiss that had you chasing him the moment he pulled away. With a quiet and breathy laugh, he kissed you again, languid and wet in the way his tongue snuck between your lips, seamlessly making its way into your mouth to play with yours.

Shamelessly, you moaned against his lips, hands digging into Mingyu's shoulders as he continued to hold you. The slight awkwardness of making out with Jungkook while giving your back to Mingyu, yet still holding onto him, was present in your mind. However, Jungkook's sensual yet playful way of kissing you took up most of your attention.

But you knew Mingyu to be a whiny mess of a man at times, so you knew it wouldn't be long before he attempted to regain your attention. The evidence was in the way he felt you up all throughout, hands on your breasts as he pinched at your nipples through your shirt, groaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands. Occasionally, his hands would go down to your cunt, ghosting the place where you needed the most attention before making their way back up to your chest.

Pulling you away by the waist, you were forced to separate from Jungkook, eyes still closed as your lips chased his own. This time Jungkook's lips also attempted to regain possession over yours, with his tongue catching a few last nasty licks of your own.

"It's my turn," grumbled Mingyu, making you turn back to him, "You're on my lap but kiss him only? Baby, we're supposed to share you!", he pouted.

Giggling, you got even closer to him, cradling his head in your hands as you lightly pulled at his hair.

You turned to Jungkook one quick last time, "Kookie?"

His eyes lit up at your question, giving you a view of his round eyes as he gave you his full attention.

"Scoot closer, yeah? Put your hands around me," you encouraged him, humming in contentment when he went above and beyond and began to kiss your neck in the process.

Turning back to Mingyu, there was still an ever-so-present pout on his features, making you giggle again before finally kissing his lips.

Now, Mingyu's kiss was completely different from that of Jungkook's.

You had known Mingyu for as much time as you had Jungkook. He had a bit of a reputation when you had first met, being known as a guy who would occasionally sleep around with other idols, and sometimes staff. Now at 26, he had been retired from that era of his life for a while, but you'd be lying if you didn't say he always made you wonder. He always had all the girls swooning, instantly falling in love with his outgoing persona and his incomparable charisma. His looks also did not help matters. Being so handsome and likable, you occasionally fell victim to his charms, sometimes needing to snap yourself out of R rated thoughts you'd have about him on nights you were feeling particularly lonely.

His kiss felt exactly the way he looked. It was rich and insanely hot. Mingyu made love to your mouth, using his tongue in ways you didn't know a man could. He was domineering in the way he kissed you, with a firm hand on your jaw so he could position you in a way that allowed him to kiss you just the way he liked. And he liked it nasty. He liked it wet and filthy and in a way that made you sure you'd cum if he kissed you for a little too long.

You could barely catch up to the situation, having one gorgeous man fucking your mouth with his tongue while the other suckled at the most sensitive spots of your neck. In the meantime, your cunt was gushing with essence, already so extremely wet you were beginning to squirm in Mingyu's hold.

You attempted to pull away once, only to be enticed into kissing Mingyu again as he groaned against you, tongue seducing yours once more. You attempted to pull away twice, having his arms wrap tighter around you. The third time is when you finally succeeded, whining against Mingyu's mouth that you needed more. This caused yet another groan to come out of Mingyu, only to be echoed by Jungkook's own groan against your neck.

They both disconnected from you, looking to each other in a decisive manner, almost as if to formulate a game plan.

"I want her first," said Jungkook, slapping Mingyu's hands away from you and attempting to move you onto his lap.

Mingyu stopped him, holding you tighter against him as he rebutted, "You? She's already on my lap. I should have her first."

"Dude, I'm about to blow up. Just let me fuck her and then you can have her while I recover," be argued, hands fighting Mingyu's off of you.

"Why can't I choose?", you butt in, annoyed.

Their demeanors swiftly changed at your interruption, both pairs of hands now touching either your waist or thighs in an intimate yet caring manner.

"What do you want, pretty? My cock? Hmm?", asked Mingyu with a sweet voice in an attempt to convince you. Meanwhile, Jungkook wordlessly kissed at your neck again, nibbling at your ear and smirking at how you shuddered at the feeling.

"I-", you were already lightheaded again, "I wanna suck your dick, Gyu. Want Kookie to fuck me while I suck your dick," you murmured, hand holding Jungkook's head against your neck to keep his kisses coming.

Mingyu groaned at this, nodding absentmindedly. He began to shift, attempting to get up in order to get himself ready for you, but you stopped him.

"Undress me? Both of you?", you asked in the softest voice you could muster. You wanted both their hands on you at once, feeling your nude body for the first time. You knew their desire for you was already clouding their minds, so you wanted to do everything in your power to relish in every single touch, every look filled with lust they would give you.

Without another word, both boys got up, standing you up with them. Their hands were messy and uncoordinated as they got every garment off you, feeling you up in the process. Your breasts were groped and fondled multiple times in the process, while Jungkook pressed your ass up against him any chance he could, groaning at the slight stimulation.

Finally undressed, you decided to turn around once more, facing Jungkook as you kissed him with no warning. You smirked into his mouth when you felt Mingyu grab you from behind and press your ass up against him, grinding slowly against you. You knew it wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but you enjoyed knowing he was needy enough to use you in such a fruitless way just for a little stimulation.

Meanwhile, your hands went straight to Jungkook's oversized top, hands sneaking underneath to feel up his muscular form, hands harshly rubbing on his strong chest. It seemed Jungkook was overly sensitive to your touch. He whined needy breaths into your mouth as you felt him up. Taking off his shirt, you moaned as you saw the gorgeous figure of your best friend.

God, he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't wait until you saw the rest of his pretty body, sculpted by the endless hours of work you knew he always put into the gym. The endless hours in which you had accompanied him to said gym, always having to look away before you started to have inpure thoughts of your best friend.

He helped you in the removing of his pants and boxers, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your neck, he groaned against your skin, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after having wanted you for so long.

Behind you, you heard shuffling, assuming Mingyu to have been removing his own clothes as he waited for his turn of your attention to come. You felt badly at leaving him hanging for too long, knowing him to have an overly impatient disposition when he didn't receive attention for extended periods of time.

Playing with Jungkook's cock just for a little longer, you gave him one last kiss before turning around and trapping Mingyu in his own kiss. Unlike with Jungkook, you didn't linger long, opting instead to push him down the large conversation pit – thank god for Jungkook's insanely big mansion – located just a few steps away from the couch where it had all begun. This way you could have all the space you wanted to play with your friends.

Now lying down, Mingyu looked you up and down like you were his next prey, licking his lips at the sight and motioning at you to come sit on him despite knowing that you wanted something else.

"C'mon, baby. Ditch him. Don't you want me instead?," he leaned upwards to try and convince you of sitting on him.

It was hard to deny him with his cock staring up at you in such a challenging manner. He was equally as gorgeous as your other bestie, but in so many different ways. Mingyu was so big and thick and buff, he had you salivating at the mere sight of him. He was so toned yet so thick, and his dick matched perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had your eyes rolling back already. Did he really mean it when he said he'd be yours? That he and Jungkook would share you? The idea of a boyfriend sounded stupid in retrospect.

Despite all your better judgment telling you to jump Mingyu and let him impale you with his cock right then and there, you knew that starting off with Jungkook would give you a better buildup. You also knew that based on Jungkook's competitive personality, he'd become even whinier than Mingyu if you didn't let him take care of you first.

Fully determined, you turned back to Jungkook, who had been standing there in a trance, now having a better view of your body and keeping his eyes religiously glued to it. You grabbed onto him and walked yourself back to the large conversation pit, eyes glued to Jungkook's in a seductive manner as you guided him to the area in which Mingyu was already lying down. In only a few seconds, you let go of Jungkook and positioned yourself in front of Mingyu at an eye level with his cock while he sat up and looked down at you with a pained look in his eyes. In all fours, your back faced Jungkook, hinting at him to get behind you so that you could finally get back to business.

With a groan, Jungkook knelt behind you, needy hands feeling the curve of your back as he pushed you up against him. In the meantime, you began softly playing with Mingyu's cock, making him throw his head back at finally receiving some attention where he'd been craving it for so long.

"You're so pretty, fuck ... No one deserves you, baby. Too fucking pretty n perfect n fuck ... Can I fuck you now, pretty? Hmm? Let me have this pretty pussy while you suck off your bestie," rambled Jungkook from behind you, head lowered so he could kiss at your hips.

You whined and pushed up your ass against him, giving him the green light to do whatever he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

"Fuck, wait. Condom?", he asked, making Mingyu groan, as you were about to engulf him in your mouth but also halted your movements to tend to Jungkook's question.

"It's okay, Kookie. The company put me on some new birth control. You can fuck me raw," you smirked up at Mingyu, giggling at yet another groan of his.

"He gets you raw? Baby, I'm the one who started all this! How's that fair?", he huffed.

Taking a quick separation from Jungkook, you gestured for Mingyu to lean down so he could meet you halfway. With a wet kiss, you made your way to his ear and whispered against it.

"I'm saving you for last, baby. Gonna ride you til I cry ... Now be good and cum in my mouth?"

He groaned so loudly his entire body vibrated under you as you crawled your way back to your previous position. Jungkook simply laughed at the interaction.

Feeling you up once more, Jungkook finally grabbed onto his cock and lined himself up, groaning at the gushing wetness that coated his cock as he entered you. Your own moan was masked by Mingyu's cock, which you were currently working into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck ... It's so tight, baby ... It's so fuckin' warm n tight n so pretty, baby. Such a pretty cunt," babbled Jungkook, immediately pussydrunk.

Could he be blamed? He had wanted you for years. From the moment he met you, he cursed at himself for being so damn shy and initiating a friendship with you rather than showing you his interest. His members constantly teased him over it, even so many years into his crush. When he first found out Mingyu also had similar ideas in mind, he felt conflicted. But he ultimately grew close enough to the two of you to the point where he wouldn't mind sharing you with his bestest of friends.

Your muffled moans completely took him out of it, taking away any ability to think or speak. He simply chased after you with his hips, canting them against your own as you pushed back against him.

"Is it good, pretty? Like my cock?" he winced at the way you tightened any time he'd speak to you.

"So good, Kookie. So big ...," you pulled away from Mingyu to breathe before going back to licking and sucking at his tip, moaning against him as his eyes rolled back.

You were practically centipede in Jungkook's living room, with Mingyu lying on his back as you gagged on his cock and Jungkook pounding into you from behind. All your senses were overtaken by the mindless quest for pleasure you had all taken on.

"You're so good with your mouth, pretty ... Fuck, look so pretty stuffed of cock," Mingyu gasped, throwing his head back, "Like how he fucks you, baby? Just wait til I get to you ... Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so good ..."

You moaned against his cock, already thirsty for him even as Jungkook continued to ram into you. Pushing your ass back against him, you felt Jungkook's nails dig into the skin of your hips, adoring how malleable you were for him.

"Baby ... 'm gonna cum soon ... Feels so fucking good, pretty. You're so fucking g-good for me. Wanted you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea ..." murmured Jungkook as he entered his high, hips lacking any control in their movements.

Jungkook had always been the most sensible of the bunch, never holding back from expressing how strongly he felt for the people in his life. The pleasure must've been so much that it made him unfiltered in revealing the undeniable effect you had on him.

"W-where do I cum? Fuck, gonna fucking cum, it's so good, baby. Take it so good for me, shit ..."

You were too busy gagging on cock to respond right away, so you had to take a minute to pull away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while also holding yourself up with the other one.

"Inside? Cum inside, Kookie. I'll- I'll cum too," you were breathless, barely able to get the words out as a petulant Mingyu whined at you to help him finish, hands going behind your head and lightly encouraging you to get your mouth back on him.

"Inside? Fuck, okay, baby. Gonna fill you up, yeah?", he groaned, muttering to himself right afterwards, "Fucking finally ..."

His hips sped up drastically as his high approached, making you choke around Mingyu not just due to his girth, but due to the intense ramming against your ass. Though harsh and with an unmatchable energy, you continued to try and push your hips back toward his own, wanting to milk him dry as your own high invaded your senses.

His desperation for you made you feel so incredibly good, like you were the prettiest girl to ever exist. It made you arch your back a little deeper, take a little more of Gyu's cock, dig your nails a little harsher into the cushion of the conversation pit. You heightened all your actions just to feel him a little more.

And then it reached its crescendo. All while Jungkook whimpered and cried at how sensitive he felt at your tightening walls, Mingyu also found his own high. You were too distracted with your own orgasm to acknowledge him asking you for permission to cum in your mouth, instead suctioning more intensely to wordlessly give him an enthusiastic yes, please fill up my mouth with your cum.

By the time Mingyu filled up your mouth, Jungkook had already finished his high, now kneeling behind you as he peppered kisses all over your back and hips, whispering against you how good you had been for him and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of you. Fully drunk on the aftermath of his high, Jungkook loved on you like any lover would.

In the meantime, you attempted to swallow every bit of Mingyu's essence, moaning against his cock afterwards as you licked at every lone drop that made it out of your mouth.

By the end of it, you were all completely spent. Each of you dropped one by one, with Jungkook lying on his back as he caught his breath, you falling onto Mingyu, and Mingyu attempting to pull you up to climb his body so that he could kiss you again.

With the very little energy you had regained, you crawled up Mingyu's body, making out with him as he attempted to lick his way into your mouth in order to taste himself in your mouth. Kissing evolved into feeling each other up, which then became grinding your now sensitive pelvises against each other. Surprisingly, Mingyu was still half-hard, which gave you the perfect surface to grind your cunt into. He sat up, making you sit up with him before beginning to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

"Baby? Gonna ride me like you said, right? Just .. Fuck, want that pretty pussy, baby. It's my turn to have that tiny little cunt wrapped around me, yeah?", he murmured between kisses.

You gave in to him easily, gasping at every word that accompanied every kiss.

Nodding mindlessly, you almost forgot to think back to Jungkook, who was probably still recovering from his orgasm.

"W-what about Kookie?," you mumbled when Mingyu began positioning you above his cock.

"Don't worry about me, pretty. Just enjoying the view", you turned back to see Jungkook lying back on his elbows, one hand on his semi-flacid cock as he began to work himself up at the sight of you sitting on your best friend.

Well, that worked well enough for you.

"Now pay attention to me, princess. Been ignoring me all day today," Mingyu grabbed onto your chin to make you look at him, thumb softly rubbing at your chin as he tilted your head back.

You were insanely wet by now, not only from your orgasm but also from just Mingyu's mere presence. Knowing how intense and touchy Mingyu always was in PG scenarios, you couldn't help your eyes rolling back at the thought of him between the sheets. His heavy cock on your tongue had been enough of a taste to know how good it'd feel when finally inside you.

His strong hands lifted you up a bit, rescuing his dick from under you as he helped you position it under you, holding tightly onto your hips when you began to lower yourself down. You would've moaned and whined at the immense stretch, but Mingyu had different plans for your mouth. His thick fingers slipped into your mouth, making you gag a bit before you began sucking on them.

Too many things were on your mind, with all your senses being invaded by Mingyu – though also accompanied by Jungkook's low moans of pleasure behind you. Even as your body was bouncing against Mingyu's, attempting to match his thrusts, your head was completely empty of any thought. All you could think about was Mingyu, and his cock, and his fingers, and his pretty body, and and and-

"Feel good, princess? Love my cock, hmm? Tell me how much you like my cock, angel," he groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth, using the wet fingertips to tweak at your nipple as his mouth engulfed the opposite one.

"So much ... It's so big. Fuck, Gyu, you're s-so big ..."

Barely able to formulate words, you cried as Mingyu helped you bounce on him, occasionally opting to grind in a way that made your clit get the perfect stimulation. It all felt too good. Mingyu's gigantic hands on your body while his lips suckled on your tits as Jungkook groaned so prettily behind you. You were far too sensitive and alert to hold back from the life-altering orgasm that was to come. So, you voiced this concern to Mingyu.

His response came in the form of flipping you around and trapping you underneath him. His big hands held onto your waist, lifting you a bit so he could angle himself just right. Eyes rolling back and nails digging onto the bed, you lost yourself in him. Jungkook seemed to be completely lost to pleasure also. You could finally see him after Mingyu flipped you over, and fuck ... He looked so desperate, so depraved in the way he hammered into his cock, mouth permanently agape as he let out little praises to you.

"I need you to cum for me, okay, princess? Show Jungkook how good I make you feel. Need you to milk me dry, yeah? Can you do that for me?", he dumbly talked down at you with a tone that could only be seen as patronizing in any other context. But here, you loved it. You loved how dumbly he treated you. Because it was true. You could not think, you could not speak. Your senses were all gone and replaced by a constant stream of cock cock cock as Mingyu finally made you reach your orgasm.

Mingyu played with you through the entirety of your orgasm, rubbing at your clit with one hand while holding you with the other, his lips constantly attached to your tits.

"G-gyu, I- fuck! C-cumming! Please, I-" you had no idea what you were begging for as your orgasm completely took over, making you tighten around Mingyu as he mumbled into your chest, letting you know of his own impending high.

Despite having already had an equally fulfilling orgasm, this second one brought out a new sensitivity in you. Falling under Mingyu, you whimpered at the way he flipped you over again to lay on his chest, caressing your back and pressed you up against him, even more when Jungkook laid beside you and softly ran his hands through your hair.

The three of you laid there together, with you halfway laying on Mingyu while Jungkook laid on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you. Behind you, you could feel Jungkook's flacid member, meaning he had also reached a second high along with you and Mingyu. Lying there together, completely sober now, you eventually let sleep take over you, nuzzling into both boys in a satisfied manner.

A few days passed by since your encounter with the 97s. They were pretty eventful as far as your job went, attending a few photoshoots and practicing constantly for whatever new activity was coming up for your group. However, things between you and your friends had remained stagnant. You didn't think they had ghosted you or anything like that, but the timing of your busy schedules picking up right after breaking your platonic relationship did make you anxious.

When you'd woken up that next day, Mingyu was gone, having left one of the packs of ramen cooked and ready for you with a note attached detailing how much he enjoyed last night, saying he had wanted to stay and say goodbye but had a a schedule that had been calling for him. It was signed with his name and a little heart.

Jungkook had been half-awake already, having carried you to his bed when he had woken up, right after Mingyu's departure. You had wanted to talk about last night, but also had a schedule over at the company, so you left after cuddling with a sleepy Jungkook for a short while, not really discussing anything, yet sharing a sweet kiss as a goodbye for the day.

And so you hadn't really seen them since then. It was the unfortunate reality of idol life. That night had been the first in a few weeks in which you'd even been able to see each other. You were unsure when the next one would come, but you needed it to be soon. The remembrance of that night kept messing with your head, especially any time you'd see either of your friends in passing at the Hybe building, never being free long enough for a worthy interaction.

On the fourth night since the incident, you finally had more time off for yourself, hoping maybe they did too. Mingyu got ahead of you in that aspect, texting you the previous night, somehow aware of your time off, and asking you over. There was no deeper interpretation to be had in his message, as it was pretty straightforward. Nervous as to whether to expect a repeat of last time or a conversation about it, you let him know you'd be there.

Jungkook and Mingyu had always been closer to each other than to you. Going out together was always easier for them since no scandalous rumors would arise from it. They were also often in the same friend groups, knowing more male idols than you did due to the nature of the industry. It was easy for you to assume that they had already spoken about what had happened, even before it happened. Throughout the night, they kept referencing some type of agreement they'd had regarding you and dating. It was hard to assume, but you wondered if they meant sharing you – as strange as it sounded.

Your questions would only be answered tonight, leading you to some anxiety before finally arriving to Mingyu's.

~

"I missed you," were Mingyu's first words when he welcomed you, trapping you in a warm hug as he usually did. Hugging Mingyu was, in your opinion, one of your life's greatest privileges. He was so big and strong, it always felt like being completely engulfed in the safest of spaces.

His hug was followed by one of Jungkook's, less tight in nature but just as rewarding. He held onto your waist and nuzzled against you, always attempting to bury himself in whoever he held in his arms.

Quietly, they guided you to Mingyu's living room, slightly smaller than Jungkook's but still very much reminiscent of a millionaire's home.

You looked over to the coffee table, tilting your head in confusion at the presence of cans of diet soda rather than the usual alcohol Mingyu would always provide. Sensing your confusion, Mingyu chuckled.

"No alcohol today. Thought you might wanna talk about what happened," he sat down on the couch, patting the empty space next to him so you'd join him. Behind to you, Jungkook joined, sitting on a lone seat facing you and Mingyu. No matter where you looked, the two boys would be in front of you.

"We've been keeping you in the dark, huh?," pondered Jungkook, handing you a freshly opened can of soda, "Sorry about that. No easy way to tell your best friend you're into her."

Oh. He was going straight to the point.

"I like you, if that wasn't clear already," he let out a breathless chuckle, attempting to hold eye contact but failing.

He was much better at this when he was working his way into your pants.

"And so do I," interrupted Mingyu.

Wait.

"Are you-"

"We both like you."

"I- Have you talked about this?"

"Uh, it's come up, yeah," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't really know what to say ..."

"We just ... You had fun the other night, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was great," you took a breath, "but we're friends. Right?"

You weren't sure if you were being rational or not. Did you like Mingyu and Jungkook? Sure. But together? At the same time? You had never considered such type of relationship.

"We- we don't have to be just friends," added Jungkook, not much confidence in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again, "We like you, and we know that you like us back. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. That night would've gone very differently if you didn't."

You could've lied. You could've lied and left it off as an amazing one night stand with your two best friends. But the thought of never feeling what you felt that night ever again was not something you wanted to risk. It wasn't just about the pleasure. You had meant what you said that night; you wanted a stable relationship. You wanted someone to call a best friend, but be more than that. Someone to hold you at night. The three of you had always been glued by the hip, but you had never really thought of what it'd be like to take the next step – to have them be that person (or those people).

There were just too many questions in your head. Would this change your relationship negatively? Would they actually want to share you? Would this go anywhere?

You opted for answering Jungkook's question with another question.

"Are you okay with both of you liking me?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Mingyu ultimately answered.

"We've discussed it," he started, "When we first realized we both liked you, it did cause some tension. But the closer we got to you, the more we realized that we just wanted to be with you. Whether as friends or as more, we just wanted you."

You gulped at the confession, feeling your face heating up all of the sudden.

"I- I don't know what to say, I- I like you too. Both of you. I always thought that it was just as friends, but ... there'd be moments where I'd wonder. And after that night, I just-"

Jungkook leaned forwards, grabbing onto your hands. He smiled, ignoring most of your words and paying attention to what he cared about the most – you liked him.

"You like me back? Us? Do you- We could treat you so right. I- I've wanted you since we met. I've liked you for so long and ... Not just for sex. We could be more," his words were slightly frantic in nature, almost as if he wanted to sell something to you.

He didn't need any selling. You liked him. It became more and more glaring by the minute.

"Nothing has to change. We've been friends for this long. Just ... That guy you're looking for? To settle down with? That could be us," added Mingyu, placing a palm on your thigh for reassurance.

"What happens if I say yes?"

Mingyu's eyes grew dark.

"Do you want the PG version?"

You shook your head, mouth agape as you looked to Mingyu.

His face lit up as he leaned closer and closer to you, lips approaching the sensitive spots he had discovered on your neck just a few days ago. Stopping for just one moment, he looked to Jungkook to gesture he sit opposite of you, making you become sandwiched by both men yet again.

Now with both boys kissing down your neck, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch, attempting to fight the shudders escaping your body at the sensation.

"As our girlfriend ... we'd take you on dates," Mingyu sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, licking at it afterwards, "buy you pretty gifts, keep you warm at night," he took a pause, licking up the length of your neck, "take care of you every day."

Jungkook continued from where Mingyu left off, leaving soft whispers of kisses under your ear, "We share you. We take you home, cook for you, protect you," he nipped at your lobe, "We love you like no one else could ever imagine."

By now, you were gone. Through their whispered promises, their hands had decided to intrude your space yet again. Jungkook's had found a home between your legs, running up your skirt and gracing at your cunt, but only enough to have you puffing out breaths of desire. Mingyu's had migrated upwards, lowering the straps of your dress and liberating your breasts, hands needy as they pulled and tweaked at your nipples.

"What do you say, princess?", Mingyu pulled away, lips reaching your own, "Wanna have two boyfriends?", he pecked at your lips sensually.

"Mhmm ...", you nodded pathetically, not trusting your voice.

Jungkook groaned at your answer, hand finally slipping inside your panties, "Good girl ..."

"Fuck, gonna treat you so good, gorgeous," said Mingyu, continuing to kiss at your lips tongue seeking your own.

His lips trailed down to your breasts, sensually licking at your nipples, gradually giving them more and more attention. By the end of it, you were crying at the sensitivity.

Jungkook continued to play with your cunt, driving his fingers through your folds at a rhythmic pace that made your hips take a mind of their own, grinding upwards with a complete lack of coordination.

You were so focused on Jungkook's fingers that you didn't notice Mingyu making his way down your body, now kneeling between your legs as his lips made their way up your thighs, marking them to his heart's contentment.

"So fucking pretty ... Been wanting your pretty thighs around my head for years, princess ...", he mumbled to himself, nosing his way towards your cunt. When he finally arrived, he nudged Jungkook's finger's away, sticking his nose against your cunt as he took a shameless whiff of your scent, groaning gruttaly against you.

"So good ... Fuck, need this pretty cunt so bad. Can I have it, baby? Hmm? Let me have a taste of this pretty pussy?" he asked between depraved licks of your cunt through your panties.

Hiccuping back a sob, you nodded, opening your legs wider as you took a hold of Jungkook's hand for support.

Needing no further confirmation, Mingyu went straight into your cunt, ignoring the obstacle of your panties by pushing them aside. In the meantime, Jungkook's hand went to your chin, turning your whiny lips to his own and giving you a languid kiss. His tongue played with your own, taking advantage of your constant cries of pleasure to suck at your tongue and bite your lips as much as he desired.

Your hands went from holding onto Jungkook for support to his pants, undoing the drawstring as he continued to kiss you. With shaky hands, you snuck your hands in, pulling out his hardened cock as you began to jerk it in your hand. Now you were even; equally pathetic cries being released into each other's mouths as you both chased your highs.

Beneath you, you almost missed the way Mingyu's hips began humping against the couch, groans being released into your cunt due to the stimulation. You were far too distraed by kissing Jungkook, but Mingyu's eyes were rolled all the way back as his hips became uncontrollable, cumming in his boxers just moments before he licked you to completion.

Even as you came, Mingyu's lips didn't leave your cunt, just as yours stayed on Jungkook's. The room was a mess of wet sounds of tongues as Mingyu finally separated himself from you to take a breath.

"Prettiest fucking cunt," he mumbled to himself as he let himself lay on the floor of his living room in exhaustion.

"C-cum! 'm gonna cum ...", Jungkook managed to mumble against your lips, attempting to pull back but being enticed by your lips to continue kissing. Your hands sped up at his warning, warning his pretty seed to coat your hands as he reached his nirvana.

With a last groan, Jungkook froze against you while riding his high, hips pathetic in their movements against your hand. Bringing up your hand to your lips, you made a show of licking the remnants of cum, grinning when you beard a unison of groans from both boys.

Out of breath, Jungkook leaned against you, cuddling into you with a satisfied yet smile.

"So, was that a yes?"

Mingyu made his way to the couch again, taking up the last bit of personal space you had.

You chuckled.

"Yes. That was a yes."

to read short 2.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, oral (f receiving), jerking off, cucking, penetrative sex, reunion sex, etc.

wc: 296 (teaser); 2770 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Fuck, missed you so much. You have no idea," whispered Jungkook against your neck.

After having cornered you in one of Hybe's many endless hallways, Jungkook had grabbed you by the hand and led you to an empty changing room, pushing you up against the door and burying his face in your neck. It was mostly innocent, sans the feathery kisses down your neck. His hands were still in appropriate places.

"I was only gone for a month," you giggled against him.

"A month too long. Do you know how annoying Mingyu gets when you're not around? Jesus Christ," he groaned in mock annoyance, refusing to separate from your neck.

Breathing you in, he hummed, arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you.

"Where is he, by the way?"

"What, not enough attention from one of your boyfriends?", he softly bit at your neck in defiance, licking at the mark he left when you jumped in surprise.

"No! Just ... Missed seeing you two together."

After only a month of entering a romantic relationship, you were embarrassed to admit, but you had become quite needy, always wanting them around. This had led to a few problems within your company, which was blissfully unaware of your three-way relationship, but still had to deal with how much closer you had gotten – especially in public. There had been a few more rumors as of late, though none actually traced back to anything credible.

"He's at the gym. Should be here any minute, though, since he knows you're back."

"Hmm," you hummed, disconnecting him from your neck despite his complaints, "Wanna start without him?" you grinned.

With a boyish nod and a peak of his bunny teeth, the pretty boy agreed, dragging you over to one of the empty couches in the room.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[asahicore]

fast forward - pjs

pairing. jay x fem!reader

synopsis. After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy... and future husband, or so it seems.

genre+warnings. high school au, the type of e2l where they never really hated each other to begin with, they act like they're academic rivals even though they're not particularly academically gifted, jay has a thing about german the language, sunoo and kazuha besties, heeseung is a loser, jake and sunghoon are assholes sorry, ive liz is german, 02z get into a white-boy locker-room fight, attempts at banter etc, they're a little bit silly

word count. 26.6k

a/n. had the idea for this listening to fast forward by somi LAST SUMMER... and only wrote it this summer and only posting it now <3 i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it !!!!! jay is an absolute cutie here pls love him as much as i do.... as always let me know what u think and remember to vote for @zreamy president in the upcoming elections, shes the only one i trust to beta-read and hence to run a country <3 no it doesnt matter that shes scottish put this woman in the white house

There is only one thorn on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life.

Every morning, you wake up feeling refreshed from eight hours of restful sleep. You go downstairs to the kitchen, a boiling cup of milky Earl Grey tea already waiting for you, and eat breakfast with your brother Jinwoo and father. Your mom dashes in, placing a kiss on your and Jinwoo’s foreheads, and on your dad’s lips, saying she’s late for work but will see you in the evening. “Have fun at school,” she bids every morning without fail. Your dad teaches Korean Literature at your school, so the three of you drive there together. He watches amusedly as you and Jinwoo bicker light-heartedly on the way there—even in the pits of his puberty, you and your brother get along like two peas in a pod. He still tells you about everything he learns at school and fills you in on the drama in his class, up-to-date with everything even though he pretends not to be interested.

You’re always one of the first to arrive at school, so you scroll through your feed or finish up some homework as you wait for your classmates to file in. Your friends circle your table and you chat about the last episode of the show you’ve been watching until the bell rings and they leave you for their assigned seat.

Class starts with your teacher handing out the math tests you took last week. “Jay and Y/N, great job, keep it up,” he says as he walks past you and the boy in front of you, and hands you your paper. Relief floods your body as you take in the bright red 82 in the top right-hand corner—not the best of the class, but enough for you to be satisfied. 

Good friends, good grades—nothing extraordinary, but it’s a life you dare say any high school senior would want.

There’s just that one thing. The thorn in your side that won’t stop poking.

You glare at it as it whips around in its seat and takes a peek at the grade on your paper before you get to snatch it away from view. It only gives you three seconds to rejoice over your grade. 

“Aw, Y/N. Good effort! Maybe you’ll do better next time!” Jongseong coos, holding up his test for you to see and glare even harder at. 85. Not that big of a difference, but it makes you want to punch the faux sympathetic pout off of his face. 

You’re about to spit something just as petty back at him, but someone whispers your name, and you turn your head in their direction. Beside you, Jake is smiling at you as he asks what grade you got. Your attention is swiftly taken off of Jongseong, whom you don’t even notice dramatically rolling his eyes, huffing in annoyance, and turning around. 

“82,” you whisper back, holding up your paper for Jake to see. His friendly, absurdly handsome smile makes your ears burn. “You?”

The corners of his lips fall down into a sad pout—the kind that makes your heart melt rather than gets on your nerves like someone else. “68,” he says. Leans in over the gap between your tables. Your heart jumps uncontrollably around your rib cage. “Do you wanna go over it together during the break? I think I need some help.”

One-on-one time with Jake Sim? You don’t need to be asked twice. You nod silently, almost mesmerized by Jake as his grin widens. He leans back in his chair. “Perfect. I’ll see you in the library, then.”

“Library, yeah,” you echo dumbly, but thankfully, your teacher tells you to all quiet down and starts the lesson. 

You’re antsy all throughout the rest of your morning classes and lunch break, so nervous that you barely manage to finish your yogurt. Of course, your friends, Sunoo and Kazuha, have a field day with this, and even you can’t help but laugh along as they jump between reassuring you that it’ll be fine, slapping your shoulders with excitement and making fun of your uncharacteristic quietness.

Jake arrives at the library five minutes after you, looking around the room before he finds you at the big round table in the back of the library. Your brain is too riddled with anxiety for you to make more small talk than “Hey,” “Hey,” “How was your lunch?” “Good, yours?” “Good.” And so you just jump straight into it.

You’ve only had a couple minutes of quiet explanation on your part and heavy nodding on Jake’s when Jay appears at the entrance of the library. He spots you and Jake immediately, and without any hesitation whatsoever heads towards you and sits down at your table, right across from the two of you.

“Hey, Jay,” Jake greets in a friendly manner, but Jay only responds with a nod of his head.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he says when he notices you glaring. “I won’t bother you.”

As if he could be anything other than a bother, you think, but courteously keep to yourself. The childish rivalry you and Jongseong have got going on has no business spoiling a rare hour of alone time you get with Jake. As you go over the exercises he had the most trouble with on the test with you, your eyes often drift over to Jongseong as if to check on him—you’re cautious like he’s a spider in the corner of the room that might spring on you at any moment.

And indeed, the moment your gaze leaves him for more than a minute as you explain an intricate theorem to Jake, he’s out of sight, and panic shoots through you. Where the hell has he suddenly gone off to? you wonder, but not for long.

“There’s a much easier way to do this, really,” says a voice from behind you, and of course, it’s none other than Jongseong himself, quite literally butting his way into your tutoring session. Right between you and Jake, he bends over and rests his elbows on the table, taking Jake’s pencil from him and describing the theorem in a way that isn’t that much simpler. Your eyes shoot bullets into the side of his face while he, unbothered, explains this and that to Jake, who glances at you a couple of times but otherwise does not seem so perturbed by the sudden change of tutor. Either Jongseong doesn’t notice your glare or doesn’t care, because he doesn’t budge.

Just when they’re done with the exercise and you think you’ll get Jake to yourself again, another voice appears from behind, a much higher, girlier one. You notice the hand on Jake’s shoulder first, until slowly, your eyes drift to the face—you recognize Yunjin, head of the cheerleading squad, and she’s smiling at you, a smile that at once tries to cover and betrays her surprise at seeing you and Jake together. She doesn’t acknowledge you any more than that, gaze going back to “Jakey,” asking him if he wants to head to class together. You check the time—five minutes before the first bell rings. What do they need so much time getting to class for? It’s not like any room in this school is more than a three-minute walk away.

But Jake doesn’t even look back at you, just says “Sure!” with far too much enthusiasm for your taste as he packs his stuff. “Thanks, you two,” he says, looking at Jay first, then at you. You think his eyes linger on you for a second, but just like that, he’s gone, him and Yunjin walking side-by-side.

You watch them leave—they look good together, the cheerleading captain and the soccer team’s star. The white Vans she’s wearing have a bunch of red love hearts on them that look drawn on, and you think, Of course, Jake is the type to date someone cute, someone fun, someone who would draw on their shoes. Not someone like you, whose idea of a good Friday night is lighting up a scented candle and reading your favorite novel for the nth time. When they’ve left the library, you slump in your seat, crumpling the sheet of paper you had drawn a bunch of graphs and formulae on to make things clearer for Jake. Jay awkwardly clears his throat and finally returns to his seat, looking at you with his lips pressed in a tight line.

“Y/N?” he asks tentatively, and the sound is too much to bear, so you pack your things and head to your next class early, too. Your mind is racing with a million thoughts a minute—who is that girl to Jake, how come you’ve never seen them together before, how come he was so eager to leave with her, what was that smile she gave you about? In the fifty-five minutes of your biology class, which you uncharacteristically don’t pay any attention to, you’ve convinced yourself that they are crazy in love and that none of Jake’s actions or words towards you had ever meant anything, that you’d liked him so much you’d dreamt up the possibility of his liking you back, too.

Your next lesson starts—the smile Jake gives you as he walks into History is so bright, it dissipates any clouds hanging over your head. You do believe in male-female friendships, but despite yourself, you can’t help but think that anyone in a relationship wouldn’t give someone else such a perfect, warm smile. It just wouldn’t be right. And so, you reason with yourself that simply walking to a class together didn’t mean two people were a couple.

For an hour, you stare at the back of Jake’s head, and although you do eventually come to the more sensible conclusion that a smile may just be a smile, you also think it's unlikely that he and Yunjin would be a thing. If they were, why would they hide it? Jake is so nice, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d exaggerated his enthusiasm upon seeing her. You’re sure you still have your chances. He even says see you tomorrow when class is over and slips out of the room to go to soccer practice. 

You feel like you’re walking on cloud 9 as you head from History to your next class—but when you remember that the next class is German, your mood drops significantly. Because the universe has it out for you, you and Jay are two of just ten students in your year taking German as your second foreign language option, everyone else having gone for either French, Japanese or Spanish. Your reasoning for it is that your dad has had an obsession with Germany since his year abroad in Bavaria, and twelve-year-old you had wanted to make him happy. Eighteen-year-old you regrets it slightly, but at least now your dad is ecstatic every time you tell him in German that the dinner he made was really tasty. Why Jongseong decided to take it beats you—he’s probably just insane.

But because you don’t really know anyone else in the class, and because it’s your last period of the day, you have no friends to run off with once the lesson is over, and he gets to bother you all the way from the classroom door to the staff parking lot. 

You’ve barely finished bidding Auf Wiedersehen to your teacher and Jongseong is already harassing you. “So, I didn’t take you as the type to be into guys like Jake Sim.” He says Jake’s name with such disdain, like he thinks he’s so much better than him, or like he hates him. It confuses you just as much as it annoys you; Jongseong didn’t seem to have a problem with Jake earlier at the library.

“And that’s your business, because…?”

You don’t look at Jongseong, who’s quickened his pace to keep up with yours, but you can feel the smirk on his face. It’s insufferable. “Oh, it’s none of my business. I’m just surprised, is all. You guys are so… I don’t know, different.”

You scoff. “If you think I’m not good enough for someone like Jake, I’d rather you tell me straight up, Jongseong. Or actually,” you say, looking up at him with a dry smile. “Keep it to yourself and leave me alone.”

He looks offended by your words, and it only adds to your already immense annoyance—he’s the one who just insulted you, so why is he looking at you with those stupid furrowed eyebrows?

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“No, Y/N.” He grabs your wrist and makes you face him, your stomach flipping in surprise that you quickly cover up. When he releases you, you cross your arms over your chest and wait for him to speak, keeping your eyes trained on a spot behind him. “I don’t think he’s too good for you.” 

This makes you look at him. You have to admit, your curiosity is piqued. Not like Jongseong to say anything even vaguely in your favor. “He’s just…” He sighs, searches for the right word. “Well, he’s just a bit of a dick, isn’t he?”

You freeze for a second. You’re so taken aback, your scoff comes out more as a laugh—Park Jongseong, king supreme of all dicks at this school, just called Jake Sim a dick?

“I’m sorry?”

He sighs again, as though you’re the unreasonable one. “He’s so… smug. A wannabe class clown and thinks he’s the shit because he’s on the soccer team. Have you seen the way he swaggers around school?”

You look at him with fake sympathy. “Jong, are you jealous?”

“Pfft. No way. I just think it’s a shame you keep going after these dudes who are not even worth your time, or whatever, so yeah…” he says, voice trailing off and looking down at his feet as he speaks. Hands in pockets and blank expression on his face, you can tell he’s trying to look cool, but the way he’s avoiding your gaze is a dead give-away. Even his ears have turned red. Jongseong is having one of those shy moments he has when he’s trying to be nice to you. Clearly, a simple act of kindness towards you is so hard for him that it radically changes the way he behaves. 

Like when you were fifteen and you just couldn’t get this stupid art project right, so he stayed behind for three hours after school with you, helping you draw and paint and cut and glue. 

Like when you were sixteen and your grandma just passed away, making you miss a week of school, and without a word, barely looking at you, he gave you a stack of handwritten notes of all the lessons you missed. To this day, you’re not sure how he did it—you weren’t in the same class that year.

Like when you were seventeen and Park Sunghoon rejected you in the middle of a crowded hallway. You’d run off to the girls’ bathroom to cry it out, but Jongseong quickly found you and spent the entire period cursing Sunghoon out instead of being in English, like you were both meant to be. He was uncharacteristically nice to you for a few days after that, never starting an argument for no reason or interrupting you when you spoke. When you snapped at him, telling him it only made you feel worse that he treated you differently, he smiled and told you how stupid you looked when you cried. It made you laugh more than it should’ve.

Like now, when he suddenly decides that Jake Sim is also a wrong choice for you. “Him and Sunghoon are good friends, you know that?” he says. “Birds of a feather, and all…”

So you know that Jongseong is not all bad. He has his redeeming qualities. He can even be nice sometimes, when he so wishes. But those moments are so few and far between that when he returns to his usual insufferable self, you wonder if you’d dreamt it all up. Which is why you can’t quite take him seriously right now. You roll your eyes and resume walking towards the parking lot, but of course, he continues to follow you. “Why do you even care who I go after?”

“I don’t-”

“You clearly do, otherwise you wouldn’t be bothering me like this.”

“Well, if all your attention is taken up by that douche, who am I going to go up against?”

“That’s what you’re worried about? That I stop arguing with you?” you say, disbelief clear in your voice.

“I’m offended, Y/N,” he starts, his sarcastic tone making you roll your eyes again. “That our little rivalry matters so little to you.”

“We’re not even the top students of our class, for God’s sake, we’re not fighting over anything.”

“I’ve actually got the best grades in German, thanks very much.”

“Whatever. I wouldn’t call it a rivalry so much as a mutual dislike of each other, because one of us woke up one day and decided to start going against everything the other said.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

The exit to the parking lot now appears to you like the gates of heaven. You don’t even bother replying to him, thinking that he’ll just leave you alone now that you’re here. But as you step outside, he places himself in front of you and blocks your path, arms splayed out, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost.

“What are you-”

“Have you done the German homework for tomorrow?”

The sudden change of subject gives you whiplash. “What? No, Miss Schumacher assigned it just now-”

“Well, given your tendency for getting the word order all wrong, I can already tell you you’re not gonna have fun with it-”

You pinch the nose of your bridge, trying to calm yourself down before you lose what’s remaining of your mind. “Jongseong, were you actually dropped on the head as a baby? Go away. My dad’s gonna be here any second.” You try to walk around him, but he steps in front of you again. You peer up at him, undisguised annoyance in your eyes. Where are your dad and brother when you need them?

“I’m just saying, you’ll probably need help with it-”

“I won’t. And if I do, I’ll just use Google. Now get out of my way,” you say, and manage to duck under one of his arms.

Then you see it.

Well, actually, it takes you a second to understand what it is you’re seeing. At first, you think it’s one of those horny couples thinking they’re being really discreet by going to the staff parking lot to make out, when in reality they could be caught by any one at any time. They’re just far enough that when you do a double take, you realize that you do know the back of that head; that fluffy mop of brown hair. You sit behind it every History period, next to it every Maths and English period.

The girl is up against the wall, and you can’t really see her, what with her and Jake’s tongues being down each other’s throat and his body blocking her from your view, his hands on her hips, her arms around his shoulders. All the works. She’s wearing a cheerleader uniform, so she could be any of twenty girls—but you’re pretty sure only one of them wears a pair of white Vans with red love hearts on them.

Your heart sinks to your stomach.

You’re frozen in place when a whistle rings in the distance, and Jake and Yunjin separate, giggling to each other as they jog to wherever the sound came from. The sports field, probably. It’s Monday; the cheerleaders and the soccer team share the field for their practice. 

Jake spots you and Jongseong staring at them. He waves quickly, awkwardly at you, still smiling even when surprise coats his features. Yunjin tugs on his hand and just like that, they’re gone. 

“Y/N-” 

Jay’s voice fades in the background. You want to get away from this situation as quickly as possible—it’s embarrassing enough seeing the guy you like and thought you had a chance with kissing a girl that is arguably much more on his level than you are, but having Jongseong of all people not only witness it, but try to protect you from it, God knows why, makes it impossibly mortifying. You speed-walk to your dad’s car, huffing as you plop in your seat and slamming the door behind you. Your brother is already sitting in the passenger seat, and you don’t even argue with him about it. When you only give single-word replies to his questions, he shrugs and returns to playing Clash of Clans on his phone. 

The moment you get home, you fish a five cent coin from your purse, change into mud boots and grab your dog’s leash. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

After half-an-hour of trudging through leaves and soft ground, muddy from many a rainy November night, you and Pablo, your massive, fluffy airhead of a German Shepherd, find yourselves at the well in the middle of the forest. Ever since you were little, you have attributed magic powers to the well—not that anyone told you any sort of myth about it, but you remember reading a story about a magic well and decided that your well would be magical, too. You’ve never wanted to abuse its powers, so you’ve used your wishes conscientiously: things like getting a certain present at Christmas (when you were nine and the most important thing ever was getting the Monster High doll you wanted) or not stuttering during your presentation in class (when you really didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Park Sunghoon and his cool friends). Every wish you’ve made has come true. Whenever a faint voice of reason tells you that it’s because you always ask for very realistic things, you squash it and continue to believe in the well.

Because today, you’re not asking for something realistic. 

Today, you’re asking the well to show you the way to love.

You’ve grown up watching The Notebook and Pride & Prejudice. Your parents are high school sweethearts who are still, twenty-five years later, happily married. You devour romance novels and binge-watch Asian dramas, the more unrealistic and romantic, the better. You are convinced that soulmates exist, that love always finds a way, that it is there for anyone to see. That it can take form in a childhood friend, an archnemesis, a total stranger.  

But for some reason, it hasn’t shown itself to you yet, no matter how valiantly you’ve looked. 

You’re absolutely sick and tired of it. It is Jake kissing another girl, it’s Sunghoon leading you on for months and then rejecting you in front of everyone, it’s your ex-boyfriend-who-shall-not-be-named, your first love and first heartbreak, dumping you after a year and getting with the girl he had told you not to worry about a week later. At a party a few months later, he’d said, word for word, “At least I didn’t cheat on you.”

Coin lodged between your hands, you interlace your fingers and press your palms closely together, eyes screwed shut in desperation. “Hey,” you start simply, because you and the well are good friends. “It’s been a while since I’ve asked for anything, so I hope you can indulge me… This is gonna sound so cliché, but I’m really tired of getting fucked over by boys — excuse my French — and I just wanna meet the person who’s right for me, you know? Mom’s always reminding me that I’m only eighteen, and that I’ve got plenty of time to meet someone, but I just feel like if I don’t find someone now, I never will. And if I get fucked over again — sorry — I’ll just lose hope and write off men for the rest of my life. So help a girl out, will you? I’ll leave it to you how you wanna go about it, but… just show me that there’s someone out there. Please.”

When you open your eyes, you need a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. You toss the coin in the well. It doesn’t make a sound as it hits the bottom, as if it has been absorbed within the old brick walls. You know better than to question it—the well works in mysterious ways.

You’re quiet that entire evening, making up an excuse of a tiring day at school when your parents ask. Really, you’re just thinking about your wish, whether it’ll work, what might happen. You half-ass your homework—Jay was right, the German exercises throw you into a bout of despair, so you quickly close your textbook and bury yourself in your sheets, falling asleep hours earlier than you usually would.

--

For some reason, the first thing you notice when you wake up is that it’s still dark outside. It must be the middle of the night, you think. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re in a completely strange room.

Instead of your floral-patterned sheets, you find yourself covered by delicate silk sheets that your parents would never agree to buy you, no matter how adamantly you argued for the benefits of silk for your skin. If skincare experts online had convinced you of one thing, it was that silk would do wonders for your obstinate acne. You slide out of bed and find a pair of slippers on the floor, as if waiting for you. Even the pajamas you’re wearing are fancier, more grown up than the ones you have at home, a set composed of a pinstriped button-up and shorts. You look around, for some reason more surprised and curious than panicked. You could’ve been kidnapped, for all you know, but all you care about right now is this room. Rather than the pink and white walls that have surrounded you since childhood, covered with pictures of you and your friends, postcards of artwork bought at museums, and posters of your favorite movies, the walls here are beige and mostly bare, except for a painting of Japanese cherry blossoms above the bed and a family portrait on the opposite wall, above a wooden chest of drawers. 

The family portrait. A woman, a man, and what you can only assume are their children. They look like twins—two girls. Can’t be older than three years old. Out of the four faces, you recognize two of them. You recognize them far too well. One of them is yours, of course. You look slightly older, by a decade, maybe? You’re glad to know that you won’t fall off after twenty-five, like much of social media has led you to believe. 

The other face you recognize immediately, too, but it takes you a few seconds to truly believe it.

It belongs to none other than Park Jongseong.

A dry chuckle falls from your throat, as if someone has just made a very insulting joke at your expense and you have to pretend you find it funny. The well has a very odd sense of humor, you think. It’s probably just a prank, a magic-induced nightmare before the real thing. Except this already feels real, disorientingly so. The fabric on your skin, the picture, the room. It all feels too real, more tangible than any dream you’ve ever had.

You take a step closer towards the picture, as if looking at it harder will make Jongseong’s face fade into that of another man, the real man that will become your husband and father of your children. But alas, his features remain the same, frozen in time by the photographer’s camera. He, too, looks older—and not only does he not fall off after twenty-five, he becomes all the more handsome for it.

Is this how you find out that Jongseong was handsome all along? You stare at it until the familiar face becomes practically unrecognizable, like repeating a word so much it stops feeling like one. The straight nose, the almond-shaped eyes that seem to have softened overtime, whereas his jaw has remained as sharp as ever. Have his eyebrows always framed his face so perfectly? Has that dimple always been there? 

You look around again, and the bright numbers on the bedside alarm clock catches your attention. They read 9:57 p.m., but it’s the date that makes your stomach sink—today is still the 18th of November, but ten years later. You stare at the clock, at the unfamiliar number, a date so far into the future you can’t wrap your head around it. You could barely envision life after high school.

Downstairs, the sudden clang of pots and the sound of a tap running manage to rip your gaze away from the alarm clock. An overwhelming curiosity tells you to follow the noise. This is all a dream, so there are no consequences if you explore a bit more, right? 

You’ve never been in this house before, and you have no idea where your feet are taking you until you find yourself in the kitchen. It’s the only lit room in the house, and you’re creepily standing in the dark under a wide archway that connects the kitchen to what looks like the dining room. A man has his back to you, washing dishes and putting them out to dry on a rack next to the sink. He’s wearing a white cotton sweater, one that you feel you recognise without ever having seen before, and a brown apron is tied around his neck and waist. 

The first thing you think to yourself is Oh, his haircut hasn’t changed. In almost every class you share with him, Jongseong has made it a point to sit either next to you or right in front of you, so you’ve spent a lot of time glaring at the back of his head. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started developing two eye-shaped bald spots there. His hair is still short and spiky at the back and on the sides, longer on the top. When he lets it grow too long, it sometimes covers his eyes, and he obnoxiously keeps having to push it back like a heartthrob in an 80s movie. 

Something like a memory flashes through your mind, blurry like those images you aren’t sure came from a dream or from real life. Your surroundings are unclear, but Jay’s face is nestled against your neck, your hand in his hair. You can feel the softness of the close shave against your palm as clearly as if you were touching it right now. You ask him why he’s always kept it that way, and he replies that it’s simple to maintain. Then in classic Jay fashion, he adds, “And it makes me look awesome.”

Another memory, a clearer one, this time—this definitely happened. It’s halfway through sophomore year, a random Tuesday, and Jay walks in, holding his head high and looking smugly around himself. The bastard got a new haircut. Long gone, his messy, unorganized flop of black hair that looked like it didn’t know what it was doing; hello, sleek undercut. It accentuates all of his best features, which is terrible news for you. You had never even thought of Jongseong as someone having “best” features, but now they’re being thrown in your face. His nose. His jawline. His smile.

It ruins your day, and a few after that. You can’t quite put it into words when your friends ask what’s wrong at lunch—or rather, you don’t wanna face the humiliation of uttering something along the lines of “Park Jongseong looks good with his new haircut, and it’s bothering me.”

Here, it’s a familiar sight in an unfamiliar environment, the back of his head. Without really thinking, you take a step forward. Jongseong starts at the sound of your slippers against the marble floor tiles, but his face relaxes into a smile when he sees you.

“Oh, it’s just you, honey. I thought you were sleeping.”

Just you. As if the two of you being in the same kitchen is normal. You guess it must be, to this version of Jongseong. To him, you’re not the annoying girl he strives to best in every class—you’re honey. 

“I was,” you say, walking around the kitchen island to join him by the sink. Something in you needs to look at him, really look at him, maybe pinch yourself or pinch him to be sure you’re not going crazy. Maybe you caught wafts of some ancient algae that lives in the well and made you hallucinate?

“I left a plate out for you in case you woke up. Made your favorite. The girls weren’t so happy, seeing as it’s the third time this month,” he says with the special kind of smile reserved for parents talking about their children. The girls. A mention so casual, so obvious, your heart hurts. “But I think I got it really right this time,” he continues. “Honestly, it might even be better than the original.”

He goes back to washing the dishes and you watch the sponge in his hands as it scrubs away tomato sauce, the soap as it runs from the plates into the sink. A knot forms in your stomach, something like a deep sadness that overwhelms you all of a sudden, and tears form in your eyes, threatening to fall any second.

When you haven’t budged in almost a minute, Jongseong starts to say, in an intimate, almost worried voice, “Aren’t you going to eat, honey?” but when he sees your wet eyes, the tremble in your lower lip, he shuts the water immediately and dries his hands. With his thumbs, he wipes away the tears that have started falling from your eyes. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.

You can’t reconcile the man in front of you with the image you have of the boy that torments you in every class you share. You can’t reconcile the genuine concern in his voice with the snarky tone you’re met with every day. And yet, they respond to the same name, their features are identical, if not for the years that separate them, the stress of adulthood on one and the carefreeness of youth on the other. 

Your body reacts automatically to the soft touch—never in a million years would you let the Jongseong you know come near you like this, but here, nothing feels more natural than his hands on your face, your shoulders, your hair, as though they’re just as much his as they are yours. You realize the emotion in your stomach is not sadness—tears fall, but you’re not sad. You’ve never felt as home as you do now, and if one thing romantic novels have taught you, is that this must be love.

You look up at the man in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as you search his face for confirmation or some sort of an answer. There’s a tremble in your voice when you speak next. “I just… I think I love you, Jongseong.”

He chuckles. “Well, we established that a while ago, didn’t we? What with getting married and having kids. But I’m glad you still feel that way.”

The mention of marriage and children doesn’t faze you nearly as much as it should. You’ve only got one thing on your mind. “Do you love me too?”

You expect him to laugh—not out of cruelty, but because the answer is so obvious, it almost doesn’t deserve to be answered seriously. Like when your brother asks if he can have one more of your cookies and you tell him you’ll cut his hand off. Sometimes you think it’s easier to be sarcastic than be unabashedly nice to someone. Especially with Jongseong, whom you don’t expect kindness or patience from, you wait for him to stay something like, “No, that’s why I’ve stayed with you these eight years.” 

So when instead, he says, “More than anything on this Earth,” voice low and vulnerable, tears flow even harder. 

“Sorry, it’s probably just my period,” you say through sobs, although you have no idea where in her menstrual cycle this version of you is.

Jongseong chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You do get emotional around this time.” And you cry more, because you can’t believe someone other than your mother knows you so well that they know what your period symptoms are.

Rubbing soothing circles against your back and whispering soft words in your ear, he holds you for as long as you need to calm down. When you finally do, he tells you to go sit on the couch, that he’ll finish up the dishes then heat and bring your food for you. You think you’ve got your emotions under control, but the moment you bite the pasta, cooked to perfection with the most succulent tomato sauce you’ve ever had, sweet with a little kick of spice and a generous amount of parmesan cheese, tears start to fall again as if you had an endless stock of water behind your eyes.

“This is so good,” you mumble.

Jongseong smiles, his gaze full of affection miraculously directed at you as he tucks away strands of your hair so they don’t get in your eyes or in your food. “I’m glad, baby.”

You react to the nickname viscerally, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can even understand them. “You haven’t called me that in ages.” You widen your eyes at yourself, wondering how this was something you even knew. But when you look at Jongseong, all he does is smile more.

“You’re right, I haven’t. I guess I was reminded of college. You cried all the time back then. As much as it pained me, I can’t say I wasn’t happy to be the one you always came to for comfort.”

You haven’t been through college yet, so you should be unable to tell whether this truly happened or not—and yet, the memories of the body you’re in all confirm what Jongseong just said. But it feels impossible—going to university with him, letting yourself be vulnerable enough with him to not only cry in front of him but let him comfort you. Whatever could have happened in the years between the present you know and your time at university for things to change so drastically?

But before you can make sense of any of it, Jongseong speaks again. “Why? Do you like it when I call you baby?”

Your stomach flips. Heat rises to your face at his words, the tone with which he said them, the things he was alluding to—you know that having children means you’d popped your cherry at some point, that you’d had sex with Jongseong specifically, but to be confronted with the fact was something else. 

“Maybe,” you mumble, and proceed to stuff your mouth with pasta so that you can’t incriminate yourself further.

He puts on a recent movie, something you should arguably be paying attention to, since you’re literally getting a glimpse into the future of cinema—you could steal the idea, go back to your present and sell it for an outrageous price.

But Jongseong’s presence next to you makes it impossible to concentrate on anything but him. The warmth emanating from him, the scent of his perfume envelop you, give you a sense of just how real this all is—despite how comfortable being with him like this feels, you’re still not convinced you’re not just in an unsettlingly vivid dream. You take one of his hands in yours, examining each finger, turning his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm, smoothing your thumb over his nails—it’s an undeniably human hand. Warm against yours, slightly rough. He’s started using hand cream, you think, all these winters when his dry hands would crack because of the cold coming up to your mind, teenage Jongseong’s hard refusal to wear any sort of cream to protect himself. Memories bob up to the surface: fixing his cracked hands up with a plaster, your tear falling on his hand, the both of you in your school uniforms in what looks like the school infirmary; awkwardly gifting him some hand cream the Christmas of that year, not looking at him as you hand him the small package. Saying, “It’s a waste of plasters for something that could be fixed so easily.” Him treating you to warm, spicy tteokbokki because he felt bad for not having gotten you anything, even though this was the first time either of you had ever given the other one a present.

As your fingers trail up from his hand to his forearm, his shoulder, his jawline, more memories flood your mind. Clumsy first kisses; squabbles of the kind you were already used to; lazy mornings in bed; hours spent in your kitchen or his, before you shared one, cooking dinner together; the way you felt when he proposed, a feeling so intense remembering it is almost unbearable now. Your eyes and fingers examine his face in detail—even though you’ve seen him almost every day since the start of high school, this feels like the first time you really perceive him. The delicate bow of his lips, the strong nose, the softness in his eyes when he looks at you. Your heart beats uncontrollably as you hold each other’s gazes, but you feel inexplicably relaxed at the same time, two nearly opposing realities fighting each other inside of you—one in which you and Jongseong regarding each other with such affection is unthinkable, the other in which it is daily routine.

“Movie not to your taste?” he asks, voice gentle, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Hm?”

He nods towards the TV screen. “I see you’re not paying much attention.”

“No. I have… things on my mind.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly growing on his lips. “Yeah?” You think your heart might actually flatline when he brings you in closer to his chest, and, face buried in your hair, says, “You know, I’ve been thinking that the twins might want a younger sibling to play with soon enough…”

You’re not sure whether he actually wants a third child or if this is weird dirty talk that apparently turns parents on—all you know is that this is something future you will deal with, not high school senior you. 

You whip up your head at him, eyes wide in panic that he mirrors immediately. “Or—or not. Later. Later?” You nod fervently, and the worry dissipates from his handsome features. “Okay, later,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head before returning his attention to the movie. 

A couple hours later, you’re laying in bed in the dark together—you can tell Jongseong is falling asleep by the regularity of his breathing and his stillness, but you’re wide awake. You don’t know how you’ve managed to spend all this time with him, acting like the wife he knows and loves, without imploding. But suddenly, the idea of waking up in your childhood bed, surrounded by your pink-and-white walls, going downstairs to be greeted by your brother and parents, sends a wave of panic through you. You haven’t felt this comfortable in a long time—Jongseong’s arm draped over your waist, the fact that you could reach over and feel his skin against your palm if you wanted. You don’t want to go back to a time where you hate him. In fact, you don’t know if you could hate him after this.

“Jongseong?” you say softly, the syllables unfamiliar on your tongue, even though the name rings brusquely through your head for the best part of every day.

It takes a few seconds, but he reacts eventually. “Hm? Did you just call me Jongseong?” he murmurs sleepily, as if you’d just called him Robert or Christopher and not the name his own parents gave him.

“Yeah.”

He chuckles. “Now that’s something you haven’t called me in ages. Makes me feel like you’re mad at me,” he says, turning over and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and one of your hands comes up reflexively to feel the softness of his close shave.

“...Jong?” you try.

“That’s a step up, but not quite what I want,” he mumbles.

You’re silent for a few moments. “Honey,” you say tentatively, voice a mere whisper.

“That’s better.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Will you be here in the morning?”

“Mh-hm. It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

“No,” you say, feeling out of breath. “I mean, will you be here?”

You’re aware you’re not making much sense—and yet, Jongseong needs no further explanation. “Of course, baby,” he starts, voice soothing. “I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day afterwards. ‘Til death do us part, remember?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too,” you find yourself saying, and, more importantly, meaning. It’s the last thing either of you says before falling asleep.

--

Tears are streaming down your face when you wake up the next day. When you open your eyes, pink and white obnoxiously stare back at you. The clock reads 7:12, just three minutes before your alarm goes off, and unfortunately for high school you, the night hasn’t given in to Saturday morning—it’s Tuesday, and you have to go to school and act as if you hadn’t just had the weirdest, most realistic dream of your life. You don’t even get a weekend to shake this weird feeling in your stomach off, you’re going to have to face Park Jongseong full force. At least, this will become your friends’ favorite bit for the foreseeable future.

They’re already sitting in the classroom when you get there, animatedly chatting to each other. You plop down in your seat in front of them, and when they see the sullen look on your face, ask you what’s wrong.

“Did you wake up during the night to play Hay Day again?” Kazuha asks, eyebrows knotted with genuine worry.

“I’m not that person anymore,” you reply. “No, I just had a really weird dream. More like a nightmare, really. It feels like I didn’t get any sleep.”

“What was it about?” Sunoo asks.

Your eyes dart back-and-forth between the two of them as you brace yourself for their reactions. Not wanting anyone else to overhear, you lean in conspiratorially. They mirror you. “I was married to Park Jongseong,” you whisper. As expected, they burst into laughter immediately, and you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms in annoyance. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s very funny,” Kazuha retorts. “It’s ironic, even, considering how much you hate the guy.”

“Exactly!”

“But I guess even you know how ridiculous it is that you hate him, if your brain is able to imagine yourself being married to him,” Sunoo adds, shrugging. “It’s a good reminder that you’re literally the only person in this school with a vendetta against him.”

Kazuha nods energetically. “He picked up a pen for me, once. He’s a nice guy.”

You look around the room in panic. “Keep it down, will you?” you hush, despite the fact that no one is paying any attention to the three of you. You sigh, resolving yourself to telling them the entire truth. “But guys, I’m scared. I think this might be a sign.”

Their eyebrows perk up. “A sign that your hatred of him has actually been disguising a crush this entire time?” Sunoo asks, feigning innocence.

“No—what? Where did you get that idea?”

“Nowhere. Go on.”

“Whatever. Come here,” you say, gesturing for them to huddle again. “It’s the well.”

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’ve actually lost it,” Kazuha says, fascinated by your stupidity.

“I’m not going to tolerate any well slander, this is serious. I just wanted it to reassure me that there was someone out there for me. And then I had that stupid dream.”

Kazuha and Sunoo exchange a look like they’re parents trying to announce to their daughter that she’s adopted. “Y/N…” Sunoo starts.

“This is crazy. Like, love philters and writing Park Sunghoon’s name a hundred times are one thing, this is…”

“Crazy,” Sunoo said, nodding along. “This is crazy. There’s no other word for it. Your eighteen years of boyfriendlessness have finally caught up to you.”

“You guys don’t get it. What about that time I asked it to give me a good grade on our Literature exam and I literally came first out of our class? Or when I told it I missed Jung Hae-in and his military discharge announcement came the next day?” you say, aware that the look in your eyes is only confirming their suspicions—but you need someone to believe you, or at the very least understand you.

“One, you’re a good student. Two, that was pure coincidence,” Sunoo explains.

“But girl, if you want to marry Jay, that’s fine. You’ve got our blessing,” Kazuha says, shrugging.

“Yeah. He picked up her pen, once,” Sunoo adds.

“And you know, you guys clearly have some sort of chemistry.”

You scoff. “If you think that him refuting my every word and finding every opportunity to make fun of me, then yeah, I guess you could say we have chemistry.”

“You guys have banter,” Kazuha says as if it’s obvious.

“Oh, please. Banter is cute. I want to kill him every time he opens his mouth.”

Your friends both roll their eyes. “While I understand that most men are better off staying quiet—no offense, Sunoo—”

“None taken.”

“You have to admit Jay is not nearly as insufferable as you make him out to be,” Kazuha says.

“Are you kidding me? He’s always acting like a child. Rubbing it in my face when he gets a better grade, trying to start arguments for no reason, sucking up to teachers, stealing my erasers, for God’s sake, you’d think he’s twelve. I know that I’m not on the majority's side, but I seriously cannot understand how other people tolerate him at all.”

Sunoo sighs. “Because he’s nice to everyone. He never hesitates to help people, he’s even funny, sometimes, and—well, look at him.” He nods his head towards the door, and when you turn around, Jongseong is indeed walking in the classroom. “He’s not a bad-looking boy.”

“Gosh, Sunoo, maybe you should marry him,” Kazuha says, but since you laid your eyes on Jongseong, you’ve stopped listening.

You feel weird. You look at him, and you feel weird. It’s the same feeling you had during your sleep last night, a feeling that paralyzes you from head to toe, that starts in your stomach and spreads to your entire body, weighs you down in your chair. 

“Hey, guys,” he greets simply, and his voice wraps itself around your heart and squeezes. You can’t do anything but watch him as he takes his seat next to you, plopping his bag on the table and taking his notebook out. He looks at you, watches you watching him, then swivels around in his chair.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asks your friends.

“She had a dream that she m—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Zuha, if you want to live to see another day.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replies, a satisfied little smile on her lips.

Despite yourself, you’re still staring at Jongseong, trying to figure out what the hell these emotions are that are raging up a storm inside of you. Instead of ignoring you, he turns to face you, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm as he stares back at you, smirking. “What’s up, Y/N? Has it finally dawned on you how devastatingly handsome I am?” he asks, and you frown, because he’s not so far off from the truth.

“Please, kids, it’s 9 a.m., don’t flirt right in front of us,” Sunoo says, despair in his voice.

“She’s the one who started it,” Jongseong replies, still looking at you, his smirk growing.

For some reason, this startles you out of your trance, and you look away from him like you’ve been burned, preoccupying yourself instead with your notes for this class. “In your dreams, Jongseong,” you mumble.

“More like in yours,” Kazuha says, her and Sunoo giggling.

“Zuha!” you exclaim. Jongseong looks at you with raised eyebrows, and with his infuriating capacity to put two and two together, you’re scared he’s figured out what she meant, but you’re literally saved by your teacher who walks in at that moment and starts the class. 

The second the bell rings to signify the end of the class, you hurriedly pack your things and mutter an excuse about needing the bathroom, trying to get as far away as possible from the boy whose all-too familiar scent had messed with your thoughts all class, whose every brush of his arm against yours had made your heart race uncontrollably.

--

It hadn’t just been a dream. It couldn’t have been.

Just like there was no doubt the 28-year-old Jongseong from last night had once been the annoying boy you knew, the 18-year-old Jongseong was sure to one day become the husband of your dreams. A devoted partner and father, his presence comforting, his good looks indeed devastating, unwavering.

There was no mistake to be made. The well had worked its magic.

Whether you liked it or not, you would end up marrying Park Jongseong. You, of all people; him, of all people.

Was there already something of your future husband in the boy that snickered when you mixed up your genders in German class, or would he one day spring out of nowhere? Apparently, you’d be around to find out.

But for now, how to act around him? It felt unfair that you were privy to this knowledge of your shared future while he was ignorant of it. Blissfully, perhaps. You couldn’t imagine that he would rejoice much at this news.

Your mind is somewhere else the entire day. At lunch, your other friends try to get the thing that’s obviously bothering you out of you, but Kazuha and Sunoo are there to tell them not to bother. You’d needed to tell someone about it, but you don’t want the entire school to know about your marital premonitions. The two knuckleheads you call your best friends are already doing a good enough job teasing you about it—”There’s your husband, Y/N,” when Jongseong walks past; “So have you thought of baby names? Kayleigh and Mackayleigh, perhaps?” unsolicited, during Physics. You turn around to check on the culprit — because yes, Jongseong is the culprit here, you, a mere a victim — and when he notices you staring, nods at you as if to say, What’s your problem?, trying to look threatening in his white lab coat that’s three sizes too big and protective goggles.

It doesn’t help that Jongseong has a way of hovering around you. Even in classes in which your teachers assigned the seats for you, he’s never far from your seat. The two of you sit next to each other in German, your last class every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. But today, the seat next to you is empty—what would’ve been a cause for celebration just yesterday is now a source of worry. You’d seen him just two hours ago in your previous class together, so where the hell was he now? He’s lucky that your teacher is an old German lady who always spends the first ten minutes of the lesson rambling about something in dialectal German no one understands but nods along to anyway. When he walks into the room, five minutes late, she just says, “Hallo, Jay,” and continues with her story. It’s about her first school trip to Berlin when she was fifteen and the country was still divided. You think.

He winks at you when he takes his seat and you roll your eyes. You pretend to listen to your teacher for thirty seconds, then hit him gently with your elbow. “Where were you?” you ask without looking at him.

He doesn’t answer immediately, probably surprised you initiated a non-hostile conversation with him for once. “I was just hanging out with my friends, something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

And your friends wondered why you hated him?

“Still having imaginary friends at eighteen is really concerning, Jongseong. You should see someone about it.”

When you glance at him, he’s already looking right at you, smiling. You’ve never felt so conscious of your side profile. 

“Why? Were you worried?” he whispers, kicking your foot with his.

You look at him, horrified—where the hell had he gotten that idea? How was he so spot-on? You scoff, trying to diffuse the tension inside yourself. “No.”

He kicks your foot again. “I was five minutes late and you started to worry?”

“No. Stop.”

“I didn’t know you cared about me so much, Y/N.”

This time, you give him a harsh look, one that lets him know you really mean your words—“Stop it.” Finally, he relents, getting the assigned homework out now that the teacher has actually started the lesson. Your face softens—he looks hurt. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings.

Despite what you might say, you like the way things are with Jongseong. If some people always need to be crushing on someone, you always need to have someone you perceive as an enemy—it was Na Jaemin in elementary school, because he’d once made fun of your incapability to climb the monkey bars; Shin Ryujin, in middle school, for kissing your crush during a game of spin-the-bottle at your own birthday party; Park Jongseong, since freshman year, for simply existing. Your reasons for disliking him are trivial, you’ll admit. You weren’t sure you could even place a finger on what had first triggered your disdain towards him—one too many awful jokes, one too many times raising his hand in class and rattling off a perfect answer, then looking around himself proudly, one too many roars of laughter heard throughout the entire cafeteria. The fact that no one else seemed to be bothered by him only added to your aggravation. He just got on your nerves, and it seemed that you openly showing your dislike of him — him, who was so used to being loved by everyone around him, pampered by his family, praised by his teachers, popular among his peers — was enough to make him dislike you, too. So, after a few failed attempts at trying to be your friend, because Jongseong was unable to not be friends with everyone he met, he didn’t simply give up. 

If he couldn’t be your friend, then fine, he’d be your enemy.

At least, that’s how it appears to you, still now. It’s never gone dangerously far, but if there’s an opening to tease you or get on your nerves, he’ll do it. Not passing you the ball during soccer, or conversely, only aiming for you during dodgeball, not sharing his textbook with you when you forgot it unless you beg, loudly clearing his throat when you speak in class. And, lately, pouring salt on your wounds in the form of reminding you how impossible you and Jake Sim are. His motto must be if there’s a will, there’s a way. And when it comes to making your life hell, his will is infinite.

Everything is upside-down now. The question of how your relationship can possibly go from this to that obsesses you. It feels like you’re more capable of sharing a funeral, dying at each others’ hands, than a wedding. 

“Jong, your textbook.”

He squints at you. “Funny how I’m Jongseong when you hate me, Jong when you need a textbook,” he says, sliding his book closer to himself.

“It’s not my fault your name is a mouthful,” you retort, trying to pull it back to the middle of the table, but he’s quicker than you.

“Then maybe you should call me Jay, like everyone else on Earth.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Now give it here. Please?” you ask, mustering your best smile. Any other teacher would’ve scolded the two of you by now, but Ms. Schumacher is peacefully going on about the importance of word order and punctuation in the German sentence, oblivious to her two students bickering in the back row. Jongseong usually never sits at the back of the classroom—only here.

He gives in, smiling back, but there’s something behind it, something that tells you nothing good is brewing in his brain. “Only because you’re so pretty.”

Normally, this kind of remark would’ve warranted a slap on the arm or an array of insults, but if today is anything, it is not normal. You look at him like you’ve been stung, visions of your not-dream coming to you in flashes like you’re the titular character on That’s So Raven—the affection in your husband’s eyes, the kindness in his words, the sincerity in his smile. Again, you’re left to wonder if this man is already taking root inside of the boy next to you, if Jongseong’s future capacity to love you presently exists in his heart.

Does your future capacity to love him already exist in your heart?

You watch as his smirk softens into a grin, your flusteredness and lack of a response clearly amusing him, then as he circles the exercises Ms. Schumacher is assigning for the lesson. She seems to have forgotten there was homework due—Jongseong will be sure to remind her of it quickly.

He kicks your foot again, tells you to focus. His ears have turned red.

You wonder if those capacities haven’t existed from the start.

--

As much as you love a good friends-to-lovers story, characters hiding their feelings out of fear of ruining the friendship have never failed to frustrate you — just tell her, you dummy, it’s obvious she likes you too — and yet, you’ve never related more than now.

Whatever it is that you and Jongseong have, you don’t want to lose it. It adds entertainment to your otherwise average life. 

“Good thing she didn’t pick on you while we went over the homework, ‘cause you clearly put zero effort in. And I wouldn’t have helped you, even if you’d asked, by the way.”

You hum absent-mindedly as you put your notebook and pencil holder in your bag. Are you sure that these are even your feelings in the first place? Just because the well put a silly idea in your head doesn’t mean you have to believe it like it’s scripture. If what you saw is real, then it will happen in its own time. Things don’t have to start changing right this instant.

“Gosh, Y/N, what’s up with you today? You’re so boring,” Jongseong continues, following you out of the classroom. 

“Just tired,” you reply. Wouldn’t it be unnatural if you were to radically alter the way you behave with Jongseong? Love should come about organically. Sure, his presence has always provoked some kind of reaction within you, but that’s usually been annoyance. Whether he’s stealing the fifth eraser you’ve bought that month or running on the soccer field, beads of sweat running down his temples, hair sticking out everywhere, victoriously smiling when his team scores—you’re annoyed. Whether he’s sticking up his hand higher than yours or going to the school dance with Ahn Yujin—you’re annoyed. When you learned that she’d been his neighbor since infancy and that she had a boyfriend, who went to another school and only trusted Jongseong to take her to the dance, you were still annoyed—this time at yourself for feeling even the tiniest bit relieved that nothing was going on between them.

And this — his quick steps trying to keep up with yours, his dumb story about yogurt coming out of Heeseung’s nose today at lunch when they were laughing too hard — yes, you’re still annoyed. But you realize you’re not annoyed at him.

You’re annoyed at how he makes you feel.

“Y/N?” he says, but you’re too deep in your thoughts, only vaguely registering the sound until he repeats it, louder this time, and grabs your hand, making you abruptly stop walking. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice. “You’re barely listening to me. I mean, it’s not like you usually really do, but you’d have told me to get lost, like, five minutes ago now…”

He chuckles self-deprecatingly, but despite his words, you’re focusing on something else yet again. His hand on yours, his loose hold on your fingers. Your brain is yelling at you—hold his hand, hug him. It’s like there are still traces of the 28-year-old version of you you visited yesterday, urging you to behave like her and not 18-year-old you. 

So, the well had let you know that you need not look much further to find what you wanted. Here it is, in the form of a boy you have convinced yourself you hated, and hated you, and yet, he’s holding your hand, asking you if you’re okay, worry knotting his eyebrows together. 

Hold his hand. Hug him. Instead, you retract your hand, let it fall limply by your side. Jongseong’s eyebrows shoot up.

He’s so close, the supposed love of your life. You don’t know how to reach out to him.

For now, you smile. “Get lost, Jong.”

--

you guys how the hell do i act around jongseong now that i know our fates are romantically intertwined

kazuha i think not treating him like the number one public enemy would be a good start

you so what… be nice to him? how do i do that

sunoo oh my god y/n when she has to treat another person like a regular human being

you he’s not just another person!

sunoo okayyyyy i see you little miss repressed feelings

you i hate u

kazuha just don’t roll your eyes at everything he says anymore and don’t start arguments for no reason

you he’s the one who starts them… but okay i’ll try

--

“Let’s pair up for the reading analysis today. You can stay with your deskmate or pick a partner, I don’t mind as long as you get the work done. I’m talking about you, Chaewon and Yuri. This is English class, not a gossip session.”

The second your English teacher has finished speaking, Jongseong swivels in his chair. “Let’s partner up, Y/N?”

“What about me?” Jake asks, eyes darting back-and-forth between the two of you.

“You can partner up with Minju,” Jongseong replies, pointing to the girl he’s usually seated next to. “Look. You guys will be great together. Say hi, Minju.” Minju waves shyly at Jake, braces on display as she smiles ecstatically. It’s not everyday that she gets to talk to one of the most popular guys in school.

Jake reluctantly switches seats with him, glancing back at you and Jongseong who just grins at him, fake friendliness plastered on his lips, until he turns around again. Your new partner’s smile softens and reaches his eyes when he looks at you. “Hi.”

You have to look away—you feel your face burn under his gaze. “Hi, Jong.”

He tilts his head. “What? Do you hate me so much that you can’t even look at me now?” he asks, and you can’t tell whether he’s joking or genuine.

You frown. “I don’t hate you.”

“Oh? That’s a recent development.”

“I guess,” you mumble after a few seconds. Is it really? You suddenly can’t remember if you ever really hated him, or if you’d exaggerated your own feelings.

His smile widens. “Well, good. I mean, you were going to have to realize at some point that I really am funny, smart, endearing, handsome-”

“Back to hating.”

“Let’s start the assignment.”

You agree on reading the passage first, but you realize halfway through that not a single word has been absorbed. “Hey. Why did you switch seats with him?” you ask, whispering so as not to be overheard.

Jongseong shrugs. “I thought you wouldn’t want to work with him, considering…”

“Right.” You’re silent again, but only for a bit. “What’s it to you?” you mumble. 

He scoffs. “Sorry for trying to be considerate.”

“That’s not—”

“Let’s just focus on this.”

His sudden coldness vexes you. You know you should let it go — don’t start arguments for no reason, and all that — and you know it’s childish, but you can’t help yourself. You have certain reflexes you’re not particularly proud of when it comes to one Park Jongseong. “Let’s just focus on this,” you repeat, mocking his grumbling tone of voice and shaking your head like a puppet.

He glares at you. “Can you not act like a toddler for once?”

“Can you not be a dick for once?” you bite back.

“Y/N, Jongseong, I’m sure you’re having a fascinating conversation on the use of chiaroscuro in the text?” your teacher asks, a look of warning on his face.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, embarrassed.

“Yes, so much chiaroscuro,” Jongseong mumbles, resting his cheek on his knuckles. When the teacher has turned away, he kicks your foot. “See, you’re getting us in trouble.”

“Do you even know what chiaroscuro is?” 

He hesitates. “That’s not the problem here. You are.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t-”

“Y/N, Jay, final warning.”

“Sorry,” you both say at the same time. With one last glare at each other, you finally get to work.

So your plan to start getting along with Jongseong isn’t in full-force yet. On the drive back home that afternoon, you reassure yourself that these things take time. When the moment is right, the two of you will grow closer.

--

But increasingly, it feels as though the right moment will never come.

Two months have passed since your visit to the well, and things between you and Jongseong have not changed. Not really, at least.

You still bicker like cat and dog — it goes without saying that you’re the cute puppy and he’s the heartless cat — and he gets as much on your nerves as ever, especially now that you know that the potential to be nice to you, to love you, even, exists somewhere inside him. Somewhere deeply hidden perhaps, but somewhere nonetheless. Of course, after telling yourself that what must come will come of its own accord, you haven’t done much to change the dynamic between the two of you. But if you used to see your retaliations against him as necessary to your survival, you now find some sort of enjoyment in them—some might call it Stockholm Syndrome, you perceive it as a step in the right direction. You’ve followed one of Kazuha’s pieces of advice: you don’t roll your eyes at him anymore, simply because you don’t feel the need to. You argue with him with a smile on your face, his attempts at insulting or annoying you have started to make you laugh.

He doesn’t say anything but seems to gladly welcome this change. If you get a lower grade than him on a test, he doesn’t try to stick the knife in further, but genuinely offers to go over it with you later. If you give in after two hours of tearing your hair out over a German exercise and text him for help, he doesn’t make fun of you. If he says something particularly arrogant or makes a really bad joke, all you need to do is give him a look, and he’ll mumble an apology. 

Could it have been like this the entire time? you wonder, watching him across the schoolyard as he and Heeseung hunt for Pokémon. Just a couple months ago, you would’ve scrunched your nose at the sight, making fun of him for his childish interests. Now, you notice the way he laughs, audible all the way to where you sit with Kazuha and Sunoo, the way he jumps excitedly and points at things only he and his friend see, and all you feel is endearment.

“Look at you, look at that,” Sunoo says as he hits you on the forehead with his metal spoon, startling you. He tuts. “You’ve got love dripping from your eyes, sweetie.”

“Sunoo, that’s disgusting.”

“Love? I know.”

“No, your spoon. Your saliva’s all over that,” you say, and all he does is eat another mouthful of his yogurt while staring wide-eyed right at you. When you look back at Jongseong, he’s high-fiving Heeseung. You wonder which creature he’s caught now. In the library yesterday, he spent thirty minutes showing you every single one he had captured so far instead of revising for the upcoming Physics test.

“Yeah, we know you’d like someone else’s saliva more,” Kazuha chimes in, and the two of them snort.

“It’s not like that,” you say, biting into an apple slice.

“Oh yeah? What’s it like, then?” Kazuha asks.

“We’re… becoming friends,” you say, but you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince more.

“Y/N, I’ve had to watch the two of you giggling to yourselves in the library one too many times to believe you’re friends. I know your homework’s not that funny,” Sunoo argues.

“Friends can giggle with each other!” you exclaim, but your friends are inflexible.

“I would tell you to get yourself together if you giggled at me like that,” he says.

“I saw you twirl your hair the other day,” Kazuha adds.

“I never—When?!”

She shrugs. “The other day.”

You deflate, crushed under your friends’ accusations. “I wouldn’t twirl my hair…” you mumble. You decide to busy yourself with your apple slices, not even bothering to find out what Kazuha and Sunoo start snickering and elbowing each other about.

“Hey,” a familiar voice greets, making you look up. Jongseong smiles at you and steals an apple slice from your tupperware as he sits down next to you, Heeseung across from him.

“Hi, Jong,” you say, sitting up straighter. You offer a piece of fruit to Heeseung but he declines, saying he doesn’t like apples without peanut butter.

In front of you, your friends exchange a look, and you’re immediately terrified of what they’ll do next. Leaning in, they place their elbows on the table, and Kazuha starts them off. “Jay, you and Y/N know each other pretty well, right?”

Jongseong glances at you, eyes wide. “Uh, sure.”

“Have you ever noticed her, say, twirling her hair?” Sunoo asks, tilting his head innocently at the poor boy by your side.

You’ve never seen him look so confused. “Um, yeah, she does that when she’s concentrating on something, sometimes…”

They lean back. “Huh,” Kazuha says, studying Jongseong’s face.

“Interesting. Very interesting,” Sunoo says, slowly nodding.

You glare at your friends. “See, that’s different,” you tell them. “I was concentrating on something, not doing… whatever you guys had in mind.”

Jongseong looks at you. “What did they have in mind?”

You answer before either of them can dig your grave any deeper. “Nothing. It’s nothing. We were just having a stupid conversation.” You muster your most convincing smile, and the subject is finally dropped.

No one says anything for a few moments, until Heeseung decides to speak up: “You should’ve seen Jay earlier, Y/N. He caught this super rare version of Pikachu earlier, it was awesome.”

“Dude…” Jongseong murmurs.

“What?” Heeseung asks, his enthusiasm quickly dissolving into confusion. Jongseong just shakes his head. Thankfully for all of you, the bell rings then, and you head to class. The three of them walk in front of you while you and Jongseong fall back a step.

“Why were you guys sitting outside? It’s freezing today,” he asks you. Walking side-by-side like this, you can’t help but notice the inches he has over you, the broadness of his shoulders in comparison to yours.

“They turned the heat way too high in the cafeteria, so we came outside for some fresh air,” you explain. He’s right, the air is chilly today—it’s a few days into December, and the temperatures have been accordingly low.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Your heart skips a beat. One of the side effects of not being at each other’s throat anymore was that you got more and more often to be privy to this side of Jongseong—attentive, considerate, kind. What you once thought were his moral attempts at not being so mean to you all the time, you found out was actually his real nature. He wasn’t a prick who was sometimes nice, he was a nice person who turned into a prick with you. Whether the fault lay on him or you was another debate.

“No, I’m alright,” you say, but your body decides to betray you and makes you sneeze three times in a row.

“Bless you,” Jongseong says, laughing. “Here.” You try to stop him, pushing his hands away, but he takes his gloves off and forces them in your palms.

“I’m going to be inside for the next four hours, Jong, I’ll be fine. Keep them.”

“No, it’s okay. Just so you can warm up quicker.”

You eventually give in, putting the gloves over your hands, laughing at the extra fabric that hangs off the tip of your fingers. But when you look at Jongseong’s now-bare hands, something catches your attention. Stopping in the hallway, you grab one of them, examining the cuts on his knuckles. “You need to wear hand cream, Jong, your hands are too chapped.”

He lets you turn his hand over, smooth over his skin, do the same thing with his other hand. “Men don’t wear hand cream,” he says, a grin on his lips.

You burst out laughing. “I think that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Seriously, though, I don’t like the way it feels. Too sticky.”

“You just need to get a quick-absorption one.” Then, you make the terrible mistake of looking up from his hand and meeting his eyes—you gasp silently, his gaze and soft smile transporting you right back to that night, the images of 28-year-old and 18-year-old Jongseong mixing into each other, becoming indistinct from each other. Your gaze drifts down to his lips — chapped, too, when they’re usually plumper, rosier — and his hand, still in yours, balls into a fist. The second bell rings and you both take a step back, eyes meeting again for a brief moment before looking down at the floor. With uncharacteristically shy, embarrassed words of parting, you make your separate ways to your next classes.

“That was beautiful, Y/N,” Sunoo says, waiting for you by the door, and you walk past him without so much as a glance.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

--

sunoo jay and y/n almost kissed earlier

kazuha WHAAAAT

you KIM SUNOO.

kazuha WHEN?????

sunoo right before class after the lunch break y/n was sooo embarrassed afterwards lol

you we did NOT almost kiss you’re talking out of your ass

kazuha i can’t believe i missed this fml

you YOU DIDNT MISS ANYTHING NOTHING HAPPENED

sunoo be serious u guys we’re standing inches apart

you were* and no we weren’t

sunoo oh stfu it was autocorrect i saw it w my own eyes y/n… you WERE literally holding his hand and staring into those beautiful eyes of his

kazuha sunoo…?

sunoo what can’t a man acknowledge another man’s objective attractiveness if i was y/n i would’ve folded the moment i saw him

you literally one of the first times he talked to me was to make fun of my handwriting

sunoo yeah he’s on his tsundere shit i fw it

you …

sunoo anyways zuha you shouldve seen it when the bell rang they practically leaped away from each other and u didnt know what to do w yourselves afterwards likeeee it was so obvi what you both were thinking of

kazuha cuuuute

you i resent these accusations.

sunoo istg if u dont kiss him next time i will

kazuha ???

you SUNOO?

sunoo WHAT

--

Something happens a few days before the start of winter break.

Ms. Schumacher is absent, gone off to Germany to visit her family there—she has enough seniority in the school that they let her abandon her responsibilities as a teacher once in a while. A week is too short a period of time for them to bother finding a substitute. It’s usually your last class of the day, but you have to wait around for your dad to be done working, so while most of your classmates have gone home early, you sit with about six other people in the unsupervised study room, absent-mindedly jotting down tid-bits of dialogue for your new story idea, too preoccupied with Jongseong’s absence to really pay attention to anything else. It’s fifteen minutes after the hour, but he’s nowhere to be found, although you know for a fact that he takes those weird Molecular Gastronomy cooking classes your Chemistry teacher offers for extra credit every Thursday after school, so he should be here. And anyways, if he’d gone home, he would’ve texted you something like, Have fun sitting around for an hour, I’m gonna go do awesome stuff with Heeseung, even if awesome stuff meant playing Mario Kart or drinking Sprite and holding a two-person burping contest.

You’re so engrossed in your own thoughts that you pay no mind to the sudden ding of a phone in the room, followed by some gasps and heated whispers. The exchanged words go through one ear and out the other—There was a fight? In the locker rooms? It must be bad if they were sent to the nurse before the principal… Huh? Over who? So he took both of them on? Damn, I didn’t know Jay got like that. He seems so well-behaved.

Your head whips up at the mention of your friend’s name. “Jay? Did something happen to him?” you ask out loud, the whispers dying down immediately as everybody stares at you. 

Gaeul, who was in your class last year, is the only one who answers you. Holding up and waving her phone, she says, “They say he got into a fight.”

Jongseong? A fight? It sounds like a practical joke. He admitted to you he once started crying watching Heeseung playing Call of Duty, it was so violent. You shake your head. “He-he did? With who?”

Gaeul and the girl next to her exchange a concerned, almost guilty look. “Jake and Sunghoon.” The crease between your eyebrows deepened. You don’t need to ask anything else before she adds, “They’re at the nurse’s station. It sounds pretty bad…”

That’s enough for you to leap out of your chair and run to the nurse’s station. It seems the news has spread impossibly quickly among your year group—even Kazuha and Sunoo are already blowing your phone, asking you if you’ve heard, if you know how Jay is. You ignore them, reminding yourself to text them back later, until one message from Sunoo in particular catches your attention: It apparently started because Sunghoon said something about you, Y/N. They’re saying Jay got angry.

The nurse is busy on the phone when you get there, her back to the entrance, so you’re able to slip in unnoticed. You head to the adjoining room where the beds are, all three of them taken—you walk by Sunghoon first, his arms crossed over his chest and pointedly not looking at you, then by Jake, who calls out your name. You glare at him and pull on the white plastic curtain that separates his bed from Jongseong’s. They’re already going to hear you, you don’t need them seeing you on top of that. 

Jongseong sits up with a grunt when you appear at the end of his bed. The sight of him makes your stomach flip, and not in a good way, for once—his left eye is swollen and circled by a deep purple bruise, shiny with ointment, there’s a cut on his cheek, his lower lip is busted, his right hand is wrapped in bandages. “Oh my God,” you whisper as you help him up, voice breaking. He stares at his hands, jaw locking when you gently place one palm on his good hand, the other on the side of his face, moving it this way and that so you can take a better look at his injuries. He winces, and you let go, resting your hand on his shoulder instead. “What the hell got into you?” you whisper vehemently, unable to decide if you’re worried or angry or both as tears form in your eyes.

He tries to shrug, but even that seems to hurt. “Don’t shrug, Jongseong, tell me what happened.”

“I’m Jongseong again now?” he says, attempting a smile, but only one corner of his lips rises.

You sigh. Even in this state, he has to be a smart-ass. “You’re Jong when I need a textbook, Jongseong when you get into stupid fights,” you reply, and he smiles wider but immediately winces, hand coming up to the cut on his lip. You notice that his hand is still riddled with cracks, and whether they’re due to their dryness or to this fight doesn’t matter—”Wait here,” you say, and go rummage through some drawers for plasters. “She forgot some spots.” You feel Jongseong’s eyes on your face as you patch him up to the best of your abilities.

“I don’t want to tell you what happened. I’ll do the job of hating these idiots for the both of us, so don’t concern yourself with them,” he says, apparently not caring that the idiots in question can hear his every word.

He keeps his promise—you never hear another word from him about the cause of the fight. 

Later, you find out through other means, namely Sunoo’s questionably remarkable ability to unearth any and all gossip, that in the locker rooms after Phys Ed, someone had started Jake on the topic of Yunjin, who had been recently revealed as his girlfriend. They’d apparently kept it secret because it was just fooling around at first, and only later had gotten serious enough for them to parade around the school as the couple. 

It had been an unremarkable conversation until Jake said, “You guys know Y/N from our class? She saw us in the staff parking lot once, and I was sure we’d be busted then. But she didn’t tell anyone.” And just like that, the conversation turned to you, someone who was usually never a topic among these boys, jocks, soccer players, “the kind of people who peak in high school and still have a superiority complex at forty,” as Sunoo describes them. 

He has a harder time explaining what happened next, can’t quite look you in the eye as he recounts what was said. “So, this is what they say, apparently someone said that you used to be obsessed with Sunghoon, then with Jake, and Sunghoon said you… Well, he said you were pathetic, that asshole, and that you had been so easy to lead on, then Jake joined in, saying the same things, basically, how funny it was seeing you so obviously in love with him when he would never give you a chance…” He looks at you worriedly, but you tell him to go on. “And so that’s when Jay got up and just straight-up punched Jake in the face. And while Jake was trying to figure out what happened, Jay punched Sunghoon, and then they both got on him, pushing him, but when he wouldn’t stop throwing punches, they started fighting, too. I think they all got some good ones in before the other boys were able to break them apart and the P.E. teacher arrived…”

But that would be later. Now, sitting with Jongseong in the nurse’s station, tears falling onto the plasters you place on his hand, nothing matters but him. You don’t need the details—he’s hurt, he got hurt over you, you feel as though every cut on his body may well have been done by your own hand. You’ve never felt so guilty for something you didn’t do. Your voice trembles when you speak; you’re unable to look at him, at his busted eye. “I just don’t want you to get hurt for me.”

Without missing a beat, he says, “What else would I get hurt for?”

You can only meet his eyes for a split second. Even like this, he manages to look at you with the same softness that has haunted you since the night you met 28-year-old Jongseong, that has rendered all thoughts of anything other than him meaningless since the day your gaze drifted down to his lips just weeks ago. “Jong…” is all you can mutter as you look down at your hands holding each others’, your lips trembling.

He raises his bandaged hand, still not used to his dominant side being ineffective for now, then lowers it when he realizes. Clumsily, he pats your hair with his left hand. “Don’t cry, please…”

Jake’s head pops out from behind the curtain. “Y/N, I’m really sorry—”

“Not right now, man,” Jay quickly interrupts. Jake pathetically disappears behind the curtain again.

“Just promise me you won’t do this again.”

“Y/N…”

“Promise me,” you say, more demanding this time, sticking out your pinky finger. Jay, hesitant, looks between your outstretched finger and your face a few times, but eventually gives in.

The nurse, upon coming to check on the boys, catches you with Jongseong and chases you out immediately. You sulk back to study hall, where everyone’s head perks up the moment you walk in. “They’re okay,” you reassure vaguely, and unenthusiastically answer their many questions. It’s only a few minutes until the bell rings, and you’re free to go then.

--

jong so… guess who got a five-day suspension

you you idiot what did your parents say?

jong they’re not happy i have to do all the household chores for a month

you boo-hoo

jong not sure why i came here thinking i’d get some comfort…

you … are you feeling better?

jong a little bit the nurse gave us some really strong painkillers but i’m okay because there’s a pretty girl that’s going to drop off the homework for me after school every day :)

you oh did you ask chaewon to do that?

jong um no i was talking about you ..if that’s okay

you haha i know i just wanted you to say it straight up

jong ykw maybe i should just ask chaewon

you i’ll see you tomorrow jong!!

jong :) see you tomorrow pretty 

 --

The months that separate your return to school and graduation come and go in the blink of an eye. Jongseong can’t come to school the last day before the holidays or the first four days after, and he’s grounded in-between. Things change bit by bit with every day you visit him—To give him the homework, you tell his parents, although there isn’t much to do when the semester isn’t in full swing, and you could’ve easily sent him pictures. The first time, you spend more time scouring the pictures and trinkets in his room than actually talking to him, and awkwardly give him a half-hug when he tells you he won’t be able to hang out at all during the break before practically running out of his house, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute from the innocent contact. By the fourth time, you lie together on his bed and talk about your plans for college, your hands sitting centimeters apart on the navy sheets. You haven’t dared touch his hand since that day in the nurse’s station.

You’re window-shopping with Kazuha when you spot the hand cream you had seen yourself gifting Jongseong in your well-given vision. Buying it is one thing, actually giving it to him is another, an awkward, stuttery situation in which the wrapping done by the store employee suddenly seems over-the-top and out-of-place. But Jongseong seems to like it—it’s the last day of his suspension, his black eye is now a yellow-ish color, he can smile without risking splitting his lip in two. He applies it immediately, tells you he’ll make sure to wear it every day until the end of winter. You find yourself wishing there was something you could give him for every season so he wouldn’t go a day without thinking of you. When you leave, he bashfully thanks you for making sure he doesn’t fall behind and says he’s excited to see you at school the next day. You hardly know what to do with yourself, so you squeak out a “me too” and slip out the door.

His first day back is a Friday. It starts with Mathematics, a class in which you sit by each other. You remember the first week of classes when Kazuha and Sunoo had ran to sit with each other, expressly because they knew that if he saw you were sitting alone, he’d take the seat next to you, just to better torment you all year. You’d resented it then; it couldn’t make you happier now. Your body is humming with nervous energy, your foot tapping relentlessly against the tiled floor. When he appears in the doorframe, you wave at him as if he’d forgotten his seat in three weeks of absence. His elbow brushes against yours as he sits down.

Between the two of you, friendship blossoms over these months. To the detriment of everyone around you, you continue to bicker as you always have, but it’s now clearly done out of habit, out of affection, even, than out of actual dislike of each other. He and Heeseung slowly integrate your small group of three, and before you know it, it feels as though there have always been five of you. Together, you welcome spring.

In January, to thank you for helping him to pick out his mom’s birthday present, Jongseong treats you to some tteokbokki, which you said you’d been craving all week. He orders the spiciest one, then has to take a sip of water between every bite. You laugh at his teary eyes and red face while you devour the bright red rice cakes easily. 

In February, he makes a show of giving you and Kazuha and Heeseung and Sunoo some homemade chocolates, saying it’s a friend thing. You find out that evening that the others each have five in their box—there are twenty in yours. It’s one of the things that makes you second guess what sort of feelings he has for you. For years, you’ve been convinced he harbored strong feelings of disdain for you; now, he seems to enjoy your friendship. You’re scared to read too much into anything, because if Jongseong is well-liked throughout school, it’s for a reason: he’s nice. To everyone. Even to you, too, nowadays. But if nice is giving five chocolates, what is giving twenty?

A sudden realization hits you in March—Jongseong appears at your door, drenched from the rain, a bag of your favorite snacks in hand. “You weren’t at school today. I had to find out you were sick from Kazuha,” he says as if she was a random classmate of yours and not your best friend, as if he should be the first to know about these kinds of things. Your mom rushes him in, finds him so charming in the five minutes they converse that she decides he should stay over for dinner, and as you watch him laughing with her, you think, I haven’t thought of 28-year-old Jongseong in ages. I’ve only thought of you. And although you can trace the start of your feelings to that dream-like experience you had, you can now say with confidence that it’s not the only reason for them.

College application results come out in April, right on his birthday. The five of you celebrate together at an American-style diner, gorging yourselves on crispy bacon and chocolate chip pancakes. Kazuha is going back to Japan, almost a decade after moving to South Korea—”I’m gonna miss you guys, but I miss takoyaki and my grandma more right now.” Heeseung has been accepted into the Engineering department at the country’s top university. You, Sunoo and Jongseong are all heading to the same place: you for Screenwriting, which you’ve known since you were one of the winners of the scholarship contest last October, Sunoo for Communications, whatever that is, and Jongseong for European History and Literature with a minor in German, that freak. It’s a good university, and it’s not far from home. The way Jongseong tells you about his acceptance sticks with you: he doesn’t say, They accepted me, too, or, I’m going to the same university as you. He says, We’ll be together.

May is filled with afternoons at the park when you should all be studying for exams. Your mom keeps asking when she’s going to see “that wonderful boy” again. Your friendship with Jongseong has given him new ways of teasing you—after four years of near-kleptomaniac tendencies, he’s finally stopped stealing your erasers and has instead started to let his gaze linger on your face, to call you pretty when you least expect it, to tuck your hair behind your ear. You hate it most when he asks you whether there’s something from your romance novels or movies that you want him to recreate. “Is there a field big enough nearby that I can walk through at the break of dawn, Mister Darcy-style?” he’ll say, or “I’ve always wanted to try that upside-down kiss from Spider-Man. It’s a classic, really.” 

Summer comes early in June. You need to bring a two-liter water bottle and a hand fan to your exams, and you’ve never felt such relief as when it was all over. After endless pictures with your parents and siblings, just your parents, just your siblings, then Kazuha and Sunoo, together, then separately, then with Heeseung and Jongseong as well, Kazuha forces you and Jongseong together, watching with a smile as he shyly wraps an arm around your waist and you awkwardly throw up a peace sign. It’s your first picture of just the two of you.

In July, you and Jongseong unlock a new first: saying goodbye. He’s leaving to stay with his American family as he does every summer. You show up at his house the day before at four p.m. “to help him pack,” you say, but it’s Jongseong, and he finished packing two days ago. So instead, you sit on his desk chair, he on his bed, and you fight back tears. “You’re coming back, right?” you ask, like he’s leaving to go to war and not Seattle. Amusement and affection flicker in his eyes. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t throw four more years of being a pain in your ass away, would I?” he says, and you smile, because you know it’s going to be much more than four years.

But he doesn’t just leave you with a few nice words. Avoiding your gaze, he hands you an envelope. Inside is a single ticket, a two-month membership for your city’s arthouse cinema that you can only go to when they have student deals or when your parents have had enough of your begging. You can’t even begin to imagine how much this must’ve cost. “Jong…” you murmur, in awe at the thin slip of paper between your hands. “This is incredible. Thank you so much.”

Jongseong looks down at his feet, fighting a smile as he kicks the invisible rocks that obviously litter the floor of his bedroom. “I thought you’d get bored without me around, so, that way you can entertain yourself, I guess… And if you run into any film bros next year, you’ll have seen as many pretentious movies as them.”

You burst into laughter then, and, without thinking, wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him over and over again. It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms around your waist and says it’s no big deal.

As you walk down the path from your house, he calls out your name. “Don’t be a stranger,” he says.

You smile. “Never.”

So, he’s not here for summer. Kazuha is working in her parents’ ramen restaurant to make some money before leaving, even Heeseung leaves two weeks into July for Seoul to visit some relatives there and get accustomed to life in the big city. You only get to laze around with Sunoo, but even he eventually leaves for his grandparents’ house by the sea, making you promise you’ll come visit him at some point, otherwise he’ll “die of boredom.” 

It’s August now, and your brain and body alike buzz with restlessness. You go to the cinema almost every day, making the best of your subscription. If you’re not going around your house looking for spider webs with your vacuum cleaner, you’re riding random bus lines and discovering parts of your town you’ve never set foot in before. If you’re not making your way through your never-ending pile of unread books, you’re creating your own stories, finally taking the time to properly outline and draft the one-line ideas you’ve had sitting in your Notes app, preparing yourself for the start of your degree. Your mind is taken up with love stories. From Romeo & Juliet to Dirty Dancing to Book Lovers, you can’t get enough of the genre. You become particularly obsessed with stories involving time travel, rewatching After Time and Lovely Runner like they contain some precious knowledge. By the end of the month, you’ve turned your life into an eight-episode TV series—a desperate girl makes a wish on a star only to discover she is fated to marry the one boy she hates most. You know you’d watch that. You send Sunoo and Kazuha the pilot, and after calling you insane numerous times but also heaping on praises, Sunoo says this: lol your going through jay withdrawals.

It shakes you so much you’re not even compelled to message back you’re*.

But he’s not wrong. The more you let yourself admit it, the more you realize how true it is: you miss Jongseong. You text once in a while, you’ve even stayed up late talking on the phone a couple of times, but you miss him, his corporeal form, having his gaze on you, having the possibility but never the courage to touch him. Every day, there’s something you want to tell him about. The cats huddling around a young neighborhood kid as he pours milk into a bowl, the clearance sale at your local library, most books for one buck only, the actor from an 90s Hong Kong film you swear has the exact same smile as him. You don’t want to bother him, so you write letters instead. Some you send, some you don’t—the ones you keep hidden in your drawer usually hint too obviously at your feelings for him. Some of them don’t just hint and contain lines of your declarations: I miss you, everything I see reminds me of you, I want to check that your bruises have healed completely even though the last trace of them faded months ago. You keep these letters a secret, even from Sunoo and Kazuha, who would never let you live down such woebegone, down bad behavior.

You do it because it feels good, getting all of your feelings out on paper. You’re a romantic at heart, so you’re prone to over-exaggeration when it comes to things like these—but everything that you write remains based in truth. You’d started with a postcard of your hometown, jokingly writing, Don’t forget where you came from. How is it over there? and he’d actually replied with a postcard of his own, filling it from top to bottom. You easily went from these small postcards to multiple pages of stream-of-consciousness-like writing. You think it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done—although you’re not sure he feels the same way, considering he still writes to the German pen pal Ms. Schumacher had assigned him in your first year of high school. No one else’s correspondence had lasted more than four months because she’d immediately forgotten to make sure you kept in touch regularly.

I ran into Jake Sim at the city library, you write one day. You’ve replied to everything in his latest letter, so you’re now catching him up on your recent adventures. He was checking out some books about Linguistics, of all things—he bought me bubble tea afterwards and told me that the injury he got last April was actually a relief. Did you know his father was a big name in soccer here? Apparently, he never wanted to be a soccer player that badly, and he wants to do Linguistics and Social Anthropology, who would’ve guessed it. He’s like Troy Bolton if High School Musical was about Humanities and not singing. Anyways, you probably don’t want me to go on and on about him, so I won’t, but we did talk about that fight you guys had back in December. He apologized for it, to you and me both, although he didn’t go into much detail — Sunoo is still the only one who’s had the balls to tell me exactly what happened, and he wasn’t even there! — and I was reticent at first, but he seemed genuine. He said he didn’t even hang out with Sunghoon or Yunjin or any of those people anymore, that it was only out of convenience really, and that he hopes starting university will be like turning over a new leaf. Well, he could be full of shit, who knows. As I sat there listening to him I wondered what it was I used to see in him. He’s nice enough, but we only spoke about him for the entire hour. He asked me no questions that weren’t “and you?” so it was a bit exhausting. 

But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you.

You look at your words, smiling to yourself—this is one of the times where you find yourself erring from the topic at hand, instead indulging in sappiness and nostalgia. You write about how your opinion of Jongseong has changed over these months, how it wasn’t seeing him as your husband in all those years that had really shaken things up, but rather that day in the nurse’s station, the frightening colors around his eye, his attitude like it was natural that he would get hurt like this for you. You write, Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment you’d laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurse’s station. I’ll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?

“I’m going to the Post Office for a package soon, Y/N. Are you done with your letter?” your mom calls from the staircase landing.

“Give me five minutes!” you call back.

You forage through your drawer for a new sheet of paper and re-write your letter, making sure to leave any compromising parts out and fold both letters into neat squares—one that will cross the seas and reach Jongseong, one that will live out its days in the darkness of your crowded drawer. You’ve run out of envelopes, so you go look for one in your parents’ office. Your mom calls out your name again, impatient to leave — if she sends her package off before twelve p.m., it will get to the receiver tomorrow, and she’s hell-bent on getting perfect five-star Vinted reviews — so you hurriedly put your letter in the envelope, close it, stamp it, and write Jongseong’s name and address on the back. The other letter you absent-mindedly throw in your drawer with the dozens of other letters in which you’d crossed the line.

--

A few weeks later, like an apparition, Jongseong stands before you again.

He’s tanner from months under the Washington sun, from afternoons spent at his family’s lake house, on their boat. His hair is slightly shorter and suits him even better; you don’t recognize any of the clothes he wears. He grumbles as his mother goes back-and-forth between hugging him, staring at him worriedly and reminding him to call at least twice a week while his father unpacks the trunk. “I’ll only be a thirty-minute train ride away, Mom,” he says. 

He’s still Jong.

You moved in yesterday, and you’re now waiting for your new roommate, who, after five minutes of deliberating whether she should bring a jacket or not and finally decided against it, changed her mind the minute she stepped outside. 

It’s been two months since you last saw him. Shortly after sending your letter, you’d gone to stay with Sunoo’s grandparents for a week, just a day before he was set to come back from Seattle. Amid packing and other preparations, you haven’t had time to see each other. Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think I’ll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texted you. You replied that it wasn’t a problem, you told him which dorm you’d been assigned and found out his was the one next door.

When he notices you staring, he does a double-take. You wave at him, and even from this distance, you see the blush that creeps up his neck and takes over his face as he shyly waves back. You’ve never seen him like this—he’s always been either arrogant or friendly, never… flustered. He makes a motion as if to say, I’ll text you, and heads inside the building with his parents and all of his luggage.  

Indeed, he texts you some hours later while you’re sharing a piece of strawberry and matcha cake with your roommate Liz, whom you find out is half-German—Jongseong and your dad would probably love her for that simple fact. Some of the first things she’d asked you were what your astrological signs were and whether you wanted her to pull tarot cards for you when she was all done setting up her side of the room. Between that and her dyed blonde hair, you’d felt comfortable telling her all about Jongseong, the well and your dream. Unlike your skeptical and sarcastic friends, she’d nodded along to your every word, a serious expression on her face. “A sign from the universe,” she’d called it, and she gasped in excitement when his name appeared on your screen.

He sends you a link to a freshers’ week event, some potted plant sale happening on the main campus square, and asks if you’re free to go with him tomorrow. I need something to liven up that depressing room, he writes.

So that’s how you find yourselves among green plants of all shapes and sizes, searching for one that’s both low-maintenance and appealing to the eye. You’re glad that you have something to actually do—if you were just sitting at a café and having a conversation, you’re not sure you’d be able to stand the awkwardness. You’d chalked up his behavior on the day of his move-in to nerves, or to surprise upon seeing you so unexpectedly. But apparently, it wasn’t a one-time thing. He keeps clearing his throat as if he were sick with some cold, won’t look into your eyes for more than split seconds at a time, and in complete opposition to his usual confident, deliberate speech, talks in a quick and disorderly manner. And he’s either really caught a cold, or his ears have just permanently turned red. You ask him if something’s wrong a couple times, but he violently shakes his head, says, “No, what could be wrong?” then looks at you as if you might tell him what’s wrong.

When you’re alone again, you wonder what on earth could have happened over the summer that could make him change his behavior with you so radically. Did something happen in Seattle? Maybe he met someone there and doesn’t know how to tell you. Maybe you went overboard with your letters, he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, he wants to let you down easy but doesn’t know how to tell you. Or maybe—maybe you got impossibly pretty during those two months, and absence does make the heart grow fonder, as they say, and every thought you have about him, he has about you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you.

In any case, he’s hiding something.

The theory that he might want to stop being friends soon falls flat—the invitations to other freshers’ events keep coming, be it free wine & pizza taster sessions from the Wine Society, karaoke nights with the Taylor Swift Society or a shark movie marathon with the Bad Film Society, and he never turns you down when you tell him there’s something you want to visit in this new city of yours, even when the thing you want to visit in question is a bakery you have to queue in front of at seven a.m. if you want to get a pain au chocolat. In your defense, they turn out to be the best ones you and Jongseong have ever tried—although, to be fair, neither of you has been to France.

Things progressively return to normal. He’s able to make eye contact for more than three seconds again, he listens carefully and laughs along when you tell him about your week by the sea with Sunoo, he fills you in on what Heeseung’s been up to. One thing remains different, however—when you throw quips at him, he usually would’ve delighted in coming up with a better, wittier response, but now, he’ll roll his eyes at best, look at you amusedly and stay silent at worst. “Won’t you even entertain me?” you ask him once, to which he replies that you’re doing a good job entertaining yourself as is. 

Instead, he becomes more earnest. As per usual you badger him with questions like Aren’t I so pretty right now? or Isn’t my outfit so cute today? to get a reaction out of him, and if during your high school days he’d either fake a puking sound or look you up and down and grumble I guess, he now smiles and simply says Yes, you are, Yes, it is. It seems impossible to keep track of his attitude: one day, he’s one thing, the next, he’s another person entirely. 

It annoys you. You take his changing demeanor to mean that now that he’s a college student, he won’t indulge in your childish squabbles anymore, as though he was above all of that now, when just three months ago he was stalking your parents’ Facebooks to find unfavorable photos of you from when you were thirteen and using them as reaction pictures in your friends’ group chat. You think of your graduation day, of the box he’d given you, all done up in wrapper paper and a bow—he had filled it with every eraser he’d stolen from you over the years, he’d even gone so far as to date every single one of them, from the second of October freshman year to the twenty-eighth of November of your senior year. You didn’t count them, but there had to be at least a hundred. At the time, you’d just thought it was funny—but what if the gesture had meant something deeper than you’d realized? What if he was marking the end of something with that box? No more playing around, we’re adults now. But classes have barely started, you don’t know your way to the off-campus library, you aren’t a different person to who you were just weeks or even months earlier. Why is he acting like he is? You look at him, and you see the boy whose fault it was you had to buy a new eraser every week—who knows how many books you could’ve bought with that money. But when he turns to look at you, too, and your eyes meet, you’re suddenly assailed with the memories of that night, the kind eyes, the soft smile. 

Does his future capacity to love me already exist in his heart?

Your heartbeat speeds up and you have to look away.

--

From your letters, it seems to be much hotter back home than in Seattle—you talk of sunburns, of afternoons spent inside with the fan on maximum speed, of ice melting instantly and watering down your Coke Zeros, whereas Jay can walk around the city pleasantly and needs to bring a jacket if he’ll be out until late after sundown. And yet, as he reads your latest letter, his skin prickles feverishly, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He’d excitedly torn the envelope open the second it arrived in the mail, heart thumping as he counted the pages, at least three more than usual — he was always happy that you wanted to talk to him at all, so the fact that you had this much to tell him sent him over the moon — but he would have never expected what was awaiting him inside.

With a smile on his face, he read your replies to the questions he’d asked you last time, your reactions to everything he told you about, the live Mariners game, the lake house, the rides on the boat. He imagined you as you sat at your desk in your room he’d only seen once, when you’d held a small party for your birthday and he, having arrived first, was honored with a tour of your house. He imagined your smile, the way you played with your hair when you focused on something, wondered whether you pondered every word before you wrote it down as he did or whether you poured your thoughts out onto the page without hesitation. His smile faltered when Jake Sim’s name appeared in your neat handwriting, but he was relieved to find out your description of him now was miles away from the one at the start of the school year. 

Then you start writing about him. Him, Park Jongseong, and your words startle him so much, it’s like he’d forgotten he was the recipient of this letter in the first place.

But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you. 

He’s been lying comfortably in his bed, but he sits up the moment his eyes take in these words. If there is one topic the two of you have practically never broached, it’s this exactly: your relationship, the changes it’s gone through this past year. Except for a few mentions made in jest here and there, you’ve always conveniently ignored the fact that not so long ago, you were at each other’s throats. At least, you were at his throat, and Jay let you be, let you think the hatred went both ways, when in reality all he wanted was to keep you close one way or another. To him, anything was better than indifference.

But here you are, writing about how you feel about him, not in hints, not in jokes, but actually telling him black and white what goes through your head when you think of him—in other words, everything he’s been dying to know ever since he met you and especially ever since you started warming up to him a few months ago.

I have never told you about that night because I know it’ll just be more fodder for you to endlessly tease me, and I haven’t even mentioned it in these letters that I write and don’t send. Sometimes I debate the ethics of it—if I know something about our futures, isn’t it right that you know, too? But then again, I still hesitate whether what happened was real or not. As with anything, the more time passes, the more I forget about it. What kind of cheese you’d put on the pasta, the movie that played in the background, whether the stairs were carpeted or wooded—these details have evaded me by now. All I clearly remember is your face and how I felt, seeing it then, seeing it the next day at school, ten years younger, the same exact person in what felt like a different universe. As much as I tried to deny it, I know now that it was no coincidence—I was talking about it with Sunoo and he said that sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. He’s not always a dimwit. And he’s right, the kind of love I felt from you in that dream — or not-dream — I’ve yearned for it ever since I first watched Pride & Prejudice, the 2005 film to be precise, when I was ten. But with you? That was what I couldn’t believe at first. I don’t think I need to explain why—you were there, I think you knew how I felt about you for over three years, it’s not like I tried to hide it.

Then you turned up and the sight of you was enough to bring back all the feelings from that dream. You must’ve wondered why my behavior with you switched so suddenly—well, a glimpse into marital bliss is sometimes enough for a girl to make some changes in her life. Yet I valiantly tried to convince myself that any flutter of my heart around you was due to this stupid dream, to a version of you my brain had conjured up because it was starved for affection, and you happened to be at the forefront of my mind, even if not for the right reasons. But it was no use. I had entertained the possibility that this future was really mine, and I couldn’t go back to seeing you as the boy who annoyed the living daylights out of me.

But Jong, if you weren’t you, I would’ve been confused for a week and then I would’ve gotten over it. I stayed confused for a while, and everything you did only served to confuse me further. I started to notice you more, to see you for who you were and not for the idea I had constructed of you in my head, I stopped taking note of only the things that reinforced this idea. And that changed everything.

Let’s get it out of the way: as much as I hate to admit it because it proves you right, I saw that you are indeed devastatingly handsome. It devastates me every time I have to look at that stupid, wonderful face of yours. And if aging is something you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ve seen you at 28, and let’s just say that your jaw somehow only gets more chiseled. I’ve realized that you don’t just participate in class to be a prick — except for when you contradict me in Literature, I know you only do that to piss me off, and yes, it works — but that you actually care about what we learn and that you don’t want the teacher to feel like they’re talking to a classroom full of students made out of bricks. I’ve also realized that you didn’t specifically pick German to be the one subject where you must beat me at all costs, you just actually really like German, even if I’m still undetermined as to why. And I can finally admit to myself—you are funny. Sometimes. There were so many times I had to stop myself from laughing at one of your idiotic puns because I could not bear to give you the satisfaction. That feeling when the worst person you know makes a funny joke, and all that. And as much as I’ve mocked you for it, I do actually like your laugh. I like that you’re only loud when you laugh, or sneeze, or get excited over something. You don’t scream, you don’t get angry, and I think that’s a lot for a boy fresh out of puberty. Or for any boy, really. 

But above all, you’re kind, Jong. I think it’s the best thing about you. I think it’s the best thing anyone can be. I see it in your patience with Heeseung when he starts one of his rants better reserved for Reddit than real life, I see it in the way you took Sunoo and Kazuha in stride, even though they’re a bit rough around the edges sometimes, I see it in the way you guide the freshmen at the start of every year, when all anyone does is complain about them, I see it in the gentleness with which you let down the girls who confess to you, even the more persistent ones. I used to think they were crazy, but I understand them more than ever now. I also used to think that all those kindnesses meant that the ones you occasionally showed me meant nothing more than that—occasional kindnesses. You were just a nice guy, occasionally so to me. But you sort of ratted yourself out when you gave me those twenty chocolates for Valentine’s.

Or, really, what made things clearer was that fight in December. I guess I was wrong—you do get angry. I remember a thought I had at the time: just when I think I know you, you do something to shake it all up. You punched two of the star soccer players of our school in the face because they said some mean, unimportant things about me. Thinking about it now, I still don’t understand it. Was it another one of your acts of kindness? 

And then I thought of those other times you helped me out. Do you remember them—the art project, the handwritten notes after my grandma passed away, you tearing Park Sunghoon a new one in the girls’ bathroom. I’m sure there are many more that I’ve dismissed simply because I did not want to see you in any other light than the one I’d decided to shine on you. 

Maybe I’m rewriting the past here, but I’ve been thinking about something lately. The theme today seems to be honesty, so I’ll lay myself bare and tell you something I haven’t told anyone yet, not even myself. The more I write, the more I become aware of its truth. I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. Maybe that’s why I kept buying erasers.

I don’t have the best memory — I suspect iron deficiency, it runs in my mom’s side of the family — but I do remember this. The first time I saw you. I haven’t noticed your face changing in real time, but I’m sure I’d laugh at how much of a baby you looked back then. Although I didn’t fare much better, I’m sure. Well, you’re the one that has all these embarrassing pictures of me, you freak, so I’m sure you could tell me. Moving on… 

I found you really cute. You were chatting to the person next to you, maybe it was Heeseung, I didn’t look properly—I only looked at you. Don’t laugh at me. It was the first day of high school, there was a nervous energy in the air, but you seemed happy to be there. You know I don’t have hordes of friends like you do, I don’t walk through life with people naturally gravitating towards me. I’m okay with it now, but it was something I struggled with back then. Kazuha, Sunoo and I have had each other since our elementary days, and I never needed more than that—but fifteen is the prime age for comparison, and as the weeks passed and we got used to being high schoolers, I listened to everyone sing your praises, I watched as you talked with all of our classmates, even our teachers, like you were old friends. But we sat next to each other in a couple of classes, and you wouldn't talk to me outside of partnered work. I, who wanted to be easily charmed by you like everyone else was, who thought maybe you’d help me come out of my shell. But it felt like sitting next to me was torture to you, like the boy whom I watched speak with ease to everyone else disappeared when I was around. And so — and I’m not proud of this — every smart remark in class, every joke that had the entire class roaring, every high five you gave out in the hallway, I started to despise them. And by association, I started to despise you. After that, it was easy to find fault in everything you did, my contempt was only enhanced by everyone’s admiration. But I’m not alone here. It went both ways, didn’t it? I don’t think you liked that I didn’t like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyone’s favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didn’t let you. I don’t blame us for how we acted, only for taking so long to get our heads out of our asses.

(I have to say, I also have a thing for hating people. Remind me to tell you about Na Jaemin and Shin Ryujin one of these days.)

Anyways, I think it’s because I had liked you so much at first that I could then seemingly hate you so much. But I never hated you, Jong, not really. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. Can I take it all back now? 

Now that we’re entering university soon, I can’t help but look back on high school. This is what I want to know, but I’m not sure I’ll ever have the courage to ask you, because if your answer is the one I suspect, I don’t know how I’ll handle all the regret in my heart.

Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment you’d laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurse’s station. I’ll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?

Your letter abruptly ends here, no concluding remarks, no wishing him a fun time in Seattle and looking forward to his next letter, no sign-off. It was as if someone cut you off before you could say everything you wanted, but then why send him this seemingly unfinished letter? It is all the more bizarre since your letters are usually meticulous: you write on every other line, it looks like you take your time with every single letter, the only disturbance in your otherwise perfect handwriting is your going back-and-forth between cursive and script s’s. But this particular letter looks rushed, your lines are sloppy, some words need to be read a few times over to be understood. What kind of state had you been in, writing these words? Jay’s heart swells, thinking that you were as moved writing as he was reading. He even looks through your letter again, wishing to find a tear stain somewhere, but there are none. Maybe he’s been watching too many of these romantic period dramas you always go on about.

He has to pace his room when he’s done reading your letter, but he feels trapped inside these four walls, so he dashes outside, saying that he’s getting some air when his relatives ask him where he’s off to in such a rush, and walks around the block five times. When he’s back in his room, he rereads your letter, eyes taking in each and every word slowly and carefully, making sure he doesn’t misread anything.

You like him. You, Y/N, like him, Jongseong, it’s a fact, it’s real, you said so yourself, you went into quite some detail about it, he can’t believe it, but it’s real, it’s written right there on the page, if anyone dares tell him he’s fooling himself, he can prove them wrong, you’re the one who said it.

The smile doesn’t leave his lips for the rest of the day, he can barely eat, he’s already full of happiness. He reads your words over and over before falling asleep, committing them to memory, dreaming about them, about you.

You. How should he respond to this? Are you even expecting a response? You seem to know he’s not impartial to you, either, although that’s an understatement. 

In the following days, the thought that you hadn’t meant to send him this letter nags at him. The abrupt ending, the absence of your usual Love, Y/N. The fact that this had come out of left field—none of your previous letters had even a romantic undertone, no matter how he tried in his own to hint at his missing you, the most reference to seeing each other again you would give him was It’ll be better to show you this in real life. The act of sending letters itself didn’t feel very platonic, but you never went there, so he didn’t, either. He had secretly yearned to have you this close all these years, he would never forgive himself if he ended up chasing you away now with his over-eagerness.

You had landed on something very real in your letter: I don’t think you liked that I didn’t like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyone’s favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didn’t let you. He cursed his fifteen-year-old self, that idiot who couldn’t even speak to a girl no matter how much he wanted to, just because she was so pretty, he was afraid of saying something stupid and messing it up before it even had a chance to start.

On days when you’d had particularly nasty or petty arguments — it could get pretty bad, at the start, before you both started maturing and realized how ridiculous you were, especially with your classmates telling you to keep it classy — he’d stay up all night, wondering why you hated him so much in the first place, what on Earth he could’ve done to warrant such vitriol. Now, finally, he knew, and he could only resent the fact that no one had invented time machines yet, so he could nip his useless ego in the bud; so he could tell younger Jay not to take it personally, that you had your reasons for disliking him, that even if you hadn’t, the world won’t end if someone doesn’t like him like everyone usually does. 

Because, he hates to admit, that was what had done it for Jay. He couldn’t stand that someone — not just someone, but one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen, a girl he’d been hyping himself up to talk to every day, but never found the courage to — didn’t immediately fall for his charms. And not just that, but even showed just how much she disliked him. You looked him up-and-down with disdain, made disgusted faces at his jokes, rolled your eyes when he spoke up in class. It made him burn with anger, but he also weirdly enjoyed it—at least, you were paying attention to him. So, he amped it up. Talked louder, laughed louder, hovered around you. He even stole your erasers, wrote the date on which he’d taken them, kept them in a box on his desk that he looked at every time he studied at home. He aimed to beat you in every class you shared, even though neither of you cared that much about grades—the annoyed look on your face when he boasted about the two points he’d gotten over you was enough satisfaction.

All in all, he behaved like a child, and you reciprocated in like.

Until you didn’t.

It was a random Tuesday when something in your attitude towards him shifted. It wasn’t a complete 180, but he noticed everything about you, so even a slight change of your tone was obvious to him. You started using your nickname for him more often than his full name—he never told you, but of course he loved that you didn’t call him Jay like everyone else, that you had your own way of addressing him. It was a sign to him that the two of you had something special, even if it was on the opposite end of the spectrum of what he wanted with you.

He again spent sleepless nights wondering what had caused this change: was it something he had done, or something within you? It was a welcome change, that much was sure, but he was initially too confused to take it in stride. He’d long made peace with the fact that he’d never have you the way he really wanted, so he was fine with whatever this was—but now, you were changing, your interactions were tinged with something like shyness, the distance between you felt greater than ever. He tried to keep up his smart-ass appearances around you, but you only indulged in your old habits once in a while, as though you had grown tired of arguing with him, even of giving him the time of day.

So he resolved himself to adapting his behavior to yours. If you stared at him intently like his face was a puzzle you were trying to solve, he let you, rested his head on his palm and smiled as he stared back at you. Finally, he had an excuse to look at you without you threatening to punch him or saying a picture would last longer. He knew they did, he’d had to resort to scrolling through Sunoo’s and Kazuha’s Instagrams to find any photos of you. Yours was private and at the time, you would’ve probably cursed him out if he’d sent a follow request. If you seemed too annoyed or upset over something, he’d leave you alone, he’d do something nice to let you know you didn’t need to have your guards up at all times around him. If you seemed to silently call for a truce of hostilities, he easily complied.

Then, after a few weeks, your petty arguments resumed, but those too were different—if before they felt filled with real disdain and irritation, they now seemed to be a comfortable habit to fall back on, almost like a fun hobby. Those, too, Jay readily welcomed.

And so things changed in a direction Jay had never thought would one day be possible. You gave him no explanations, nor did he ask for any, and soon he stopped losing sleep over the why’s and the how’s and simply let himself enjoy the fact that you now had the semblance of a friendship, that he could compliment you and pass it off as amical teasing, that he could learn things about you like what you spent your weekends doing, what your relationship with your family was like, whether you were a dog or cat person, whether you wanted to visit his farm in Stardew Valley. 

Unsurprisingly, this only enhanced his already pathetically strong feelings for you. He worried over how to make sure this wasn’t some sort of 30-day friendship trial you had wanted to test out. He reveled in the fact that his top university of choice was the one you had already been accepted to. He now knew what it felt like to have you smile at him, smile because of him, and he never wanted again to live in a world where this was not a daily occurrence. 

He now sort of has an answer—your letter doesn’t make it very clear, it makes him think again that you really had not meant to send it, but you seem to have had a dream. A dream of him, 28-year-old him, to be precise, of your life together—he’s not sure. At this point in time, he doesn’t care much, either. Whether it was a dream or a real vision of the future that you had, all that matters is that it allowed you to see him in a new light, a light which he had hoped for years would one day appear to you, and it had changed things. And now, you liked him.

You said so yourself.

He’s at a loss for words. He can’t concentrate for long enough to put all his thoughts in order, he can’t make himself calm down and write his feelings down. He has to pack to go home, once he’s home, he’ll have to pack for university. But it’s only two weeks from now to the day you meet again, and it’ll be better to say what he wants to say in person, anyway.

Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think I’ll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texts you.

And then those two weeks pass like two seconds and you’re there, a few meters away from him. All the speeches he’d prepared in his head, from grand declarations of love to laid-back admittances of Yeah, I like you too, you’re cool, I guess, they all vanish from his head. For fourteen days he’s been going through scenarios upon scenarios of your reunion, what you’d look like, what he’d say, how you’d react. But now that he can actually see you, now that he would just have to walk a few steps if he wanted to touch you, hug you, kiss you — hoping that was something you wanted to do — he freezes. He forgets how his body works, the part in his brain that’s meant to manage language ability fails him. HIs mom calls him over, urging him into his new dorm building, and all he can do is wave back at you like an idiot.

When finally he musters the courage to text you, what he hopes will be the day that starts your romantic relationship turns into the day Park Jongseong realizes how much of a loser he is. For the first hour, he can’t look at you, he can’t get through a sentence without stuttering out half of his words, he runs out of things to say in record time. All he can think of is how easy it’d be to grab one of your hands, hold it in his and walk around this stupid potted plant sale as if the two of you were two halves of a whole. He doesn’t even want a potted plant, his roommate already has five, he just wanted an excuse to see you. He steals glances at you when you’re looking elsewhere, and he notices everything about you tenfold now that he can, now that caring about you doesn’t need to be in vain any longer. He tells himself that he just needs to calm down a bit, even when you have the confirmation that the person you’re about to confess to already likes you, revealing your feelings to someone is always nerve-wracking, the two of you haven’t seen in each other in a while, he’ll talk to you once his heart gets out of his throat.

But you’re acting normal. Suspiciously so. You’re acting like you never told him you liked him, like nothing has changed between you. He rereads your letter the second he gets back to his dorm. He’s not crazy, it’s written right there, I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. He knows the words by heart now, but he checks them anyway. So why are you acting like you never said anything? Had you really not meant to send that letter? Did Jay actually intrude on your private thoughts by reading words that had never meant to be seen by another soul?

You continue to behave as you usually would around him, but if he couldn’t go back to vicious bickering when things changed the first time, he can’t go back to friendly bickering now that things — for him — have changed a second time. He doesn’t even want friendly to be in your shared vocabulary anymore. 

So he stops giving in. If you make fun of him, he just stands there with an unimpressed if amused look on his face. If you pedantically correct him on something, he just nods his head and accepts it. He can tell you’re bothered by it, but he needs to show you that he doesn’t want to go on being just friends with you—he wants to compliment you without having to pass it off as teasing, he wants to stare at you with hearts in his eyes without having to look away when you catch him, he wants to spend every waking second of every day with you, he wants to hold your hand, hold you. 

He could wait for things to change slowly again, but why wait when he could help things along?

--

It’s nine p.m. on a Saturday and you’re sneaking Jongseong into your dorm. Liz is away for the weekend, gone back home to celebrate her aunt’s birthday, so you have the room to yourselves. It took some convincing to get him to come — What if we get caught coming in, What if your T.A. sees us, What if I get reported to campus police — and so when your verbal reassurances failed to work, you resorted to blinking up at him through your lashes and that did the trick.

Jongseong was in many ways unlike any other man you’d ever met; in some other ways, he was the exact same.

Plastic bag of the tteokbokki you’d asked for in hand, he looks around the deserted hallways like someone might jump out of nowhere and beat him to a pulp at any given moment. At this time of the week, everyone’s out partying or holed up in their dorms, presumably either to rest or because of a lack of friends so early on in the semester. You grab his free hand and hurry him along to the elevator—once inside, it takes you a few seconds before you realize you’re still holding it, and you retract your hand quickly while he just smiles. 

You settle yourselves on the floor—comfort is not worth getting gochujang sauce on your white sheets. You sit criss-cross in front of each other, the food between the two of you, and catch up on your first week of class in-between bites of spicy, gooey rice cakes and fish cakes. You wonder, if one day you and Jongseong are no longer friends, how long you will keep associating tteokbokki with him.

When you tell him that you and Jake share a class, Introduction to Film Studies, he gives you a look. “What’s that face for?” you ask.

“Did you guys sit next to each other?”

You chuckle. “Of course. We only knew each other in that room, it would’ve been weird not to.”

He continues to stare at you. After a while, he muses, “You’re not…?”

You halt in your tracks, rice cake at the end of your plastic fork hanging in the air, halfway between the container and your mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.” Still in love with him, interested in him again, you don’t know the exact details of Jongseong’s thought process, all you know is he has nothing to worry about—if it’s something he worries about.

When a smile slowly grows on his lips and he nods, saying, “Okay, good,” you let yourself think it might be.

Later, you’re ten minutes into a senseless blockbuster movie when he suddenly pauses it. It snaps you out of a trance—his hand was awfully close to yours, so is his shoulder, his thigh, his knee, everything, really, and you haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but the warmth radiating off his skin and the intensity with which you crave to feel it intentionally rather than accidentally. When he speaks, there’s something serious in his tone that makes you nervous. “Y/N,” he says as he turns to you, and now his face is awfully close, too. There’s still many centimeters separating you, but in this tiny, barely lit-up room, he feels closer than ever before. “Do you remember when I said I’d reply to your letter in real life?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah, that was ages ago.”

“Well, I thought I’d do it now.”

“Now?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath. “Now.”

And then those safe centimeters suddenly disappear, and Jongseong’s lips are on yours. It’s a brief, chaste kiss, so quick you wonder if it even happened when he leans back again.

“I like you, too,” he says, and your heart stops.

“W-what?” is all you can say back, eyes wide like he’s just admitted to killing someone rather than reciprocating your feelings.

His confident facade quickly crumbles. “God, this was so much cooler in my head, I-I’m sorry.” He pulls something out of his sweatpants pocket, pages folded over and over into a tiny square. As he unfolds them, you recognize your paper, your handwriting—but what do your letters have anything to do with him kissing you, of all things? “I don’t think you meant to send this. But I’m glad you did.”

He hands you the pages and your eyes skim over the words, not detecting anything out of the ordinary, until—But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you. You remember this line, because you had made sure to strike it and everything that came afterward out when you rewrote the letter that you would actually send Jongseong. So how was he giving you this? 

“I-How do you have this?” you ask, voice trembling. You feel as though your heart overflows with all kinds of emotions, and so your eyes follow, tears staining your lower lashes. 

But Jongseong is not one to let you hide things from him. “Hey, no, it’s okay,” he says, warm hands coming to cup your face. “Look at me.” You have no choice but to oblige—his gaze is somehow both soft and stern, a mix of concern and determination. “Did you mean what you wrote in here?” You nod. “Then everything’s okay. You don’t know how happy I was reading this.”

The tension in your body slowly starts to fade. “Really?”

“Really. I cherish every single word in there.”

“Really?” you repeat, and he chuckles.

“Really.”

Your heartbeat speeds up as you gaze into his eyes, as you let yourself bask in the affection and endearment you find there. You can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. The letter, the kiss, his confession, your inadvertent confession, it’s all a mess in your head; so sudden, but such a long time coming at the same time. You never imagined that things would change so quickly—less than a year ago, you thought Jongseong was the most irritating person on this planet. After meeting his 28-year-old self, you thought it’d take ages for the two of you to be on such good terms. But now, just a week into your first semester of university, belly full of tteokbokki and Sprite, you like each other enough not only to be in the same room without hurling insults at each other but to actually be smiling at each other, willingly at that.

Your eyes drift down to his lips, just like in the hallway all those months ago, and the words slip out before you can stop them. They’re a mere whisper—”Kiss me again.”

Jongseong doesn’t need to be told twice. Still cupping your face, he bridges the gap between the two of you again, and this time, when your lips meet, they don’t come apart so quickly. It’s your first kiss, and it’s nothing short of magical, better than any romance novel could’ve prepared you for. His lips are warm and soft against yours, moving slowly, gingerly; as if he’s scared to take any wrong step, he lets you control the pace, follows every tilt of your head this way and that. It’s a relief that he seems to know as little about this as you do—his hands haven’t moved from your face, yours are on his knees, all you can do is focus on the movement of your lips, to think of anything else at the same time would be overwhelming. 

“I’ve liked you from the start,” he suddenly says, face still so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he speaks. 

“Hm?” you hum, body reeling from the kiss.

“I’ve liked you from the start,” he repeats, grinning—he looks relieved, like he’s been waiting to say these words for a long time. “I can’t believe this is happening after all these years. Or at all, really.”

“I think I did, too.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that in your letter.”

Your eyes widen and you bury your face in your hands as Jongseong laughs. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” you mumble.

He smooths over your hair with one hand, brings your face back up with the other. “Don’t worry. I won’t ever make you regret this.”

Your brain and heart are too all over the place for you to come up with a coherent answer, so you lean in and reconnect your lips to his. It’s already becoming your favorite sensation, feeling him smile into the kiss, threading your fingers in his soft hair.

Time passes delicately like this, the two of you on your single bed, in the sheets that you bought three weeks ago. A lot of it is spent kissing and learning how to fall into each other’s rhythm, but you also spend hours talking, comparing situations and how you’d experienced them. You thought his occasional acts of kindness were done out of guilt, evidence that he did have some morals; he was trying to show he cared about you. He thought you’d despised him from the moment you saw him; you reiterate in more detail than your letter what really happened, you say you wish you knew then what you know now. 

“But I never hated you, Jong. I think I wanted to believe that I did, but I never actually did.”

“You glared at me everytime I walked past like I killed a member of your family.”

You groan, ashamed of yourself. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he says, chuckling, placing a kiss on your forehead. His arms are around you, your head rests atop his heart—you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life. “But it’s okay. We’re here now, and I don’t want us to have any regrets about high school. We had a good time, didn’t we?”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “I’m sure you did, stealing all my erasers.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. Clearly, he’s very proud of his feat. “Hey, I gave all of them back.”

“And what am I going to do with a hundred erasers, Jong?” you ask, laughing too, pecking his cheek aggressively—your way of punishing him for a grave deed.

“Keep them as a token of my love for you,” he says, and your breath falters at the mention of that word. “In fifty years, it’ll be a sign that I’ve liked you since the beginning, I just had a funny way of showing it.”

“Fifty years, huh?”

He grins. “Fifty, a hundred, whatever. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

You’re both smiling so wide, you can barely manage a kiss. He trails kisses from your lips to your ear. Holding you close, he whispers, “It’s always been you, Y/N. Always and only you.”

There may be thorns on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life, but Park Jongseong was never one of them—all along, he was a bud waiting to bloom.

--

The more time passes, the more you wonder whether that night you had seen in your vision will ever come. There’s been evenings similar to it—crashing the minute you came home from a long day on set, telling yourself you’d take a fifteen-minute power nap only to wake up three hours later and coming downstairs to find your husband cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, taking care of your son or simply watching TV, but waiting for you, always waiting for you. He seems as happy now watching you come down the stairs as he was then finding your face among all the students flocking out of lecture halls. 

The details are blurry now, but many small things seem to be different from what you’d seen. He still tries to recreate your favorite meal, but it’s not pasta all'arrabbiata, it’s laksa, because your first date as an official couple was to a Malaysian restaurant, not an Italian one. He’s still the best father you know, but you have one son, not twin girls—although that offer to “give him a younger sibling to play with” is always on the table. Even the house you live in is different from the one in your dream, which has now become nothing more than a funny anecdote you share with people when they ask you the story of how you and Jongseong met.

You think of Sunoo’s words from all those years ago: Sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. Had 18-year-old you been in such denial over her feelings for Jongseong that she’d had to convince herself a magical well had bestowed a crazy dream upon her to admit that, yes, there was something there, something other than childish hatred?

It doesn’t matter anymore. Months pass without you thinking about that well, anyway. 

Tonight, you come home late from work after having had to do last-minute changes to the script for your current project, a movie that starts shooting in a few days. Jongseong texted you that he was going to bed an hour or so again, so you’re greeted by a plate of japchae covered in film paper. The post-it note stuck to it reads, I’m afraid of the repercussions of too much curry consumption on our son, so no laksa tonight my love. Hope you like it. Come to bed quick. You were starving a second ago, but you decide food can wait—other things can’t.

You tiptoe up the stairs and into your son’s room, breathing in the scent of his hair and placing a kiss there. His hair is still worryingly sparse, but if he’s anything like his dad, it’ll come in a bit later than the other kids. You always thought babies with a full head of hair were freaky, anyway. He doesn’t budge a bit, sleeping like a log—his dad is another story, shuffling in bed the moment you step into your shared bedroom. He opens his arms wide, a silent invitation.

“You’re home,” he says as you attach yourself to his body, your leg hiked up over his, your face buried in the crook of his neck, your thumb caressing the start of stubble on his cheeks.

You smile. “I am.”

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[dollgxtz]

Trick or...Temptation?

Word Count: 9.8k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, pet play if u squint, creampie, biting, rough sex, pet names like kitten, sweetie, penetration, cunninlingus, i wanted to make this a vampire!sylus fic so bad but I got nervous lmao but theres slight mentions of him :3

AN: Happy Halloween everyone! I sincerely hope u all enjoy this, it was super fun to write! I rushed to finish this so I could post it exactly on Halloween. Enjoy!

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?” You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

“Come oooon! It’ll be so much fun!” Tara exclaimed, trailing behind you as you both walked out of work. The day had ended early thanks to the holiday, and while most people had exciting Halloween plans, you had opted for a quiet night in with a scary movie marathon. Of course, your enthusiastic coworker had other ideas for you.

“Tara, as much as I’d love to, it’s really just not my scene, you know? Maybe next year?” you tried, hoping to dodge her invitation once again.

“You always say that!” Tara pouted, her voice pleading as she quickened her pace to walk beside you. “Please? It’ll be fun! Just a few hours, a couple of drinks, a little dancing, and we can leave! Deal? It’s a festival, for crying out loud! I don’t want to go by myself.”

You glanced at Tara, her eyes wide and shimmering with that classic puppy-dog look she always gave you when she really wanted something. You couldn’t deny she had a point. It wasn’t like you had big plans for the night—just a quiet evening with a blanket and some popcorn. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to step out for a few hours, right?

“Fine,” you finally sighed, rolling your eyes but smiling a little. “But only for a few hours, and then I’m out.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, bestie!” Tara squealed, practically bouncing in excitement. “I’ll see you later tonight! You’re going to love it!”

And that was how you found yourself here, standing in front of your mirror, dressed in a skimpy cat costume. You adjusted the white miniskirt and tugged at the black corset top, making sure everything was in place. The cat ears perched on your head and the swishing tail added a playful touch, though the whole ensemble was definitely more revealing than you were used to. You sighed, resigned to your fate.

You didn’t have to stay long, you reminded yourself. Just a few hours, and then you could slip back into your original plan of movie night...hopefully without running into too much trouble.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, typing a quick message to Tara: On my way. Hitting send, you opened your ride-share app. If you were going to be drinking tonight, it was best not to drive yourself. The car arrived faster than you expected, and you slipped into the back seat, watching the city lights blur by as you mentally prepared yourself for the night ahead.

Arriving at the event, you stepped out of the car and immediately took in the scene. The park had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland, bustling with life. String lights cast a soft, warm glow over the area, illuminating clusters of people already well into the party spirit. Bodies bumped together in rhythm with the pulsing beat of the music, and a mix of excited chatter and laughter filled the cool night air. The grass beneath your shoes was damp with evening dew, and the faint scent of autumn leaves and spiced drinks wafted through the crowd.

Everywhere you looked, Halloween-themed decorations adorned the space—carved pumpkins lined the walkways, some with goofy faces, others with intricate, eerie designs. Fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing skeletons and witch hats dangled from makeshift booths. There was an excitement in the air, palpable and contagious, though you still felt a little out of place.

Your eyes wandered toward the bar at the far end of the festival grounds. It was busy, but it was exactly what you needed. Liquid courage, you thought. If you were going to make it through the night, a drink or two would certainly help take the edge off. You made a beeline for it, weaving through the crowd, your thoughts focused on what your first drink would be—something strong, something to help you loosen up.

Just as you were about to make your escape, a high-pitched squeal cut through the music, and you barely had time to turn before you saw her—Tara, dressed in her fairy costume, wings glittering under the lights, barreling toward you at full speed.

“You’re here!!” she cried, wrapping you in an excited hug before you could even react. “Oh my God, I thought for sure you’d bailed or fallen asleep or something!”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “Yeah, well, you convinced me. I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” you said, shaking your head as you hugged her back, her energy instantly infectious.

Tara pulled back, her wide smile practically glowing. “Thank you soooo much for coming! I’m so excited, I can’t even—” she paused, looking you up and down, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You look amazing! That cat costume is sexy! Definitely a step up from your usual movie marathon at home, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit, this is...different,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your miniskirt. The cool night air reminded you just how short it was. But Tara was right—you didn’t do this often. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to try something new tonight.

Tara, completely unfazed by your slight discomfort, grabbed your hand with excitement. “Alright, enough chatting. Let’s get some drinks! We’re here to have fun, and the night is young!”

She pulled you toward the bar, and you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. It wasn’t your scene, but with Tara by your side, maybe the night wouldn’t be so bad after all. The thumping bass of the music, the swirl of costumes, and the faint buzz of excitement in the air already had you feeling a little lighter.

The two of you made your way through the crowd and finally approached the bar. It was busy, but not unbearable, with people lined up in various costumes, chatting, laughing, and ordering drinks. As you and Tara waited for your turn, she started rambling about all the new Halloween movies you two could watch later, once the festival was over.

“There’s this one that’s supposed to be so creepy! It’s about these haunted scarecrows that come to life—oh, and don’t even get me started on the one with the possessed doll…” Tara continued, her excitement infectious as she rattled off titles.

You nodded along, half-listening, your mind slightly wandering as you scanned the area. The lights flickered over the bar, casting an eerie glow on the bottles lined up behind the counter. The decorations were elaborate—fake cobwebs stretched across the bar shelves, and jack-o’-lanterns glowed faintly from the corners of the space. You were just starting to get lost in your thoughts when the bartender, a stunning blonde woman dressed in a witch costume, turned to you with a smile.

“Hi, can I get a—” you began, but you were abruptly cut off by a smooth, male voice behind you.

“I’ll get a Gin Fizz and two margaritas for the ladies,” the voice said with casual authority.

You froze for a moment, the sound of that voice sending a jolt down your spine. You spun around, and there he was.

Sylus.

Tall, effortlessly imposing, with his signature white hair catching the dim light and his crimson red eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, knowing glint. He wore a dark, sleek outfit that hugged his frame perfectly, making him stand out even in the crowd of costumes. His smile was just as confident and wicked as you remembered.

“Long time no see, kitten” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with amusement as he looked down at you, eyeing your costume.

Your stomach did a flip. Of all the people you could have run into tonight, Sylus was the last person you expected—or wanted—to see. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and now here he was, appearing out of nowhere like he always did, and immediately making your pulse quicken.

“Sy-I mean Skye?” you stammered, catching yourself as Tara turned around too, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of this tall, striking man. Her bright eyes went wide, and she started clapping her hands excitedly.

“Skye! I haven’t seen you since our team-building outing! How’s the fruit business?” she asked, her voice bright and friendly as she came to stand beside you, completely unaware of your racing heart.

Sylus—no, Skye—didn’t miss a beat. He flashed Tara an easy smile, looking as unruffled as ever. “Ah, the fruit business is...ripe as always,” he replied with a wink towards you, clearly enjoying the nervous look on your face.

The bartender cleared her throat, cutting through the tension. “There’s a line, folks,” she said with a polite but firm smile, nodding toward the queue of people waiting for their drinks. “Take your drinks and let the others through.”

You blinked, suddenly remembering where you were. Nervously, you reached for your margarita and handed Sylus his gin fizz, all while trying to calm the wild beating of your heart. The casual smirk on his face did nothing to help your nerves. With drinks in hand, you and Tara moved toward a quieter, empty spot at the edge of the festival, away from the bar's chaos. Sylus, of course, followed.

As soon as you settled into your spot, Sylus wasted no time, his teasing smirk never fading. His eyes roamed over your outfit—your skimpy black cat costume with the mini skirt, corset top, and cat ears—and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, he sauntered over, his smirk growing more wicked by the second. “You say you don’t want me calling you kitten, and yet here you are,” he drawled, letting his gaze sweep over your costume. “Dressed as one. How cute.”

You glared at him, already feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “Zip it...” you warned, rolling your eyes at the sheer irony of it all. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but let a small giggle slip past your lips. It was absurd, really. Of course, of all the costumes you could've picked it just had to be this one.

He just chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What are you even doing here?” you finally asked, your voice a little sharper than intended. “I thought you didn’t like crowded places.”

Sylus gave a soft laugh, leaning against a nearby post with his usual air of nonchalance. “I’m not a fan of crowds,” he admitted, his gaze flickering back to the sea of people dancing and drinking. “But I happen to own this little part of Linkon.” He said it so casually, as if it were no big deal. “Figured I’d make an appearance. Keep an eye on things.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Of course he did. Sylus always had a way of showing up in places you least expected him—places you thought you could escape from him, if only for a night. But owning part of the city? That was new.

But not surprising.

Tara, who had already downed her margarita, was clearly impressed. “Woah, Skye,” she slurred slightly, her eyes wide with admiration. “The fruit vendor business must pay soooo well.”

You shot her a look, silently willing her to stop talking, but she was already giggling, oblivious to the tension between you and Sylus. He, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything.

“What can I say?” Sylus replied smoothly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fresh fruit is forever in demand.” His eyes met yours again, clearly enjoying the joke that only the two of you understood.

You groaned inwardly, sipping more of your margarita as you glared at Sylus. He was playing along, effortlessly weaving his cover story about being a simple fruit vendor. And yet, there he was, owning half the city and standing in front of you, looking like he could control the whole damn world if he wanted to.

Sylus raised his glass in a mock toast, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. “Happy Halloween?” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well that this night was gonna be a loooong one.

Tara, always quick to notice things, suddenly glanced at Sylus with a playful frown. “Wait a second, Skye,” she said, squinting at him, “you’re not even in costume!” She giggled, rummaging through her bag, clearly not letting him off the hook. “This is a Halloween festival, after all. You’ve gotta dress the part!”

You internally groaned, already bracing yourself for whatever Tara had up her sleeve. But of course, she wasn’t about to disappoint. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a small plastic case from her bag and popped it open, revealing a pair of cheap, plastic vampire fangs.

“Here!” she said, holding them out to Sylus with a twinkle in her eye. “These will work perfectly. You’ve already got the whole pale, mysterious look going on. You’d make such a great vampire!”

You couldn’t help but glance at Sylus, your heart skipping a beat as you realized just how well Tara’s suggestion fit. His striking white hair, his sharp features, and those intense, crimson eyes...he really would make a disturbingly convincing vampire.

To your surprise—and mild horror—Sylus flashed a wicked grin, clearly entertained by the whole situation. “A vampire, huh?” he mused, taking the plastic fangs from Tara’s hand and inspecting them. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with that all-too-familiar mischief. “I guess I can pull that off.”

He slid the fake teeth into his mouth with an exaggerated flourish, and somehow, even with cheap plastic fangs, he managed to look both ridiculous and annoyingly attractive at the same time. He bared his new "fangs" with a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“See?” Tara beamed, clapping her hands together. “I told you! You look like you’ve been doing this your whole life!”

Sylus smirked, turning his attention back to you, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone he always used to get under your skin. “I do make a rather convincing vampire, don’t I?” he said, flashing his fake fangs at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. “What do you think, kitten?”

You glared at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You’re lucky I don’t have garlic,” you muttered, sipping your drink to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Tara, oblivious to the tension between the two of you, just giggled again and raised her empty glass. “I need another drink after that! I'm gonna go get another round,” she said, already walking back toward the bar.

As soon as Tara was out of earshot, Sylus’s demeanor shifted slightly. The playful grin remained, but now, with just the two of you, there was something darker, more intense in his expression. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly much more imposing.

“You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he closed the distance between you, “I think your friend is onto something” His eyes gleamed, locking onto yours with that wicked, teasing look you knew all too well.

Before you could react, he leaned in—so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck. Your heart jumped in your chest, the sudden proximity sending a shiver down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, teasing, as he lingered just inches from your neck, not touching you but close enough that goosebumps instantly rose along your arms.

You froze, every nerve in your body suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The scent of him, a mix of something dark and enticing, filled your senses. Your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t hide the goosebumps now crawling up your skin.

He let his breath linger for just a moment longer before his lips curled into a smirk near your ear. “You might want to watch out, kitten,” he whispered, his voice a low, teasing growl. “I could get used to this.”

Your breath hitched, and you struggled to keep your composure, your pulse racing wildly. “Sylus…” you warned, trying to sound stern, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly, clearly reveling in your reaction. Straightening up slightly, he didn’t step back but remained close, his crimson eyes still locked on yours. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his voice smooth and playful. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You glared at him, trying to mask the fact that your heart was still hammering in your chest. “Don’t start,” you muttered, forcing a glare, even though you could still feel the heat from where his breath had brushed your skin.

Sylus took a slow sip of his drink, his smirk never fading. “I wasn’t starting anything,” he said innocently, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “Just playing the part.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks and the pounding of your heart betrayed you. “Just don’t bite anyone,” you shot back, trying to reclaim some control over the situation.

“No promises,” Sylus said, his voice soft but dangerous, his gaze lingering on you as if you were his prey.

Tara came bouncing back over to you with two martinis, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hey! Want to dance?” she asked, already swaying to the music.

You barely hesitated, desperate for a way to escape the overwhelming tension with Sylus. “Yeah, sure,” you said, quickly taking the martini from Tara and downing a good portion of it. You could feel Sylus’s eyes on you, and when you glanced his way, he simply gave a slight nod, clearly content with watching you both from afar.

Your skin prickled under his gaze as you and Tara made your way toward the middle of the festival. The music was thumping, bodies swaying together under the dim, flickering lights. You still felt uneasy knowing Sylus was watching you, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But as the alcohol worked its way through your system, slowly loosening your limbs and dulling the tension, you started to let yourself get lost in the music. Tara twirled around you, laughing and dancing without a care in the world, and soon enough, you found yourself smiling and moving along with her.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your bones, making everything seem a little hazier, a little easier. The bass pulsed through the air, the crowd a blur of costumes and laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about Sylus’s watchful eyes.

But eventually, a different need called your attention—you really had to pee.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you shouted over the music to Tara.

“I’ll come with you!” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. Stay here! I’ll be right back.”

Tara shrugged, happily returning to her dancing as you weaved your way through the crowd, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin as you stepped away from the dance floor. Your steps were a little unsteady, and as you made your way to the row of porta potties set up near the back of the festival grounds, you blinked to clear your vision. Everything seemed a little...fuzzy. The alcohol was really kicking in now, and you swore the ground felt a little wobbly under your feet.

You managed to find an open porta potty, and after handling your business, you stepped out, blinking again as the world swayed in front of you. Shit...am I really this drunk? you thought, steadying yourself against the side of the porta potty for a moment. Your vision was blurry, and everything seemed a little too bright, a little too loud.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching. For a second, you thought it was Sylus. The height was wrong, but the dark outline and the way the man moved had you second-guessing yourself. Relief almost flooded through you, but then the figure got closer, and the sour, stale scent hit your nose.

No, this definitely wasn’t Sylus.

The man was much shorter, stockier, and as he came closer, you could smell him—like sweat and cheap cologne, mixed with the stench of too much booze. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as he stepped into your personal space, his breath hot and sour as he leaned in a little too close.

“Hey there,” he slurred, his voice dripping with false charm. “You look a little lost. Why don’t you come to my car? It’s parked just over there.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you instinctively stepped back, trying to put some distance between you and him. “No, I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice shaky as you tried to move past him. But he stepped into your path, blocking you with an alarming quickness for someone who seemed so drunk.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone darkening, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. “It’ll be fun. I can show you a good time, little kitty.”

Panic surged through you as you tried to yank your arm away, stumbling slightly as your vision blurred again. The alcohol was making it hard to focus, and you cursed under your breath. “No, leave me alone!” you said, your voice firmer now as you tried to push past him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his face twisting with frustration. “I said come with me,” he growled, pulling harder.

Your pulse skyrocketed, fear taking over as you struggled to break free. Just as you were about to shout for help, a shadow loomed behind the man.

“I’d suggest you listen to her.”

That voice—it was low, cold, and unmistakable. You looked up, relief crashing through you like a wave as Sylus appeared, his tall figure practically radiating menace. The shorter man immediately let go of your arm, turning to face Sylus with a sneer, clearly trying to act tough despite the difference in size.

“And who the hell are you? I'm her boyfriend, fuck off” the man spat, puffing out his chest.

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice low and deadly. Without another word, a cold red mist began to swirl around him, tendrils of it seeping through the air like something out of a nightmare. The temperature around you seemed to drop, and you could feel the mist growing denser, colder.

The drunken man didn’t seem to realize what was happening until it was too late. The red mist wrapped around him like a snake, tightening and choking him. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air, his grip on your arm loosening as fear took over.

Sylus didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on the man, his fury palpable as the mist constricted tighter.

The man’s face turned a sickly shade of purple as he clawed at the mist around his throat, desperately trying to break free. He gagged, his drunken bravado crumbling into pure terror.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you stepped forward, grabbing Sylus’s arm. “Stop. You’re going to kill him...there's people all around us.”

Sylus’s eyes flicked to you, still cold and angry, but there was a flicker of hesitation. You could see the struggle behind his gaze, his fury barely held in check. But slowly, the mist around the man’s throat began to dissipate. Sylus released him, letting the man fall to the ground, coughing and wheezing as he scrambled to his feet.

The man didn’t waste a second. He stumbled away, terrified, mumbling incoherently as he disappeared into the crowd, wanting nothing more than to escape the nightmare he had just experienced.

Sylus’s shoulders tensed, his body still vibrating with anger as he watched the man retreat. His breathing was heavy, and though the mist had vanished, the chill in the air remained.

You stood there, your heart still racing, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified by what had just happened. As Sylus turned toward you, you could see him trying to calm himself.

“My kitten,” he said softly, though his voice was still rough with residual anger, “is always getting herself into sticky situations.” He took a step closer, his usual smirk returning, though there was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Good thing I’m a vampire tonight. I can sniff out when she gets herself in trouble.”

You managed a shaky laugh, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to almost kill him,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure.

Sylus shrugged, his eyes softening as he looked you over, checking to make sure you were truly alright. “He deserved worse,” he said, though his tone was lighter now. “But I’ll behave. For you.”

Sylus suddenly glanced down at his watch, his expression hardening almost instantly. Without warning, he turned to you and, in a firm voice, announced, “We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confused. “What? Leaving? Why? What about Tara?”

But Sylus didn’t bother explaining. He grabbed your arm with a sense of urgency, pulling you away from the festival and weaving through the crowd. You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but with the alcohol still lingering in your system, your balance wasn’t on your side. “Hey! What about Tara?” you protested, struggling to keep up with his swift pace.

Sylus barely glanced back at you as he strode toward a sleek, black car parked near the edge of the festival grounds. “Luke and Kieran are taking her home,” he replied coolly, unlocking the car with a flick of his wrist. “Behave, and get inside.”

You planted your feet, halting in your tracks as you shook your head, confused and frustrated. “Wait—what? Why are we leaving so suddenly? I don’t—”

But Sylus wasn’t in the mood for a debate. He turned, his eyes flashing with irritation, and in one swift motion, he pushed the car door open, his grip on your arm tightening slightly as he guided you into the passenger seat. You tried to resist, squirming under his firm hold.

“Get in the car,” he sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue. “Please.”

After a bit more struggle—your alcohol-fueled frustration not making it easy—you finally huffed in defeat and let him guide you into the seat. He shut the door behind you with a sharp click before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

You sulked in silence as he started the engine, the low hum of the car doing little to soothe your frustration. You didn’t understand why Sylus was being so forceful all of a sudden, and the abruptness of it all only added to the confusion swirling in your mind. The alcohol still clouded your thoughts, making it hard to argue, and as the car began to move, the steady rhythm of the ride lulled you into an unexpected calm.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the tension of the night, you found yourself slowly drifting off. The next thing you knew, darkness had settled around you, and your body slipped into a deep, alcohol-fueled sleep.

When you woke, you felt yourself being carried, the world around you shifting. The first thing you noticed was Sylus’s steady, strong grip beneath you, his arms holding you close as he walked. You blinked groggily, your vision clearing slightly as you realized you were no longer at the festival—or in the car.

Sylus was carrying you through the dim, industrial halls of his home in the N109 Zone. The walls were dark and sleek, bathed in a soft glow from the faint lights overhead. The cold, sterile air of the house prickled against your skin, sobering you up a little more as you processed what was happening.

A wave of frustration hit you. With your head clearer now, you reached up and pinched his cheek, your fingers digging in as you muttered, “Asshole.”

Sylus let out a soft grunt of surprise, glancing down at you with a bemused look. “Still feisty, I see,” he murmured, though there was an amused glint in his eyes. “How unfortunate that the nap didn't dull your attitude".

You scowled, still annoyed by the way he had just whisked you away without any explanation. “You dragged me away from the festival without even telling me why,” you muttered, your voice sharper now that you were more awake. “What the hell, Sylus?”

He just chuckled softly, ignoring the sting from your pinch. “You were in no state to argue,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact as he carried you further into his home. “And I had enough of babysitting you the whole night.”

“Well I didn't ask you to watch me,” you grumbled, though your body still felt heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol. You squirmed a little in his arms, trying to free yourself, but his grip on you was steady and unyielding.

“You can complain all you want, kitten,” he said with a smirk, “but you needed to get out of there. Trust me.”

You huffed, more irritated now. “Don’t call me kitten,” you muttered, glaring up at him through half-lidded eyes. It was bad enough that he always teased you with that nickname—tonight, it felt like he was deliberately rubbing salt in the wound.

Sylus glanced down at you, his smirk deepening into a mischievous grin. “Why not?” he asked, his voice soft, teasing, as his eyes traveled over your outfit. “You’re dressed like one tonight. Seems even more fitting than usual, doesn’t it?”

Sylus carried you effortlessly through the halls of his home until he reached his room. He set you down gently on the large, plush bed, its softness immediately pulling you in. The sheets felt cool against your skin as you sank into them, your body still heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol.

You watched as Sylus moved across the room, grabbing a glass of water from a nearby table and bringing it back to the nightstand beside the bed. “Drink this,” he said, his voice less teasing now, more gentle. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Go to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes but obediently took a sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. As you placed the glass back down, you realized that the fog in your mind was starting to lift. You weren’t as drunk as you had been earlier—your head was clearer now, though you were still feeling bold enough to be a little reckless.

Sylus walked across the room, settling into a large leather chair near the window, watching you from a distance. He leaned back, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, clearly still on edge after the events of the night.

But something stirred inside you—a spark of mischievousness born from the alcohol still lingering in your system. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking of how he had pulled you away from the festival without warning, how he always teased you, and how you could never seem to one-up him. Maybe now was your chance.

You slid out of bed and onto all fours, quietly crawling toward him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and warning.

You didn’t answer. Instead, when you reached him, you rested your face against his legs and set your head down in his lap, rubbing your cheek against him in a way that could only be described as cat-like.

For a moment, Sylus just stared at you, processing what you were doing. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, looking down at you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Not only are you dressed like a cat,” he said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm, “but now you’ve decided to act like one too.”

You smirked to yourself, feeling triumphant in your little act of rebellion. “I’m just embracing the part,” you murmured, your voice teasing as you nuzzled your face slightly against his legs.

Sylus’s hand twitched slightly, and for a moment, you wondered if he would push you away—but he didn’t. Instead, he just watched you, his gaze sharp and curious, though there was a flicker of something darker beneath his playful expression.

“Careful, kitten,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous tone that always made your pulse race. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, the mischief still swirling inside you. “And what if I am?” you challenged, pushing yourself just a little further, enjoying the way his body tensed beneath you.

Sylus’s crimson eyes darkened, his smirk fading slightly as he studied you more closely. There was something electric in the air between you now, the tension palpable as he weighed his next move.

“You’re bold tonight,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious. “Bolder than usual.”

You just smiled up at him, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having thrown him off balance, even if only slightly. “Maybe it’s the cat costume,” you teased, still resting your head in his lap. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing more predatory as he leaned down slightly, closing the distance between your faces. He looked at you with a gleam of amusement and hunger, his tone shifting to something deeper, more commanding.

“Since you’re feeling so bold,” he said softly, his voice dripping with a dangerous edge, “you should have no problem mewling a little for me then, hm?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the sudden shift in tone making your pulse race even faster. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unwavering, made your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. He wasn’t playing around anymore. The teasing had escalated, and now he was testing you, pushing you to see how far you would go.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of defiance and something else stirring within you. The tension between you two had never been more palpable, and in that moment, it felt like a line was being drawn—a challenge you weren’t sure if you wanted to accept or retreat from.

Sylus leaned back slightly, his expression amused as he watched the gears turn in your head. “What’s the matter?” he teased, though his voice was softer now, coaxing. “Cat got your tongue?"

You smirked at Sylus’s challenge, the mischievous spark in your eyes growing even brighter. Fine, you thought, two can play at that game.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the role he was teasing you about, doubling down on your boldness. You let out a soft, playful meow, pawing at his legs like a mischievous cat. The alcohol still buzzing in your system only made it easier to fully embrace the act, and you were determined to throw him off balance—if only for a moment.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at how far you were willing to take the game, but his smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened as he watched you with amusement, his crimson eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Oh, so we’re really doing this?” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You meowed again, more dramatically this time, your hands pawing at his pants as you looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. You could see the amusement in his eyes, and you knew you had him—at least for now. Deciding to push the limits, you got even closer, deciding to rub your face against his half hard cock hidden beneath his jeans.

Seems he was more affected than he was letting on.

With a mocking grin, Sylus reached down and ran his hand gently over the top of your head, as if petting you like a real cat. “You must be very drunk,” he teased, his voice light and playful. “Acting like a kitten and now letting me pet you? I need a camera.”

But before he could pull his hand away, you leaned forward and bit him—lightly, but enough to make a point. He barely reacted before withdrawing his hand, his eyes widening with mock surprise as he looked down at you.

“Oh?,” Sylus said with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You even bite too? What an unpredictable little kitten I have”

You grinned up at him, feeling victorious in your rebellion, the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline making you bolder than ever. “I warned you not to underestimate me,” you teased, your eyes still locked on his, enjoying the game far more than you expected.

Sylus’s playful smirk returned, though there was an undeniable glint of something darker in his gaze. “I think you've forgotten something though” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping lower.

"I bite back.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your grin in place, unwilling to back down now. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the playful teasing quickly evolving into something far more intense. You had started this game, and now you were both caught in it.

But for now, you weren’t ready to back down. “I think I can handle it,” you replied, your voice light but laced with challenge.

Sylus’s eyes flickered with amusement, but the edge in his gaze remained. “Is that so?”

Before you could react, Sylus stood up abruptly, his towering presence looming over you. Caught off guard, you stumbled backward, landing on your elbows. Instinctively, you began to scoot back, trying to put some distance between you and his intense gaze, but there was nowhere to go. You felt the cool sheets of the bed press against your back as you found yourself cornered, unable to escape the situation you'd playfully started.

Sylus took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on yours, predatory and amused. He enjoyed how you had pushed him, but now it seemed like the tables had turned. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race in a way that wasn’t just from fear or excitement—it was something more.

“Sylus,” you said, your voice half-teasing, half-nervous, “you’re not really going to—” But the words caught in your throat as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours, cutting off any space for escape.

You were about to plead again, but your voice faltered as he lowered himself closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Why so nervous now?” he teased, his voice low and dangerous, echoing your earlier defiance.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the intensity in his gaze rendered you speechless. Instead, all you could do was look at him, your breath catching in your throat as the air around you thickened with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the predatory edge was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You nodded again, almost breathless. “Y-yes,” you whispered.

Without waiting another moment, Sylus’s lips were on yours. The kiss was slow at first, his hand coming up to cradle your face gently, despite the tension hanging in the air. You melted into the kiss, your mind swimming as his lips moved against yours with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was as if he was savoring every second.

But then his lips trailed down, leaving a hot path along your jawline, and before you knew it, he was at your neck. You shuddered, the sensation making your pulse quicken, and just as the heat spread through you, you felt a sharp sting—his teeth sinking into your skin.

You gasped, a groan escaping your lips as the bite sent a jolt of pain through your body. Your hands instinctively gripped the sheets beneath you as your body tensed, your head spinning with the mixture of pain and adrenaline. Sylus’s teeth sank in deeper for just a moment, the pressure sharp but somehow electrifying.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His crimson eyes gleamed as he watched your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?”

You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and though the bite had hurt, there was something about his voice, his presence, that made you want to give in. Despite yourself, you found your body relaxing under his touch, your breath steadying as you nodded again, almost instinctively.

Sylus smiled, his lips brushing against your neck once more. “Good girl,” he whispered before trailing soft kisses along your skin, his hands firm but gentle as they held you in place.

Before you could respond, his teeth sank into your skin again, this time in a different spot. The bite was just as sharp, if not sharper, and you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another jolt of pain shot through you. The sting was immediate, but beneath it, there was a strange thrill, an intensity that made your heart race.

Your hands gripped the sheets even tighter as he bit down harder, holding the pressure for a few seconds longer this time. Warm tears begin to pour down your face. The sensation of his teeth against your skin left you both groaning in pain and caught in something deeper, more electric. Each mark he left felt like a brand, a reminder of just how much control he had over you in this moment.

Sylus didn’t pull back right away; instead, he lingered at your neck, sucking gently at the new mark he’d made, as if savoring the taste of your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat, your body trembling beneath him, torn between the sharp sting of the bite and the warmth that followed in its wake.

When he finally released you, he trailed slow, deliberate kisses over the fresh mark, his tongue grazing your skin in a way that made your head spin. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the possessive way his hands held you in place as if daring you to protest.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was lay there, breathless, as the intensity of it all washed over you.

Sylus looked down at you, his gaze full of smug satisfaction as he admired the new set of marks he’d left on your neck. His thumb grazed over them gently, tracing the outlines of his bites as if claiming you in some silent, unspoken way.

“You wear my marks well,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Perhaps you should challenge me more often, kitten.”

Unable to respond, you watch as his lips makes contact with yours again, gentle but devastating. Every nerve in your body sings for him at the contact, and you feel more warm tears finally slip from your eyes to drip down between your lips and his. He pulls back to look at you, wiping those tears away and sighing in pleasure at whatever expression he finds on your face. You curl your fingers in his shirt and tug him back to you, wanting to savor this, but also wanting more, so much more.

Your tongue slips past his, and your fingers tangle into the back of his hair of their own accord. He moans, honest to god moans into your mouth at the contact, and any pretense either of you may have had about this being only a kiss simply evaporates. His mouth moves more insistently against yours, hand cradling the entire side of your face, and you finally allow your hips to push forward, finding him fully hard this time.

He suddenly leans back and pulls his shirt over his head one-handed in a smooth, practiced motion. It's the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen. If you didn't know that almost certainly mind-blowing sex is soon to follow, you'd swear that there's nothing better on this earth than watching Sylus strip his own shirt off to bare that sinful chest. 

He smirks down at you, resting one hand on your hipbone and snaking the other to the waistband of his pants, but that's more than you can take right now. You hook your legs around the back of his and pull him down, desperate, and you shudder as his clothed erection is finally brought flush against your arousal. 

"Sylus, please," you whine, trusting that he knows what you're begging for. His fingers tighten and relax on your hip as if by reflex, and you can barely think straight around your need to have him inside you. 

"You're sure?" he huffs, capturing your mouth again, and you'd laugh if you weren't fit to combust from desire. 

"God, I'm sure." You don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life, to be honest.

Sylus's lips pull up into another satisfied smirk against yours, and his fingers dig into your flesh with intent this time as he leans back again. "Maybe we should wait until you're more sober-"

"No!" you interrupt him, probably too quickly, and he quirks an eyebrow again. "Um, I mean...I'm good."

"You're good?" he asks, and fuck, it's so hard to think around this insistent, burning desire. You could sense his small hesitation and become desperate to ease his worries surrounding your state of mind.

"Yeah," you tell him again, as pointedly as you can while impatient with lust. "The nap really helped, I'm okay."

He hesitates a moment longer, and you feel like your about to combust with need.

"Sylus. I want you. All of you." You reach a hand out to cup the length of him through his pants, delighting in the narrowing in his eyes and the shudder that goes through him. A sudden thrill of confidence has you saying the filthiest thing you've ever said before you can stop yourself.

"I want you to cum inside me. Please."

You think the look in his eyes might be a little bit feral as he turns his full attention back to your body, tugging your skirt . He slips his fingers into your panties with no preamble, and he sighs appreciatively at the slick he feels there. "You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

He's going to drive you insane, and when you tell him as much, his only response is to tear the garment down your legs, toss it behind him, and press two fingers inside of you. You choke and gasp his name as he grins wickedly down at you.

"Yeah, you have." He presses deeper, thumb brushing your clit, and you can't hold back a desperate cry. 

"Sylus, please-" 

"Fuck..." His eyes trail down to where his fingers are buried, and you'd be self-conscious if you had even a single brain cell to spare that isn't consumed by pleasure. "Do you know how long I've wanted this, gorgeous? The second I saw you in that costume I wanted to tear it off".

You can only gasp and buck your hips shamelessly as he continues, murmuring encouragement and looking both as smug and as charming as he ever has. This feels so good, so unreal, his slender fingers hitting all the right spots inside you while his thumb continues rubbing lazy circles outside. You can hardly believe that the same fingers your eyes have lingered on as they hold bullets or curl around a trigger - the same hands you've seen kill countless times - are now the gentle architects of your mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Come on, that's it," Sylus coos with a particularly delicious quirk of those fingers, pulling you out of hazy memories and back to what you realize is now an imminent orgasm. Your eyes drag from the stark outline of his erection against his pants, up his chest and to his face, where you catch him biting his lip in his concentration.

"Sylus-" Your hips buck against his hand as the tension coils inside you. "I'm-" 

"I know. Go head and cum kitten," he says with another devilish grin, and god, he's going to be the end of you. 

"Sylus," you gasp again, reduced to this mindless desperation as his talented fingers work you while your release hovers just out of reach. "Please, I'm-" 

He finally takes pity on you and ducks his head to seal his mouth over your clit, and fuck, what you wouldn't give for more of that, but after all this build-up, one brush of his tongue is all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge. Both of your hands fist in his hair as you shudder under him, gasping and keening, and you feel him groan against your sensitive flesh. 

Eventually, he pulls away, though it takes you several more seconds to come back to earth. When you open your eyes, it's to find him stripped down to nothing, hovering over you again with a self-satisfied expression. 

"God," you say, still not recovered, and then, because you can't help it, your eyes drop to his cock. It's as beautiful as the rest of him, rigid and straining for you. Your core throbs again as you realize that getting you off is what got him this worked up. Fuck. 

How as that possibly going to fit?

"It'll fit, don't worry" he says, as if able to read your mind. You don't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. 

You groan and throw an arm over your eyes to resist the very real temptation to stare at Sylus's naked body for the rest of your life. You feel him move closer, dropping down onto his palms above you, and you lift your arm to watch him settle between your thighs like he's always belonged there. 

"You want to do this?" he asks softly, red eyes searching yours for one last confirmation, and you respond with a few tiny, shaky nods. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip with a quiet sigh. "Let me hear you say it, beautiful." 

"Yes, Sylus," you plead, tears burning again at the corners of your eyes, and he hums his pleasure against your lips as he lines himself up. You inhale sharply through your teeth as you feel the first breach of his cock, holding that breath in your lungs as he slowly sinks in to the hilt. Christ, he's big. 

"Breathe, kitten" he reminds you, still disarmingly gentle, though you can see the smug satisfaction plainly on his face. He braces himself on his forearms to pepper kisses along your neck and jaw, pulling out to slowly slide back in with a deep groan.

Your hands fist in his hair, and you think you might be onto something with that when his chuckle melts into a moan. He eyes lock onto yours as he buries himself as deep as he can again, and you're taken aback by the open adoration you see on his face - you can only hope your own face is mirroring that for him. 

He slides out and in again, again, slowly falling into a steady rhythm that's better than anything you've ever felt in your life. For an endless time, there's nothing else - it's just the two of you, bodies coming together in pleasure, the occasional rougher thrust making you gasp his name as he mouths yours against your skin.

Sylus's hips suddenly still and he drops his head beside yours, heavy breaths hot against your ear. You shift underneath him, relishing the feel of his length still thick inside you but needy for him to move.

"Just need a second," he pants, sounding as wrecked as you feel. "I'm not ready to be done with you yet, sweetie." 

And oh, if your heart (and your aethercore) could explode from words alone, those would do it. The most divine human being you've ever known is lying here staving off an orgasm so that he can keep fucking you. And he just called you sweetie. 

Yeah, you're totally dead and gone. 

You lie there for a few moments, matching your breaths to his and kneading your fingers into the firm planes of his back. An appreciative groan rumbles out of him, and he pulls back to slide out of you, silencing your noise of protest with a finger to your lips and a low chuckle.

"You'll get what you want," he admonishes, grasping one of your hips to give it a slight push. "Patience, kitten" 

He leans back, and you catch a glimpse of his cock, hard against the vee of his hips and glistening with your wetness. Fuck. You shift your legs apart, and he's back on you immediately, one hand digging into the flesh of your ass and the other bracing itself next to your shoulder. 

"Good girl," Sylus breathes into your ear, and you go boneless as he sheathes himself in your slick heat once more. "Good fucking girl, taking me so well." 

You're beyond being able to respond to his filthy praise with anything other than gasps and moans, but he doesn't seem to mind, taking them as encouragement to fuck you even harder and bring your bodies flush together. When his hips snap forward, driving him deep, deeper, you swear you see stars. God, this angle is otherworldly, his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with each perfect thrust. Your hands cling desperately to his biceps, feeling those mouthwatering muscles ripple as he holds you tighter. Sylus's fingers wrap gently around your neck as his teeth nip your ear, and you cry out, feeling a familiar heat and tension begin to build within you. 

"So close again?" he growls, each breath harsh as he fucks into you. "Shit...feels so fucking good." 

Yeah, you're fucking close, if the steady stream of "yes" and "please" pouring from your lips and the almost painful way you're gripping his cock is anything to go on. You might even be sobbing now, who the fuck knows. His fingers clench against the pulse jumping in your neck, and there it is-

You glance up at him, muscles taut as he thrusts, and it's over for you, even before his eyes flick up to yours as he breathes,

"Cum for me." 

Your body shakes against him as another orgasm barrels through you, and you think you might actually scream this time, which is a shame because you're sure Sylus is saying some delectable shit to you right now. He doesn't let up, cock still pounding into you relentlessly, and when you finally come down from your high, it's to find his moans coming out broken and his thrusts rougher than ever. He's close. He's right there. You're not sure what possesses you in that moment, but you reach a hand between your bodies and close your fingers gently around his balls. Your efforts are rewarded with stuttering hips and a glorious, drawn-out groan as Sylus cums hard, his face shoved roughly into your shoulder. 

You take a moment as he pants against you, the aftershocks of your own orgasm still thrumming through you, to stare at the ceiling in disbelief that this is real life. You just had sex with Sylus. The leader of Onychinus. You're desperately in love with him and he might just feel the same about you. 

When his hips finally still and he stops panting into your skin, you begin guide his face closer to yours, relishing the way he rests his full weight on top of you without thinking, dazed as he is in his own pleasure. He pulls your face toward his to capture your lips in another blistering kiss, this one unexpectedly tender after his ferocity only moments ago, and you moan softly through it at the feel of his cock still solid inside you. 

You both catch your breath against the pillows for a few moments before he whispers that he's going to pull out, and you brace yourself for that final slide of his cock. Fuck, that should not feel as good as it does, especially considering that in the same second you have to clench your thighs to keep his release inside of you. Sylus lays on his back beside you with a sigh of contentment, and you turn carefully to lie right alongside him. You slide your hand over to his, not sure why you're feeling shy about this when you just got done being thoroughly fucked by him, but you feel relieved all the same when his fingers intertwine with yours. 

Your breaths slow as you both lie quietly in the afterglow, and after a time, he turns to face you.

"I trust it goes without saying that you're welcome to stay as long as you like," he says, brushing your hair back from your face, and all of your emotions come rushing back. You love him. You love him.

"What if I never want to leave?" you whisper, and now it's spoken, now it's out there for him to do with as he will. He studies you for a long moment, and it could just be the light of the room reflecting in those red eyes, but you think you see them glistening.

"I think that could be arranged," he finally says, his voice as full of emotion as you've ever heard it, and you feel as though you're drowning in your love for this man. You swallow past the lump in your throat and throw him as playful a smile as you can manage. 

"Well, that's good, because I feel your cum slipping out of me. Might need to put more back in there" you say, emboldened by his now obvious desire for you, but still feeling bashful as you say it. Both of his eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs, a deep, indulgent sound.

"Careful," he purrs, wrapping both arms around you like a vice. "Might get me going again."

"Plenty of time for that later," you tell him, leaning forward to bury yourself in his chest again, hoping your words carry the weight of the three specific ones you're still too embarrassed to say out loud. 

"And more," he murmurs in your ear, arms tightening around you, his words sounding an awful lot like an unspoken affirmation to your unspoken vow. 

This wasn't such a bad Halloween after all.

[greengoblinswifey]

Can I request a Nicholas Chavez smut? Pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏😫 I was thinking maybe something where they have A LOT of sexual tension, and like they flirt and that stuff

Lovvvvv u💗

Just Friends— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings— lots of flirting and sexual tension, oral(f), hand job, praise kink, ass slapping and grabbing, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, L bomb, fluff?

a/n— love you too, hope you enjoy my interpretation. yes it’s very long as usual, i had to capture the essence <3

Nicholas had been your friend for years, the type of friend who felt as familiar as ‘family’ but kept you on edge with the kind of sexual tension that always lingered just under the surface. You’d been there through his rise in the acting world, tagging along to premieres and red carpets as his “bestie.” Of course, all of your friends saw the way you two interacted, flirting that went far beyond innocent banter, lingering touches, and the looks you exchanged that seemed to say everything except “just friends.”

The first time he backed you up against a wall was at one of his movie nights. The rest of your friends were in the next room laughing over some game, but you and him had drifted to the kitchen for snacks. Somewhere between grabbing popcorn and pouring drinks, he leaned in close, his arm resting above your head, caging you in.

“You know, you’re a terrible influence,” he whispered, his face just inches from yours.

“Oh really?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Says the guy who’s about to be on his third cup of vodka.”

“No,” he murmured, voice low as his gaze fell to your lips, “I mean, the way you look at me.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Your breaths mingled, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned in closer, his lips an inch away from yours. But then he smirked, as if breaking the tension intentionally, and stepped back.

Moments like these happened all the time. Like the photoshoots you’d both do just for fun, candid snaps and Polaroids capturing the way you looked at each other. In one, you were staring at him, your hands on his shoulder while his was around you waist, pulling you close, and in another, he was giving you a look that made you feel like the only person in the world. Anyone who saw them would have sworn there was something going on, but you always waved it off.

In one instance, the two of you were back at his place after an event, still dressed up, the excitement of the night still thrumming through you. Nicholas loosened his tie, watching as you kicked off your heels and stretched out on his couch, looking up at him with a smirk.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you teased, “and I might start thinking you’ve got a little crush.”

He scoffed, but there was a glint in his eye. “Oh, please. If anyone here has a crush, it’s you.”

You laughed, pretending to scoff, but leaned forward. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you were the one who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves tonight.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to,” he replied, his voice dropping, and he took a step closer until he was standing over you. He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of you. “And what if I said I don’t want to keep my hands to myself now?”

Your breath hitched as his lips hovered near yours, but you weren’t about to break eye contact. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He lingered, his eyes scanning your face before dropping to your lips. “Just making sure you’re as ready as you’re acting,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through you.

You felt a spark ignite, leaning up just enough so your lips almost touched his. “Nicholas, if you’re going to do something, now’s your chance.”

He grinned, biting his lip as if savoring the moment, but he pulled back, leaving you on edge. “Oh, I will. When you least expect it.”

Another night, you were at a friend’s place for a get-together, squeezed onto a crowded couch beside Nicholas. Someone made a joke about the two of you potentially being a cute pair and you rolled your eyes, but Nicholas just smirked, sliding an arm over your shoulder.

“Guess they’re onto us,” he whispered, leaning close to your ear so you felt the warmth of his breath. “Or maybe you’ve just made it too obvious you can’t resist me.”

You raised an eyebrow, nudging him lightly. “Resist you? Please, I’m just letting you hang around so I don’t break your heart.”

He chuckled, playing along. “Oh, yeah? Because I seem to remember a certain someone texting me at two in the morning, needing ‘company.’”

You felt your cheeks flush, but you shot him a quick, mischievous smile. “Company,” you retorted, “doesn’t mean anything more than a little late night fun.”

He tilted his head, giving you that same intense, teasing look. “Oh, so I’m just ‘late-night fun’ now?”

You shrugged, looking back at him with a challenging smile. “What can I say? You’re good for a laugh and a distraction.”

Nicholas laughed, pulling you a little closer. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

The “late night fun” you spoke of was just Nicholas helping you re decorate, watch your favorite tv show with you and continuing the banter.

Another time, you were at your apartment, watching a movie he had starred in on the couch. At some point, his arm settled across the back of the couch behind you, his fingertips lightly brushing your shoulder.

“You’re comfortable, right?” he asked, his tone smooth but a little too casual.

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Unless you’re planning to do something that’d make me, uncomfortable?”

He smirked, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. “Only if you ask nicely.”

At a party, you’d both been teasing each other all night, throwing playful glances across the room. Later, in a quiet corner, he slid his hand down to your lower back as you leaned in close to talk.

“You know,” he whispered, “I think you like it when I drive you a little crazy.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, maybe. But it’s nothing compared to what I could do to you.”

His eyebrow arched, a grin spreading across his face. “Is that a promise?”

“Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out,” you shot back, biting your lip.

“Dancing, huh?” you teased again as he pulled your flush against him to the rhythm of the music, meeting his eyes. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

He shrugged, but his grip tightened ever so slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold you.”

Your heartbeat quickened, but you kept your cool. “You don’t need an excuse.”

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping lower. “Good to know.”

Another time, late one night after a fun evening, you and Nicholas were walking back to his car together. Your fingers brushed as you passed each other on the sidewalk, a simple touch, but it sent a shiver down your spine. As you both approached the car, he stepped in front of you, blocking your way for just a second before he opened your door for you.

His voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it. “Are you sure you want to go back home alone tonight?”

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, and said, “Why? You worried about me?”

He stepped even closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he whispered, “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just not ready to let you go yet.”

After this, you were standing near a group of people at a Hollywood party, but Nicholas was leaning against the wall just across the room, watching you, his eyes following every move you made. When you turned to meet his gaze, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you staring at me?” you asked playfully, your voice carrying just enough edge to tease.

He didn’t break eye contact, his gaze darkening as he took a slow step toward you, his tone low. “Maybe. I’m just trying to figure out if the rest of them can see what I see.”

You took a step closer. “And what’s that?”

“That you’re mine,” he said, his lips brushing just barely against your ear as he leaned in close. “And I’m not sharing.”

“Yours?”

“Y-yeah, you’re my best friend after all.” You’d never seen him this flustered and you both just laughed it off.

The two of you kept playing that game, a series of almosts, leaving you both hungry for the moment one of you would finally make the move neither could take back. Then it happened.

The after-party of the event Nicholas invited you to was alive with flashing lights and the low hum of conversation as he scanned the crowd, searching for you. When he spotted you in the corner, his jaw clenched. You were backed against a wall, leaning into a conversation with some actor whose name he didn’t care to remember. Your gaze was all doe-eyed and captivated, the same way you looked at him whenever the two of you got a little too close.

Before he knew it, Nicholas was striding across the room, sliding between the two of you and placing a firm hand on your waist. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer, pulling you away with that possessiveness you’d never quite seen before.

As soon as you were away from the other guy, you couldn't help but tease him, looking up with a smirk. “What was that about? I thought we were just friends?”

“Friends, huh?” he murmured, a challenge glinting in his eyes. He didn’t let go of your waist, keeping you close as if daring anyone to interrupt again.

The two of you spent the rest of the night practically glued to each other. On the dance floor, you found yourselves moving in sync, his hands on your hips as you swayed, flush against each other’s body.The warmth and closeness, the way his fingers skimmed your skin, left you breathless.

By the time you left and climbed into the backseat of his car, both of you were a little tipsy, laughter spilling between flirtatious exchanges and you could feel your pulse racing.

As you stepped inside his house, you threw him a mischievous look, lips curling into a smirk. “You know, for all your big talk, you never actually follow through,” you teased, voice light and playful. “It’s almost like you’re scared.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening as he backed you up against the door, one hand braced beside your head as he looked down at you, his mouth curving into a smirk of his own. “Careful now,” he murmured, his tone low and challenging. “Are you asking me to prove something?”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart hammering as you nodded slowly, almost daring him.

He leaned in, his voice a low growl against your ear. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

And then his lips crashed against yours, and suddenly, every ounce of that simmering sexual tension between you two exploded. His kiss was intense, consuming, and you found yourself melting into it as his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you felt him press you harder against the door. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you tangled together, caught in the heat of the moment.

He scooped you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward his room, lips barely parting as he navigated the hallway. You could feel the rush of his breath against your skin, hear the steady, quickening beat of his heart as he laid you down.

As you both caught your breath, you looked up at him, lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and managed to say, “Wow. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Nicholas chuckled, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “Likewise.”

His gaze softened slightly as he admitted, “I’ve waited way too long to do that.”

You smirked, leaning up to brush your lips over his again. “Well, you can do more.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned back in, capturing your lips in another feral kiss. His hands were on you, warm and steady, slipping beneath your top and easing it off, then slipping off your mini skirt, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. He paused for a moment, taking you in, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Wow,” he murmured. “Who’d you dress up for like this? Someone in particular?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Just—someone.”

“Who?” he pressed, a knowing glint in his eye.

You met his gaze and replied softly, “You.”

He smirked again, his fingers grazing over the straps of your bra before unclasping it, letting it slip from your shoulders. His eyes lingered as he gently pulled off your underwear, murmuring, “Lift your hips for me.”

As you did, he carefully slid it down, leaving you both breathless and wrapped up in each other, feeling that intensity settle into something unmistakably real.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, all naked for me, fuck,” he breathed, taking in the sight before him.

He leaned down, his mouth taking in your nipples and you gasped, feeling his tongue swirl and suck on it. Your hand went to his hair as he kneaded the neglected left breast and all you could do was moan as he continued.

“Mm— you like that baby? Yeah? You like when your best friend sucks on your juicy fucking tits?” he asked, in between sucking.

“Shut up and keep going.”

He did as he was told, then you felt a hand on your thigh, caressing you as you spread them open, practically begging him to touch you. You were soaked for him. A soft whimper left your lips as his fingers dipped inside your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, we’ve barely started and you’re soaked. You’re making a mess on my sheets, look.” Looking down you realized there was a large wet patch on his sheets and you closed your eyes, heat rising in your cheeks and between your legs.

“That’s okay baby, it’s gonna get even messier when I make you squirt all over it.”

You gasped and he took the opportunity to kiss you, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. His fingers began moving inside you rapidly, his palm grinding against your clit and making you feel pleasure beyond what you’d ever experienced before. Maybe it was the level of attraction and sexual tension between you finally overflowing, you didn’t know, but you were certainly enjoying it.

“Nicholas, I- I’m gonna—”

“Shh, I know baby, I can feel your tight pussy clenching around my fingers, cum for me.”

His mouth moved to your tits, suckling as his fingers curled inside you and you finally let go. You moaned his name as your pussy soaked his fingers, your orgasm taking you over so intensely that you were shaking.

“That’s my good girl, that’s it,” he praised, “finally being obedient for once.”

You rolled your eyes but they immediately rolled back, as Nicholas fell to his knees, his tongue on your clit. He laughed at your cockiness merging into pleasure, continuing to suck on your sensitive clit. He was a man starved, his mouth engulfing your pussy, making sure every part of it felt his tongue.

“God, Nick, I’m gonna cum again,” you whimpered.

“You taste like heaven sweetheart, cum again for me, I need to taste everything.”

He gripped under your thighs, slurping and sucking and soon, you granted his request, squirting in his mouth as he drank everything you had to offer. His fingers slipped inside your pussy and his tongue flicked your clit, guiding you through your high as you soaked his sheets, the patch growing larger and larger.

“I knew I could make you feel better than anyone else can,” he chuckled, sucking off his fingers.

Smirking, you leaned over to stroke his hard cock. He was decent. Oh, who were you kidding, he was fucking huge. Of course he was.

“Like what you see? You’re practically drooling baby,” he smirked. Soft whimpers left his lips as your warm hands stroked him and you spread the pre cum that was oozing from the tip.

“F-fuck, oh my god your hands feel so good around my cock,” he moaned, “as much as I’d love for you to stroke and suck me, I need to be inside you, now. I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

Your arousal grew as his body went between your legs, your eyes locked on each other with the whole world ceasing to exist. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your folds, the sound of your pussy squelching filling the room.

“I’m gonna fuck you raw because you’re mine, is that okay?”

“More than okay.” A cocky grin tugged at his lips and your jaw fell open as he pushed inside you slowly, inch by inch.

“Oh my god,” you moaned in unison.

Nicholas moved slowly, his touch tender but full of that same intense energy that had been simmering between you two for so long. As he pressed into you, it was like the culmination of every teasing look, every playful comment, every stolen moment, all building to this point.

You gasped softly, feeling the thrill of finally crossing that line. He stilled for a second, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered, “You feel so perfect.” His hand found yours, fingers interlacing as he held on tightly, grounding you in the moment.

You exhaled shakily, barely able to form words. “Worth the wait?” you managed to tease, a small smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Better than I ever imagined.” He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his voice soft but full of meaning as he added, “You’re everything I wanted.”

With every thrust, the intensity built, the shared glances and flirting making each moment feel like the answer to everything you’d both been waiting for. It felt like more than just a moment, it felt like finally, the reward for all the pent-up desire and all the time spent dancing around what had always been between you.

Nicholas began moving with a more intense rhythm, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. The pleasure seemed to crest with each movement, both of you lost in the heat of the moment. His voice came out low and husky as he murmured, “You feel so damn good. I knew you would, with that fucking mouth of yours.”

A shiver ran through you as you whispered back, breathless, “And you— mm, you look so hot above me.”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned down, his hand sliding to your hip, steadying you as he picked up the pace even more. “Cum all over my cock,” he urged, his voice barely a whisper but filled with a mix of tenderness and demand. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

The pleasure built up, and with one final hard thrust, you let go completely.

“Nicholas,” you moaned, biting his shoulder in the rush of release.

“Ow— I’m so attracted to you,” he said, kissing your neck, “I’m not done with you yet, I want you to ride me.”

Without another word, you switched positions and you straddled him as he sat up, his back pressed against the large bed frame.

“You are breathtaking, you know that?” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I need you so bad,” you whimpered, sliding your pussy along his cock.

“I need you even more baby, now sit.”

Slowly, you sank on his cock feeling him slowly fill you up.

“You’re s-so big, god, just stretching me out,” you gasped.

You began riding his cock, your tits bouncing and his eyes went to them, mesmerized by the view before him. His lips went to your nipples, sucking as he grabbed your ass, guiding you to take his dick deep.

“Keep bouncing on my dick baby, just like that, don’t stop.”

Your bouncing sped up, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you.

“I’m close, I- I can’t hold it,” you screamed.

“Don’t hold it beautiful, let go for me, cum on my cock,” he demanded.

With a moan of his name, you draped your arms around his neck, grinding against him as your orgasm washed over you. He held onto you for dear life, his hands grabbing your ass as your pussy clamped around his cock and your juices soaked him.

“Good girl, that’s my baby,” he moaned, “I want my baby to cum one more time, turn around and ride my cock again so I can see that fat ass bounce.”

You whimpered as you turned around, his cock still inside you, the feeling of it swirling inside you making your head spin. He slapped your ass, startling you.

“God, this fucking ass. Could you tell when I’d let my hands brush over it? How I’d have my hands on your lower back teasing lower and lower?”

You couldn’t even form coherent words, the feeling of him so deep inside you was the only thing you cares about.

“Bounce that ass on my dick,” he added, slapping your ass harshly.

Your ass slammed onto him, little moans leaving your lips as your hands were on his legs, propping yourself up.

“Fuck, fuck fuck, oh my god Nick,” you cried out.

“That’s it baby, moan for me, scream my fucking name. You waited so long for this, make it fucking worth it.”

His hips began thrusting up, meeting your ass as he kept slapping your ass cheeks moving from left to right, willing you to bounce faster.

“This tight pussy is just gripping my cock. I’ve got such a good view. It’s just sucking me in, so tight around me,” he moaned, watching your pussy glide on him.

“You feel so good, filling me up so much,” you croaked out.

He grabbed your ass, his hips still slamming against your ass, the sound of skin slapping making his cock even harder. Suddenly, your knees gave out and he continued thrusting up into you.

“Give me one more sweetheart, cum on my cock, soak these fucking sheets,” he demanded.

Your fingers dug into his legs and you soaked his cock and the sheets, your orgasm ripping through you like a sharp knife.

“What a horny little girl, so good for me, now it’s my turn.”

He held you down, his hand going to the back of your neck and pushing you into the mattress as you arched your back. He slammed into you harshly, slapping your ass and moaning your name as he chased his orgasm.

“Shit, where do you want my cum princess?”

“Inside me, please Nicholas, I need your cum inside me,” you begged, gripping the soaked sheets.

“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m s-sure, just please, I need your cum in me, now.”

You didn’t have to tell him a third time, he pressed you into the bed, his cum filling you up, the warm feeling making you both moan in content.

“Yes, yes, shit,” he whimpered, his voice shaky.

He flipped you over, your body landing on top of him and he quickly plugged your pussy with his cock again, preventing any of his cum from leaking out.

The two of you lay there, bodies entangled, your head resting on his chest as you both caught your breath. Every unspoken word, every stolen glance over the years, had led to this moment, and the weight of it felt as satisfying as it did intense. The quiet between you was comfortable, filled only by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

Nicholas’ hand trailed gently up and down your back, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “That was a long time coming,” he murmured, his fingers brushing through your hair. “All that teasing, all those ‘just friends’ glances, guess it had to break eventually.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling his warmth and the closeness of the moment settling around you. “Guess you’re not as good at resisting me as you thought.”

He chuckled, pulling you a little closer. “Can you blame me? You’re impossible to ignore.” He paused, then pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his expression growing a bit more serious. “You’re amazing, you know that? And, that was amazing.”

As he spoke, his eyes softened, and he looked at you with a depth that made your heart skip a beat. “I love you,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, but carrying the weight of everything he’d been holding back.

Your breath caught as you met his gaze, eyes wide in surprise. But the sincerity in his eyes, the way he held you close, made everything fall into place. “I- I love you too, Nicholas,” you replied, your voice just as quiet but filled with certainty.

He smiled, his hand cupping your cheek as he drew you in for another kiss, one that was slow, tender, and filled with the promise of everything yet to come.

[rosyblooom]

the set up | op81 smau

PAIRING: oscar piastri x fem hamilton!reader SUMMARY: oscar and y/n practically act like a couple, but they swear they're just a couple of besties. so some of the grid devise a plan to force them to call it what it is once and for all A/N: i love sad endings, i can't help it🫣 but here u go <3 (pls don't cry lol)

Instagram

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, nellarosee, and 164,885 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername happy birthday bestie!!! 🩷🤍🩵

view all 1,309 comments

username I'm crying what's with that random kangaroo pic at the end💀

yourusername huh?? that's just oscar and his big arms, silly! username i- you did not LMAO

danielricciardo Bestie, husband, boyfriend all have the same meaning, I see

yourusername WRONG ! bestie is what i'm gonna make heidi demote u to if u don't zip it! then u can kiss those husband dreams of urs goodbye 😘 danielriciardo If it's anything like what you and Oscar have got going I have no complaints 😁 username oop y/n were you silent or silenced?🎤

oscarpiastri Was that kangaroo really necessary?😐

yourusername it's not a crime to be aussie AND show off ur gains at the same time babes x

username "bestie" smh... imagine how tired we are 🫤 imagine how tired we are of it

(liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and charles_leclerc + more)

username why did nearly the entire grid like this?? they're so messy🤣

username HAPPY BDAY OSCARRR🎉🧡 

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, alex_albon, and 478,002 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Couldn't ask for a better date to keep me company at all these events 👍

view all 3,041 comments

username since you brought up date could i propose the actual act of dating?😏

landonorris Me too!! logansargeant Me 3 🙋‍♂️ danielricciardo **4

alex_albon The way I thought those were wedding pics and it didn't even surprise me

yourusername and if I say, when I saw the news that u crashed ur car and stole logan's, it didn't surprise me, then what?😇 logansargeant Now why am I in this... alex_albon WOW username that was sooo nasty omfg😭

username the first pic is literally giving wedding ahhh I wish

yourusername anything for my best friend <33

oscarpiastri :) username ohh y'all are pissing me off

lewishamilton Just best friends??

yourusername not u too 🙄 lewishamilton Some older brother wisdom: don't fight the inevitable. When you know, you know, and I firmly believe deep inside you know what I mean. yourusername not reading allat x

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oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: ☀️☀️😴 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

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eveythingf1wags

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eveythingf1wags Y/N Hamilton was spotted in Monaco with Oscar and the Piastri fam, enjoying lunch together! Later on, they both posted pictures to their stories, soaking up the Mediterranean sun on a boat.

view all 152 comments

username 'everythingf1wags' but y'all are posting this man's bestie i-💀💀

username have you seen the way they act tho? could've fucking fooled me like??? username no bc you're so right😭

username if they marry do u think it'll be y/n piastri or oscar hamilton tho??🧐

username **WHEN GIRL❗️

username "just friends" my ass smh

username manifesting they finally fall in love soon🕯️

username same babe 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

username the way it's literally giving meet the family omg 😍

username enough with the fucking slow burn i need them to kiss like yesterday😩

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landonorris posted to his story!

[ caption: hugging like you're going to war when it's just blind dates is a choice lol ]

[ tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername ]

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: She says I clean up well but have you seen her? 😍 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

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charles_leclerc posted to his close friends!

[ caption: I think we did it guys ]

yourusername

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tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername just like and keep scrolling i don't wanna hear it 🔫🙂

view all 4,099 comments

mclaren Congrats🎉🧡 (about time)

lewishamilton Welcome to the family, brother

oscarpiastri Wait, I thought I was already part of the family😅 yourusername lewis istg i'm about to slash your tyres username lmaoo y/n's hands are rated e for everyone i'm cryin💀

oscarpiastri The only one I had in mind❤️

yourusername 🥹🤍 username you guys are so freakin cute 🤧

username LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO💃💃💃

landonorris @/carlossainz55 run me my money

carlossainz55 Sent 🫡 yourusername blocked x

username you don't understand how much i needed this omg😭😭😭

danielricciardo See how nothing's changed between the pictures they used to post together and these?

yourusername see how nothing's changed in ur points since the start of the season and now? 😋 username ouch. should've just sat there and kept scrolling babe lmaooo

alex_albon Mission accomplished I'd say

charles_leclerc 🍻 maxverstappen1 🍾🍾

0:10 ㅇ──────────── 2:06

[luveline]

do you have anything more from office frenemies with james? i just read it and i loved it so much

yes! love u ty

—you and James don’t get along until you kind of, sort of do. fem!reader, 1.5k

James listens to the most obnoxious playlist in the mornings. There’s about a fifteen minute window between when he arrives and when the workday officially starts, which coincides exactly with your window. He often gets the same elevator ride, walks a pace beside you, and decides whether he’s going to let the ‘lady’ go first through the door depending on the day. 

That morning, he’d opened the door widely, grinned at you with music blaring loud enough to make a normal person deaf from his earphones, and let you pass. Then he pretended to stick his foot out to trip you up, pulling it back at the last second. 

Jerk, you think, angry even now as he tucks himself into his desk, his earphones still ridiculously loud. He actually, genuinely, is going to get hearing damage. You’re not being bitter. Human ears aren’t meant for that. 

You click onto the workplace Outlook and open a tab on your desktop. How loudly can you listen to music? you google. A few articles appear straight away that fit your purpose —you drag them each into an empty email. Then, smiling to yourself, you find an article on the negative effects of workplace noise pollution and how this sort of selfishness can affect your coworkers’ mental health and add that at the very top. 

To: jamesp@outlook.wpa.uk 

Hi James, 

please find attached a few articles I felt might be important for you to read.

Worst, 

Your unhappy adjacent desk. 

You know he’s received it when he laughs loudly, turning down his music with a few quick clicks on his phone. 

An email comes through to your inbox shortly after.

Hi bestie, 

I’m so so sorry for the noise. Please find attached a few articles I, in turn, felt you might enjoy. 

Best, 

James Potter :) 

He’s attached an irksome variation of articles. Why music can help you get ready for the day. Ten ways workplace friendships are important. Can you really find your soulmate at work? 

You open your personal messaging system. You tend not to use it with James, but this morning he’s winding you up. 

I could report you to HR for that last one, you send. 

He replies quickly. You try very hard not to look up at him from over your desktop. I didn’t mean me. 

You’ll be deaf by thirty. 

Jealous you don’t have such great taste in music? 

Jealous of everyone in the annex. 

Want a cup of coffee?

You meet his gaze finally over the computer, find him already looking at you. You shake your head scornfully. In what world would you ever want him to make you a coffee? He’s never actually offered to make you one before, to be fair, but he’s awful to you so what are you supposed to think? He’ll probably poison it. 

He stands to leave. Remus, the other accountant to complete your trio, arrives while he’s gone with his boyfriend Sirius in tow. They’re also James’ best friends, unfortunately. It makes for some awkwardness. 

“Where is he?” Remus asks you, in the midst of a quick goodbye kiss before Sirius makes his way to his desk further down the office. 

You nibble your lip and give a dispassionate shrug. You hate talking about James. You hate his stupid mess of hair, his reading glasses, his lips when he smiles crookedly and worse when he’s glaring at you. You hate the way he sighs as he clicks his neck, the quick lap he does every other hour complaining of tired legs, the genuine tenderness he shows you whenever you’re sick. You hate James. You don't like to think about him too much lest you get caught, a fish in a net.

Or a fish with a painful hook in its lip. 

“Ah, you’re here,” James says, two cups of coffee in his hand. 

You’re only a little heartbroken when he puts one on his desk and one on Remus’. Didn’t want one anyways. 

Remus grins as James comes up behind him for a rough hug and hair ruffle. “How was last night?” 

“I wish you’d come. Sirius spent all night trying to out drink Marl, you know he can’t, so I spent all night holding his hair out of his face. I wasn’t gonna talk to him this morning, but he was being very pathetic.” 

James laughs. You pretend you aren’t listening to them, pretend you don’t feel left out even if they have no reason to be your friend, clicking at random things on your screen and scrolling through spreadsheets long finished and filed. “You know I couldn’t come, Moony,” —no point starting on their awful nicknames— “what if she needed me?” 

You still. She? 

“James, there’s not much you can do,” Remus says gently. He’s a quiet, soft sort of man, but they’re all so loud about loving one another. “You have to let her… you know.” 

You feel them both looking at you, your gaze steadfast on your screen. 

“Try not to think about it,” Remus says. 

“I’ve been distracting myself,” James agrees. 

Oh, you think. Oh. I’m such a dick. 

“You could go home?” Remus says, putting his face in his hand. “I could cover you.” 

“It’s too much work.” 

“I know, but, you know, I’ll do half, and you’ll only have half to catch up on when you come back.” 

You’re not sure who she is, and you very much still don’t like James Potter, but you're not heartless. He sounds awfully upset, fragility to his voice and a foreign balling of his fist by his hip. “Um,” you say, clearing your throat weakly, “well, with me and Remus, we could cover for you.” 

James’ face is unreadable, looking down at you. “You’d cover for me?” he asks. 

“Your work isn’t exactly hard, James.” 

“But you’d do it?” 

“How long will you be off for?” 

James frowns. “Like, two days?” he says quietly. 

“That’s fine. We can do that,” you say, checking with Remus from around James hip. “Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Remus says quickly. 

James looks at you long and hard. “You’re not kidding?” 

“No, James. Not kidding. You’d do the same for me, right?” 

James leans down to hug you before you can stop him. His arms wrap around your shoulders, a perfectly amicable touch made up of sleeper muscle and the attractive smell of almond oil, nearly sweet, slightly woody. He laughs against your cheek as he pulls away, turning back to Remus for a similar hug. “Thank you. I’ll go tell Danny right now.” He beams at you. His relief is thick as honey, palpable in his warm tone. “Thank you.” 

You can’t look at him very long. 

The memory of his fingers linger, the weight of his arm behind your head. He excuses himself to go talk to your boss, and you and Remus sit in a semi-awkward silence, of which you’re wholly responsible. 

“His cat is dying,” Remus says eventually.

You wince. “Oh, no, really?” you ask. 

“He’s had her since we were kids. It’s really nice of you to do this.”

“I really do think he’d do it for me,” you interrupt. “I’m not, you know, cruel, because we don’t get on.” 

“I know. James knows that too.” 

You want to get defensive. Why does it matter if James knows? But Remus is too nice to argue with, and secretly, strangely, you’d wanted James to know you aren’t mean. You wouldn’t have sent him that email this morning if you’d known, and maybe this is apology enough for that. 

Still, it doesn’t feel right when James returns, gathering his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “Thank you guys, so much. I will bring you the most amazing desserts of all time as a thank you. I won’t even put your mug on the top shelf the next time I wash it,” James promises you. 

You bat aside the rage of knowing he’s the culprit and instead get out of your seat before he can leave. “Uh, James?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” 

You look at the floor by his shoes. “About earlier…”

James stands subtly between you and the bulk of the office. “You okay?” 

“I just– I’m sorry for complaining about your earphones. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.” 

“You weren’t insensitive,” he says, “I was being obnoxious. Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“I–” You hate yourself for all your stammering. “Hope whatever is wrong, that you’re okay. I’ll cover for you for the week if you need me to.” 

“Please stop feeling sorry for me. It looks weird on you. I much prefer you when you’re frowning, you get these super deep wrinkles in your forehead that I just love.” 

You turn away without looking up. “I’m gonna input all your sales information wrong.” 

“And I’m gonna bring you the best donut you’ve ever tasted to say thanks, sweetheart.” 

[yan-lorkai]

Hi, so I've read the rules, but I'm not sure how much I can ask for. Can I get a headcanon about the TWST Housewardens finding out that the GN! reader has a boyfriend? Oh, and the reader's boyfriend is just some random student NPC in their dorms. If it's too much, just some of them reacting would be cool. Thanks!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Finally done, yay! Been a while since I wrote for all the housewardens so it is a little lengthy. Hope u enjoy, darling!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tw: Yandere content, stalking, implied violence and kidnapping.

He's been watching you this whole time, feeling his heart beat inside his chest whenever he heard your sweet laugh and saw you smiling. His feelings slowly start to grow as you become friends, but there's just one problem: You have a boyfriend. What an unpleasant surprise! Well, what a shame that your boyfriend will disappear under suspicious circumstances that will never be resolved and he will be right here by your side to comfort you :)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Azul know just what to do. He plots and plans and trap your boyfriend on a deal he can't refuse. It's a tricky deal, trickier than usual, I mean, a one in a lifetime chance, whatever it is. However you won't never know what happened to him, not when you come to Azul asking if he knows something, not when he is comforting you and rubbing your back as you cry while he pretends to be just as sad as you. As if he ever feel sad to lead your boyfriend to his demise when he can have you like this, when he can mend your heart himself and love you like you deserve. Though when you recover Azul will show you just how devotion and love truly feels. He has been deprived of it for too long, bullied and teased, and he will have you, even if you found out about the deal, even if you claim to hate him, he can bear it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim is a sweetheart on the surface level, so happy all the time, so friendly. But he is oh so suffocating, always touching your arm and pulling you into a hug, kissing your cheeks and forehead and laughing when you tell him to knock it off. People always tend to assume he is your boyfriend and tell you that you too are a very cute couple, and they're always shocking when you tell them that Kalim isn't your boyfriend but just your bestie. Not yet, at least. On an intimate level, he likes to think about what to do with your actual boyfriend. People love money more than they love humans. Can he bribe him? If so, how can he guarantee that he won't go back on his word? Or should him send Jamil to do his dirty work? Mmm, so many options, either way, by the end of the month your boyfriend will disappear and you will need a friendly shoulder to lean on and Kalim is more than happy to be there for you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia already has Ortho investigating this student and is so easy to watch him since he is in Ignyhide. He isn't worthy your time, your love and care, he is but a little plankton, not very smart or interesting, Idia don't know what you had seen on your actual boyfriend but he is never going to tell this to your face. Instead, he invite you to his room to play and study, assuming a more softer approach about this little problem than most yanderes, telling you how your boyfriend has been acting strange and visiting another person's room for a very long period of time. He even show you a very factual and not at all fabricated camera footage as a proof. Idia considers himself a very good friend when he comfort you and wipes your angry tears, telling that you deserve better, that he can treat you better. After all, it wasn't your fault that your boyfriend was a cheater. And Idia can show you what true love is.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Vil is horrified about your taste in men. Like, really, Liebling? You love this... Thing? Well, He has to give recognition where it is due and as a Pomefiore student, your boyfriend tried to polish and better himself. Though it wasn't enough. He wouldn't be good enough for you even in thousand years. Vil likes to imagine how he would take care of you, love you, polish you. He likes to imagine how he'd let down his walls around you and told funny stories from his movies or backstage gossips. Knowing you have a boyfriend kinda of shatter those thoughts. He tried to be happy for you, he really tried but in the end he couldn't help himself. So he created a potion, so sweet and yummy, and gave it to your boyfriend. Simple as that. Having you crying on his lap was just a bonus, a bonus Vil would cherish dearly.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus has what he wants. And he wants you. It's only natural that things will fall in order after he states his claim on you, every single little thing start to goes wrong in your relationship and you, stressed and sad, tells Malleus every single thing while he comforts you. Sweet words are whispered in your ears, great dreams greets you everytime you sleep and in your dreams you are always so happy by Malleus's side, exploring woods and swimming in lakes, petting sheeps and listening to the birds singing. Simple things. Great things. While you sleep, Malleus send nightmares to your boyfriend, makes him so horrified and paranoid that he can't even form coherent thoughts. He wants you and he will have you, even if he has to tear you two apart like this, since your boyfriend took to isolate and murmur to himself.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle doesn't like this. He quite dislike your boyfriend a lot, he is messy, a rule breaker, a bad student, he isn't worthy your time and love. Riddle is consumed by a jealousy that make him see red, nowadays he is always collaring your boyfriend, always making him busy so you two can spend less time together. And if you come to Heartslabyu to try and spend time with him, Riddle will just lie to you and tell you he didn't do anything and has no idea about what you're talking about. Yes, he gaslight you. But he is doing that because he knows what's good to you and that is certainty not your boyfriend. Instead, he fills your head with doubts and lies, and takes you to the Unbirthday party so you can have a little fun. Savor the present moment, the little snarky jokes Riddle tells you and the delicious tea. Forget about your boyfriend before Riddle takes matters into another level.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona is smug. Like, really? You love this guy? He is so much better than your boyfriend, more smarter, stronger, he huffs whenever he see you two being all cute and chummy together. He should be the one holding you, kissing you, cuddling you. You are his precious mate so he put all his effort in conquering your heart and love. And when Leona is determined to do something there's nothing in the whole world that can make him stop. He plans and make so many strategies in order to be successful all the while he has Ruggie making the dirty work for him. Kill him, bribe him, whatever, Leona will make you a single person again before making you fall in love with him. Even if he has to turn your boyfriend into dust, he will without thinking twice.

[golden-moony]

king of my heart | pt. 2

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader | pato o'ward x fem!reader

warnings: love triangle? kinda.

author's note: go get some popcorn cause we have some drama here🍿... and it's a long part, so enjoy!!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

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

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, isahernaez, frosenqvist, and 79,121 others!

yourusername Miami GP over and out ✅🏁 No words could ever explain just how grateful I am for all of you and for the opportunity that I get to cover this amazing sport with such incredible people by my side. Thank you for everything Miami, I hope to see you again soon! 🌴💖

user1 the power she holds 🙌

user2 she's really living my dream 🥹

lissiemackintosh so happy to be able to share this with you!! love u❤️

yourusername we really need to do this more often😘 love u too! user3 y/n and lissie hosting track tv together is my new roman empire fr user4 SLAY QUEENS!! user5 the queens are thriving user6 i wanna be friends with them so bad 😫

user7 omg girl you're STUNNING

user8 BEST F1 WAG

user9 facts facts facts user10 she's not even a wag lol it's so obvious lando just keeps this nobody around for when he's bored and horny user11 user10 this "nobody" has done SO much in terms of women representation in motorsport, she's hardworking and a lovely woman. meanwhile, you're just a sad little person who's jealous of her because she's successful and close to your crush, who doesn't even know who you are. so get a life and stop embarrassing yourself. user12 user11 SAY IT LOUDER 👏 user13 user11 PREACH!!!

user14 i don't know if i wanna be her or be with her😩

user15 this is such a mood tbh

landonorris so proud of you, boo😍

yourusername 🥰🧡 user16 YNLANDO NATION WE WON user17 we love a supporting boyfriend 🤩 user18 i want what they have, your honor user19 is this considered a soft launch or what? user20 y'all are delulu😂 it's so obvious they're just friends user21 user20 girl being delulu is the solulu 🙌

user22 so when are we gonna talk about felix liking the post?

user23 i'm lost sorry, who's felix? user24 user23 he's pato's teammate in indycar and one of his besties user25 if felix liked then WHERE'S PATO user26 user25 doing more important things than being focused on this girl.

lilymhe such a pretty girl 💗

alex_albon should i be jealous? yourusername you should indeed. can u fight? user24 the friendship i didn't know i needed 🥹 user25 MY FAV WAGS INTERACTING YAY

user26 f1 is so lucky to have you!!!

user27 LOOOL why would they be lucky to have her?😂😂😂 she's nothing special user28 user27 and yet she's still rising 💅 user29 user27 then why are you even on her post? lol obsessed much?

user30 my role model ❤️‍🩹

📞 incoming call

[y/n; normal] [pato; cursive]

"...Hello? Did you butt-dialed me or something?"

"Uhm, hi. It's not a butt-dial. I-I actually just wanted to talk to you. Hear your voice, y'know. I've been kinda missing you."

"Oh really? And here I was thinking that your cold behavior toward me over the past three weeks meant that you didn't want anything to do with me. Silly me, I guess."

"I-I'm... [sighs]. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. About the way I've been treating you. I'm sorry, y/n. I really am sorry. I know I've been a total jerk-"

"Yeah, you can put it that way."

"...I've been a total jerk and I regret it very much. You didn't deserve it at all. I just- I'm not trying to excuse my awful behavior but I just think I got- Uhm..."

"You got what?"

"Well... I saw Lando's instagram story when you went back to Monaco, as you've probably already figured it out. And I think- Well... I got jealous. And I know it probably sounds stupid now but at the time it felt like a punch in the face."

"Pato..."

"I know I didn't and still have absolutely no business to be jealous about you and Lando, cause you and I are not dating or anything and you don't owe me any kind of explanation about the type of relationship you have with him. But after the great time we spend together in Long Beach... I don't know, it just hurted seeing you with him. But that doesn't excuse anything and I just regret so much the way I've been treating you since then, it hasn't been fair to you at all."

"And it didn't cross your mind that we could have had this conversation way before now? I mean, you waited three weeks to finally talk to me like a decent human being, how-"

"I know and I'm so-"

"Let me finish."

"Sorry, go on."

"However, I do appreciate that you're finally acknowledging all of this and communicating with me like an actual adult. I know it's not always easy to do. And although I don't owe you any kind of explanation, I just want you to know that there's nothing going on between Lando and me."

"So you and him...?"

"We're friends and that's it. We care for each other but there's nothing going on."

"Oh... well, thanks for clarifying that for me."

"Yeah, yeah. You'll have to work harder for my forgiveness, anyway. I appreciate the call but it won't be that easy for you."

"Is that so?"

"You've heard me."

"In that case, what would you say if I invite you for a few days to come here to Punta Mita? Maybe that'll help me a little to earn your forgiveness."

"... I'm sorry, what!?"

"You've heard me."

"You're joking. You have to be joking."

"I'm not joking. You're still in Miami, right?"

"I am..."

"Great! My brother in law is in Miami too and he'll take the jet tomorrow morning. If you want to, you can join him and come here with him! We'd be thrilled to have you here too."

"Oh my God... Pato, I don't know what to say!"

"Say yes and you'd make this birthday boy the happiest man in the world. You'd even make my sister happy, I've been telling her a lot about you and now she's eager to meet you."

"I hope you've been telling her good things about me, then."

"Only the best. She's even on your side, y'know. Said I was being a giant cabrón and needed to make things right. She wasn't wrong tho."

"[giggles] Fine. I'll go, but I'm only doing this for your sister."

"I'll take that anyway! I'll let Brett know you'll join him and I'll send you the details, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Now go and pack your bags for tomorrow."

"Hey! Don't get bosy with me, mister!"

"[Laughs] Fine. Take care, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, birthday boy!"

patriciooward posted to his story!

[caption 1; 🦈] [caption 2; beautiful views]

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; para-para-paradise 🌞] [caption 2; in his sharkboy era] [caption 3; 🐶❤️]

paddockgossips

liked by magui_corceiro and 84,091 others!

paddockgossips Among the alleged "breakup" between y/n and Lando, the McLaren driver was photographed last night having fun in a Monaco club in the company of Max Fewtrell and other friends. Some sources have said that Lando seemed very cozy with a blonde woman at the party, whom he later left with. However, we cannot verify this information in any way, so it remains a rumor.

user1 I HAVE A CHANCE AGAIN (i'm delulu)

user2 so this confirms ynlando is over?? 😭

user3 girl i'm devastated 😭😭😭 user4 i'm still in denial user5 well they were never together to begin with user6 user5 THIS!! people act like they were a couple when they NEVER confirmed anything 😂

user7 "blonde woman at the party" "it remains a rumor" and magui goes and like the post LOL

user8 she's so desperate for attention🙄 user9 who's magui??? user10 user9 she's kika's friend and she was dating football player João Félix not so long ago (in fact, i thought they were still together lol) user11 user10 and don't forget she's a cheater. user12 user9 she's trouble

user13 yn >>>>>>>> magui

user14 user13 no need to compare them

user15 sorry but single lando it's so hot 🥵

user16 SO TRUE user17 FACTS he looks so good omfg

user18 in his heartbreaker era 😎

user19 in his reputation era 😎 user20 in his idgaf era 😎

user21 i'm a child of divorce fr

user22 i know y'all love y/n for some reason but i'm SO glad lando finally got away from her.

user23 SAME. and if magui makes him happy then great for him user24 stfu i'm mourning here

user25 y/n this magui that but max was, is and will forever be lando's true wag💅

user26 the one and only indeed

elbaoward posted to her story!

[caption1; off to dinner] [caption2; my love🤍] [caption 3; lovebirds!]

patriciooward

liked by landonorris, yourusername, brettkimbro, and 86,382 others!

patriciooward BDAY WKND DUMP 📸 thank y'all for all the love❤️‍🔥

user1 THE HARD LAUNCH IT'S HARD LAUNCHING

user2 OMG IT'S HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CAAAAALM

user3 he really said i'll give you what you want: thrist traps and y/n... and he's so real for that

user4 he really knows his audience user5 king behavior if u ask me user6 everybody say thank you Pato 🙏

user7 YNPATO NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING??

user8 I'M STILL SPEECHLESS user9 they're so perfect i wanna cry😭 user10 LOVE TO SEE🔥

user11 as a ynlando shipper i have to admit they're cute but ngl this still hurts 😩

user12 MOOD user13 ynlando will always be in our hearts 🥺 user14 ynlando >>>>>>>>>> ynpato user15 user13 girl grow up.

user16 THAT SHOULD BE ME

elbaoward where are my credits for the last pic? cuties🤍

user17 u literally gave us the cutest pic ever user18 elba thank you so much for your service🫡 user19 elba is ynpato's #1 fan and you can't tell me otherwise user20 elba is just like us fr user21 LOVE YOU ELBAAAAA 🩷

user22 MOM AND DAD

user23 can't believe how fast she moved on and got together with this dude lol lando really dodged a bullet with her

user24 how fast she moved on?? girl y/n and lando were never even together so stfu user25 ???? why are you even on pato's ig post? go away user26 user23 y/n is such an attention seeker and yet everyone loves her, i'll never understand it 🥱

user27 not to be that person but i would KILL to be that piñata😏

user28 MOOD

frosenqvist oh to be tanned, young and in love

patriciooward 😜 user29 IN LOVE??? FELIX BESTIE TELL US MORE user30 i don't know about y'all but this is all the confirmation i need about ynpato being real, bye user31 i think i can hear the wedding bells user32 user31 yesss and felix as pato's best man

user33 bestie don't be shy and drop more y/n pics 🫶

user34 i second the motion !!!

user35 NOT LANDO LIKING THE POST LOOOOL

user36 he is so unserious i love him user37 ICONIC BEHAVIOR TBH user38 yeah but i just know he's crying inside user39 user38 for what? lol lando knows he's so much better than this cheaper version of him. user40 user39 i'm so done with people like you who insult pato just because you cannot defend lando with good arguments.

yourusername magical weekend 💖

patriciooward with you there? always user41 STOP THEY'RE SO CUTE OMG user42 this is such an upgrade tbh user43 SO HAPPY FOR THEM 🥹 user44 what a bitch.

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; back to reality✈️] [caption 2; I'm a high performance athlete. Athletes sweat. Sweat, baby] [caption 3; cutest model🧡]

paddockgossips

liked by magui_corceiro and 53,237 other people!

paddockgossips NEW WAG ALERT? 🚨 Magui Corceiro, the Portuguese model and actress, attended the Monaco GP after being seen a few days ago having lunch with Lando. It has been rumored that they could be in a relationship, especially since Lando and y/n apparently went different ways, and Corceiro's presence in the paddock has not gone unnoticed by anyone. Still, neither Lando nor Magui have confirmed or denied these rumors.

user1 A TRIGGER WARNING WOULD BE NICE NEXT TIME

user2 um let's hope there isn't a next time user3 user2 let's pray girl, let's pray 🙏

user4 "neither lando nor magui have confirmed or denied these rumors" well that's bs cause she just liked the post

user5 istg she's trying so hard to get attention user6 lando was asked about magui and he said she was just a friend... and then she goes and does this lol what a clout chaser user7 and people used to say that y/n was after lando's fame and yet she NEVER did anything like this user8 she's such a pick me girl

user9 everything i know of this girl has been against my will istg

user10 SAME

user11 oh good luck lando

user12 oh be prepared for the y/n fans and little girls that'll come attack magui when she hasn't even done anything wrong

user13 literally they're just mad at magui cause she's dating their fav driver loool user14 they're only jealous cause magui is a gorgeous woman user15 user14 she's gorgeous but she's still a snake

user16 i'd ask why lando would be with someone like her, but then i remember he's an adult and if he wants someone like her by his side then that's up to him. let's not treat him like a baby please

user17 say👏 it👏 louder👏

user18 weeeeell if this is the kind of people lando likes to have around then i guess y/n really dodged a bullet with him

user19 FACTS user20 i mean at the end of the day he's just another privileged white boy, so🤷‍♀️ user21 i really don't get all the hate that she's getting, is she really that problematic? user22 user21 girl google it yourself but yeah, she is

user23 I MISS MY GIRL Y/N WHERE IS SHEEEEEEEE??

user24 what is she even doing there?

user25 must be cause lando wanted her to be there user26 why y'all never asked the same thing about y/n? y'all are such hypocrites istg user27 user26 cause y/n was actually doing her job????? user28 user26 oh you're stupid 😂😂

user29 magui in the paddock, pato not being able to finish Indy 500... it really is a shitty day huh

user30 DON'T EVEN REMIND ME WHAT HAPPENED WITH PATO OMFG user31 I'M STILL SO MAD ABOUT PATO user32 the only good part is that y/n and his family were there for him ❤️‍🩹

see y'all in part 3!

taglist: @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @evie-119 @evans-dejong @minkyungseokie @noneofyourfbusinessworld @bernelflo @eiaaasamantha @ijustgomessitupx @honethatty12 @daemyratwst @f1fan65

(if you'd like to be tagged in the next part, just let me know in the comments!🧡)

[zreamy]

spf 23

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: for as long as you can remember, your summers have been much the same, largely spent in your hometown, relaxing by the local pool. when you get back home this summer, things seem like they'll go the same way, until you get to the pool that is — when did the lifeguard get so hot?

genres: smut, fluff, people that kinda know each other to lovers, summer au, lifeguard au..

warnings: minors dni, MENTIONS OF UNIVERSITY DURING SUMMER, sunghoon in water, sunghoon on ice, sunghoon

word count: 31,818 .. even more sorry than last time.

playlist: kiss nct dojaejung, obvious ariana grande, safety net ariana grande

author's note: lmk ur thoughts (positive / negative / sunghoon) i'd love to hear. to beta bestie @asahicore u da best MUSIC DJ EMMAAA. i hope u have a good time reading, lord knows this has been a long time coming.. ok enjoy &lt;;333

It’s the hottest day of the last summer of your life. 

The sun’s rays coat your skin in a film of sticky sweat and sunscreen. Crisp white clouds hang in the sky, drifting overhead. Yunjin complains about the temperature as if you and Chaewon aren’t outside with her.

If you strain your ears over yelling children and raucous laughter, you can just about hear a Top 40 playlist looping Cupid and Dua Lipa songs through age-weakened speakers. What holds your attention the most, though, is the blond by the pool. He leans back on his hands with pretty fingers spread out behind him. He’s been lifeguarding at the public pool for more summers than you care to count but he’d never looked like this while he did it. 

Park Sunghoon seems relaxed as he sits on the pool’s edge, kicking his legs in the water and scanning the space. Presumably watching out for kids drowning, or diving, or.. whatever it is lifeguards get up to at work. His voice is deep as he (half-heartedly) yells at a group of kids with water guns to stop running. When did he get so buff?

He’s always been attractive. Always. But this is outrageous. The bleached hair. The toned arms. The sliver of skin you can see peeking out from under his cropped vest. It’s almost too much to take yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. Given the way he turns his head when you catch his gaze — with flushed cheeks and upturned lips — you assume his glow-up has been purely external. 

“Can you believe this might be the last summer we spend here together? Like, this time next year we’ll be graduates.” Yunjin’s sudden statement makes you wish she’d go back to talking about the weather. 

Chaewon’s jaw drops. “Whoa.”

“Is it bad that I’m looking forward to fall?” Yunjin asks. “No offence, YN.” 

This isn’t the first time she’s shared such a sentiment. Last summer and the one before, she’d said something similar before clarifying. She’s excited about her new classes, not about you going back to your apartment a few towns over.

You’re only looking forward to your shared two-bed and Minjeong’s dinners. It pains you to have to thank university for anything, but thank university for giving you something to miss over the holidays. 

“None taken, YJ, but break just started last week.” 

“Our last finals were five weeks ago.”

“Well, you know break doesn’t really start until our girl gets back.” Chaewon leans up in her seat to grin at you. She raises her cup, the tiny puddle of melted slushy shaking a little. “Here’s to the best summer ever!” 

Needing all the affirmation you can get, you entertain her, raising your own cup so the three of you can toast properly. 

“Cheers!”

The next few hours do nothing to affirm your belief in the effectiveness of toasting. Recently hot Sunghoon hasn’t taken his shirt off yet and you’re not sure how many more times you can beg your friends to stay for another half hour in hopes something will happen that causes him to tear the thing off. At this point you’d settle for a simple conversation or even the word hey.

“I’m begging, like, actually, let’s go.” Yunjin groans, sitting up.

“Just let me pee first,” you grumble, attempting to buy more time as you stand up from your lounge chair, packing up your towel and the magazine you never bothered to look at. 

On your walk to the restroom, you see him leaning in the doorframe of the changing rooms with his toned arms crossed over his chest. Perfect. There’s a smile on your face as you approach him and unexpectedly he speaks before you do. 

"He—" He clears his throat, thick brows coming together as he places a big hand on his chest. "Hey."

You let out a breathy laugh. “You okay?” 

He straightens up his posture and nods his head, blond hair shifting over his forehead from the movement. 

The sounds of the public pool fill the silence stretching over you, though it’s not enough to distract you from the way his eyes trail over your body, landing on your chest as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

“I’m Sunghoon,” he eventually introduces, extending a hand for you to shake. 

A smile stretches across your lips when you do, noticing how much bigger his hand is than yours when his fingers wrap around it and cover the whole thing. “I know,” you nod.

“You,” Sunghoon pauses, tilting his head to the side as if considering your words. “Know?” His brows quirk up. 

You hum in response. “We had Spanish together. You sat with.. that kid,” Your hands come up to gesture around your chin and neck. “With the jaw, Jay, was it?” 

He looks at something over your shoulder for a bit while you worry that he didn’t take Spanish and you’ve got the wrong guy, but a laugh rises out of him instead. “Yeah,” he grins. “Jay.” Nods his head.

Despite stuttering his way through the conversation, Sunghoon makes you laugh as he tells you about how he didn’t realise he’d have to swim on the job and almost drowned trying to save a kid in the deep end. He seems more confident after seeing that his story was well received though he still fidgets with his hands, and can’t hold eye contact for more than a second at a time, always looking away and clearing his throat. 

The story was a bit of a ramble, and it might be the most words you’ve ever heard him say all at once before falling quiet, though his pretty lips open and close a few times as if he’s stuck on what to say. “How-” He’s cut off by the sound of someone yelling his name. 

In the pool, a cute (and very tall) kid waving his arms above his head yelling: Quickly! Quickly! makes you laugh, and the way Sunghoon rolls his eyes makes it clear he knows him.

Much to your dismay, the yelling doesn’t stop and you realise you’ll have to make your exit. “I’ll let you get going, but, uh, say hi to Jay for me, okay?” you say, grinning at the way he nods his head, mumbling yeah, of course before you turn around to leave.

Sunghoon’s still standing in the spot you left him in, hands crossed over his chest as he eyes you. Head snapping in the other direction when you look back over your shoulder to call out a: Later, Hoonie, with a wave of your fingers.

Chaewon watches you over her sunglasses with a smirk on her face as you approach. “Who is that?”

You crinkle your nose. “Park Sunghoon.”

At the sound of his name, Yunjin gasps, abruptly sitting up in her chair. “The figure skater?”

“The what?”

At home, you type his name into the search bar and find that the shy boy you’d only met properly some hours ago is something of a celebrity in the skating world. 

You watch YouTube videos of his short programs and feel a swell of pride with each jump he lands. The tiny Sunghoon on the screen carries an air of confidence as he glides across the ice — nothing like the Sunghoon you’d met at the pool today. And definitely nothing like the quiet Sunghoon who’d sit in the back of your 9th grade Spanish class conjugating verbs as his friends got into trouble for talking over the teacher. 

It’s not hard to trip down a rabbit hole, and suddenly every video with his name in the title has a little red bar under the thumbnail as a mark of your affection. It doesn’t take long for you to find Instagram user smartblond, and the blue follow button on his page greets you with the option to follow back, which leaves you feeling a little bad as the pad of your thumb falls onto it unthinkingly. 

Sunghoon’s feed leaves much to be desired. A modest 1 post he’d made 4 years prior, a square photo of himself and Lee Heeseung with bros as the caption. The only comment is from Heeseung who wrote ma boiiii. The tagged photos however tell a different story. 

Thankfully.  

You spend longer than you’d like to admit scrolling through these pictures, grinning and ignoring the way your stomach flips at the sight of the seemingly outgoing boy captured in the pictures posted by his closest friends with wide smiles and middle fingers while trying not to hit like on any of them. Even though you do like them. A lot. Except for the one of him and Bae Sumin at the pool with pretty smiles on their faces, and their arms around each other that she posted 15 weeks ago with the caption lifesaver. A smile spreads on your lips when you see Sumin’s (way more populated) page and the post she made yesterday to celebrate two years with her boyfriend. 

Distraction only reaches you in the form of an alert from your university’s portal app. The words you’ve got new correspondence in your inbox wipe the smile from your face in an instant. While chewing at your lip, you click on the notification and wait for the email to load. 

A pit forms in your stomach while reading four paragraphs offering advice for people who’ve failed their final exams. At the end is a link that you click with squinted eyes. A countdown appears and there are 8 days, 12 hours, 2 minutes and 17 seconds until results are out.

During your next trip to the pool, you hear Sunghoon before you see him and his voice comes out in a cute whine when he speaks. “Why do you guys only wanna hang out here when I'm working?” 

Looking over your sunglasses, you see him running a hand through his hair, looking up from the water at a group of boys you recognise from both high school and his tagged photos, including the very tall kid who’d cut your conversation short the other day. With a wide grin on his face, he slings a towel over his shoulder and calls out something about the concession stand before running for the changing rooms and ignoring Sunghoon’s cries to stop. 

His back flexes deliciously as he wades around the mostly empty pool, chatting to his friends, and in all of your staring you notice Jay’s eyes on you, looking back to Sunghoon after a while and nodding his head not so subtly in your direction.

You look at Yunjin in the lounge chair next to you, who stares at the remnants of your blue raspberry slushy with disgust on her face, finishing off her cherry-flavoured one. “I said thanks when you came back with them, it’s abnormal to want this much recognition over a £1 purchase,” you say defensively, sighing and thanking her again anyways. 

“You should thank Sunghoon’s giant friend,” she says, nodding in his direction. “He came over to me in the line, asked how I knew you, and gave me change when I told him Chaewon introduced us.” 

“Huh,” you say, taking a refreshing sip, the last, before putting your cup down between your chairs. 

“I don’t understand what you see in that insane flavour.” She leans over to put her now empty cup next to yours. “It’s.. unnatural,” she says, shuddering dramatically. 

“It’s the only flavour I like,” you say simply, watching in your peripheral as your new favourite lifeguard (not that you have an old favourite) climbs over the edge of the pool.

The sight of Sunghoon’s lean figure coming out of the pool only makes you regret ever wanting to see him with his shirt off. Water slips from every part of his body in droplets, running from his broad shoulders down his veiny forearms before falling from his pretty fingers onto the ground. This must be the fittest-looking person you’ve ever seen, and Kazuha can do push-ups (one) with you and Chaewon on her back. 

With his wet hair stuck to his forehead, he laughs at something one of his friends said and it’s only when he looks over at you that you’re able to tear your eyes away. 

You miss the sight as soon as it’s gone. 

“That’s absurd,” Yunjin says after a moment. You have no idea what she’s talking about. “Can I open the Skittles?”

You’d forgotten about those. “Go ahead.” 

While rummaging through your bag, Yunjin tells you quietly that Sunghoon’s coming though you barely have a chance to look at him before his shadow casts over the two of you, stark and vivid. With his arms crossed over his chest, Sunghoon towers over you. His red shorts cling onto his hips, so low you can see every inch of muscle definition spanning his stomach where little beads of water stare you dead in the eye. By the time you manage to look up at his face, he has a huge grin stretched over his pretty lips. “Hey, stalker,” he says.

Though his smile falters when you crease your brows, pulling your sunglasses down your nose. “Stalker?” 

“You, uh,” he pauses to sniff, less sure of himself than earlier. “I saw that you followed me on Instagram last night.” 

“You did? And no DM?” 

No DM, he repeats under his breath, visibly confused, and the—“Ohhhh, you wanted to talk to me?” 

“Yeah, that’s why I followed you.”

“Right.” A nod. “And no DM?” Sunghoon seems to like the way you laugh, uncrossing his arms, and puffing his chest out. “So what did you wanna talk about that just couldn’t wait until you saw me again?” 

“I wanted to catch up.”

A sceptical look crosses his face. “Really? Anything specific you wanted to talk about?” 

“Not really. I just think you’re interesting.”

“Me? Interesting?” The mixture of amusement and surprise on his face makes you laugh. 

“Yes, you, interesting.” A saccharine smile spreads across your lips as you swing your legs over the side of your chair. Sunghoon apologises when your ankle grazes his calf. “Very interesting.” 

Sitting like this, your face is so close to his hips you can see the loose thread at the top of his shorts. He seems to notice, taking a step back. Down the bridge of his nose, he watches you through squinted eyes, furrowing his brow and letting a beat pass. “How so?” 

“There’s a lot of reasons, but, for one, you’re the only figure skater I know.”

So quickly you barely see it, Sunghoon’s lips curl into a frown before he presses them together, nodding. “How’s summer treating you?” He changes the subject. 

You let him. “Pretty good,” you say, bringing a hand up to the tied strap of your swimsuit to pull it to the side. “And I’m tanning pretty well, right, Sunghoon?” 

A massive cloud glides across the sky, casting a welcome shadow over the scorching sun. The transition is gradual but relief is immediate and even Sunghoon sighs. You push your sunglasses up to rest in your hair, taken aback, like always, by how bright it actually is outside. Even with the sun covered up, your eyes sting a little without the tint making you squint up at Sunghoon who watches you with an amused smile. 

“Is there something on my face?” you ask. 

“No, nothing like that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just.. nice catching up with you.”

“Yeah. It is.” You return his smile, liking the way his widens. “So, how’s summer trea—” You’re cut off by the same kid as yesterday, yelling “Sunghoooooooooon!” At the top of his lungs. 

“What were you saying?” 

“Uh,” you start, distracted by the kid pointing at Sunghoon, who waves frantically when he realises he’s caught your eye. “You, uh,” you pause, using a finger to point over to the pool. “I think your friend might need you.” 

He turns to look over his shoulder, the sun shining directly on the side of his face when he does, highlighting the pretty mole on his nose that you’ve somehow never noticed. Sunghoon shakes his head and freezing water splashes onto your stomach, making you flinch. A non-committal sound comes out of his mouth as he shrugs, facing you once again. “It’s just Riki.”

Just Riki doesn’t let up. Instead, he enlists the help of a cute cat-eyed boy, clambering onto his shoulders and balancing precariously as he yells and yells at the top of his lungs. 

“Okay, yeah, I gotta,” Sunghoon sighs, using his thumb to motion towards the pool as he walks backwards away from you. He points a long index finger at you before turning around. “I’m coming back,” he says. 

With a huge splash, Riki falls from his friend’s shoulders unceremoniously, his form disappearing for a moment, replaced by a mess of bubbles and long frantic limbs until he resurfaces. 

“I’m not here to play, I’m here to work!” Sunghoon calls out, walking right off the coping and into the water, swimming towards his friends anyway. 

He doesn’t come back. 

That night you stay at Chaewon’s, rifling through old teen magazines and taking quizzes to determine who your ‘celeb bezzie’ is. Answering mostly C’s, the two of you squeal at the prospect of a friendship with Lindsay Lohan. 

Jaehyun’s complaining when you reach the pool and you figure Yunjin and Kazuha must be nearby. Your hunch is correct when you round the corner by the water slide and see the two of them splashing each other in the small pool. He’s standing with his hands on his hips and yelling something about the literal sign that says they can’t be in there right now. The sign is a bright red fold-out thing, saying in bold white letters that the pool is closed for swimming lessons starting at 1:30 p.m. 

“It’s 1:20, you can’t be in here,” Jaehyun groans, raking a hand through his hair. “I know you guys think because we’re friends you can do what you want but the other lifeguards kicked me from the group chat and Sunghoon said it’s all your fault.” 

The mention of Sunghoon makes your ears perk up, and you decide to insert yourself. “What did they do wrong?” 

Jaehyun practically jumps at the sound of your voice next to him and Yunjin calls out for you to get in! “Don’t you dare,” Jaehyun mutters, cutting his eyes. “Whatever it is was bad enough for Mark, Yeri, and Chaeyoung to decide I’m not worthy of LIFESAVERS 2.0 swimming guy emoji, ring float emoji.” 

“If you got kicked because of them, I don’t see why Sunghoon gets to stay.” You tilt your head, stepping back a little when you feel a splash hitting your feet. “His one million-man friend group takes up half of the big pool every day, competing for who can laugh the loudest, and these two are pretty much doing the same thing.” 

“Yes, but Sunghoon’s friends aren’t breaking the rules.” 

“I saw Riki take an ice cream cone from a kid yesterday.”

“That’s not against the rules,” Jaehyun sighs. “And Chaeyoung thinks Sunghoon’s cute, so.” 

“She does?” you ask too quickly. 

“What do you care?” Jaehyun spares you a glance, arching his brow. He seems to undergo some kind of revelation, gasping a little and nodding his head. “So that’s why you guys are here all the time! You totally like that loser.” 

“Sunghoon’s not a loser, he’s hot.”

“Interesting thing to dispute.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do I need to worry about Chaeyoung?” you ask quietly.

“If you’re trying to hook up with Sunghoon I wouldn’t worry about her.”

You hate his response; hate that instead of really answering you, he’s just left you with even more questions. 

And you hate Chaeyoung for falling into your line of sight just as you mention her. 

She leaves the locker room, laughing about something with Yeri, and making you wonder what exactly she wants with Sunghoon. And why she suddenly feels like your competitor.

“And if I’m not?” 

Jaehyun cackles at your suggestion. “You? Not trying to hook up?” 

You can’t come up with a reason for why his words make your chest ache so you shove him with your elbow before jumping into the water with the girls. The sound of Jaehyun groaning and begging you guys to get out of the pool only dissolves the ache and puts a smile on your face.

Yunjin and Kazuha gang up on you for taking so long to join them but the water feels so cool against your skin you can’t help but enjoy it. 

The sound of what you think is Sunghoon’s voice makes you freeze in your spot. “I can’t keep defending you, man,” he sighs. 

At the sound of a whistle blowing, you raise your hands to cover your ears and all three of you whip your heads in its direction. Sunghoon stands next to Jaehyun with a whistle in his mouth, coughing around the metal when he sees you. He smiles, dropping it to rest against his chest. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hi,” you greet, swimming over to the edge of the pool and resting your arms on it, letting your chin find a home against them. Looking up, you see Jaehyun rolling his eyes before walking off in the opposite direction and Sunghoon stares down at you with a smile on his face.

“How are you?” he asks, fidgeting with the whistle like a charm on a necklace. 

“I’m good, how are you?” 

“Good, me too. Uh-your friends,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “I’m teaching lessons here, in five minutes, so I was wondering if you guys could maybe hang out in the main pool or by the slides instead?” he asks. It seems like he’s asking. “Only if you want.” 

“What if we’re here for lessons?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you guys must be the six-year-olds I’m teaching this afternoon, my bad for assuming.” 

You can’t tell if he was trying to be funny or if that was just something he said for the sake of saying it, but it makes you smile anyway. “You don’t do lessons for grown-ups?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I teach 6 to 12-year-olds, but Mark teaches adult classes on Saturday mornings if you’re interested.”

You nod, lifting yourself out of the pool, dripping water on the concrete. You’re close enough to Sunghoon to clearly see his jaw tensing, and the way his gaze shamelessly falls to your chest for more than a few seconds. 

“What if I’m interested in a one-on-one lesson?” 

Close enough to see the goosebumps that rise on his skin. He licks his lips, holding your gaze. “I guess we could work something out,” he says, clearing his throat when you rest a hand on his wrist, though he doesn’t look away from you. 

It seems like it’s just the two of you and the sun beating against your skin. And his pulse racing against your fingers. 

An excited wail grounds you, brings you back to the pool. “Sunghoonie! Sunghoonie!” You hear over his shoulder, as a tiny girl with pigtails and a huge grin comes rushing over to you. “Look, I got new goggles, look at my new goggles!” 

You take a step back and Sunghoon gasps, holding her Hello Kitty goggles in his hands, inspecting them carefully while crouching down to her level. In his absence, you see more, equally excited, kids plodding along, babbling to each other, followed by parents with small character backpacks slung over their shoulders. 

Sunghoon chats animatedly with her, nodding and gasping and saying really? at all the right times, in a way that summons butterflies. She giggles and holds her belly laughing when he holds her baby sized goggles over his head, asking if he can try them on, and you need to leave before you burst into tears at how sweet he’s being.

Yunjin and Kazuha beam at you when you look over at them, winking dramatically and giving you silent rounds of applause. Your cheeks burn at the sight, mumbling at them to come on, before turning around to walk away. 

“Hey, YN!” Sunghoon calls out, stopping you in your tracks. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and a small smile on his lips. “See you later, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. 

The girls have caught up to you by now, Yunjin’s eyebrows waggling suggestively as she links her fingers with yours. “Oh, he is so into you,” Kazuha whispers, wrapping a dripping arm around your shoulders. “Chaewon was right, summer really doesn’t start until you get back.”

In the main pool, you play around with the girls until you’re tired from swimming and the heat, and if it wasn’t for what Sunghoon said, you would have gone home already. You lay back in a lounge chair and close your eyes behind your sunglasses. You could probably fall asleep out here, feeling an odd comfort in the blood-curdling screams and mix of music playing from tiny bluetooth speakers all over the place. 

About five minutes later, you use your fingers to pick out a few pieces of Oreo from Yunjin’s ice cream, deciding they’ll be compensation for having to deal with the sticky dessert trickling down the cone and onto your fingers. Though in this heat, it doesn’t bother you so much.

On your trip back to your seat, you see Heeseung and Sunghoon by the locker room entrance. Standing in the shade, the two of them talk while Sunghoon lets a chunky pair of sunglasses rest on the back of his head, a sight that makes you clench your fist so hard the cone crunches under your fingers. You watch Heeseung’s face split into a grin while he throws his head back laughing, though Sunghoon presses his lips together in a straight line, clearly unimpressed. 

Yunjin jogs over to you, thanking you for the cone and complaining about how stingy Jungwoo’s being with the Oreo pieces these days but taking an appreciative lick anyway, letting her head fall back and a long hum of satisfaction buzz against her lips. “Just go over there and talk to him,” she says after a while. 

“Wow, YJ, thank you. I hadn’t thought of that.” 

She flips you off before walking away.

You don’t mean to catch his eye but he smiles when he sees you, waving when you wave. Heeseung waves too. If Sunghoon had been standing on his own you’d have no problem approaching him, but something about interrupting their conversation puts you off. Heeseung nods at you and calls out your name, inviting you to interrupt them. 

“It’s funny, we were just talking about you,” Heeseung says. You’re not sure how he wants you to respond to that, but Sunghoon looks at him with wide eyes, using his elbow to nudge his oversharing friend. “All good things, of course,” he adds on, raking a hand through his hair. 

“Who could have anything bad to say about you?” Sunghoon asks. 

Out of genuine concern, you ask if they’re okay, which only makes the two of them burst out laughing. Awkward laughter in the form of robotic ha ha has and forced applause. You’re not sure what to make of this, looking back and forth between them with a crease along your brow. High school was probably the last time you talked to Lee Heeseung, but besides the piercings and muscle definition he doesn’t seem to have changed much. 

“How have you been? How’s college?” Heeseung asks after wiping his left eye with the back of his hand. 

“I’ve been good. I saw you graduated last week, congrats!” 

He looks delighted at the mention of his own studies, missing the fact that you’re trying to avoid talking about yours. “Thank you!” he says, beaming. “Do you know what classes you’re taking this year?”

“No.” You shake your head. “You studied music, right?” 

An impossibly brighter grin spreads across his lips, eyes shining with genuine happiness as he nods. “Yeah, I majored in production actually. Best thing I ever did.”

For a while, Heeseung talks about his course though most of it goes over your head as jealousy burns in your stomach. The last three years have gone well enough for you to know that you’re more than just good at your major, so why, like him, can’t you enjoy it too? Right now, you want nothing more than for stupid Heeseung to shut up about his stupid career choices. 

Sunghoon interrupts the conversation, seeming to notice your mild irritation. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, resting a hand on your shoulder.

He doesn’t seem convinced when you nod your head belatedly, clearing your throat. You do your best to focus on the burn of his hand on your skin and not your jealousy. 

Sunghoon looks over at Heeseung, giving him a look that the older boy takes as an invitation to leave, smiling at the both of you before waving goodbye. 

“What’s the matter?” His voice is much softer now that you’re alone, so comforting that you’re tempted to fall into his chest and tell him everything that’s ever upset you.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?”

“You were staring at Heeseung like you wanted to wipe the stupid smile off his face with a bullet.”  

“Actually, I think he has quite a nice smile,” you admit.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon agrees. “But it’s a little annoying, right? Like how everything just seems to go so well for him no matter what. Perfect guy with a perfect major, it’s a little hard not to be jealous of him when he talks like that.” 

“You don’t like what you study?” 

“It’s not my major I’m struggling with.” He lets out a dry laugh. “What about you?” 

A deep sigh rolls out of you, pulling your shoulders down. “I’m good at it so why stop, you know?” 

“Plenty of people stop things they’re good at.” The response comes quicker than you expect, in a defensive tone that makes you want to slice open his brain and take a look inside. “Sorry, I just mean if something isn’t making you happy, then it’s okay to stop. Right?” 

It doesn’t feel like he’s talking about you. “Right,” you affirm anyway. “It’s just that I only have a year left so the way I see it, I should just deal with it, graduate, and worry next summer instead. Uni sorta freaks me out is all,” you explain, shrugging in a way that you hope looks nonchalant. “I don’t like my course, and I don’t like talking about it, so let’s not talk about it.”

Sunghoon nods. “No talking about uni, got it,” he says, holding an imaginary pen and making a note of your words in the palm of his hand, with a tiny smile on his face that makes your stomach twist. “So, what do you like talking about?”

“Literally anything else.” 

“Look at us, so much in common.” There’s a hesitant look on his face, like he’s questioning his word choice but he smiles when you do, letting out a breathy laugh at the sound of a chuckle slipping out of you. 

“Hey, Sunghoon?” you ask after a beat, tilting your head and continuing when he hums. “Do you work here every day?” 

He shakes his head. “Just Monday through Thursday.”

“So, if I wanna see you, I could just come to the pool on those days?” 

“Yeah.” Even in the shade, it’s hard to miss the way his cheeks flush pink, and he scratches at the back of his neck while stifling a smile. “Exactly.” 

“And if it’s Friday or the weekend, and I wanna see you, I could just text you?” 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” That same smile curves on his lips, gentle, happy. 

You think you’d like that too. 

Sunghoon puts his number in your phone and you send a text so he has yours too.

The sun doesn’t set until late that night, and you spend the better part of the evening in the garden with your mum, catching the last moments of the sun’s rays from a blanket in the grass. The sound of her fingers against the keyboard is like a perfect mechanical OST for the summer romance you’re halfway through. Though knowing that the countdown in your email is set to strike zero in a matter of hours makes it difficult to concentrate on what’s going on in the made up beach town you’re reading about.

After a late dinner, you click the link to watch the countdown hit zero before refreshing the page. The stark white background of the login page stings your eyes in your dark room as you wait for the results page to load with a held breath. All three of your course titles are marked with MP for merit pass. A weight falls from your shoulders only to be replaced with another. 

The family group chat doesn’t seem to share your distress. Your dad hearts the message and sends a gif of Michael Scott clapping, your mum texts back that she’s so proud of her baby, and your older brother says KNEW U COULD DO IT! You throw your phone across the room, hiding your face in your pillow to muffle a scream. 

That night, you dream of graduation. Of crossing the stage and seeing the culmination of four long years on a flimsy piece of paper. The ceremony ends and behind closed eyes, you watch yourself sign your life away to a 9-to-5 in a field you hate, the same your brother had done. Drenched in a cold sweat, the nightmare jolts you awake. 

You spend all day in your room for fear of running into your mother and having to discuss your future.

The day after that, the familiar smell of coffee hits your nose as you walk by a cafe you used to frequent in high school, drowning yourself in hot chocolate in the winter and in sweet frozen lemonades in the summertime. If it wasn’t for your plans of seeing Chaewon you might’ve picked something up for nostalgia’s sake. 

Right when you think about her, she calls you. “Bring me a coffee,” Chaewon says. 

“What?” 

“Can you get me some coffee?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you fully expect to see Chaewon standing behind you or perched in one of the bushes across the street with a pair of binoculars. Her voice rings down the phone at you, at a volume you’re sure you would be able to hear if she was watching you from somewhere. “Hello?” 

“Yes, I’ll do it,” you say, ignoring the chill that runs down your spine and hanging up.

A bell rings above your head when you open the door, the cafe greeting you warmly like it always has. You admire its familiar green walls and the organic curves of its interior, from the sweeping archways to the round tables and chairs. Back then, you must have sat in each of them. 

You think you’re going crazy when you hear Sunghoon saying thanks, and you know you’re going crazy when you actually see him leaving the counter with his fingers wrapped around a vibrant orange iced drink. He doesn’t see you, focusing on the phone in his hand and the straw in his mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat with each sip. Sunghoon turns his back to you, walking towards a table in the far corner, his head moving to the beat of whatever song he’s listening to. He sits in the seat facing away from you, and you stare for so long that the barista has to say excuse me to get your attention. 

After apologising, you order Chaewon’s latte, giving her name over to the barista when she asks and waiting off to the side while she makes it. The whole time, you watch Sunghoon, willing him to look over at you. It doesn’t work.

Not in the way you’d been expecting, at least. Your phone vibrates against your palm.

sh: hey yn! are you doing anything nice today?

You grin at the back of his head. 

yn: seeing chaewon later :) hbu

sh: oh cool i hope you guys have fun!

sh: working later.. closing shift :/ 

When it’s ready, you collect Chaewon’s drink and approach Sunghoon’s table. He’s staring at his phone screen, where you see your conversation over his shoulder — even though it’s been five minutes since he texted you — and have to bite back a smile.

“Hey, you.” The words come out like you intended, light, pleased. 

Sunghoon jumps in his seat anyway, slamming his phone face down on the table and looking up at you. “YN,” he breathes. “Hey.” He wipes his palms on his pants. “What are you doing here?” 

“Same as you, I guess,” you grin, raising the cup in your hand. “Can I sit?” 

“Of course.” A beat passes while you take your seat and Sunghoon’s eyes don’t leave you once. 

It’s been a while since you last had a vanilla latte but it’s just as sweet as you remember when you try it, the ice doing a good job at keeping you cool. You tilt your head at the boy in front of you, checking the date on your phone. “It’s Friday today.” 

“Yeah…” Sunghoon squints at you, nodding his head slowly. “Oh, it’s Friday,” he says, seeming to figure out what you were getting at despite the lack of context. “There’s a girl I normally coach on Mondays at the rink, Hyein, but she couldn’t make it this week so we moved her session to this afternoon. To be clear though, I don’t normally work on Fridays. At the rink or otherwise.”

You nod, taking another sip of Chaewon’s coffee and angling the cup so he can’t see her name written on the side of it. 

“So, if you wanted to see me, on a Friday, or over the weekend, you could still text me about that.” 

Smiling, you nod. “Good to know. Do you work Monday to Thursday at the rink as well?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

Sunlight spills through the tiled windows, warming your skin through the glass. Over his shoulder, the bell by the door rings incessantly and under the sun’s rays, flecks of amber glow in his eyes that crinkle at the corners, a dimple peeking at you as he shakes his head.

“I have my own training at 6 on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and then I teach kids classes on Monday and Tuesday nights, and I see Hyein on Monday mornings.”

“6 a.m.?”

“No, our sessions start at 10.”

“I mean your training, you start at 6 in the morning?” 

“Oh.” He nods. “Yeah,” he says, shrugging. 

“Fuck, that’s so early, I could never.” 

“I mean, that was just my training block during school. 6 to 7:45, so I’d go to the rink, back home to shower, and go to school when I could.” A beat passes before he speaks again, using his straw to stir his drink. “But that was mainly during, like, off-season. If I had competitions coming up then I’d spend entire days at the rink, or dance class, in the gym, so I missed a lot of school.” 

You nod. “I remember.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes flash with something, as his brows knit together for barely a second. He smiles. “Anyway, I did try later sessions when I started college but I was so used to my early sessions that I’d still wake up at 5 a.m. even though my classes didn’t start until the afternoon.” 

There’s a sparkle in his eyes when you ask about Hyein, and excitement in his voice while he tells you all about her. About how much potential she has, even though she doesn’t seem to realise it; about how much better she’s gotten in the year since they met and how similar she is to him at her age.

After a very slow walk with Sunghoon, you reach Chaewon’s place. It doesn’t hit you that you’re empty-handed until she opens the door and frowns at you, asking where you’ve been and what happened to her coffee.

It starts to feel like you’re running out of friends to take to the pool when, a few days later, the entire girls chat is too busy to come along, and Lee Jeno from an engineering lecture you took two years ago sits in the chair next to you, lazily flipping through an old copy of Dazed Magazine. Even if only as a last resort, Jeno makes good company seeing as you like the funny Tiktoks he shows you and the way he sneaks vodka into your slushy behind your towel. 

For a while, you pretend not to care about Sunghoon’s absence in hopes he’ll spawn from the pool’s deep end. Surprisingly, he does not. And just like that, an ugly pattern is formed: you go to the pool, wait all day for Sunghoon, and eventually, stumble back home in a daze from alcohol or sunstroke. 

It takes four and a half more, uneventful, Sunghoonless visits to the pool to leave you trying not to tear your hair out at Chaewon’s dining table. 

Kazuha serves as a good distraction though, making you quiz her on the details of Kim Yeri’s driving licence so she can come out to the club with you guys. Between the two girls looking nothing alike and Kazuha thinking a March birthday makes her a Sagittarius, you’re not hopeful. 

When she goes to the toilet, you check your phone just to be sure Sunghoon hasn’t texted in the twelve minutes since you last checked. And like before, the only messages you find are from Yeonjun asking if you’re “tryna slide” later. You aren’t, and haven’t been for the last two weeks he’d been asking. Completely unrelated to a certain blond lifeguard, of course. You sigh, thinking of Sunghoon again and why he hasn’t texted yet.

There’s nothing stopping you from sending the first text (today) — except for the fact that you’d been texting back and forth until you accidentally aired him at the start of the week. Unless you’re trying to hook up, you never send the first message. And as much as you would like to hook up with Sunghoon, there’s something about him that’s too endearing to only experience in the quiet of a backseat at 3 a.m., or in your room when no one’s home.

Four shots and a lot of egging on seem to be all you need to make your way to Sunghoon’s DMs. You let Chaewon and Kazuha debate over what your opening message should be, and with shaky thumbs, you type out something simple. Much to your friend’s (and your own) disappointment, you eventually settle on hey handsome. 

sh: hiiiiiiiiiii

For a while, you watch as Sunghoon types and stops and types and stops before his message comes through. 

sh: pretty

You can’t help the giggle that comes out, clearing your throat when Chaewon raises a brow at you. The two of you hold eye contact for a beat before erupting into a fit of laughter. 

you: i haven’t seen you at the pool in a while and i was wondering if you’re ok..

sh: yn.. have you been at my workplac e waiitng for me to show up again ???

you: are you ok.

sh: i think it’s cute that you did that, my friends tol d me they saw you there every day this week

you: why are your friends reporting my whereabouts to you..

sh: i asked them to, also im good i just took some days off

sh: back monday am i gonna see u then?

you: or we could just see each other on one of your off days?

On the left side of the screen, you watch animated ellipses dance above the keyboard before halting, though no message comes to replace them and it doesn’t take you long to figure out that the message hasn’t come through because your phone is frozen. 

Right?

You let out a laugh at your stupidity while Chaewon looks at you like you’re insane, turning off your phone and letting it sit for a bit before turning it back on. Wasting no time, you go straight to Instagram and pull up the DM thread where the word seen sits underneath your last message, laughing at you. 

Perplexed by what seems like your first rejection ever, you’re not quite sure how to move on so you send a text to the group chat (mainly for Yunjin, the only one who isn’t present). Yunjin replies with a message suggesting Sunghoon’s phone died. In the chair opposite, Chaewon suggests maybe he died. Jaehyun brings you more shots to cope with your heartache and you clutch your stomach laughing when he squirts lime juice into his eye.

Because your friends don’t respect you, you end up in the middle seat when the Uber arrives; sandwiched between Chaewon and Kazuha, drinking as much vodka as you can stomach from the younger girl’s flask while she mutters March 5th, Taurus over and over again. 

All that hard work was done in vain, though; when you reach the club Kazuha insists on being the first to go up in line, and tears start streaming when the bouncer asks what part of Seoul she was born in. Yeri’s ID gets confiscated and the four of you pile into another Uber and head to your backup plan, which you only learn about when the car pulls up.

Living in another city for uni means you’ve never partied with Sunghoon’s friends before — beyond walking by each other in a club — and some combination of excitement and alcohol makes your stomach heat up as you think about seeing him again.

Nishimura Riki’s family home is a giant structure that takes up more room than what’s probably necessary. There’s a massive fountain in the middle of the driveway shooting a stream, out of the mouth of what you think is a lion, into its main bed of water. The grand front door has banners criss-crossed over it saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM SUNOO! Before you reach it, the door swings open and Jay’s jaw is even sharper than you remember when you see him so close. He grins at you and your friends, whooping obnoxiously at the sight of Jaehyun, dapping him up before waving awkwardly at you, Chaewon and Kazuha. You watch him lean over to Jaehyun and ask if that chick’s okay, while not so subtly pointing at the youngest of you all. 

When you look at her, black streaks of mascara tear through her blush like a knife though she wears a bright smile as she eyes Jay like a predator. You nudge her in the ribs and make a mental note to find a bathroom to help her fix her makeup. She frowns when you take her hand and enter the house, leaving Chaewon with Jaehyun and Jay, the three of which chat easily with one another.

Upstairs in the main bathroom, you kneel on the floor between Kazuha’s legs, gently running a makeup wipe over her face while she sits on the lid of the toilet babbling about Jay. “He’s the one,” she says determinedly. “I mean, he was worried about me.. he barely knows me and he was asking if I was okay. Like, how did he know I’d been upset?” You wonder if Kazuha has seen her face in the last half hour. Or if she knows why you insisted on taking her makeup off. 

“Right,” you nod, knowing it’s easier to agree with a drunk Kazuha than face an argument.

“It’s a feeling. Like, sometimes you just have to look through the eyes of your soul, and everything will work out.”

It’s amazing to you that she can say the things she says without laughing. But there’s a finality in her tone that makes you hope she’s right. 

With Kazuha all cleaned up, you’re able to focus on how crammed the house actually is. There are people in every room of the house, sitting on the porch, in the backyard. People are everywhere and you’re not sure you’ll ever manage to reunite with your friends. In favour of getting to know Jay, Kazuha presses a kiss to your cheek and runs off in the opposite direction. You head for the kitchen knowing that Chaewon will most likely be in there somewhere, batting her lashes at a tall graduate in hopes to score a free smoke. 

People are grinding and hanging off one another in the hall and the living room, making out by the stairs, and in what looks like the only empty spot in the kitchen Sunghoon leans against the counter, taking generous gulps from something in a red cup. Judging by his smart trousers and pretty black cardigan, Sunghoon has also developed a personal style in the time since you’ve last been home. A dent forms in Sunghoon’s cheek when he sees you, a sweet crinkle in his eyes as he says hi! 

You can’t figure out whether you should hug him or not but he looks so sweet with his wide smile and flushed cheeks that your arms widen of their own accord. His embrace is gentle, wrapping you up in a mixture of toned arms, soft cotton, liquor, and something light, floral, you think. 

“Can I fix you something to drink?” Sunghoon asks quietly, you only just hear him before he lets you go. “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” he says, reaching over the counter to grab a cup for you. 

“Yeah, I didn’t either.” 

“I was your backup plan?” 

“Oh, come on.” You nudge his shoulder with your hand as he screws the cap back on a bottle of lemonade. “I wouldn’t use those words. If I’d known about the party you would’ve been the plan.” 

“I thought you wouldn’t use those words.”

“You’re using those words,” you say, grinning when he laughs. 

You both go back and forth on it for a while, as Sunghoon tries to find Malibu in the mess of bottles cluttering the countertop. A wide grin spreads across his face when he does and you watch him fill the empty space in your cup before handing it to you. 

The first sip is syrupy sweet on your tongue, forcing an appreciative hum out of you. “So good,” you say through a dreamy sigh, shaking your head before taking another gulp. 

From his nose, he lets out a breathy laugh, his lips quirking up at the corners as he watches you. “It’s good to know my bartending classes are paying off.” 

“Have you ever considered a recipe book?” you ask, putting the cup down next to your phone, looking up at Sunghoon who seems to seriously consider this for a while before nodding. 

Almost experimentally, he rests his hand on your hip. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he tells you, holding you a little closer when he sees that you’re okay with it. 

You tilt your head at him, pretending not to remember the way he’d left you on read. “What happened earlier?” 

“On.. iMessage,” he starts, trailing off at the end though he continues when you nod. “I’m not good at talking to pretty girls.”

Despite not fully believing him, there’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your stomach flutter. “Lucky for you, I’m very good at talking to pretty boys.” 

You can’t tell if he’s flustered or drunk, but his cheeks redden after you speak. 

“Pretty boys, me?” 

“Who else?” 

Sunghoon’s laugh comes out in ha ha ha’s, and if you couldn’t see the way his eyes crinkled up you might have thought he was faking it.

For a moment, his gaze flickers between your eyes and mouth, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he speaks. “I don’t want you thinking I’m not interested or anything.” His voice is low, almost too quiet for the cramped space where Me and Your Mama bounces off the walls and rowdy kids constantly bump into you. 

With his hand still burning through your dress, he nudges you, turning you both around to take your place. Your ass rests against the edge of the countertop and the drunk students bump into him instead. “I’m just.. still figuring out how to stop being so shy all the time,” he says, using his thumb to lift the fallen strap of your dress.

You’re having a tough time believing him. If this is what being so shy looks like for Sunghoon, you’re terrified to see him being confident. 

The heat of his lingering hand against your bare shoulder only leaves you drawing a blank. Part of you feels silly for saying that you’re very good at talking to pretty boys. You’re way out of your depth right now.

“But you,” he trails off, looking between your eyes and lips again. His hand starts to tremble against your waist. “You make it so hard.” 

“I do?” you ask dumbly, at a complete loss for words, trying not to read too much into his word choice. Why, anyone could say that word, hard, and not mean anything by it, it’s a word after all. An adjective, you think. 

Get out of your head. 

“Mm,” Sunghoon nods solemnly. “You have no idea.”

Three people nudge past you, each one shoving into him harder than the last; he looks thankful when you suggest going outside. His fingers brush against yours before he pulls them away, turning around to head for the garden immediately. 

The smell of smoke spikes through the fresh air, strong enough to make your head swim as Sunghoon closes the back door behind you. “Wow,” you whisper, looking around. It’s like stepping into a whole new party, with slow R&B pumping out into the summer heat. The garden spills out way beyond what your eyes can see, glowing with twinkling fairy lights and excited chatter.

“I know, right.” 

There’s a two step staircase in the centre that you follow Sunghoon up, mumbling an apology to the couple whose makeout sesh you had to break up to do so. Both of your footsteps crunch against the stone path that splits the grass, and — at Sunghoon’s request — you tell him everything that led you to this party tonight. Leaving out all of the overthinking that went into the text you eventually sent him of course.

“Wait, how old is Kazuha?” 

“21, she’s just waiting on her new ID coming in the mail.” 

“What happened to her old one?” 

“I think she’s like.. 13 or something in her old photo, and we didn’t get in last week either ‘cause the bouncer didn’t think it was her,” you pause. “Or she just looked too young in the photo. I’m not sure.”

You can hear Sunghoon humming along to the SZA song that’s playing, tilting his head at your words. His brows knit together for a beat, and he has to grab you by the forearm to keep you from tripping over your own feet. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, as he maintains his grip on you. “Thanks,” you say through a breath, trying to focus on anything other than his touch. 

“Let’s sit, yeah?” 

Sunghoon rests his arm around your shoulders when you nod, keeping you upright as you walk slowly towards the back of the garden. “I don’t know where you guys go out, but one time, we put Riki in a dress and gave him Hwang Yeji’s ID.”

“And then stayed home?” The mental image makes you cackle, getting funnier with each second you dwell on it, but your breath catches in your throat when you look up at him, shaking his head as best as he can while laughing. The way his head falls back, showing off the column of his neck and angle of his jaw forces you to screw your eyes shut to stop the thoughts of kissing him there. 

“And then took him to the club with us and got him to buy our first round.”

With each thing he shares about that night, it grows more and more unbelievable, leaving your jaw on the floor as he leads you around a timber shed (that houses a hot tub) to a big swingy chair thing. “I’ll find the photos in a sec,” he smiles. “Let me hold your cup while you sit.” 

The spot provides about as much privacy as you figure a packed house party could afford. Not that you need privacy to be endeared by Sunghoon or anything. You take him up on his offer, sitting down and watching as he ignores the phone ringing in his pocket, handing you back your drink. Even though you’re not thrilled about the interruption, you tell him he should at least check who it is. 

“Jungwon?” He flinches, yanking the phone away from his ear. Jungwon’s voice is so loud you can hear him despite the distance. “Yeah I got it, I’m at the swing outside.” The call ends there and Sunghoon still doesn’t sit down and neither of you speaks. 

Blinking fairy lights are strung neatly around the swing’s frame. Only a few of the bulbs are working, but together they produce enough light for you to see the sun-bleached blue of the cushion you’re sitting on, and the way Sunghoon’s looking straight at you. You smile. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a while, completely spaced out, until a broad-shouldered child arrives. 

Sunghoon daps him up and your brows raise when he pulls a short, flat bottle of vodka from his back pocket to give to Jungwon. “How much do I owe you?” he asks, taking the bottle. 

“For the drink or for the lifelong tab you and Riki have been racking up?” 

Chuckling, Jungwon shakes his head and points his thumb at Sunghoon. “Don’t you just love that sense of humour?”

The two boys share a look, and Jungwon nods in understanding. He affectionately pats Sunghoon’s bicep, face lighting up in awe. “Wow!” he gasps, turning to glance at you. “Have you felt the muscles on this guy? I wanna be just like him when I grow up.” With wide eyes, he nudges Sunghoon in your direction. 

Despite his apparent indifference towards Jungwon’s attempts at hyping him up, Sunghoon comes closer to you, letting you feel his arm anyway. He flexes his bicep — all firm, sculpted muscle through his soft cardigan — under your fingers in a way that spreads fire in your stomach. Unintentionally, you catch his gaze and your breath gets stuck in your throat. A quiet laugh slips from his lips as he puts his arm down. 

It’s hard not to think about what Jungwon had said about growing up, and even harder not to study him to figure out his age. His outfit is similar to Sunghoon’s; loose pants and a knitted cardigan which does nothing to help you make an estimate. Not being able to buy his own booze tells you that he’s not your age, his wide eyes and round cheeks only make him seem like a child, but his height and broad shoulders throw you off.

“How old are you?” you ask, giving in to your curiosity. 

“21,” he says, too quickly. “.. in two years.” 

He lingers for a bit to hype Sunghoon up some more; not so subtly bringing up his great qualities, like his considerate nature and unwavering dedication. Though Sunghoon’s “never ending” patience wears out and he asks him to leave. With a nod, Jungwon waves goodbye before sprinting back towards the house. Sunghoon laughs watching his friend and sinks into the seat next to you, his thigh pressing against yours for a beat before he closes his legs and rests his arms over the back of the chair.

“Wow,” you grin, leaning into his side. “Figure skating legend Park Sunghoon buys alcohol for kids.” 

He shrugs. “I’m not a legend.” 

You raise a brow, a smirk playing at your lips. “That’s the part you’re disputing?”

“Well, the other part is true,” he says, chuckling though unable to hide the flash of discomfort in his eyes. “If you consider a 19-year-old a kid.” 

“You’re way too humble.”

“Anyone could be good with the right coach, and I have, like, the most supportive parents ever so they help me a lot.”  

“Well, yeah, probably, but even then, your parents aren’t the ones skating, you are,” you point out. 

Sunghoon deflates, sighing heavily. “Can we talk about something else?” He takes a sip from his cup in a silent plea for you to drop it. When his eyes meet yours, his lips press into a flat smile and the soft lighting brings out the dimple in his cheek. 

You nod, using your hand to push his hair away from his forehead. The flat smile spreads across his face as you play with his light hair, that’s somehow silky smooth under your fingers despite the bleach. It’s a little messy when you move your hand, sitting over his thick brows in a way that, when paired with his boyish grin, makes him look younger. 

A dull thump startles both of you as a couple jog away from the shed with linked hands and no regard for you or Sunghoon. Neither of you bother trying to hide your amusement when you meet each other’s eyes, laughing hard enough to make the swing sway. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after calming down — maybe too late. 

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to be.”

The smile on his face is soft, sincere, but does nothing for the guilt you feel over stressing him out — your lips tug into a frown.

“Hey,” Sunghoon whispers and his forehead is warm against yours when he nudges you, grinning at the way you giggle when he pulls away. “I’m not upset or anything.” he pauses. “I don’t think I’m upset or anything, I’m just tired, you know. I spend a lot of time talking about skating during the day and there’s, like, a million and one other things I’d rather talk about right now.”

His honesty assuages your guilt and piques your curiosity. “Yeah?” you ask, arching a brow. Sunghoon nods. “Other things like..” 

He hesitates, caught off by the suggestiveness in your tone, by the way your hand grazes his knee before resting low on his thigh. A gulp echoes in his throat. “Uh, like..” His voice trails off. 

There’s a flutter in your chest as a smile tugs at your lips. “Why don’t we start with those pictures of Riki at the club?” 

“Riki at the club,” he repeats, nodding his head. “I can do that.” 

Sunghoon’s arm falls around your shoulders when you nestle into him, close enough now that his scent hits you effortlessly. A tiny square in his camera roll expands under his thumb, showing you Riki in a tight black halter dress with his hair grown out and styled in neat curls. There’s a boxy grin spread across his lips while he holds Yeji’s ID next to his face. In the next picture, he crouches between Shin Ryujin and Lee Chaeryeong while the three of them make kissy faces for the camera. “And then he had two shots of Fireball and passed out in a booth so we had to carry him home.” 

A laugh bubbles in your throat at the sight of Riki hunched over in a booth with his head on the table, and tears start to spill when you watch the video of Heeseung stumbling down the street, accidentally letting Riki slip off his back and onto the concrete. 

Out of nowhere, Sunghoon’s eyes practically bulge out of his head; an expression you’ve only seen on Kazuha whenever she suspects she left her flat iron on at home. Dread settles in your stomach as you brace yourself for what he might say next. “Just give me a minute,” he says, his words holding an urgency that only fuels your nerves. “I need to text someone.” 

Sunghoon thinking about talking to someone else while you’re trying to get to know him isn’t your favourite thing. In fact, it feels worse than what you imagine might happen if Kazuha actually does leave her flat iron on one day — because it shuts off automatically after 15 minutes.

You try hiding your disappointment but you can feel your lips drooping at the corners as he angles his phone away from you, deep in thought about this message he so urgently has to send. Whatever, you think. Couldn’t care less.

At long last, he finishes typing and pulls air through his teeth before putting his phone back in his pocket, drumming his nails against the seat until your phone goes off in your lap. In a fit of Kazuha-inspired absurdity, you want Sunghoon to feel bad about his lack of manners, so you ignore the notification despite your burning curiosity.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” he asks, his gaze fixed on you expectantly. 

You shake your head. “It can wait.” 

A frown creases Sunghoon’s brow and you hate it; checking your phone immediately to find two texts from the boy sitting next to you.

sh: hey yn! sorry i took so long

sh: if it’s not too late do u wNt to go on a date with me next saturday?

After six days of exchanging Spotify links with Sunghoon over text, Saturday rolls around, and the doorbell chimes earlier than you’d been expecting it to. You call out that you’ll get the door, grab your bag and bolt down the stairs. With a hand on the door handle, you catch your breath, an act that seems pointless when you see Sunghoon through the glass. The door creaks open and his neck snaps in your direction, jaw falling to the floor. 

He waves. 

Your greeting is followed only by silence, your Hey, Sunghoon, dissipating into the sticky summer heat as he chews on his cheek, letting his eyes scan your body over and over. If he didn’t look so nervous you might have offered to pose for a picture. “How are you?” you ask, locking the door behind you and double-checking that you did lock it before tossing your keys into your purse. 

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs, pushing his hand through his hair. “And I love your dress,” he adds. “Very pretty.”

“Yeah?”

Sunghoon nods and suddenly, your group FaceTime call with Chaewon, Minjeong, and Yunjin feels like two hours well spent. 

While you tried on every summer outfit in your wardrobe for them to judge, Minjeong gave enthusiastic reactions to Sunghoon’s tagged photos, or, rather, to Mark in Sunghoon’s tagged photos but even she was struck by the outfit you settled on. The pretty floral dress that sits at the middle of your thighs that Sunghoon can’t seem to look away from. Hopefully, you’ll remember to thank them appropriately. 

You follow him to his car where he opens the passenger door for you. Struck by the fact that this is the first time anyone’s done that for you, and the sound of his hand rattling against the metal, you sit down, beaming up at him as he closes the door. Sunghoon’s car is neat, and tidy, and smells pleasantly of the new car scent Little Tree that hangs, completely still, from his rearview mirror. Through the clean windscreen, you watch him walk around the front of the car with pursed lips. 

“You like ice cream, right?” he asks when he sits down, looking over at you nervously. 

“Who doesn’t like ice cream?” 

Sunghoon takes you to a little old diner themed ice cream spot with checkerboard floors and a handful of plush vinyl booths. Some of the walls have cursive LED signs that you can’t quite make out and a great big jukebox in the back corner plays What Makes You Beautiful. 

It doesn’t surprise you that Sunghoon is quiet when it’s just you guys, but you can tell that he’s trying his best. He listens attentively to everything you have to say, nodding his head and asking thoughtful questions at all the right times; he makes you laugh more than you ever have. He practically lights up when you bring up his friends. 

“Your friends are so cute,” you say with a smile, thinking of the change Riki had given Yunjin to buy those slushys the other day. 

“If you knew my friends you wouldn’t think that,” Sunghoon says, a fond smile that goes against his words spreading on his face at the mention of them. “Except Jake,” he corrects. “Jake is so cute, yes.” 

“I don’t think I know which one he is,” you admit. “I know Heeseung, I know Jay, Jungwon, and Riki..” you trail off, looking up at him and the smudge of ice cream on his lower lip.

“Jake is the cute one,” he frowns. “You’ll know him when I show you.” Sunghoon takes his phone from his pocket, scrolling for a while. “I’m sorry, I can’t find a normal photo of all seven of us.” 

“Just show me whatever,” you say, looking up at him and the smudge of ice cream on his bottom lip.

Without thinking, you reach over the table, using your thumb to wipe it away. Sunghoon’s cheeks immediately flush with pink and he gulps watching you suck the ice cream from the pad of your finger.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, shy, while turning his phone towards you to show the most absurdly staged photograph you think you’ve ever seen. “So, uh, Jake is.. he’s the one holding Heeseung up by his hair, and Sunoo’s posing in front of Jay.” Sunghoon hands you his phone when he’s done talking.

You use the opportunity to examine the picture. 

Jake (so cute) really does hold Heeseung up by his hair, and Sunoo (also so cute) shows the camera his pretty side profile and a thumbs up. Some other things stick out to you in the photo, a laugh making its way out of you as you notice that Jungwon isn’t there but Jay holds up a printed picture of him in his right hand. Riki sits between Jay and Jake, wearing a concerned expression about something going on off-camera. Sunghoon is in the back, holding what looks like a yoga pose on the back of the couch they’re sitting on. 

Happily, you let Sunghoon tell you more about his friends until the sun starts to set and the backs of your thighs stick to the vinyl seat. Not quite ready to say goodbye, you ask Sunghoon if you can go on a walk together. He seems into the idea, nodding his head and smiling down at you. 

Walking aimlessly, the two of you maintain a neutral silence (not uncomfortable, not particularly comfortable either, just quiet), and pretend not to notice the way the backs of your hands touch, each bump longer than the last though amounting to nothing. 

It’s not until comforted by the smell of chemically treated water that you realise how close to the pool you are. You follow Sunghoon around a corner and see the locked gates, wondering if he’d brought you this way on purpose or just out of habit. 

“Wish it was open,” you say off-handedly, not really meaning anything by it. Like telling the person you sit beside on the first day of class that you’re so tired even though you had the best night of sleep in your life. 

Sunghoon isn’t beside you when you look over at him, he’s a few paces behind you, standing by the gates. A mischievous smile spreads on his lips as he holds his keys in his hand, dangling them. “It could be.” 

“Are we allowed to do this?” you ask nervously, watching Sunghoon twist his key in the lock. 

“Allowed to?” he repeats, tilting his head as though the concept is foreign to him. “No, I don’t think so.” A satisfying click sounds as the lock comes undone and Sunghoon pushes the gate open with a huge grin on his face as he gestures for you to go inside first. “After you.” 

He follows you in, shutting the gate behind him and holding out a hand for you to take; you lock your fingers with his and decide that you never want to let go. Not even after a thin layer of sweat forms between your palms. 

The space seems so large when it’s empty like this, with the parasols closed and the lack of screaming children. Streetlights cover the area in a dim orange haze, turning it into a fuzzy dreamscape. The pool itself seems so small when you see it covered up, nothing like the ocean-wide abyss you remember it being when you were young, racing with Chaewon, or pretending like you were only playing around when you tried to drown Jaehyun. 

“Do you wanna get in?” Sunghoon asks, his soft voice interrupting your thoughts. 

You don’t hesitate to nod. 

One night a week, the pool stays open until after dark, but you’ve never been. So when the mechanised pool cover whirs open after Sunghoon flips the switch, you’re shocked by the lights that illuminate the still water. It makes sense that the pool would have some form of lighting for safety, but you hadn’t expected the yellowing fixtures set in the tiled walls to shine so beautifully.

“Come on,” he says, taking you by the hand again, approaching the water. 

A part of you wants to protest when he lets go, but the words catch in your throat as he pulls his shirt over his head. Having spent the better part of most summers poolside, the sight of shirtless Sunghoon isn’t a new one though you find yourself breathless all the same. It’s different tonight but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

Worried you’ll break the spell, you can’t bring yourself to speak. Worried you’ll open your mouth and the moment might slip out from under you. These worries, however, are no match for Sunghoon’s slim waist which leaves your mouth forming an O at the sight. 

“Wow,” you whisper, awestruck. 

Sunghoon laughs, nervously, running a hand through his hair and using the other to hold his shirt over his stomach. “Don’t do that,” he says under his breath. He drops the shirt. The rest of his clothes follow, quickly leaving him in only his tight-fitting black boxer briefs that you struggle to look away from. 

An odd feeling starts to creep in, causing a fire in your belly — obviously from the sweet cider you had earlier, nothing at all to do with Sunghoon. Or his sculpted torso. Or his face, with his soft smile, and sparkling eyes. No one’s ever looked at you like this before.

“What are you thinking about?” 

Those shoulders. Those lips. Kissing those lips. You gulp. “Nothing.” 

Even though he doesn’t look like he believes you, he doesn’t press you on it. Instead, he smiles. Sunghoon turns his back to you, walking towards the pool’s edge to dip a pointed toe into the water. You like the way he hums, nodding his head as if it’s just to his liking. 

“Feels good?”

“Perfect,” he grins, stepping into the pool. 

A splash makes the water ripple around him — you’ve never noticed it’s so clear, you can see everything. From the mosaic-like blue tiles on the pool floor and walls to the way Sunghoon’s hair moves around his head. It’s a dazzling blue, shifting brilliantly through the whole spectrum under light from the moon, the pool, and the lampposts. 

Considering the way you’re sweating in the sticky heat, the water even looks refreshing, so you’re not sure why you don’t move to pull your dress off; or why you can’t shake your nerves. Sunghoon’s seen you in skin-tight dresses, and skimpy bikinis, so you’re not sure why the thought of him seeing you in your underwear is spooking you so much. It could be your lack of a bra. But even then, Sunghoon isn’t going to be the first person to see your bare breasts.

Interrupting your thoughts, he bobs to the surface with closed eyes and straight lips; his dimple shows. Pushing hair from his forehead, he asks if you’re going to join him though he seems to sense your apprehension, shaking his head. “You don’t have to take anything off,” he tells you gently. “Except maybe your shoes and socks.” 

You nod, stepping out of your shoes and pulling your socks off almost robotically. 

“It’s okay,” he smiles, comforting, reassuring, as he swims up to the edge of the pool and extends his wet hand to you. “I got you.”

You tell yourself to get out of your head, looking into Sunghoon’s sparkling eyes and feeling at ease from the way he looks up at you like you’re God’s gift. When you reach for the bottom of your dress, he gulps, his arm falling limply against the coping. You turn away from him to pull the light fabric over your head, letting it fall in a heap next to your shoes, and Sunghoon’s looking in the other direction when you turn back around. Even with the ‘privacy’ he’s afforded you by looking away, you can’t help but use your arms to cover your chest as you make your way over to the pool, sitting down on the edge and slipping into the water. 

It is refreshing. The water is the perfect temperature as it envelops you, soothes you.

Just more than an arm’s length away, Sunghoon’s form is broad. His shoulders are so wide and his back so toned that your head starts to swim. His skin, sunkissed, glowing, is dotted with pretty moles that you’ve never noticed before but can’t look away from — suddenly feeling as though you could point to each one with your eyes closed. 

With an odd half step, you reach him, letting your arms fall around his waist and pressing your chest to his back. You don’t know why you do that.

He draws a sharp breath. “Hi,” he whispers after a beat. 

“Hi.” 

A quiet falls between you until Sunghoon mumbles, over there, while pointing towards the deep end of the pool. You swim poorly behind him and he only stops when you call out his name. Sunghoon breaks out into laughter when he sees you. For him, who’s well into the deep end, the, now still, water might tease his chin if disrupted. For you, almost 2 metres behind, the water tickles your nose even when you stand on your tiptoes.

“Whoa,” he whispers. 

You tilt your head back to speak. “What?” 

“You’re just..” He pauses to gulp. “So short.”  

Offended, you scoff. “I’m the tallest out of all my friends,” you say defensively. And untruthfully — hoping he’s never seen you standing next to Yunjin.

“Are you friends with the Lakers?”

You drift away from him, laughing as well, until the water just about reaches your armpits. He follows you. As more of his body breaches the surface, water slips from his chest, droplets and streaks glowing under the white light of the moon, completely breathtaking.

“I was so nervous about today,” he says, pushing some water towards you, his lighthearted tone gone. 

“Oh?” You pause, continuing when he nods, and push water back in his direction. “How do you feel now?” 

Sunghoon’s pouty lips jerk up the corners, playful, boyish. A soft laugh slips from the space between his teeth. “I’m absolutely terrified.” His honesty draws you to him, and has you actually drifting closer in the water.

“What’s scaring you?” 

His breath seems to catch in his throat. He tilts his head while eyeing you. “Are you asking because you really don’t know?” If you’d still been splashing each other you doubt you’d have heard him talking over the water.

“Does it matter?”

Sunghoon seems to consider this for a moment, to consider you. Despite sitting just high enough to cover your breasts, the water doesn’t do very much to conceal them and his eyes get stuck on your chest for more than a little while. He clears his throat, looking back up at your face. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he raises his hands and smacks the surface of the water between you with open palms. A big splash hits you in the face. 

It’s on, you think, doing the same thing to him with all the force you can muster and laugh at the yelp he lets out. Something of a splash fight ensues, both of you doing everything you can to create a bigger mess of water to attack the other with. 

The rain starts so subtly that you don’t even notice it at first. You’re both too busy laughing and trying to splash the other harder to think about anything else. Only when you stop to catch your breath, to rest your aching arms, do you catch the faint ripples skating across the pool’s surface. Sunghoon doesn’t relent, taking the opportunity to gain the upper hand. And the rain gets heavy fast.

“Sunghoon, it’s raining, stop!” you call out, turning your face away from him. His raucous laughter makes your stomach flutter as you grab his wrist. “Come on, we’re gonna get wet, we have to go!” 

When you look back over at him, his smile is so wide, so sweet that you almost feel faint. Sunghoon doesn’t stop laughing, the sound is so contagious you can’t help but join in. His arms fall around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do while he cackles in front of you, you let your hands rest on his firm triceps. 

Large droplets start hitting your lashes, clinging to them, obscuring your vision, so you bring a hand up to act like an awning above your eyes. He calls you so cute under his breath though his laughter doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop anytime soon. 

“Hoon, come on. What’s so funny?”

The rain is cold against your shoulders but the boy in front of you doesn’t seem to share your concerns about the sudden downpour. You lock eyes with him, and his laughter seems to get caught in his throat. He’s still smiling but seems nervous, as though he’s only now become aware that he’s holding you so close that your naked chest is pressed against his. 

Sunghoon clears his throat. His smile returns, as a breathy laugh makes its way from his nose. He lets his face come down towards yours, slow, cautious, and too desperate to wait, you meet his lips halfway; they’re every bit as soft as you’d imagined. 

As if relieved, Sunghoon’s shoulders sag and his body seems to melt into your own. Desperation, hunger hits you from all angles, lighting up your insides and leaving your skin burning under his touch. Unthinkingly, you link your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly close, almost whimpering when his tongue grazes yours.

Sunghoon tastes light and sugary, like the perfect combination of artificial strawberry and sweet coffee as his tongue moves against yours. From your mouth into his slips a dreamy sigh, while he holds onto you gently, like you’re the most delicate thing in the world; like he’s the most delicate thing. Why haven’t you been kissed like this before? So slowly, so softly, as if he means it. As if he’s kissing you for no reason other than simply wanting to kiss you. 

Only when he pulls away to catch his breath do you regain your senses and notice how much heavier the rain has become. But your brain short circuits at the sight of him. His breathing is ragged, his chest rises and falls against yours. Water darkened hair clings to his forehead, letting beads slip from its ends to his cheekbone before slipping down the column of his neck.

Shelter is the only word you manage to say and all you can do is hope that he’s able to work out the rest. Like something from the purest depths of your imagination, Sunghoon’s kiss-bitten lips stretch into a wide smile. A giggle, the softest thing you’ve ever come across, slips from his mouth while his fingers squeeze at your hips. 

“YN,” he says, breathless. “We’re in the pool.”

Dripping water onto the concrete under your feet, you and Sunghoon walk at snail’s pace from his car to your front door, with your linked hands swinging between your bodies. 

The porch light diffuses dramatically over Sunghoon’s features, and somehow, even under the stark lighting, he’s still beautiful. His wet hair drips water onto his shoulders, darkening his shirt in abstract splashes around the neckline. A grin splits across his lips when he locks eyes with you, his face scrunching up and his shoulders racking up and down as he laughs to himself. 

It’s impossible not to join in. “What’s so funny?” 

He only shrugs in response, struggling to keep a straight face. “I’m just.. happy,” he says eventually, a tinge of uncertainty hanging from his words. 

With shaking hands, Sunghoon grabs you by the waist and holds you close, leaning down to kiss you. As your lips move with his, the only thing you can think about is how badly you want to feel this moment forever. To feel the tremble in sweet Sunghoon’s hands as he holds onto you gently, to feel his soft hair under your fingertips, and his hard chest pressed against your body. To feel his lips curving into a smile, his forehead resting on yours as his breath fans your lips. “Are you happy too?” he asks. 

You think you’ll die if you ever forget the way it feels to like Park Sunghoon.

“Yes. Very.” 

Through the peephole in your front door, you watch as Sunghoon stands outside, bringing a hand to his cheek, fingers grazing the spot where you’re certain your lip gloss lingers. You suppress a giggle with your hand and run up the stairs to your room where you bury your face in your pillow to muffle a squeal. You can’t remember the last time you felt so giddy over something that was happening in your own life rather than something sweet you’d read in a book or heard about from a friend.

With Chaewon’s hand in yours, and butterflies in your stomach, you make your way to the community pool for the first time in about a week. Like always, you find Sunghoon’s friends wreaking havoc in the water until.. something happens. By the time it occurs, you’ve been laying poolside for about an hour, trying to convince your best friend that you liking a guy isn’t going to do anything to your friendship. 

“You’re not supposed to like that guy,” Chaewon whines like a child, playing with the frayed hem of her shorts. “You’re only supposed to like me!” A sigh passes from her lips as she uses her arm to shield her eyes from the sun. “And Yunjin!” she adds after too long. 

“What about the rest of our friends?” 

“And Kazuha, and Minjeong, and Jaehyun, an—” 

“Jaehyun’s a guy.” 

She seems a little thrown off by your interruption, pursing her lips before speaking. “Well, yeah, but.. he’s one of our guys. A Chaewon-approved guy.” 

Suddenly, the noise level reduces by at least half and you can’t help but feel alarmed, whipping your head in the direction of the pool. A quick scan tells you that nothing bad has happened, allowing you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. In the corner of your eye, you see Sunghoon’s friends huddled together and quickly realise that the space has only gotten so quiet because they’re chatting at a normal volume. Huh, you think, it almost sounds like the speakers are quite good. Heeseung and Jay get out of the water, sitting up on the pool’s edge while the other four boys all stand in place, all six of them fix their eyes on something in front of them but you don’t care enough to investigate further. 

You look back at Chaewon as a pout settles on your lips. “Why can’t Chaewon approve of my guy?”

“When you say that Sunghoon is your guy, do you mean it in the same way that Yeonjun is your guy?” she asks, her tone scathing but her face concerned. “Or, the way that Asahi is your guy, or, even Yoshi?” 

“No. This is different. Sunghoon is different.” 

You know how trite and naive you must sound, but he is different. You’d never dated a guy who’d pick you up right at your front door; Yeonjun and Yoshi typically sent DMs to let you know they’d parked out front, and Asahi did nothing but honk the car horn because he found it funny. Though to call what you were doing with those guys ‘dating’ would be a huge overstatement. There was Renjun from first year who was nice enough but never wanted to hang out, and Donghyuck who made you laugh but never complimented you. 

Chaewon crinkles her nose, reaching out to hold your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I really hope you’re right.”

And now there’s Sunghoon. Sunghoon who tells you that he can’t wait to see you again; who always tells you how pretty you look; who blushes when you hold his hand, who touches his cheek when you kiss it. You can’t imagine him doing anything bad to anyone. Sunghoon is different, and you hope you can be different this time too. In all the time you spend thinking, your guy shows up with a shy smile on his face with both of his hands behind his back. 

It’s your first time seeing him in person since your date and the sun glows against his skin, his wet hair tickling his thick brows as he stands at the foot of your chairs, watching Chaewon nervously. “Hi, Chaewon,” he says after a while.

“Hello!” She grins, seeming so bright and happy that you find it hard to reconcile this Chaewon with the one who’d been clutching her chest and sliding down the walls over the fact you have a crush on the boy she’s now being so pleasant to. 

“I got this,” Sunghoon says, bringing his hand from behind his back to reveal a strawberry-flavoured slushy. “For you.” He adds on, holding the drink out to your friend. While Chaewon gushes about how much she likes the mix of berries that make up her favourite flavour, Sunghoon hums and nods along while making his way to the other side of your chair. He wears a wider, more confident smile on his face while he stands over you. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” he says quietly, bringing his other hand out to give you the blue raspberry slushy he’s been holding. With his foot, Sunghoon drags a spare lounger from behind him next to yours before moving out of the way and using his hands to push it some more, making the armrest touch yours. “Hey,” he smiles, taking a seat. 

You take a grateful sip of your drink, surprised at how much better it tastes coming from him. “Thank you, Hoon.” You can’t stop yourself from leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, liking the way your stomach flutters when his hand flies up to touch the spot you’d kissed.

“I like when you do that.” 

“This?” you ask, kissing him again. Through squinted eyes, you notice a dusting of pink over his cheeks and take such a big sip of your slushy that every single part of your body goes numb and your head starts to hurt. Sunghoon only laughs, watching you. It’s quiet between you for a bit until you come to. “I’m not complaining, really, but don’t you have.. lives to guard?” 

“I’m on break,” he says. “Do you want me to go?” His brows raise dramatically as the corners of his lips sink to the floor, a glint of something playful in his sparkling eyes. 

You shake your head, face alighting with a grin when you remember something. “So can I see the skating videos you promised you’d show me?” 

All playfulness is gone. “Did I.. promise?” 

“Yes!” You don’t like the way he arches his brow at you. “Two nights ago.. before you fell asleep on the phone.” 

He scoffs at you, playfully. “If I remember correctly, you fell asleep on the phone,” Sunghoon says, tone accusatory. “And you snore.” Sunghoon lets his cheek lie flat against the chair, grinning. He’s beautiful. And correct.

“Skating videos,” you repeat. Sunghoon rolls his eyes at you, grinning brilliantly when you laugh. “I’m serious,” you frown. 

“You’re cute,” he says quietly, like it’s a correction. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Sunghoon pauses but takes your nod as a sign to continue. “I have a thing, next Tuesday, and I was wondering if you’d want to come and see me skate in person?” His voice tips up at the end of the question.

Excitement bubbles up inside you, causing you to sit up straight in your seat, turning your body to face him. “You want me to come?” 

He nods eagerly. 

“I’ll be there.” 

The tips of Sunghoon’s ears redden as he smiles at you, his eyes scanning your face. You can’t resist kissing him, and he doesn’t try to stop you, meeting your lips halfway. It’s sweet as sugar and goes on until his friends start to cheer loudly and Sunghoon pulls away, shy. But he looks like he wants to kiss you again. You grab him by the cord of the whistle around his neck and pull him back towards you. Relief floods you when your lips reunite.

“I’m gonna text you later with the details, time and shit,” he mumbles against your lips before getting up to go. 

As he retreats, he looks over his shoulder a few times, waving at you and smiling widely while he does. Until he bumps into a small child who practically topples over; Sunghoon manages to catch them in the nick of time and his neck flushes pink. 

It doesn’t make sense to you how he could be so cute. 

Chaewon watches you as she sips her slushy with an appreciative smile, letting out a long ahh of refreshment before putting the cup down. “Chaewon approved.” 

It seems like your mother’s been back from work for a while when you get home. A stretchy white headband holds her hair out of her face while she stands over a pot on the stove, looking comfy in some sweatpants.

Happy to see you, she pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Hi, honey,” she grins. 

She turns down your offer to help and insists on you setting the table instead, which you do happily, taking a seat when you’re done. Through her phone, she plays the music she listened to while you were growing up and sitting there, watching your mum cook while dripping chlorinated water from your hair to the kitchen floor, makes you feel a bit like a child. Like it’s 2008 and you’ve come home from a day at the pool with Chaewon, who would sit across from you at the dinner table, all blunt fringe and missing teeth, talking about this brand new thing called cheesecake, while your mother made dinner for the three of you with a towel wrapped on her head, drying her wet hair. 

As your mum fills your plate, she tells you about her day at work. Her boss was unreasonable, like always, and her office bestie took off on maternity leave. Again. She asks you about your day and pretends like she doesn’t notice the way you smile when you talk about the pool. 

You don’t wait to tell her about Sunghoon. 

“Is that who you went out with last week?” 

You cough around a grain of rice; you don’t remember mentioning him. “How do you know?” 

A smile takes over her face. “Because I watched him stand around the driveway for five minutes before he rang the bell.” You can’t help the way you laugh, it sounds like him to a tee. “What’s he like?” 

You tilt your head for a minute, thinking. “I still feel like we’re getting to know each other, you know?” Understanding, she nods her head. So, naturally, you talk for the better part of 10 minutes about Sunghoon until your food gets cold and your cheeks hurt from smiling. 

In preparation for Sunghoon’s skating showcase, you read up on the sport and audience etiquette, and stay up late the night before making a pretty banner for him. Sleepiness plagues you when you wake up that afternoon but at least you’re happy with the way the sign came out. 

While doing your makeup, you start to second guess your outfit choice. It was nice when you picked it last week, and it was nice when you put it on an hour ago and then back on twenty minutes ago. So, out of options, you stand in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time, sending Sunghoon a picture of your flowy off-white dress and asking if it’s okay. 

Sunghoon, dramatic as ever, responds with a selfie, all pretty smile and red hearts drawn over his eyes. You almost want to drop dead at the sight of him. And then another message comes through, no words, just emojis. At least 40 silly little yellow faces fill the text box. Some are crying, some have heart eyes, some have starry eyes, and some are drooling. There seems to be no apparent order, and you see sprinkles of white hearts in between them. 

sh: you look so beautiful you’re so beautiful baby

Baby, he’d said. Simple, pixelated, enough to make your heart flip in your chest. 

sh: can i come over 

sh: just to loo k at you or smth 

you: please 

You want to kiss him. 

sh: ok omw .. lying i dont have time :((( 

sh: also i fucked up my hair last night don’t laugh when you see me. 

you: no promises .. 

There’s a short queue at the reception desk when you arrive at the rink. The lobby is full of excited parents and bored teens, all eager with anticipation for the start (and end) of the summer showcase. Sunghoon had been relatively vague about the event until you called him last night, with a list of questions about it. With one question about it. The two of you chatted and laughed for hours until you got an answer. 

When he’s not spending the day at the pool, Sunghoon volunteers to teach kids classes at the rink he grew up in. Every year, the teaching cycle runs from April to July, at which point the rink holds the summer showcase, for parents and family members to attend and see what they’ve been funding for the past four months. 

“We don’t normally let parents sit in on classes because it’s distracting for the kids,” he explained through a yawn. “And it’s the whole reason I started skating in the first place.” Sunghoon paused. You hadn’t been expecting him to stop speaking but you rubbed your eyes and mumbled oh, really? as you used a pencil to sketch out the outline of your bubble letters. “You know, at first I thought you fell asleep, but I didn’t hear you snoring so I got a little worried,” he said, nervous. 

“I’m still here.” 

He fell quiet for a beat, speaking nervously. “Just let me know if I’m boring you, yeah?” 

“I could listen to you talk forever,” you admitted. “I’m having fun learning more about you.” 

Sunghoon’s light laughter made you bite back a giggle. “You make me feel good about myself,” he said quietly before continuing, giving you no time to respond. “But, yeah, I used to play hockey because I didn’t know how to talk to anyone except my parents and my one-year-old little sister, but my only friend on the hockey team invited me to go and watch him at the showcase one year and it was just.. the greatest thing I’d ever seen.” 

You encouraged Sunghoon to go on, still reeling from his quiet confession, and loving the grin in his voice while he spoke about skating and the way he laughed through some stories from work. Like how on a quiet day at the pool when he’d been messing around with Heeseung, Jake, and Riki in the water, some random guy approached them. 

“And this is so crazy too because we were just, like, fucking around, and the guy goes, “My grandmother can swim faster than you,” like he yelled it and stomped away.” 

Worried about waking your sleeping parents, you covered your mouth while laughing, mainly from the offence you can hear in Sunghoon’s voice over something that happened in October. “What did you guys do after that?” 

“I was on shift so I clocked out and went home.” 

The back of the program has a picture of Sunghoon and some of the other skating coaches, but it’s hard to pay attention to them or the signup sheet at the bottom when you see the wide smile on his face; you love the photo, it’s your favourite. He looks so happy, so radiant. If the scrunch of his nose and eyes is anything to go by, he must have been laughing when the picture was taken. This detail only makes you love it even more. 

In the corner of your eye, Jake leans against a wall, scrolling through his phone with a sheet of paper tucked under his arm. Seeing as he’s now (technically) your friend-in-law, you decide to approach him. Through the crowd of attendees waiting to be seated, he spots you as well, rushing over with the widest smile you’ve ever seen on anyone. You could count his teeth. 

Jake takes you by surprise, hugging you. “Hey! Hoon’s so happy that you’re here,” he says, somehow smiling even wider. “I’m so happy that you’re here, I finally have company!” 

When the double doors to the rink open up, you follow Jake to what he describes as the best seats in the house. “I always sit up here, so our boy knows to look over,” he says with a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “In case you were worried about that. It’s kinda far, and there’s lights, so you might have to wave a little harder than normal but, he’ll see you.” 

You nod, smiling too. “Got it.” Jake doesn’t look away. “Are you okay?” you ask him. More out of concern for your own well-being than anything else; you’ve heard of people murdering their best friend’s crushes before. 

He chews on his lip, tilting his head. All traces of his welcoming smile have faded, replaced with a more solemn expression as he looks over your shoulder for a beat. “Sunghoon’s my best friend,” he starts, and it’s hard not to picture yourself tumbling to your death down the slowly populating rows in front of you. They seem steeper now than before. “And he’s.. well.. you know him. It’s just that, he really likes you, you know? And I’m not saying this to be rude but I know about Yeonjun.. and—” Jake stops short, shooting you an apologetic look. “Anyway, I know that for some people, for you, for me, even, seeing more than one person at a time isn’t a big deal, but Hoon’s not like that.” 

You wait for him to continue. He doesn’t. 

A voice booms through the tannoy, telling everyone to take their seats as the show will be starting soon. 

Unsure what to say, you look out at the ice while Jake’s words sink in. It might have been easier to come up with something if he’d been any less kind about it. Spoken to you in a harsher tone. You hate the idea of Sunghoon knowing about the others, even if they were before him. Hate the idea of Jake having a similar conversation with him; telling Sunghoon that he’s not trying to be rude but..

“Sunghoon’s..” you pause, nervous. “He’s the best, and I can’t imagine seeing anyone else,” you admit. 

Jake beams, trusting you, and nods his head. “He’s gonna love your banner,” he grins. “And that.. angry looking plushy you brought.” 

The lights cut and all of the chatter hushes in an instant. Slowly, they fade back on, as a classical piece begins. Jake bounces his leg so hard you can feel the bench rattle under you, he’s practically glowing with giddiness. He’s like a little puppy, a golden retriever with light hair to match. 

After a short while, a boy skates out onto the ice, tall, graceful, an—Riki? He reaches the middle of the rink and introduces himself, enthusiastically reading a script from a few cue cards and looking right up into the stands to wear you and Jake sit. Beside you, Jake cheers, raising his banner, and you crane your neck to read it (LUCKY STRAWBERRIKI), and on the ice, Riki hides his face with his hand, quickly looking at his feet before continuing with his intro. 

You count eight tiny kids skating towards Riki, followed by Jungwon, and a line of other older skaters, Sunghoon is the last to appear, and your stomach churns with pride. All of them are dressed casually; you like Sunghoon’s straight-cut jeans and open button-up. 

As Jake predicted, Sunghoon (and Jungwon, and Riki) look up in your general direction, and next to you, Jake struggles to hold all three posters up at once so you help him, yelling along excitedly. It’s hard to tell from so far away but it feels like Sunghoon is staring straight at you like you’re the only two people at the rink. You feel like standing, like standing and singing HOOOOOOOOOOOON at the top of your lungs. For a moment you wonder if he’d shout back, telling you that right now he can hardly breathe. As if reading your mind, his mouth tugs up at the corners, slightly, before spreading into an ear-to-ear grin that makes your cheeks burn. 

The entire show passes by in an adorable whirlwind, as you and Jake applaud and encourage all of the performers, gushing with one another over how cute the baby skaters (including Jungwon and Riki) are. It’s beautiful and exciting, and you’re so happy you came. 

But time seems to stop when Sunghoon returns. Jake cheers loudly for him when he skates out; you can’t bring yourself to do the same. 

He comes to a stop in the middle of the rink, looking right up at the two of you. Jake waves his poster and raises yours too, seeming to notice the way you’re stuck to the spot. Sunghoon smiles, and somehow, he’s even more beautiful than you remembered. 

Graceful, elegant, Sunghoon glides on the ice when the music starts, immediately skating into a jump — you watch with held breath. He spins once, his arms tucked neatly by his sides, his hair fanning out around his head. Another spin, beautiful, clean. In the seats around you, people are cheering, you can hear them clear as day but the only person you see is Sunghoon who’s turning into his third rotation; the last. He sticks the landing, and an eternity has passed by as you let a sigh of relief slip out. 

Each jump is more gorgeous than the last, though seems to go on forever — you’re nervous as if it’s you on the ice. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you watch as he skates beautifully, executing smooth spins and controlled turns. You don’t think you could look away from him if you tried — this must be what people mean when they say someone was born for something. Even in the casual setting, he looks like a professional, just as stable and fluid as he was in the videos you’d watched. 

The music fades out, his performance is done, and you find yourself thankful for the fact that no one’s sitting behind you as you stand up. Jake does the same. Both of you hold your banners up for him to see, cheering louder than anyone else. Sunghoon raises a hand to wave at you. You wave back excitedly, getting a little flustered by the girl sitting a few rows ahead of you who turns around, smiling dreamily at Jake and rolling her eyes at you.

After bowing politely, Sunghoon looks back up at you, and you can’t help but blow him a kiss, only feeling silly about it when Jake nudges you with a goofy smile. You watch as Sunghoon raises his right hand for a beat, shifting a little on his skates before reaching out ahead of him, catching the flying kiss. 

Butterflies run rampant in your stomach when he holds his hand, and your kiss, over his heart.

As the show ends, you chat with Jake for a bit, gushing over the performances together as the audience clears out, and you trudge slowly down the stairs and back into the lobby. It’s nice chatting with him, seeing the way his face lights up as he talks so excitedly and passionately about his friends. 

You understand why Sunghoon likes him so much.

Sunghoon shows up at the other end of the lobby space, a vision in purple-tinted hair. You have to tell yourself to keep your feet planted on the spot for fear of literally running into his arms. He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, thank God, jogging through the lobby, dipping and dodging people as best and as fast as he can to reach you. 

He hugs you. Holds you tight. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, quietly, only for you. 

In your chest, your heart seems to grow tiny fists that throw a million punches a minute. Your brain scrambles for the words to say but you can’t come up with anything, hoping that the tightness of your arms around him lets him know that you’re glad to be here. 

He lets go of you, beaming, and moves to dap up Jake, asking his friend if he’s aware that he’s taking Jungwon and Riki go-karting tonight. 

“I’m doing what?” 

“Yeah, they wanted me to take them but I’m busy.” 

“Busy doing what?” Jake asks conspiratorially, arching a brow. He glances sideways at you, and can’t hold back his laughter. 

Sunghoon sets his jaw, punching Jake in the stomach. “Grow up,” he mutters, stifling a laugh of his own. 

You laugh too, partially at what Jake said, mostly at the way he keels over, clutching his stomach, a long groan passing from his lips. Sunghoon’s brows raise when you hand him the banner. “Look what I made for you.” 

“I saw you holding it earlier, baby, I love it,” he says, beaming at you as he reads over it again. “You did such a good job. Can I take it home?” His eyes sparkle when he looks up at you. Your heart cinches in your chest. 

“Of course.”

Next to you, Jake holds out the banner he made. “Do you wanna take mine home?” 

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Recycle it,” he says. 

Jake tilts his head, confused. A loud huh comes out as he raises his brows. “I make a banner for you every single year and every single time you turn your nose up at it. But here comes a pretty girl and all of a sudden you love banners. Really, Sunghoon? You love it?” He pauses to let out a laugh, incredulous, seeming not to care about the few people that have turned over in your direction. “I can’t stand you.” Jake’s voice is whiny and hard to take seriously.

“I don’t love banners, I love this banner,” Sunghoon corrects, using his hand to shove Jake’s shoulder before holding the banner up over his chest. 

Amused, you watch the two boys bicker for a bit before Jake cuts Sunghoon off mid-sentence, raising his hands, muttering the word whatever.

Sunghoon seems sceptical of Badtz-Maru when you hand him over. He holds the plushy in his hand, eyeing it suspiciously before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “He’s cute, baby, really, but why’d you pick the world’s unhappiest penguin?”

“He reminded me of you.” Sunghoon’s jaw drops, brows knitting together as he tilts his head, all while Jake struggles to stifle a laugh. “Because he’s from Gorgeoustown,” you add, your heart singing when Sunghoon kisses the top of your head, and you can’t resist letting your arms wrap around his waist. 

Compliments flow out of you like water from a fountain when Jungwon and Riki join your little group outside. Jungwon, with deep dimples and flushed cheeks, shyly mumbles variations of thank you, and I appreciate that while shifting from one foot to the other. Riki glows with pride, standing up straighter, and asking you what else you liked about his performance. 

The sun feels nice on your arms as you watch the two play a very intense, high-stakes game of rock, paper, scissors for the front seat of Jake’s car. They’re playing best of five and getting ready to begin the third, and possibly final round. Riki has two wins under his belt, it’s not looking good for Jungwon whose breathing has become heavy. He’s taken off his hoodie and is stretching his arms in preparation. 

You start a countdown from three and laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt when Jungwon throws a losing rock against Riki’s paper, the oldest boy falling to his knees on the pavement and holding his head in his hands. Riki jumps higher than he had on the ice, embracing Jake in a tight hug, overjoyed by the victory while Jungwon groans. 

“Let’s hang out,” Sunghoon says as you walk to his car. 

Squeezing his hand, you nod and try not to melt on the concrete when he opens the car door for you. “What do you normally do after skating?” 

Sunghoon seems to think about your question for a while, tilting his head to the side as a fond smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “My parents would always take me out for dessert after competitions, or the next day if it was too late.” 

“Well, what do you think, Hoon? Is it too late for dessert?” 

Giddy in a way you’ve never seen him, he shakes his head in response. And in his car, he hums along to the radio, gingerly resting his hand on your bare knee. 

Sunghoon takes you to a dessert spot by Chaewon’s house, a fairly popular family-owned establishment that serves her favourite cheesecake. You sink into your seat over the table from him, in a slightly stiff booth with a tall back that makes it seem like it’s just you two and a coffee shop chatter Youtube video playing on a loop. 

“What are you having, baby?” he asks, drumming his fingers against the laminated menu. 

Knowing that Chaewon is coming over later, you let your eyes fall to the ice cream selection, reading the names of all 27 flavours and still settling on the only flavour you ever order here. “Cookie dough,” you say, reaching across the table to point at it on his menu. 

“And?” 

“And nothing.” 

His brows furrow. “You’re only getting ice cream?” 

“I mean, it’ll probably come in a cup, with a spoon,” you say, liking the way Sunghoon laughs at your stupid comment. “Chaewon’s staying over tonight so I don’t wanna fill up too much before dinner. I’ll order some cheesecake to take away when we’re done though, it’s her favourite,” you explain. 

He nods his head. “We can share my tiramisu.” 

It’s only after a conversation with Jake later on that you realise how big of a deal this is.

The two of you only manage to stop chatting and laughing when a girl with a cute bow in her hair and a smile on her face comes to ask if you’re ready to order. Across from you, Sunghoon orders a slice of tiramisu and a 3-scoop cup of coffee-flavoured ice cream. He runs a big hand through his hair and clears his throat, cheeks covered in pink as he asks if it would be okay for us to get a milkshake, to share, so, like, one milkshake, but then with two straws? Her eyes flick between the two of you and she grins, nodding her head but Sunghoon doesn’t go on. 

“A strawberry milkshake, please,” you say, watching the waitress take note of it before saying she’ll be right back. 

More than anyone you’ve ever met, Sunghoon loves tiramisu; he adores it. He lets you take the first spoon, and it’s delicious so you don’t have to fake your reaction when you try it. Sunghoon lights up with childlike excitement as he tries the second spoonful, his eyes widening as he hums around the dessert, shaking his head a little out of genuine enjoyment. 

Surprisingly, he’s able to tell you about the origins of the word (stems from the Italian tira mi su or pick me up), and shares a fond memory of the first time he tried it — he was 9 years old and choked on the cocoa powder on top.  

Sunghoon takes the first sip from the tall glass that sits between you both, you gulp at the sight of his lips wrapping around the straw and need to try it too. Your noses bump a little when you lean in, and, with sweet strawberry coating your tongue, you can’t help but giggle.

As you’d been expecting, your cookie dough ice cream is delicious and after a while, you use your tiny plastic spoon to scrape the sides of your cup and ignore the way Sunghoon laughs at you. Even when he’s mocking you, he still makes your stomach flutter.

“I can get you more if you want,” he offers with a wide smile. 

You shake your head. Sunghoon frowns, watching you collect the last pitiful scrapings before eating them. “You were so pretty today,” you tell him around the spoon.

“Did you think I was ugly before?” 

“Extremely.” His face scrunches up with laughter, showing off his dimple and his fangs. “You must have practised forever,” you add, distracted.

Sunghoon shrugs, reaching his hand across the table to play with your fingers. “In a way I did but not really,” he says vaguely, using his nail to draw a circle in the palm of your hand. “I don’t plan anything for the showcase, it’s just meant for fun, you know? I just go out and do what feels right on the day — so, I guess I’ve been practising for the last 13 years.” 

Completely awestruck, you utter a quiet “wow” and giggle when he pinches your hand. 

“What’re you and Chaewon gonna do later?” he asks, changing the subject.

You let him. At the mention of your best friend, a smile teases at your lips and Sunghoon matches it, beaming sweetly at you, looking forward to what you have to say. “I’m gonna cut her hair.” 

“Really?” Your heart thuds at the genuine interest in his tone. “Do you always cut it for her?”

“No,” you pout. “I’ve never cut anyone’s hair.”

“Not even your own?” Sunghoon laughs when you shake your head. “Wow, she must really trust you.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “We’re best friends.”

“She’s lucky.” 

A chuckle slips out of you and you scrunch your nose. “Me too.” 

When he sees the waitress approaching, Sunghoon stacks your dishes to help out, handing them over to her with a soft smile. “Would we be able to get two slices of cheesecake?” he asks. “To go?”

“Sure, what flavour?”

“Vanilla, please.” 

Eunchae, as you read from her nametag, makes a face, pulling air through her teeth. “The vanilla’s gonna be about an hour wait.” 

Sunghoon pales, looking at you. “That’s alright,” you say, smiling. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, asking only for the bill. The two of you go back and forth on it and you practically beg him to let you pay. You put up a good fight, only backing down because he renders you speechless, shaking his head and saying: I’m not gonna take my girl on a date then make her pay. 

His girl hides her face with her hands, flustered. 

He laughs. 

A beat passes before he stands up, holding a hand out and asking you to go with him to the photo booth. With a smile, you slip your hand into his, allowing him to tug you towards it. Behind the curtain, he wraps his arm around your waist, leaning forward to pay. The two of you agree that you’ll take a set for him to keep and one for you. On the screen, a countdown starts from 4, and you almost feel under pressure. 

Posing for the first picture is a little awkward; you watch as Sunghoon puffs out his cheeks, poking one, and suppress your smile to copy. The second isn’t much better; you both grin and hold up peace signs. As you pose for the third, you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes burning holes in the side of your face, can see him on the screen, staring as you look at yourself ahead but can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

The countdown reaches 2 and he holds you closer. His lips touch your cheek when the screen says 1 and you grin when the picture is taken. Sunghoon’s gaze is soft when you look at him. His hand touches your cheek, heavy on your skin, as he leans in to kiss you. You’ve never been kissed in a photo booth before and your heart beats in the back of your throat when the screen flashes, taking the last photo. 

He sticks his head out of the curtain to collect the 4-cut and cringes a little. “God, we look so stiff in the first two,” he complains. 

“I love them,” you say, taking the photo set from his hand. “They’re perfect.” You mean it. The visible awkwardness that you can feel through the frame is endearing to you, and you like the gradual transition into comfort as the photos progress. 

He looks at you with disbelieving eyes and pays for the next set. 

When you reach your table again, Sunghoon slides into the booth next to you, letting his arm rest over your shoulders, and he’s just as sweet as the tiramisu you tasted on his lips. 

With full bellies and two slices of cheesecake packaged in a pretty yellow box, you head back to his car, where he clips his photo set to the sun visor. You can’t help but lean over the centre console to kiss him again. When you pull away from him, you swear his eyes dart to the backseat, but the moment goes by as quickly as it happens so you must have been imagining things. He drives you home with the radio playing lowly, and his fingers locked with yours. 

On your doorstep, Sunghoon kisses you goodbye, biting at your bottom lip and grabbing your ass. He’s never kissed you like this before. You don’t think you were making things up earlier. “I really like your dress,” he tells you quietly, his lips brushing yours. 

Suddenly nervous, you mumble a thank you. 

“I like everything you wear, but this dress?” Sunghoon pulls away from you, just enough to rake his eyes down your body before holding you close. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, holding your cheek in his palm before kissing you again.  

A few hours later, Chaewon stands on a towel in the bathroom, between you and the mirror while your right hand shakes over a pair of scissors. “Are you sure about this?”

She nods her head. “It doesn’t need to be neat, it just needs to be short,” she assures you, smiling at your reflection in the mirror. Despite only just passing her shoulders, Chaewon’s hair is the longest you think you’ve ever seen it. “I wanted to grow it out, like Kazuha’s, but I hate the way it feels on my skin.” Freshly washed, her hair is just beyond damp and darkening her pink t-shirt. 

You gulp, nervous. “How about you sit down?” 

She nods, saying it’s a good call. 

Chaewon sits on a towel in your bedroom, between you and your full-length mirror while your right hand shakes over a pair of scissors. Before you grab them, you move her hair over her shoulders just so she can tell you once more to give her a chin-length bob. 

She does. You nod. 

Releasing a deep breath you make the first cut, and the sound of the blades slicing through her hair leaves goosebumps forming on your arms. Wet and slightly clumped together, the remaining hair falls from your hold and smacks her ear. You hold your breath as she runs her fingers through it. 

“It’s even!” 

“I only cut one part, Wonie.”

“Yeah, but you did good!” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and she grins. “Keep going, keep going!” 

The other three sections generate similar reactions, and you keep having to tell her to sit still while you try to trim her hair. 

Chaewon claps her hands when you finish, running her fingers through her “new” bob. “I love it!” she squeals, beaming at your reflection. “It’s perfect.” She turns around on the spot to fling her arms at you, appreciative, wrapping you up in her familiar, soft scent. 

The two of you sit on the couch, as Gossip Girl plays on the TV. For the duration of an entire episode, Chaewon turns her head gently from left to right, her short hair fanning out around her, with a light smile on her face as she does so. You only manage to look away from her when you remember the cheesecake, getting up from your seat abruptly, and excusing yourself. 

As you enter the kitchen, you check your phone, grinning at the sight of a few texts from Sunghoon. You open the fridge as you unlock your phone, clicking on the notification as you take the box of dessert out. Giggles fall out of you at the first message: a cute bed selfie, with his plushy tucked under his arm. 

sh: no way

sh: he smells like you :o

sh: are we seeing each other tmrw? 

sh: (say yes) 

It doesn’t make sense to you that Sunghoon is as cute as he is — you have to put the cheesecake down to relax. 

you: noooooooooo ur so cute

you: i gave him some perfume :o and i’m w wonie tn and tmrw but another time

you: talk later hoonie! 

The sight of the box in your hand makes Chaewon spring out of her seat, covering her mouth with her hands as she does a cute happy dance, prompting you to set the cake down on the coffee table to join her. Tired out, you slump back onto the couch after a while, smiling when she hands over your plate before sitting next to you. 

With a fond smile, you pull your knees to your chest, watching as Chaewon says: You know you love me, xoxo, Gossip Girl, in perfect sync with Kristen Bell. She grins to herself before taking a forkful of cheesecake to her mouth, moaning around the utensil. 

You’ve never known anyone to like dessert as much as her, and a grin forms on its own as you remember the way Sunghoon had done almost the same thing with tiramisu only hours earlier. Being an avid hater of tiramisu, you wonder how Chaewon might react if you told her, before focusing on your slice and the gorgeous face of Leighton Meester. 

The two of you must sit through four episodes, before you sleepily lean into her, telling her she can finish off your piece of cake that she’s been eyeing hungrily since she finished hers approximately 15 Gossip Girl blasts ago. She watches you from the counter while you wash the dishes, thanking you again for the cake. 

Later that night — when she thinks you’re asleep — Chaewon presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’ve never had a friend like you before,” she whispers, turning over in bed and grabbing your hand. You don’t know what to do when you hear her sniffling next to you. 

Salt air and sun cream skate around you — the only things you can smell over the oil soaked chips you share with Chaewon at the beach. Heavy trainers weigh down each corner of the fitted bed sheet underneath you and Chaewon as you watch the wind push clouds through the too-blue sky. Drunk on cider, she laughs to herself, pointing above you. “That one kinda looks like Sunghoon’s friend, right?”

“Which one?” you ask, moving your head to see exactly what she’s pointing at. You’re not sure if you’re asking which friend or which cloud. 

“That one, like Jay.”

Laughter hits you immediately. She’s absolutely right. A triangular mass in the sky leaves you both cackling and rolling around. 

Same as the sand through your fingers, three weeks slip by. You and Sunghoon take more pictures in photo booths and struggle to stop kissing each other. He clasps your necklaces, and puts sunscreen on your back; you hug him from behind and take naps in the park with your head on his chest. Sunghoon makes daisy chains to sit in your hair, and puffy paper stars to fill a jar in your desk. You take his little sister for ice cream and braid her hair when she asks you. 

Tonight however, completely spent from a day of shopping with your mum and Chaewon, the three of you sat on the couch, all eating your bodyweight in cheesecake and crying over the ending of How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days.  

After you’ve all recovered, your mum watches from the car as you hug Chaewon on her doorstep and you fall asleep in the passenger seat on the ride home. No longer small enough to be carried up to your room, you drag your feet to the bed where you fall asleep as soon as your body hits the mattress. But a phone call from Kazuha disrupts your slumber. 

“Are you going to the pool tomorrow?” she asks, sounding alarmingly awake for 4:57 a.m. 

“Tomorrow, today, or tomorrow, tomorrow?” 

“Like,” she pauses, you can picture her running a hand through her hair as she thinks. “In a few hours, I guess.” 

You hum down the phone. 

“We can go together!” The smile in her voice is audible. “Oh, Jay likes YJ. Did I tell you? And fuck, Lee Heeseung is so annoying.” 

“No, he’s not,” you say defensively, slightly rattled by the fact that she woke you up in the middle of the night to shit on your boy’s best friend.

Kazuha scoffs. “Sure.” The line falls quiet for a beat. “He’s not actually annoying, I was just trying to announce that I have a crush on him.” Of course she was. 

“Heeseung seems like a great guy and I’m really happy for you, but let’s talk at the pool, okay?” 

“Talk at the pool!” she chirps, cutting the phone. 

You don’t manage to get back to sleep. 

At the pool, Kazuha says you’re beautiful when you pull your t-shirt over your head and cuts you off before you get to thank her, going on a tangent about how badly she wants to nap but doesn’t want to tan unevenly. Or sleep for too long that her face gets puffy. You take your mission seriously, using your phone to set timers and waking her up each time it goes off despite the way she grumbles at you. 

Riki runs over to tell you to watch him before running away and flipping into the water. Your praise doesn’t seem to get old, but the flips don’t either, each one just as clean and impressive as the ones before. 

Kazuha’s on her 4th rotation when you find yourself wandering over to the concession stand, in the mood for something sweet after being tempted by the scent of baking dough wafting over the pool. But as you get further and further ahead in line, you eventually decide you only want a lollipop, and there are only two people in front of you when you realise you left your phone in your chair and won’t be able to pay.

As if sent from heaven, someone taps you on the shoulder, but you’re met with no one when you look to your left; Sunghoon’s laugh is adorable on the other side of you, contagious when he bumps your hip with his. 

“Hi, baby,” you say, looking up at him. He has a white towel on his head, covering his forehead and tucked behind his ears. “Is there a reason you have this on?” you ask him, touching the damp fabric that sits on his shoulders.  

“What, I’m not allowed to dry my hair?” 

“I’m not allowed to be curious?” 

Sunghoon gently flicks your forehead and you pretend it hurts. 

Like Hannah Montana, he hooks his fingers under the front of the towel, pulling the “wig” off to reveal his luscious (and soaking wet) locks of dark hair. A gasp falls from your lips as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. Having essentially grown up with Sunghoon, or rather, grown up adjacent to Sunghoon, him having black hair isn’t anything new. But it’s definitely something you’re fond of. Fond of him and the way his dark hair only brings out his features, matching his thick brows and the hard lines of his face. 

“Do you like it?” he asks. 

You love it. “What are you gonna do if I don’t?” you ask, pushing some of his hair from his forehead. 

“Buzzcut.” 

With a worried look on his face, he lets you use both hands to cover his hair and imagine it. “Are you laughing because I’m so devastatingly gorgeous with black hair or because I’m about to buzz my head?” Laughter bubbles in your chest, as his hair flops back over his forehead. “Wait, baby, no.” A deep pout settles on his lips. “You actually don’t like it?” 

“I love it, you know I love it.” 

Sunghoon lets you compliment him until you reach the front of the line when he talks with the person on shift. He uses his phone to pay for what you want, and seeing your smiling face on his lock screen makes your cheeks burn while you hide your face in his back, arms locked limply around his waist. 

The two of you only leave the stand when the line behind you builds up, standing in the shade next to it. He watches you unwrap the candy and raises a brow when you hold it out to him. “First lick?”

He shakes his head. 

“Come on, Hoonie,” you tease, letting your hand rest on his arm, liking the way it tenses under your touch. “I know you want a taste.” 

His eyes drop to your chest for a split second, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he lifts his gaze. “You have no idea,” he mumbles before opening his mouth a little, leaning down towards you. His lips are slightly parted and very tempting as they wrap around the lollipop. 

“Good?”

Sunghoon’s eyes lock with yours as he sucks on the candy. “Very,” he says, the word coming out kind of garbled around it before letting you take it back. You watch him chew on his lip, humming to himself at the lingering taste of your lolly. 

The cola flavour hits your tongue immediately and you like the way Sunghoon gulps as he watches you, struggling to maintain the eye contact you’d had a moment earlier. You don’t take nearly as long as he did, pulling the lolly from your lips with a satisfying pop before smiling up at him, sickly sweet. “Very good indeed,” you echo him, letting the candy rest between your lips before you turn to walk away. Sunghoon follows, thankfully. Heading back over to where you’d been sitting, you find Kazuha’s chair empty. 

A shriek over your shoulder locates her like a pin on a map. 

In the pool, you see her sitting on Heeseung’s shoulders cackling as she pushes Sunoo over so hard that Jay, whose shoulders he’s sitting on, falls too. Gleefully, she leans back, falling into the water only to resurface and find her way into Heeseung’s arms. You stop walking when she tilts her head up to kiss him. Oh? Sunghoon walks right into your back. The kiss is short, not much more than a peck really, she pulls away with a grin on her face, swimming to the edge of the pool and Heeseung’s ears turn red as he watches her. 

Against your own, Sunghoon’s skin is warm, slick almost from what you think is a combination of pool water, sweat, and sunscreen. You hate yourself for liking it. His hardening dick presses against you, and your heart swells — some frenzied mix of feeling flattered, and horniness, you assume. A flame burns in your stomach, hot, blue. Neither of you moves for a while, long enough for Kazuha to walk over to your seats and scrunch her hair with a t-shirt. 

Sunghoon exhales shakily when you lean into him, resting the back of your head on his chest and holding the lollipop by the stick. “You okay?” you ask, voice nothing more than a whisper. 

His head dips, breath fanning your neck as he kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles against your skin before standing up straight. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. “Do you wanna come over tomorrow?” he asks, words coming out as one. “My family’s on vacation.” His cock twitches against you when he says it. 

“They are?” 

“Mm, they leave tomorrow morning.”

A breathy laugh comes from your nose as you step away from his body, turning around to look at him. Not so subtly, he takes the towel from his shoulder and holds it in his hand, covering himself. A proper laugh falls from your lips, your head tipping back a bit. 

“What if I wanna come today?” you ask, raising a brow. “Tonight even?” 

“Tonight? I can call you if you wanna come tonight.” 

You have a feeling that the two of you are talking about entirely different things.

“Pick me up?” 

“Always.” 

Sunghoon’s bedroom is exceptionally neat. Everything on his desk (his PC set up and a notebook) is placed precisely, and there’s nothing on the floor except for his furniture and a giant 8-ball rug. His off-white walls are completely bare, save for three posters above his desk; your favourite is a handmade (you think) white poster that reads There’s No Planet B in slightly messy block capitals, which sits between blown up pictures of Childish Gambino, and SZA. Underneath the perfectly aligned posters, stuck right above his monitor are the words: Figure skating prince, Park Sunghoon! You’re the best! with a bright red lipstick kiss in the corner; your heart does a triple axel at the sight. 

He stands in the middle of his open doorway like he has been for the past two minutes, watching you admire the medals that sit in a display case on a floating shelf. In 2015 he took home a gold medal from the Lombardia Trophy, and another from the Asian Open Trophy. The two silver medals beside them tell you that he continued to do well at the Asian Open Trophy in the two years that followed.

Along with the Sunghoon you saw today, tiny Sunghoon skates through your mind, so impressive and so young. The quiet boy who often missed class. Who’d fall asleep with his face in a textbook during the classes he did attend. Who you’d let borrow your notes after days of absence, and who wordlessly thanked you with a carton of banana milk each time. How didn’t you know about all of this?  Beyond awestruck by his accomplishments, you look over your shoulder to ask him about it. 

Sunghoon only shrugs. “I was okay.”

“You were okay?” You can’t help but scoff at him. “I’ve seen the videos, Sunghoon. I’ve seen you in person, you’re.. amazing.” The word feels like an understatement. “I don’t know very much about skating but you’re breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” he says, looking at his feet. 

“Have you thought about the Olympics?” you ask seriously. You get ready to apologise when you watch him purse his lips to the side, making you worry you’ve touched a nerve—But Sunghoon speaks before you have the chance. 

“I used to train with the Olympic team but it was too much pressure for me, and I much prefer coaching nowadays, it’s, like, the perfect way for me to feel all the joy of skating and absolutely none of the stress.” The fond smile on his face makes you think he means it.

It almost feels wrong to sit on his neatly made bed but you take a seat on its edge anyway, desperate for one of you to at least look comfortable in this situation. BaMa sits between his pillows and you can’t help but smile at the penguin who stares back at you, unimpressed. Sunghoon stays in place. From where you’re sitting, it’d be difficult to miss the way his eyes widen, stuck on you as he chews on his bottom lip. “Are you okay?” you ask him after a while, starting to feel awkward under his stare. 

For a split second, Sunghoon presses his lips into a straight line that shows his dimple before shrugging. “I’ve never brought a girl to my room before. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do,” he says, fixing his gaze on the wall behind you. 

“The only thing we’re supposed to do is whatever you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Sunghoon looks at you, thinking. “We should kiss,” he blurts out. 

“That’s what you want?”

“Badly.” But he doesn’t move. 

You wait it out a little, counting thirty whole seconds with no sign of movement from him. “How’re you gonna kiss me from over there?” 

A gorgeous grin takes over his face. Sunghoon closes the door behind him, crossing the room in a few paces to sit beside you. With some hesitation he pats his lap, struggling to meet your eyes while he does so. Your insides feel like a shaken bottle of Coke when you straddle him, and you can hear him exhale shakily at the way your dress hitches up, showing off your bare thighs. Sunghoon’s thighs are firm underneath you, his pants soft against your skin. It’s no use trying not to think about riding his thigh or riding him. But try as you might, your efforts don’t stand a chance against the feeling of him hardening under you.

His lips catch yours in a gentle kiss. You can feel the way he smiles, feel a giggle, light, airy, passing from his mouth into yours. It’s hard not to smile too. His fists clench behind you, bunching up the fabric of your dress in his palms desperately. Hard and thick, his cock presses against your core. You moan and Sunghoon all but freezes, his hands releasing your dress.  

Barely a second passes before he grabs you again, leaning back against the bed without breaking the kiss for anything, until you need to catch your breath and you pull away, sitting back in his lap with your hands resting on his toned stomach. You instinctively grind down on him when his cock twitches under you.

From your seat you can see the way his eyes widen when you do, see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat when he gulps. Or maybe the gulp came first; it’s hard to say. Either way, you don’t think you care. He sighs, relieved when you rock your hips against his for a second time. 

Sunghoon looks like sin the third time you do it, groaning and sitting up on his elbows, looking at you through lidded eyes, sighing through pouty lips. “I’m not ready to have sex yet.” 

You freeze in place. “That’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m ready when you are.” 

“I just feel bad that you came all the way over here for nothing.”

Looking down at Sunghoon with all of the uncertainty on his face makes your stomach twist. You wish he knew how much you like being with him; like spending time with him. Wish he knew how nice it was to spend the day sitting by the pool and just getting to look at him. How nice it was to eat fruit in the park with him. To talk about nothing on the phone before bed. You rest a hand on his cheek, melting when his fingers wrap around your wrist and his thumb strokes the back of your hand. “Hoon, I’m not here because I wanna have sex with you, I’m here because I like you.” This thing you’ve felt for weeks, lived with and nurtured seems so foreign now that you’ve put it into words. 

The smile on his sweet face almost has you saying it again, and again, if for no other reason than seeing the way his fangs peek out at you, or how his eyes crinkle up into crescents, or hearing how he laughs, breathy, happy.  Sunghoon moves his head to kiss your palm. “I like you,” he says into your skin, mumbling like it’s a secret. “And I like being with you.”  

Even though Sunghoon saying he likes you feels a bit like a toddler telling you they can’t read, the statement shocks you. You knew he liked you, there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt this entire time, but hearing the words, feeling the shape of them against your palm makes his feelings for you seem tangible; so vivid; so thick. Like moisturiser sinking into your pores. 

He moves his head a little so your hand cups his cheek again. He smiles, soft, shy, Sunghoon. “You do.. eventually want that though, right?” The way his brows knit together when he asks is so cute that you can’t help but laugh a little. “Like, to have sex with me,” he adds. 

“Yes, when you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready to do.. other things,” he says, voice dwindling into a shy whisper. 

Curiosity piqued, you arch a brow. “Yeah?” Sunghoon nods. You press on. “Other things like..” 

A beat passes, and Sunghoon doesn’t speak. 

Instead, he opts to pull you down close to his chest, turning the two of you over. My God. His thin silver chain slips out of his shirt, swinging over your face just a bit, his light hair tickles your skin. You think you’d be happy if you died like this. With his bottom lip pinned between his teeth, his eyes scan your face, locking on your parted lips. His fingernail traces shapes on your hip, you immediately notice how blunt it is now compared to yesterday at the pool and can’t help but smile. Sunghoon moves his hand, his fingertips ghosting over your skin until he reaches the top of your panties. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. 

You nod, smiling, eager. You think you might die like this. 

His finger is long and thick, rubbing devastatingly slow circles on your clit through your underwear. Sunghoon puts a little pressure on it, just enough to please you yet still leave you wanting more. He slips a finger into your hole, pressing a kiss to your lips and catching your gasp in his mouth. 

“What got you so wet, baby?” 

There’s something about hearing these words from Sunghoon that makes them sound new, makes them sound fresh; alluring. Makes you want to cum on the spot when you answer. “You did.” Quickly, you learn that the way his lips quirk up into a smile also makes you want to cum on the spot.

You try to focus on the feeling of his tongue on yours, on the loud, wet sound of your lips smacking together, on anything other than how much better one of his fingers feels than two of yours. How much better he fills you up. How quickly he finds your spot and presses on it. A surge of pleasure licks down your spine, causing you to yelp. Kissing becomes hard fast, but if the way he moves his head to your suck lightly at your neck is anything to go by, he doesn’t mind.

He bites and he nips and he kisses the tender skin to soothe you, all while pushing a second finger into you. Time stops at the stretch and you arch your back towards the ceiling. He passes a breathy laugh; calls you cute. Your thighs press together around his hand. 

Leaning up from your skin, he makes a scissor motion with his fingers to work you open, studying the way your eyes screw shut, liking the way you gasp. His head dips back down beside yours, hair tickling your face. You can feel his lips graze your skin, breath fanning your ear. 

“I can’t stop imagining how you might taste,” Sunghoon whispers. “You gonna let me find out?” 

Your dress is bunched up around your waist, and if it wasn’t for all the material, you might have been able to see the trail of spit and love bites that Sunghoon had left on your stomach. You’ll have no choice but to wear one-pieces and full-length shirts for at least a week. There’s a smile on his face as he looks up at you from between your thighs. 

Sunghoon kisses the dark spot on your panties, holding the wet fabric between his lips, tasting you. A quiet moan slips from him, and your body jolts involuntarily, a chill inching up your spine. His fingers hook on the sides of your underwear and he looks up at you, smiling when you nod your head, pulling them down when you lift your hips. With all that material out of the way, he can finally see your pussy, and the word fuck comes tumbling from his lips before he groans. “So pretty, you’re so pretty, YN.”

He buries his face between your thighs to press light kisses to your clit, pecking it sweetly. Your body buzzes from the contact. “Shit,” you sigh at the feeling of him licking a strip from your dripping hole back up to your clit. 

“My God,” he whispers, licking his lips. He presses his tongue against you, lapping up your wetness and humming appreciatively. Sunghoon’s eyes flutter shut when he holds your swollen clit between his lips, sucking on it, licking at it, slowly, passionately, the way he kisses your mouth. His movements make you jolt and he chuckles against you, a delicious vibration running along your cunt.

Unable to fully express how you feel, you settle with saying so good through a whine. A match strikes a flame in your stomach when Sunghoon moves his head down a little, letting his tongue tease your hole, his nose bumps your clit and he moans into you when you clench around the tip of his tongue. You can’t help but grip his hair to hold him in place, hoping he’ll never stop.

Shamelessly, you hump his pretty face as your orgasm quickly approaches, reminding you how long it’s been since you were last eaten out — not that anyone has ever come close to making you feel this good.  

His lips focus on your clit again as he presses a thick finger into your hole, curling it up towards your belly button a few times before adding another. Immediately, your toes curl up, everything flashes white behind your eyelids while your orgasm rips through you and Sunghoon moans when you finish. You’re thankful for the way he slows down, letting your cum slip out onto his lips and chin for a beat before sucking and licking your slit to clean you up, holding you down as you squirm against his sheets from the sensitivity. 

Looking just as spent as you feel, he leans back on his heels. His eyes are blown wide, his chest heaving, and his lips are swollen, glistening in your arousal that’s spread all over the lower part of his face. Spellbound and unblinking, he stares straight ahead at your cunt. 

“Hoon,” you say, breathless, leaning up on your elbows. 

“Yeah, baby?” He doesn’t look away when he speaks. The trance seems to break at your lack of a response and he seems to want to cuddle just as much as you do if the way he scrambles off the floor and crawls over the bed to you is anything to go by.

Save for Sunghoon’s coaching sessions, the two of you are practically joined at the hip for the entire weekend. In the mornings and before bed, you brush your teeth together and don’t even separate to shower, stuffing yourselves in the cubicle to make out and lather shampoo in each other's hair or soap on each other's backs. 

It’s this excess time together that makes waking up to nothing but a note in Sunghoon’s absence so disturbing. His handwriting stirs something in you, the short and sweet: miss you already, please come visit me at work :) 

None of the girls want to go with you, so you find yourself trying on different swimsuits and figuring out what you’ll do at the pool on your own. With four magazines you’ve already read, a book, and your laptop just in case, you make your way there, enjoying the sun on your skin as you walk. 

“Hi!” A chirpy voice makes you flinch when you reach the pool. Sunoo’s whole face is curved into a grin when you look at him. “I’m Sunoo!” he says, extending a hand for you to shake. His grip is firm, not matching his smile at all. “Do you wanna hang out with us?” 

Equal parts excited and scared to say no, you nod. Dumping your bag in a locker, you meet Sunoo out by the changing rooms’ entrance, and he smiles when he sees you. You follow him over to the smaller pool where the rest of the boys are, Sunghoon included, and introduces you. 

The boys look around at one another, wondering if Sunoo knows that all of them have already met you. He doesn’t pay it any mind, jumping in and joining them. They all continue bothering each other while you sit on the edge, dipping your legs into the water. 

Sunghoon, who’s been grinning at you since you arrived, swims over to you and stands in the space between your legs. Cool droplets hit your thighs when he lifts his arms up to wrap around your waist in an embrace that might leave others wondering how many years it’s been since you last saw each other. After promising Jungwon that you won’t make fun of his armbands, you card your fingers through Sunghoon’s wet hair, giggling to yourself when he presses a kiss to your stomach. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

“Well, yes,” he says, looking up at you with a pout on his lips. “I’m just on duty at this pool today. Are you unhappy to be spending time with me?” 

“A little.”

Sunghoon pulls you into the water with him. “Even as a joke I don’t like that you said that.” There’s a crease in his brow that you want to kiss away but he’s already calling the boys over when you have the idea. Before you know it, all seven of them are splashing you with so much vigour that you don’t even bother fighting back. Even Riki who’s taken a liking to you shows no mercy.

As much fun as you had, you can’t help but feel a little drained when Sunghoon takes you home at the end of the day. You end up spending the week with him and his friends, and Riki seems crushed when you politely decline his invitation to poker night on Friday but his spirits lift when you say you’ll treat him to ice cream if he wins. On Saturday afternoon when you get out of the shower, you spend the better part of an hour wrapped in your towel texting Sunghoon, grinning at the messages he sent you while you were catching up on the girls’ group chat. 

sh: riki didn’t win anything last night so don’t let him lie to you, ok baby?

sh: plus im kinda mad at him ngl ..

sh: i wanna see u today

sh: only you

sh: need it :( 

sh: if i find out you’re making plans w riki rn i’ll kill him 

sh: babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

sh: i miss you can i take you out 

you: why are you beefing a kid ur 500 

sh: you’re older than me ???

you: yes and ur my baby bubu bear 

sh: .. 

sh: picnic baby

sh: ? 

you: yes when

sh: rn.. 

you: uhm..

you: let me go get ready i miss u so bad

Your picnic quickly turns into an evening nap session for Sunghoon who, full on pizza and cider, lays down on his stomach with closed eyes and his cheek on his forearms. Meanwhile, you slowly sip cider from a sun-warmed bottle and pick off bits of pepperoni to eat, knowing Sunghoon will be annoyed about it later. The setting sun shifts the sky through warm oranges and purples, casting its hues over the park and Sunghoon’s sleeping form. 

“Quit watching me,” he mumbles, blinking his eyes open and yawning as he sits back up. Soft hair is all flat on the side he’d been lying on and his lips rest in a pout that, when combined with his eyes resting in a permanent squint, makes him look confused.

You watch with a grin on your face as he sits back on his hands, crossing his legs. “I have something for you, actually.” 

“For me?” you ask, shocked, your brows raise, and butterflies go crazy in your stomach. The thought of Sunghoon seeing something and thinking of you drives you crazy; you’re in way deeper than you could ever have anticipated. 

You hear the bikes whizzing past you, zipping down the cycle path over to your left, you can see the people walking dogs, pushing strollers, jogging, walking. But it still feels like you’re the only people here. The only two people left in the world, sitting on Sunghoon’s blanket in the middle of this park you’ve come to frequent. 

“For you. Do you see anyone else here?” Sunghoon chuckles, though you can see his nervousness peeking through the joy on his face. “Well, kinda for us I guess, to put it properly. You know what? No, it’s dumb. Forget I spoke.” He covers his face with his hands, embarrassed. 

“Something for us?” Even though it’s not a new development, the thought of you both being an us, in any capacity, still makes you giddy, and the butterflies in your stomach are bordering on feral. “Baby, come on. If it’s from you it’s not dumb. I promise I’ll love it.” You nudge his knee gently.

“You promise?” 

“Promise.” Your pinky finds his, linking together for a little while longer than you’d expected. 

“There’s some stuff I have to say first though, is that okay?” he asks, continuing when you nod. “I know you don’t like talking about it, but we should probably have some kind of conversation about what’s going to happen when you go back to uni, you know?” 

The thought of leaving unsettles you; of leaving him, but you’re desperate not to show it. “Yeah,” you say, aiming for calm but hitting upset instead.

Sunghoon chews on his lip before he speaks again. “And you’re happy, right? Like, with me?” 

You nod. Of course, you want to say but the words get caught in your head, how could I not be?

“Good.” Sunghoon smiles. “Because I like you, so much, and I hate the idea of you going back and telling all your friends about the totally awesome, smokin’ hot, mega babe you hooked up with over the summer.” He continues when you nod. “So I’ve been thinking it might be nice if, when your uni friends ask about your summer, and you feel comfortable talking about me, that you tell them about me as your boyfriend.” The uncertainty in his tone doesn’t match the widening grin on his face while speaking, and the word boyfriend comes out as nothing more than a whisper but you hear it clear as day. 

Head spinning, you meet his eyes, a hopeful glint behind them as he watches you. “Do you mean my totally awesome, smokin’ hot, mega babe boyfriend?” 

“It wouldn’t upset me if you said that.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hold that thought,” he blurts out, opening his backpack. 

Drawing a deep breath, Sunghoon pulls out a pink box with your name written neatly on it before placing it in your lap and asking you to open it. He chews on his lip while he watches. 

WILL YOU BE MY GIRL ? is written on little chocolates that span three rows. The word girl is followed by six empty slots that you can only assume held the word friend. Between the shy look on Sunghoon’s face, and the gesture as a whole your heart leaps jaggedly in your chest. “Will you be my girl?” you read, unable to keep from grinning like a fool.

“I picked them up yesterday before the guys came over, and Riki..” he pauses to sigh, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “He ate part of them. I think he shared them with Jungwon actually — not that it matters. Anyway, the store’s closed on Sundays so I wasn’t able to replace them or anything, and I didn’t wanna wait any longer to ask,” Sunghoon says in a partial ramble. 

You look down at the pretty pink box in your hands and giggle to yourself. His friends are cute, you think. “I mean, they could’ve eaten the girl part.”

Sunghoon nods his head, grinning. “At least the sentiment still stands.” He eats a raspberry before looking up at you expectantly. “So, will you be my girl?”

With a smile spread on your face, you nod. “Yes, Hoon, I’ll be your girl,” you say, hoping he knows you’ve always been his girl. 

You cuddle in the grass with your boyfriend until the sun goes down, giddy from cider and the joys of summer romance when he walks you to your door. The two of you stand under the light at the doorstep, grinning competitively at one another. Reluctantly, Sunghoon bids you goodnight with a kiss and — just like after your first date — he stands there beaming brightly long after you’ve gone inside. 

A few nights later the two of you have your first sleepover as a couple and Sunghoon seems to take the idea in stride, showing up at your door with an overnight bag stuffed with his skincare, actual pyjamas, and snacks. Plus a bottle of wine he brought for his first meeting with your parents, despite having already had an awkward meeting with your mum at 3 a.m. in the hallway two weeks ago.

With his face glowing under the lamp on your desk, Sunghoon makes a show of bringing up the time he’d talked at length about his friends and says he thinks it only fair that you talk about yours. Your college friends. A blush coats his cheeks when you tell him he doesn’t need an excuse or justification to ask you things he’s curious about. 

This results in him sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of you, asking you silly things like what kind of Youtube videos you like to watch (his ears burn red when you say Park Sunghoon skating compilations), and more serious — to him — things like what your first impression of him was (he covers his face when you say I thought you were the cutest boy I’d ever seen, and it upset me that you missed so much school). 

“Do you think we would’ve dated if I was in school more?” 

“We are dating.” 

“I mean back then.”

“When we were five?” 

Sunghoon nods. 

“Even if we did date back then, we’d have broken up by lunchtime.” 

His jaw drops. “But it’s us,” he says like it’s the simplest thing ever. It takes a while to console your pouting boyfriend but when he moves on he gets back to asking about your friends. 

“They’re like.. the only reason I don’t completely regret picking my major.” The words come out before you can help them. You rarely talk with Sunghoon, or anyone, about your major, never mentioning much more than what results you got or the classes you’re taking if someone asks. 

So it doesn’t surprise you that he sees this as an opportunity to ask you about it. “Why do you hate it so much?” 

“It just makes me unhappy.” You feel your lips sagging at the corners when you finish speaking. “And the thought of working in that field forever, or, at all, makes me feel physically sick.” 

“What are you gonna do after graduation?” 

A tightness occupies your chest. You think about your brother, on the other end of the country, favouring texts over calls so no one has to hear the sadness in his voice when asked about work. You think about the future, all the unknowns awaiting you once you leave the familiarity of the education system. “I don’t.. I don’t know.” You hate how small your voice sounds when you say it.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until Sunghoon mumbles hey, no, baby, it’s okay, and cups your cheeks with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m on your side, okay? You know that. I’m not trying to upset you, baby, just trying to understand. To help.” Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you into him, letting you cry into his shirt. “If I’m going about it the wrong way you can tell me, I never want to make you cry.” 

For a while the two of you sit in silence while Sunghoon rubs your back and kisses the top of your head, only speaking when you’ve stopped sniffling. “How about you finish telling me about the girls? Minjeong, Jimin, Aeri, and Yizhuo, right?”

You don’t even remember telling him their names, besides maybe mentioning missing Minjeong. “You remember their names.” It’s not a question, not really. When you pull away from him, looking up, your heart snags in your chest at the sight. Of lovely Sunghoon and his small smile, the Kuromi headband holding his hair back. You want to cry again. 

“I remember everything you tell me.” 

Everything about him is lovely, from his soft cheeks to the Piplup pyjama pants he’s wearing and the way he’s looking at you with literal heart eyes. 

Knowing that Sunghoon has his last competition coming up, you savour every second with him. Barely sleeping that night trying to prepare for the lonely nights to come, memorising the feeling of his arms and the steady beat of his heart against your ear. 

His training schedule is rigorous and he’s had to stop his shifts at the pool to accommodate it, committing his days to skating and his nights to you when he can. Though he’s always so tired by the time he gets to your house that he can only sleepily sit through dinner with your parents and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

Like most nights you spend apart, Sunghoon’s face fills your screen, talking about what he did that day that kept him from you. Today’s activity was back-to-back coaching sessions, then going to the movies with the boys, and, now, tired out from pretending to be patient, his eyelids are shut for most of the conversation. He looks so warm and cosy under his duvet that you wish you were there with him, or that he was here with you.

“I can come over if you want me to,” he says, and from the way he sits up, you can tell he means it. 

You hadn’t meant for those thoughts to be verbalised.

Looking to your left, at the space in your bed, you don’t trust yourself to be alone with him. Not here. You do want to see him though. Almost desperately. For the good of you both, you shake your head. “Let’s go for a drive?” 

Sunghoon smiles and your stomach turns. “Give me 25 minutes.” He cuts the phone. 

Sitting in the darkness of his car is way worse than having him in your bed. Having started on your knee, his big hand now rests on your thigh, barely an inch away from where your shorts start. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin. Leaning your head against the window, you let your eyes fall shut while Sunghoon sings SZA quietly. Eventually, the car comes to a stop.

“We’re here.” 

It’s too dark out to see anything properly until Sunghoon opens your door for you. “The park,” you say, looking around at the now familiar street. “Wouldn’t be my first choice for a murder.”  

“If you think about it, it’s sorta perfect. Who would hear you screaming for help at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday?”

Sunghoon pulls his backpack and a fleecy blanket from the backseat, and, with a ridiculous grin, you watch him put the blanket down in the grass, not too far from where he’d parked the car. You leave your sandals to the side and sit down next to him. 

“The store was closed, so we’ll have to deal,” he explains, taking out some fruit and two bottles of water. 

You shake your head. “It’s perfect.” 

Sunghoon lets you feed him strawberries, humming appreciatively around your fingers. You take a few sips of water before shifting on the blanket, turning around in the space between Sunghoon’s open legs and leaning back on his chest. He hums the same SZA song from his car and you can’t help but close your eyes. 

You tip your chin to kiss him, accidentally letting your hand rest on his lap. 

Ever since that day in his room, things between you have found a way to turn sexual after a while. Not that either of you seems to mind. Though you will admit that sometimes it is nice to just sit with Sunghoon and watch the sun come up over the hills by his house. Or to watch Mighty Ducks on your laptop with your head on his shoulder. 

Tonight doesn’t seem like one of those “sometimes”, but you really can’t find it in you to complain or want to change anything when he slips his hand down the front of your shorts. More focused on the way your lips feel on his, Sunghoon lazily runs his finger through your slick for a beat before pushing into you and smiling to himself as you gasp against the kiss. 

You pull away from him, shifting around a little, trying to angle yourself so you can see what you’re doing when you tug his waistband out of the way. The sight of Sunghoon’s cock, of his pretty tip coated in precum that dribbles from his slit down his shaft never gets old. If anything, it only turns you on more and more each time. You stroke him slowly, occasionally letting a finger tease the spot below his head, just the way he likes it.

“Oh, my G—” Sunghoon cuts himself off with a groan, pressing his lips to yours again.

The breeze tickles your arms, keeping you cool despite the way your skin burns under his touch. He’s close to cumming, you can tell in the way his cock twitches in your hold.

“I want you,” he mumbles against your lips. 

“You have me.” Sunghoon lifts his head away from yours after you speak, looking down his nose at you. It seems like he’s searching your face for something as he pushes a third finger into your hole. Something clicks in your head, understanding. “Fuck me,” you say, barely short of begging.

His hips buck up into your still hand. “I don’t have a condom.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“No,” he sighs, shaking his head solemnly. “I wish.” A frown teases at your lips. “Why didn’t you bring one?”

You arch a brow. “Why would I bring a condom when we’re waiting to have sex?” 

“Because I don’t wanna wait anymore.” 

“Ok,” you nod, trying to think as he separates his fingers. “Well, this is.. this is me finding that out, right now.”

Sunghoon’s never put a fourth finger in you before; it’s a tight fit. Your head falls back and you give up your poor attempt at continuing to jerk him off. “I don’t care if you don’t. About condoms.” 

“Oh, you’re on the pill?” 

“I ran out two weeks ago, I thought.. you’d give me—” A moan cuts you off. Sunghoon chuckles. “I thought you’d give me notice or something.” 

“Notice?” he asks, voice high, incredulous. A beat passes. “I don’t care,” he says eventually. “I need you.” 

You nod your head, relieved. Whining a little when Sunghoon pulls his hand out of you, and whining a lot when he sucks on each of his fingers, one at a time. “I’ll get Plan B in the morning,” you say, scrambling to your knees, facing him. 

“We’ll go together.” A soft smile spreads across his lips as he holds you by the waist. “And I’ll ask Jake to pray for us.”

Hungrily, you watch as he pulls his white t-shirt over his head. There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Sunghoon has a firm grip on your shorts, barely a second away from yanking them off when he stops, leaning away. “I’ve never..” he trails off, struggling to hold eye contact. “I’ve had sex just not.. outside,” he whispers, his lips pouting through his words.

Despite your desperation, you can’t help but feel like maybe this shouldn’t be the moment you two have sex for the first time. You almost can’t believe yourself, having Sunghoon here, hot, sweaty, with his kiss-plumped lips, and lidded eyes; his groans, and his sighs; his wandering hands and hard cock pressed against you, yet thinking that maybe you should wait a little longer. 

“We don’t have to do this now.” 

“I do.”

“Okay,” you whisper, relieved, pressing your lips onto his. You shiver in Sunghoon’s hold, cold and chasing his kiss when he pulls away, shuddering at the feeling of his fingertip grazing your collarbone. 

“You’re cold, baby.” 

You shake your head. “I’m not.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, your body betrays you and your teeth chatter. 

Sunghoon frowns at you, playing with some of your hair beside your ear. “You have goosebumps, and your teeth are clattering. I’ll take you home, come on,” he says, letting go of you. 

“I have goosebumps because I’m horny, and I want you to fuck me,” you admit, feeling your need for him in every part of your body. “And I don’t want you to be nice about it either, I’m already your girlfriend.” 

You watch him gulp. Sunghoon’s eyes scan your face. He leans into your touch when you let your palm cup his cheek, his skin is burning hot, if it was any lighter outside you might have been able to see the pink on his face. He wraps his thick fingers around your wrist, letting his thumb stroke the back of your hand, and his pretty eyes find yours. 

“I want to, so bad, but you’re freezing.” He kisses your palm. “How about I take you home and fuck you there, hmm? I won’t be nice, I promise.” 

Oh, God, you think, clenching around nothing. 

Dazed, you almost agree until something clicks. “Take this off,” you say, practically begging as you tug at his knitted hoodie. His brows knit together. “Let me wear it.” Without hesitation, Sunghoon pulls the jumper over his head and slips it over you. “Please, Hoon,” you all but beg, as you put your arms through it. 

The two of you are close enough that you can see his pupils dilating as his eyes trail over your body. “I like my clothes on you.” Is the only thing he says before kissing you again.

Sunghoon’s hands are all over you, eventually settling on the top of your shorts, as he does his best to tug them off. You raise your hips to help him out before settling back into his lap, whining at the feeling of him under you, touching your pussy for the first time. He throbs against you when you grind down on him.

It all seems so real now. He’s so big; so hard, that you start to worry. Suddenly you remember the ache in your jaw every time you suck him off and how much of him is left over, even when his head inches its way down your throat.

Flustered, you start to stall a little, rocking back and forth on his length, coating him in your wetness. You take him in your hand after a while, jerking him a little to spread his precum and your slick all over him. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re whiling up time, and if he does, then he doesn’t seem to care, simply moaning when you lift yourself off of him to stroke your clit with his tip and tease your slit. 

Sunghoon’s teeth worry his bottom lip as you try to take him, his head falling forward, eyes trained on the spot between your bodies where you connect. His hold on your waist is so firm you can practically feel bruises forming under his fingertips and the sting of his cock pushing into you makes you draw a breath. “Just take your time, yeah?” he mumbles. “No rush.” 

No rush? you think, he must be crazy. You don’t think you can wait any longer, trying hard to sink down on him despite the pain of the stretch. You like it, that sting, the heat, you don’t want to go without it ever again. You must be crazy. Fuck, and Sunghoon are the only things you can bring yourself to say.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” he tells you. “It’s okay,” he says, though he doesn’t look like he’s doing any better than you are. 

Sunghoon’s head falls forward once you’ve taken all of him, his teeth sinking into the skin at the base of your neck as he lets out a broken whine. Everything feels a little too much to bear. It’s so hot, when did it get so hot? With the last few crumbs of your brain power, you tell yourself to take the hoodie off, but you feel like you can’t move. 

He fits so well, fills you up just right. 

With a shaky breath, he lifts his head to look up at you. “So beautiful.” Sunghoon pushes some of your hair from your face. “Good girl,” he coos, using his thumb to wipe tears you hadn’t even realised were there. “You’re doing such a good job, baby. Taking me so good.”

Sunghoon asks if you’re okay. It sounds like Sunghoon asks if you’re okay.

Your fist balls around the fabric of his cotton shirt. “Warm,” you whisper. “Too warm.” He loosens his grip around your waist, moving his hands to your hips to pull the hoodie off of you. You lean back a little to let him take it off and feel as if you’re being split open, the angle only pushing him deeper. 

With the hoodie off, the cool summer breeze makes you feel a lot better; makes taking him a lot more manageable. So you move. His pretty face scrunches with pleasure, as a long, heady groan comes from his throat. “You feel so good. So tight.” There’s something in his voice that you don’t recognise, desperation, need. Sweat beads along his hairline, the flush in his cheeks so prominent you can see it despite the dark. 

You want to see him like this all the time. Need to.

His hips buck up towards you, seeming to catch you both off guard if the way you gasp simultaneously is anything to go by. He wraps his arm around your waist, his trembling hand beating against your skin, and lets his other hand rest on the blanket behind him, leaning back on it. 

“You’re so good at this,” you sigh. “How are you so good at this?” You practically clamp your mouth shut, not letting yourself say any more lest you propose to him, or worse, expose your breeding kink.

Sunghoon only gives you a languid smile before kissing you. 

It’s more than a little hard to focus on coordinating the movement of your lips and tongue when he’s fucking you the way he is; lifting you off of him so only his tip stays inside, then thrusting all the way back in, deep and slow, trying to feel every single part of you and doing a good job hitting that spot that has you seeing stars. So the kiss is messy and loud, an exchange of spit and moans but you’re way too turned on to care. 

Before long, he uses his hand to pull down the front of your vest, attaching his wet mouth to your nipple instead and your brain short circuits. He moans into your skin when you clench around him, his body stuttering under you.

“Baby, I don’t..” Sunghoon sighs, lifting his head from your chest to look at you. He’s the picture of desire, of lust, with his messy hair and parted lips, the sweat slipping from his brow bone. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer,” he admits, thick brows pulled into a furrow.

At this rate, you don’t think you will either. His words only make you dizzy, they spur you on as desperation sets in; to see him cum, to feel it. Like always, his sounds are just as pretty as the rest of him, his grunts and his groans, and the ragged breaths that catch in his throat. And you quiver in his lap at the feeling of a knot forming in your stomach, immediately unravelling when his finger catches your clit again. 

Your head falls back. “I’m—” Is the only thing you can say.

“I know, baby, don’t hold back. I wanna see you make a mess.” 

His words send you over the edge, forcing your orgasm out of you while Sunghoon moans and fucks you through it. So good, baby, he mumbles over and over, stuttering through the words when you cum, though you barely hear him over the sound of his cock squelching up into you. 

A shaky breath and the word fuck tumbles from his lips. 

Sunghoon’s thighs tense and his stomach does the same. Shuddering under you, he cums hard, filling you up completely. You’ve never had a guy cum inside before, let alone been fucked without a condom, so you weren’t sure what to expect. But nothing could have prepared you for this. 

Heat courses through you everywhere, and you’ve never been so warm in your life. You can feel every last drop of his hot cum spilling into you, can feel it leaking out around him, slicking up your thighs. Shaking in Sunghoon’s lap, you’re full in the best way, eyes rolling back as your mind goes completely blank. 

Both of you try to catch your breath as he holds onto you tightly, his arms hugging around your waist. You’re having a hard time calming down with him still inside, but you don’t think you could move if you tried, and it seems as though he feels the same, only being able to bring his head away from your chest. With heaving shoulders and a dazed look in his eyes, he smiles up at you, sweet, contagious. Drunk on him, a laugh starts to bubble in your throat, forcing its way out. Sunghoon laughs too, and breathy chuckles slip from you both, happy, delighted. 

He reaches for some napkins, cleaning up what he can with you still in his lap before reaching for his hoodie. You watch as he folds it up a couple of times before putting it down near the blanket’s edge, shifting over a bit to hold you in his arms and lay you down, the hoodie under your head like a pillow. 

You think he must be an angel. 

Gently, he separates your legs to clean you up properly before pulling his boxers and shorts back up. You watch as he looks around the space for something, returning to your feet to help you put your underwear and shorts back on, sniffling a little and making his way to lie down on the grass beside you. Sunghoon reaches over your body and uses the remaining blanket behind you to cover you up. 

Sleepily, you rest your head on his chest, feeling his heart race against your cheek. “You’re so big, Hoon,” you whisper, mind still reeling. 

A beat passes. “Ok, baby, thank you,” he says a little awkwardly, you can feel his chest stutter as he chuckles and you can’t help but smile.

The stars above you beam brightly and you don’t think you’ve ever seen so many at once, peeking through the few dark clouds that drag lazily through the sky.

“You did so well tonight, YN,” Sunghoon tells you after a while. “You always do so well.” Your heart beats in your throat as he kisses the top of your head.

“Really?” 

“Mm,” he hums.

Curious, you look up at him. “What did I do well?” 

“Should I fill out a performance review?” 

“I just wanna know what you’re gonna tell your friends later.” Your heart rate picks up when Sunghoon laughs, sweet, contagious. “I’m serious.”

Into the air above, he huffs a long, dramatic sigh. “You really wanna know?”

“Desperately.”

He leans up on his elbow, looking down at you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, already nervous about what Sunghoon might say. It’s as if he’s the only person in the world, the only one that makes a difference. You can’t help but feel special under his gaze, grateful that you’re the one who gets his attention. His hand is big on the side of your face, his thumb grazes your cheek. 

Sunghoon opens his mouth but closes it before speaking, then brilliant, bright, he smiles. “I think I’m gonna tell them I’m in love with you.” Your breath hitches in your throat. “And, ask Jake to pray for us.” 

And, ask Jake to pray for us, you repeat as if bound by a spell and he nods his head. Overwhelmed, you hide your face in his shirt. “I love you.” 

Back at your place, Sunghoon does a good job of living up to what he’d promised you earlier. Leaving you to wake up that morning in his t-shirt, with your head on his chest and a dull ache between your thighs — though not before, for the first time since primary school, you (and Sunghoon) kneeled by the side of the bed to perform the sign of the cross. He’d stumbled his way through a prayer first and you followed, watching as he sent a text to Jake before eventually drifting off to sleep, tired and sore.

The duvet is bunched at the bottom of the bed, leaving your bare thighs victim to the light breeze rolling through your room. Sunghoon’s mouth is slightly ajar and he snores sweetly. Even in his sleep, his stomach is tight and his soft penis rests cute and limp against his thigh in a way that leaves you stifling a giggle. You want to kiss it. 

Regrettably, you don’t.

“Stop looking at me,” he mumbles, half-heartedly lifting his arm to cover your eyes, though, with his still shut, it ends up resting on your neck.

“I’m not.” 

Sunghoon pries open one of his eyes, catching you. He follows your gaze down his body, groaning when he realises what you’re looking at. “You’re worse than I thought,” he says, sitting up to pull your duvet back over himself, resting over his waist. “I’m never sleeping naked next to you again.” 

You open your mouth to quiz him but he covers your lips with his hand. “Or anyone else, relax.” 

“Good boy,” you mumble, the words muffled against his palm. 

“Ew,” he whispers when you lick his hand, wiping it on your t-shirt before pushing some of your hair away from your face. “How are you feeling, baby?” His voice is soft when he asks, eyes scanning your face for even the slightest sign of discomfort.

“I’m kinda sore, but I’m good.” 

“You are?” There’s pride in his voice when he asks, eyes lighting up for a beat before pressing his lips together, trying to hide a smile. His broad shoulders betray him, trembling with silent laughter. Fuck off, you mumble, just as amused as him. 

Sunghoon clears his throat. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll be gentle next time, promise.” 

Next time. The simple words and all of their hopefulness leave your mind reeling. Laying next to Sunghoon, you grin at the thought of all of your next times with him. Through the seasons of the year; through autumn; through winter, spring, and back to summer again. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks through a yawn. 

You love him. “I love you.” 

You’re expecting him to kiss you when he starts to lean in, but he pulls you tight against his chest instead. He smells faintly like sweat when he hugs you. Like sweat, and sunblock, and peonies. Like kisses during sunset, and late-night swims. Like the happiest you’ve been in a long, long while. 

“I love you, more.”

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: it wont let me reply to people anymore but ill be tagging everyone who comments asking to be tagged just letting u guys know<3

[astranva]

Instagram Live

Word Count: 1k

Category: Fluff

Summary: Harry joins his girlfriend’s Instagram live.

..

There were a lot of labels that people never seemed to like.

There were relationship labels that people fought over, sexuality labels that every media outlet liked to plaster, and scandalous labels that could break a royal’s reputation.

However, your label as Harry’s girlfriend was one that you actually seemed to enjoy.

Harry’s normal girlfriend.

Sure, you were called “Harry Styles’ girlfriend” more times than you were called by your own name ever since you became public three years ago, but if there was anything you felt like you had bragging rights about, it would be that you managed to form a connection with his fans for being yourself, and especially on TikTok.

It came as a surprise to many and most when people caught up to the woman Harry seemed so infatuated with that he was grinning some more, directing sappy lyrics to on stage, and going shopping with at places that weren’t Gucci. You were relatable.

Your TikToks were international treasure, especially ones where you pranked Harry or participated in couple challenges with, so it was no surprise that even your Instagram harbored some following who were instantly excited and urgent to join once they had got the notification.

yourinstagram started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

Clad in a black Pleasing crewneck, hair up in a microfiber towel, your legs were pushed up slightly against your chest as you painted your nails, peaking to see you already had 14,374 viewers.

“Helloooo,” you dragged, smiling once you saw the excited comments coming through.

user1: OMG HEY BESTIE

user2: PLEASING

user3: NO WAY YOU’RE LIVE

user4: hey, y/n! how are you doing?

“I’m doing okay,” you answered, sighing a little, “Just taking a quick break from studying and thought we could have a chat.”

user5: you’re still studying?

user6: OMG SAY HI ANGELA PLS

user7: @/user she’s getting a master’s degree where have u been

user8: do you miss harry?

“Hi Angela,” you smiled, “Yeah, I’m getting my master’s degree. Guys, I literally forgot how awful exams and assignments were because I graduated like, four years ago, so I don’t miss it,” you said, “Do I miss Harry? No, of course not. I don’t know who that is.”

user9: STOP DID THEY BREAK UP?

user10: I hope you’re joking

user11: NOT YALL BELIEVING HER ALKJWKJFH

You chuckled, “Some of you are new here, huh?”

user9: Y/N HARRY IS WATCHING

user12: HARRY

user8: HARRY IS WATCHING WEIFWEFH

harrystyles: Boo. You miss me.

user13: NO FUCKING WAYYYYY

You laughed, “You’re going to break them.”

user2: I CAN’T BREATHE

harrystyles: Oops.

harrystyles: Have you eaten?

user14: PLSSSS I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SEEING THIS

“Yeah, I-Oh my God, H, I made one the best salads ever. It had chicken, like grilled chicken, and I had bell peppers, corn, lettuce, cherry tomatoes, red beans, onions,” you counted on your fingers, “Then I made this creamy avocado dressing. It was so fucking good.”

user4: share the recipe bestie

harrystyles: Yum. Can’t wait to try it when I see you.

harrystyles: Breakfast?

“Yeah, I had breakfast, too,” you nodded, “Butter toasts and those olives we got from Italy,” you said, “What about you? Are you eating well?”

user5: I can’t believe we’re witnessing this

user15: it’s like they’re on the phone together

user16: I want to sit on a highway

harrystyles: We had tacos! 🌮

You gasped jokingly, “Did you actually eat tacos because I was telling you about how much I’ve been craving them yesterday?”

paulithepsm: Y/NNNNNNN

user7: PAULI IS HERE

harrystyles: Yes. Hehe.

“Pauli!” You grinned, “I missed you too much!” You were beaming before pointing a finger at the screen, “Same doesn’t go for you though, H. I can’t believe you ate tacos without me.”

harrystyles: PAULI

user8: KEHFKWJE CRYING

paulithepsm: HARRY

paulithepsm: I miss my best friend 😭😭

user18: PLS

harrystyles: I’m sorry. I’ll make you tacos when you get here. Promise.

harrystyles: Show me your nails.

You showed your freshly painted nails to the screen, “Some Citrico Vibrante Cremoso greens,” you showed them off, “Buy Pleasing,” you teased, “Or find more affordable dupes, babes.”

user6: PLSSSS SHE’S SO REAL FOR THAT

harrystyles: I’ll match with you.

“You can wait until I come. I’ll paint them for you,” you said.

harrystyles: OKAY ❤

user3: HE’S SO CUTE

user10: THE EMOJIS HE'S SO REAL

jeffazoff: Come get your man. He’s a pain.

You laughed, “Aw come on, Jeff. He’s not too bad. You just need to cuddle him and feed him.”

harrystyles: Agreed.

harrystyles: Jeff, don’t cuddle me.

user19: KEUDUEWFKHJ PLS

jeffazoff: I wasn’t planning on it 🙄 I’m waiting for Y/N to come and do that

“I leave you for two weeks and now you’re about to kill each other,” you sighed, “Hey, before I forget, can you tell Lamby that I’ve been trying to send him my final thoughts about the outfit but it won’t get to him for some reason?”

harry_lambert: My phone’s been acting up, babe. Send it on email! 🖤

user20: I just want to be her

harrystyles: I love your outfit.

“Okay, Lamby, will do,” you said before giggling, standing up and backing away a little to show the Pleasing crewneck and the baggy green sweatpants you were wearing, “Oh yeah? What do you think?” You put a hand to your hip before pretending to flick back your hair, “My boyfriend got me that sweatshirt,” you pointed at it, “And these are his sweatpants,” you pointed again, “Hair by me, nails by me but using my boyfriend’s nail polish,” you said, wiggling your fingers before approaching your phone again, “He’s kind of a big deal.”

user6: PLSS WHY IS THIS SO CUTE

user7: she’s so cute

harrystyles: He’s so fucking lucky.

You giggled, cupping your hand around your mouth, “Harry Styles just cursed on live,” you whispered.

user18: LMFAOOOOO

user21: “he’s so fucking lucky” I DIED BYE

jeffazoff: Scandalous

harrystyles: OH FUCK

harrystyles: 😎

You laughed, “This is some content your fans will absolutely go feral over,” you said, “I need to go now.”

harrystyles: Call me?

user20: I’m not okay

You nodded, “I’ll call you right after I end that thing. Bye, guys! Talk to you later!”

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Now, I just want to start by saying I love BabBee and Dadimus. I do, 10/10 would enjoy again, but I think Y'all are neglecting the comedic and story potential of Bumblebee and Optimus meeting as ✨Adults✨ and still becoming a family.

Imagine with me, if you will, Cybertron ravaged by war. Things have fallen to shit. Megatron has been dragging these divorce proceedings out for years. Bumblebee was born around the beginning, give or take a few years, I don't care about specifics. His parents were sadly killed early on in his life due to something war related and Bumblebee has grown up alone. He manages to survive to adulthood, and he joins the Autobots. Bumblebee has been drowning in the consequences of this war since day 1 and he wants to help fix it. If Megatron won't sign the divorce papers then Bumblebee will. Yada Yada Yada Sad Backstory This is so sad, Alexa play The Less I Know The Sexy Back.

Anyhoo, Bumblebee is very good at his job as a scout. Top of the line shit, best of the best, 5 stars would eat here again. He's so good he gets promoted to work directly under Optimus Prime himself. Look at our boy go, we're so proud of him, you get that bag sister. Overtime, Bumblebee manages to become friends with Optimus (and the rest of Team Prime but we're focusing on Optimus rn) and they get pretty close. They're work besties, Bumblebee will make a joke over comms and Optimus will smile and say "I N D E E D, B U M B L E B E E.". Fucking insufferable, the both of them, it's so cute. You know how you can become friends with people twice/half your age when you're working at a hard job? That's what happened here, they've been through the (actual) trenches together, they've bonded.

So at some point, Bumblebee gets seriously injured while under Optimus's command, like some life threatening shit. Whether or not it's voicebox related is universe dependent , so we're not going to specify what happens, but it's serious. Bumblebee survives, obviously, but Optimus feels SO bad about it. Oh the Guilt is strong. When he's visiting Bee, some of this leaks out and Bumblebee tells him that he should not blame himself, Bee is choosing to fight, if he dies while fighting for the good of Cybertron, so be it. Better him than some innocent spark in the future. Plus, Bee only got hurt because of a stupid mistake he made, not anything Optimus did.

Bumblebee says this to try and reassure his friend/superior, but now Optimus feels WORSE. Bumblebee is like half Optimus's age (Bee and Optimus are whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of 20 and 40 are, respectively) and had nothing to do with the start of the war, and he's just as ready to die as Optimus is? And he's blaming himself for his injury? That he only got because Optimus told him to do something? Optimus is NOT going to let that slide, no he's not! Over his dead body! He is not crying in the club rn, what are you talking about.

Optimus has decided Bumblebee can not die now. He has declared, as the 13th Prime, that Bumblebee dying has become illegal and he will do everything in his power to enforce this new Law of The Universe That Should Never Be Broken Ever. Now, whenever the two are on a mission, Optimus tries to protect Bumblebee as best he can. He doesn't want to coddle him, Bumblebee is an adult and Optimus respects that but he'll be damned if he lets Bumblebee get seriously hurt when he could have prevented it. He also starts checking up on him when they're not fighting, asking how his day is going, how a mission went, making sure he see's a medic if he's hurt, making sure he's eating his energon, all that good stuff. Bumblebee is his friend, he's going to make sure he's okay, this is perfectly normal friend behavior. The rest of team prime is doing a similar thing, they all want to make sure Bumblebee is doing okay. Optimus isn't being parental in the slightest, he is being very normal. (Author's note: Optimus and Team Prime are being very Not normal about their emotions. All of them have some level of abandonment issues/lost-a-loved-one-itis and can no longer be normal about people they care about.)

Bumblebee recognizes what Optimus (and the rest of Team Prime) is doing. He knows that Optimus cares for him; he cares for him right back. Bee's not stupid, he knows that he's been getting some special treatment in the form of vaguely parental affection. And you know what? He likes it, a lot. He didn't get any growing up and now he's getting it from a guy he really looks up to, why would he pass this up. Bumblebee tries to return this affection he's being given in any way he can. He makes sure Optimus isn't overworking himself by visiting him while he's working, he makes sure Optimus is eating by inviting him to eat with him, he drags Optimus into the med-bay with him so he see's a medic every once in a while, he tries to make Optimus smile with his dumb jokes and antics, the whole kit and caboodle. Bee sees Optimus as some kind of parental figure, and he's going to make sure his newly acquired pop-pop is okay, just like he's doing for Bee. The Pop-Pop thing was a joke (Kind of). Why is he looking for cybertronian legal papers? That is none of your business, Bee just wants to see them for fun. No he's not drunk, the container of high grade started empty.

Life continues, Optimus (and Team Prime) continues to take care of Bee in his unknowingly parental way and Bumblebee is vibing with his newly acquired dad. It takes a while for anyone to acknowledge the new dynamic, Bumblebee just doesn't explicitly bring it up and Optimus hasn't pulled his head out of his suppressed emotion ass long enough to realize it. And keep in mind that Bumblebee is still an Adult and they are still technically coworkers, they still have a job to do, a war to win. Eventually though, maybe after the Autobots have left Cybertron, Optimus finally processes his emotions and realizes he see's Bee as family.

Optimus: Bumblebee, I care for you deeply, and I've come to see you as family.

Bumblebee: Aw, thank you! I consider you family as well. *Hands OP a data pad* In fact, you adopted me months ago.

Optimus (who did not sign any adoption papers at any time): I did what?

Bumblebee: I forged your signature.

At some point in the future, some guy is being a dick to Optimus, i don't really know what could happen, but Bumblebee steps in to defend Optimus with "That's my dad, you bitch!" and fucking slams the guy and Optimus is just standing there buffering, bc he's still getting used to showing and taking obvious affection and he approches Bee later to ask if he really considers Optimus as his dad. And Bee just kind of stares at him then points at the bumper sticker on OP's chest and says "yes, you idiot, I gave you that sticker for a reason" bc the sticker says "Worlds Best Dad" and it matches the "Worlds Best Son" sticker Bee got for himself and I'm rambling, I'll shut up now.

I made more

[vhagarlovebot]

MAKE THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS, TAKE THE MOMENT AND TASTE IT | AEMOND TARGARYEN

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU summary: in wich aemond is not afraid to make his move. very, very publicly, making the whole internet go insane. pairings: actor!aemond x singer!reader content warnings: faceclaim is sabrina carpenter but you can imagine reader as you'd like, some cursing, taylor swift/travis kelce inspired plot, use of y/n because it is necessary!! if you don’t like it, sorry. note: omg i can't believe i'm doing this, hope you enjoy this piece little piece as much as i enjoyed making it! as i say; being delulu is the solulu. and here i am feeding into all out delusions. comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! love you, mwah. 💋

TWITTER ‣ AUG 12, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ AUG 12, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ AUG 13, 2023.

Liked by taylorswift, aemondtargaryen, gracieabrams and 1,221,948 others

yourusername oldtown i couldn’t love you more. had the best first night with you and we still have three more to go! thanks so much to everyone there, i couldn't do this whout you. see you tonight for round 2? 🤍

view all 9,328 comments

user1 i can't believe i couldn't be there

zendaya had the best night with u!

yourusername thank u sm for coming, love you. 💗

user2 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user3 i don't now if i wanna be her or if i wanna be with her

user4 I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BUT I SEE AEMOND TARGARYEN IN HER LIKES

user5 I THOUGHT IT WAS A MISTAKE AT FIRST user6 I mean he was at Oldtown night1 so... user7 HE WENT TO HER CONCERT? user8 BESTIE HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE PICS?

troyesivan see you 2night oldtown. ✌️

AEMOND TARGARYEN INTERVIEW ‣ AUG 25, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ AUG 25-26, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ SEPT 21, 2023.

Liked by jace_velaryon, therhaenatarg and 891,648 others

fairyhelaena friends and family for the weekend @ highgarden. 💚🌺🪴🍃🕊️

view all 4,778 comments

lucerys03 looking 💯 as always.

baelatarg stop lying to yourself

user9 OH MY GOD IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS

user10 is that @yourusername in the second slide???

user11 yes!! she's in the fourth one too

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

user12 it's impossible that she doesn't know about what aemond said, right? user13 knowing how jace is i'm sure she already knows. they probably were giving her a hard time lol

user14 Y/N hanging out with aemond's family but not him would never not make me laugh

user15 he's out there telling the world he likes her and she still hasn't say anything user16 and she doesn't have to. leave the poor girl alone user17 i mean she spent the whole weekend with aemond's sister and nephews, maybe he was there too user18 sorry to disappoint you but he's in king's landing user19 bro must be fuming, everyone in his family meeting his girl except for him

Liked by oliviarodrigo, nicholasgalitzine, aemondtargaryen and 955,899 others

yourusername took a couple of days off to hang out with some friends. see you in a bit for the second and final leg of the cruel summer tour! ���

view all 11,565 comments

user20 she's glowing

user21 wait- i feel like i've seen that guy before

user22 that's because he's aemond's nephew and also an actor

fairyhelaena my pretty 🌟

user23 THAT'S LUKE VELARYON???????

user24 HE IS !!!!! user25 yes he is, she was with aemond's family during the weekend

user26 idk why but i have the feeling that aemond saw these pics and ran to call luke

user27 and was probably screaming at him for an hour lol user28 another reason for aemond to hate him user29 he doesn't hate him, he's family user28 you can hate family user30 stfu it is well known that they have had their differences but they're in good terms now user31 besides who are we to talk about it? that's private. there are comments under aemond's posts of them joking with each other lol user30 idk why she's talking shit.

user32 WHY IS SHE WITH HIS FAMILY BUT NOT WITH HIM?

user33 what world are we living in

iMESSAGE ‣ SEPT 31, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ OCT 10, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ OCT 28, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ DEC 04, 2023.

let me give you a kiss if you make it here! and let me know if you'd like a part 2 of this little smau. as i said comments & reblog are greatly appreciated!

[harrywavycurly]

Hey I loved the bachelorette party in Malibu for Lonley series but can u do one where Harry has a bachelor party and yn stuck at home please I’m obbsed 😂💕

Hiii lovey!!! I’m glad you enjoy the series!!! I hope you like this, it was fun to write because the difference in how the two of them handle time away from each other is very funny😂💖

Find all things Lonely series here✨

CW: Language and mentions of drinking

Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r @youngpastafanmug @mattieshattuck1

A/N: Harry is away for his bachelor party weekend while you’re at home and you get a surprise visitor, enjoy drunk Harry as well as some classic bestie banter✨

You let out a sigh of content as you get comfortable on the couch before bringing your coffee mug up to your lips so you can take a sip, the house is quiet minus the gentle humming sound of the ice maker in the kitchen and the air conditioning that kicks on every now and then and you can’t help but sit there and enjoy the peacefulness of the quiet, at least while you can. You look at the clock on the wall in the kitchen and know that Harry should be landing in Vegas soon, Gemma having booked a morning flight so she could get in a few hours at the spa and a well timed nap before the nighttime festivities begin, most of which you have no idea about minus one little detail but that’s only because she drunkenly let it slip during your bachelorette trip a month ago.

You smile at the thought of Harry being surprised with a spa day, something you know he enjoys and will help him relax and the more relaxed he gets the more fun he will have as the evening goes on. That’s the thing with this weekend, you truly want Harry to have fun because he’s been spending way too much time fussing over you and the upcoming wedding recently that a night out without anything or anyone to worry about is what he deserves. And even though you had to practically drag him down the front steps to the car that was taking him to the airport this morning because he was “gonna miss you too much” and almost bought you a ticket on the spot to join him in Vegas, you know he’s going to end up having a good time.

You take another sip of your coffee when suddenly you hear a light beeping sound signaling to you that your front gate has been opened. You raise an eyebrow as you quickly lean over and place your mug on the coffee table before standing up and heading towards the kitchen so you can look at the fancy little tablet that shows all the security cameras, something Harry made sure to show you how to use before he left since this is technically your first time alone overnight in the house since moving in together. You mentally prepare yourself to see the same black SUV you watched him leave in this morning pulling into the driveway, but when you look at the screen you scrunch your brows together and bring the tablet closer to your face to get a better look at the car.

“What the-”

“Your fuckin’ gate hates me.” You look up from the tablet in your hands as Niall walks through your front door with a duffle bag. “I type in the code it gets all mad and beeps at me so then I type it in again and then it flashes red at me. So then I do it a third-why the bloody hell you got that thing so close to your face? You going blind or somethin?” He stops in the doorway of the kitchen with a slight look of concern on his face as his eyes land on you standing in the middle of the kitchen still holding the tablet a few inches from your face trying to see if that really is Niall’s car in your driveway or not.

“What are you doing here?” You watch him roll his eyes as he walks through the kitchen and into the living room where he drops his duffle bag down behind the couch.

“I live here.” Is all he says as he heads back into the kitchen and grabs himself a mug before going to the coffee pot. You just place the tablet back down onto the counter as you watch Niall make his way around the kitchen while making his coffee.

“Does my fiancé know that?” You ask with a hint of playfulness because you know Harry would have a field day if he heard Niall tell you he lived here, having reached a whole new level of jealousy ever since the two of you got engaged when it comes to your friendship with Niall.

“Oh what that lanky lad doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides it’s just for the weekend because I know he’s gone and you’ve never been alone here before so figured you could use the company.” You know he’s leaving something out as he gives his coffee a good stir before taking a sip of it all while looking everywhere but at you in the process.

“You didn’t get invited did you?” Niall’s face drops as he places his mug on the counter and lets out a sad dramatic sigh making you have to hold back a laugh.

“No.” He says with a groan. “Gem said she didn’t wanna risk Harry not having as good of a time with me there because he might be worried I’d run off and tell you everything but we both know that’s a load of bull because the man is gonna end up drunk off his ass by ten tonight and callin you up and telling on his own fucking self.” You put a hand over your mouth to try to hide your laughter but it’s no use because Niall just rolls his eyes as he grabs his mug and heads towards the living room.

“So you decided coming over here for the weekend was the best alternative?” You question as you follow him into the living room. He just shrugs as he sits down on the couch, placing an arm on the back of it so you can sit next to him and lean into his side for a little cuddle that you know he needs more than you do in this very moment.

“I figured no use in both of us being home alone when we could just be in your house together eating all Harry’s snacks and watching trashy telly.” You smile and you rest your head on Niall’s shoulder as he brings his mug up to his lips. “This coffee is gonna keep me awake for a week you absolute caffeine fiend.” He teases before taking another sip. “Tastes good though.” He mumbles as you reach for the remote so you can turn the tv on allowing the two of you to start your day of watching horrible reality television.

“If she picks him then it proves she’s just after his money because it’s clear she doesn’t even like him she just tolerates him.” You huff as you cross your arms over your chest in annoyance making Niall let out a laugh from the kitchen.

The two of you have spent the day and a good portion of the evening watching some dating show and only have one episode left so Niall decided it was only fitting he make some cocktails to go with watching the finale and honestly having put up with the dramatics of the show and watching the main woman send home people the two of you thought were decent catches has made him need a drink or two. He is in the middle of squeezing a lime into your glass when he hears the sound of something vibrating against the marble of your kitchen counter, he raises an eyebrow when he notices your phone sitting there plugged into a charger near the coffee maker. Now Niall has been your bestfriend for quite a while, so he’s no stranger to checking your phone for you so he doesn’t think twice before he’s drying his hands off and walking over to see who’s messaging you but what he sees on your lock screen makes his eyes go wide.

“You have forty six unread-sorry now it’s forty seven unread texts? What the hell? Oh fuck now it’s fifty.” You let out a sigh as your head falls to the back of the couch while Niall unplugs your phone from the charge and heads into the living room with it in his hand.

“I don’t want to respond because then he’ll keep texting me and I want him to have fun and not be thinking about me.” Niall would agree that in theory your plan would work on anyone else but this is Harry you’re talking about and he knows how obsessed the man is with you and clearly based on the evidence of the amount of texts he’s sent without a single response from you, your plan is in fact not working.

“Right well I think that’s sweet and all that you want him to have fun but looking at these-uh he seems a bit stressed? Like proper freaking out.” You sit up and turn to look at Niall as he begins to read some of the texts Harry has sent and when you watch him roll his eyes you know they are probably a bit on the dramatic side. “Oh he’s totally drunk off his ass and it’s not even half past eleven.” He states as he scrolls down towards the last few messages he sent you.

“What’s he stressed-”

“And now he’s FaceTiming you.” You stand up and walk around the couch and reach for your phone but Niall just gives you a playful smirk and you instantly know what he’s about to do.

“Niall do not answer that.” You warn as you hold your hand out for him to hand you the phone but Niall just ignores you as he heads back into the kitchen and holds the phone up before he answers Harry’s FaceTime call.

“Baby-what the fuck’er you doin in my house?” Harry’s voice is low and a bit rougher than normal and you immediately know he’s working his way towards a nice buzz. “Why do you have my wife’s phone?” Niall rolls his eyes as he places your phone against the sink so he can go back to fixing the two of you some drinks.

“She’s not your wife yet mate and I’m here because that sister of yours didn’t invite me to your little weekend away so I came here to keep my bestfriend company.” You run a hand over your face as you hear Harry let out a groan at Niall’s correction of him calling you his wife.

“You don’t like spa days so you’d’ve hated it so far.” Niall sends Harry a glare as he grabs the bottle of tequila making Harry raise an eyebrow at him when he watches him pour more than a shots worth into each glass. “You tryin’a get her drunk?” He asks as you stand on the other side of the island watching Niall make your drink and making sure Harry can’t see you, at least not yet.

“You’re in the city of sin and all you’ve done is have a bloody spa day? God you’re such an eighty year old nan.” You can’t help but laugh making Niall shoot you a playful wink but that only causes Harry to let out a whine like noise because he can hear you but can’t see you which makes Niall roll his eyes. “I can’t with the sad puppy noises you’ve got to take him.” Niall says as he picks up the phone with one hand and hands it to you but with the screen still facing him. You send him a glare before you stick your tongue out at him making him laugh before he returns the gesture.

“I don’t want to see your tongue Niall-”

“Hi Harry.” You watch Harry’s face go from disgust to pure happiness in a matter of seconds when you turn the phone around allowing him to finally see your face.

“Baby I’m so happy you’re alive.” You just ignore Niall’s laugh as you make your way back into the living room to get comfortable on the couch. “You ignored me all day and s’not nice to ignore someone you love.” His voice is a mixture of playfulness and a bit of sadness as he pokes his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout.

“I wanted you to worry about having fun not about what I’m doing.” You explain as you take a moment to try to get a decent look at him through the screen but the way he has his phone in his hand all you can see is his face and a bit of the collar of his shirt. “Where are you right now?” You ask when you notice red strobe lights in the background, Harry turns his head and looks around as if he’s looking for the name of the establishment on the walls or anywhere near where he’s currently at.

“Uhm m’not sure? S’a bit dark in here but the people are very lovely.” You smile at the blush that appears on his cheeks as his eyes wonder over to something that’s going on in front of him that you can’t see.

“That’s code for the girls are topless and the tits are nice.” Niall whispers in your ear as he leans over the back of the couch to hand you your drink, you just laugh but Harry even in his half drunken state heard Niall’s little joke and sends him a glare through the screen.

“He said people so I’m assuming it’s not just girls in this club.” You explain and Niall just shrugs as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Right so the guys are brief-less and the cocks are decent.” You nearly choke on the sip of your drink that’s in your mouth at Niall’s statement making him laugh as he reaches over and rubs your back a bit. “Jesus no wonder you two are getting married. Neither of you can handle your liquor.” He teases before he heads back into the kitchen to give you and Harry a few minutes alone.

“Harry why don’t you go and enjoy yourself? You can call me in the morning if you want?” You don’t want to sound rude but you know if you don’t get him off the phone soon then odds are you’ll be on FaceTime with him for the next few hours or until Gemma notices and takes things into her own hands.

“I took s’mthing of yours to help me get through the weekend without you.” Harry admits quietly as he looks around as if to make sure no one is looking before he reaches into his suit jacket pocket, you feel your whole face get hot when he shows you what he took of yours and you silently thank your lucky stars Niall decided to go back into the kitchen. “They’ve helped so far but still miss you.” He adds as he clutches the item in his hand while staring at you through the phone.

“You are such a freak.” Harry just shrugs one shoulder and gives you a sneaky little smirk as he begins to put the object pack into his pocket.

“Tell me those aren’t your knickers he’s shoving back into this pocket like some sort of sicko.”

“M’not a sicko for having a pair of my fiancé’s-”

“Do not finish that sentence Harry Styles you are in public.” You hear a scoff come from behind you while Harry also makes a similar sounding noise making you send Niall who’s now resting his forearms on the back of the couch next to where you’re sitting, a glare over your shoulder before looking back at your phone to give Harry the same look.

“Babe he’s surrounded by bouncing boobs and swinging pricks you think anyone’s gonna give a rats ass if he’s got some worn out knickers in his sleeve?” You scrunch your nose at Niall’s choice of words regarding your undergarments making Harry chuckle.

“How’d ya know they’re worn? You been in my nightstand you wonky kneed twat?”

“You have a panty stash in your nightstand you lanky fuck?”

“And if I do? S’none of your concern you hobbit sized asshole.”

“Ya know for a family all about treat people with kindness you Styles lot sure love to be mean as fuck to the Irish fella who’s job it is to make sure your beloved future bride makes it down the aisle.”

“The bloody hell s’that ‘posed to mean?” You let out a sigh as you just sit there and let the two of them argue as you normally do, knowing that eventually you’ll have to step in but for right now it hasn’t reached the level of any serious feelings getting hurt. Harry’s eyes are a light shade of red and his cheeks are pink letting you know his drinks are starting to catch up to him.

“It means that you overgrown toddler of a man best start being nicer to me or I might just have her accidentally get lost on the way to the venue or better yet just let her sleep in and be so late you’ll have to cancel the whole thing and reschedule it for next-”

“Okay that’s enough.” You snap when you see Harry’s eyes start to get watery as Niall’s threat starts to sink into Harry’s slightly alcohol clouded mind. “Niall go into the kitchen and make me a snack please.” He just lets out a huff but he does what you say because he can tell by your tone that you’re in no playing mood and besides he is starting to feel a bit hungry himself.

“I don’t want to reschedule.” You feel your heart sink a bit at how sad Harry’s voice is as he looks at you with a frown.

“We aren’t rescheduling anything Harry he’s just being mean that’s all.” You give him a reassuring smile that just makes him nod. “I love you and I want you to go and have fun okay? Do some weird stuff and tell me all about it when you get home or if you don’t want to-”

“M’gonna call you in the morning.” He corrects you and you just smile at his face because you know he’s trying his best to look serious but he’s failing due to the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile. “I love you so so-so fucking much even though you ignored me.” He half mumbles and you can’t help but giggle at how cute he is when he’s drunk and trying so hard to keep it together.

“I love you too.” He gives you a dimpled grin at your response. “Now go have fun or I won’t answer your call tomorrow.” You know it’s probably not nice to threaten him but you figure it’s a good way to get him to actually do what you want and by the way he rolls his eyes and lets out a huff you know it works.

“Fine I’ll go and find m’sister and have fun.” He says with a sigh while you smile and blow him a kiss before saying you love him one more time and ending the call.

“Has he always been so damn needy?” Niall asks as you walk into the kitchen with your drink in your hand. You just shrug as you take a sip while you take a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island so you can watch Niall cook, he decided a proper meal was what the two of you needed not just a lousy snack since there’s still a dating show finale to watch.

“I don’t know but I also don’t mind.” You answer with a smile making Niall quirk a brow at you as he stirs in the cheese sauce for the Mac and cheese. “I’m happy to be the one he needs.” And it’s the truth because while Harry might be overly clingy and a tad bit more needy than he normally was when the two of you were just friends, you love being the one he wants to cling to and feels the urge to be needy with because it shows the shift that’s taken place and how in love with you he actually is.