#i won't say anything about the au yet

[mroddmod]

out of context meme of an au i'm cooking

[pinkcreatorhologram]

[m0e-ru]

the more I answer certain questions about my au and inevitably vomiting about it it still isn't enough. like there's so much there's just a lot and it's crazy like I'm taking you to a storage unit and pulling up the shutters and flashing a light around for a few seconds and that's it and we walk outside and I own the whole building and another one in a different city because it's that crazy like. the only properly published content I can offer is non chronological one shots and I'll rewrite the introduction twenty seven times in a week and give up and say nothing about it entirely yknow

[backinmyphase]

Not your husband

Summary: You are going to marry the Satoru Gojo. A dream come true right? Well when he doesn't even show up to the meetings to arrange your marriage, it becomes clear that it's more a nightmare.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3040 words

Next part Masterlist

Sane Geto AU (I am an Angst writer, but not like Gege. Please excuse any errors in my writing)

The world of Jujutsu was never a world for you.

Born into a clan, which only saw your value in your technique. Born into a family, which only saw your mistakes. Born from a mother, who had the same problems but still resented you.

Born into a world full of curses but still being told you were the biggest of all.

"Don't daydream, you will make a bad impression. And you really can't afford that."

The woman in front of you isn't pleased. She isn't since she knew she wouldn't give life to boy.

It's hard as woman in a Jujutsu clan.

It's not about how your technique can help you, it's about how your technique could help your son at exorcising curses.

"Yes, mother."

She frowns as she looks at you. Displeased she fixes her posture a bit, signaling you to do the same. You obey.

"You can't afford to make any mistakes today. Just do as I told you. I can only hope you have learned anything."

As you nod you realize what all this means. The dress kimono you are wearing. The expensive tea that is ready to serve. The hairpin you have gotten from your mother, who did your hair today.

All of it becomes so real.

Your husband has been decided.

"You won't say anything, until you are being asked." The woman hissed. "And please keep a smile on your boring face, then it at least looks not so simple."

You never discovered your technique and what you could do with it. It wasn't easy. Knowing that everything you did would result in you being married of.

And as you sat here in this big room with your mother, you could only wonder.

Who would your husband be? Could it be someone who understood you?

Someone you could love?

As the door opened you saw your father who looked onto the ground as he spoke.

"They are here."

Your mother only nodded, as your father closed the door. Just a few minutes later the door was opened again.

And a beautiful woman stepped inside.

She smiled at your mother as she took a seat in front of her. But the smile was the same as the smile of your mother. And maybe the same of your own.

As she sat down on the opposite side, you served the tea. The best tea your clan could afford.

For a man that didn't seem to have come.

The woman gave an apologetic smile. "My sincere apologies, but my son... Well he is in a bit of a rebellious phase, which lead of him disappearing before this meeting."

Your mother's smile faded a bit. "Does he know of what importance this meeting is for our clans?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, he knows." She slightly eyed you before she spoke again. "He just doesn't care."

Silence flodded the room. It was like a cold hand slidded down your back as you realized.

"I hope the Gojo Clan will show more interest in our connection. We will be very disappointed if not." The smile of your mother was just as cold as the hand that seemed to choke you.

This was Mrs. Gojo. The mother of the strongest.

Gojo Satoru.

The one who seemingly stood above anyone. The one who jumped at every opportunity to mess with the higher ups.

Who will be your husband.

And he didn't even show up to meet you.

"Of course. He will learn." The woman sighed as she spared you a glance again. Then she smiled that smile again.

And you mirrored it.

"Your future husband isn't the easiest person." The woman sighed as she looked at you. "Even as a baby he knew what he wanted and how to get it."

Not knowing how to react you just nodded.

The woman laughed at that. "But no worries! Even though he is... Difficult, you will love him. He has that effect on people."

Your mouth dried up at the mention of love. How could this woman talk about love at the table your arranged marriage would be discussed? How could she talk about love when you didn't even have a saying in this arrangement? How, when you will marry the strongest?

Satoru Gojo?

"I really hope that he will learn." Your mother smiled while taking a sip from her tea. "He should know that his actions are what keep the Gojo Clan still important. He shouldn't throw that away."

The tension grew a lot, as Mrs. Gojo mirrored the smile and took a sip of the tea. "Well at least I brought him to our Clan. In the end that's the biggest thing a woman could achieve right?"

It was sick. We lived in modern times, but the Jujutsu Society was still so far behind, floating under the radar, with the excuse of making the world a better place.

"It's true." Your mother sighed as she lowered her cup. "The strongest really is the biggest achievement you could have ever accomplished. Being the parent of such a child... But I wonder..."

Your mother now didn't even try to hide her distain. "Why does his mother not have him under control?"

Klirrr

"Because." Mrs. Gojo's hand shook as it held the broken cup. The sharp shards cutting into it. "As a boy, he can have this freedom."

The black tea in your cup grew cold as long with the atmosphere in the room. Your mother stood up and left the room without a word. Her steps filled the silence in the room. And as she closed the door the woman in front of you sighed.

"Difficult woman, isn't she?" Mrs. Gojo let go of the cup shards while hissing. Her mask no longer in tact as she didn't smile anymore.

"Well who isn't?"

She looked at you surprised and then chuckled. "I guess you are right."

On the same day the arrangement was consolidated. It was official.

You will marry Satoru Gojo.

~~

"Suguru, how could this happen? To me?" Satoru whined as he complained to his best friend. "It all has to be a bad joke, right?"

"No, it sounds like a normal thing in jujutsu clans. I'm just confused why you didn't have any saying. You know, as the strongest." Suguru didn't look up from his book as his best friend groaned.

"That's what I'm saying! I don't give a damn about this whole clan thing."

As they were sitting in the park near their mission, they of course already finished not even breaking a sweat, the sun slowly set.

"It is a really bad system. How the clans only strive after power and never consider the lives of their toles." Suguru muttered as he turned the page.

"And now I have to marry a random girl I don't even know!" Satoru groaned again and buried his face in his hands.

"And she has to marry you." Suguru sighed.

Satoru looked at him slightly annoyed. "What do you want to say? Just say it."

"Well, I am sure, she is just as horrified as you at the sound of marriage. I'm just saying you could at least try to get to know her."

"I'm not going there." Stubbornly Satoru shook his head. "Never. I'm not giving them that satisfaction."

Suguru looked up at his friend and now he shook his head. "I pity your soon to be wife."

Offended, Satoru turned to his friend. "Hey! I'm your friend in need here!"

Suguru placed his bookmark gently in his book and then closed it. "Just promise you will show up to the wedding."

Satoru grinned. "Why? You scared of the higher-ups for me?"

"Not for you." He stood up as he looked down at his friend.

"For your wife. If an arranged marriage isn't going well, you know who gets blamed. And what you're doing is just cruel to her."

Gojo didn't say anything as he put on his blindfold.

~

"Do I look pretty?"

You didn't dare be louder than a whisper. "Mother?"

Her sigh gave you confirmation that she wasn't pleased. As she looked you up and down, her frown never disappeared. "As long you don't make that face, it's passable."

She stood up. "For a wedding you look... I just hope your husband will like you at your best."

"Soon to be husband." you corrected her quietly as you looked in the mirror.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She raised a brow but nodded slowly. Then she paced through the room impatiently. "That woman still hasn't given us any signs."

"Mrs. Gojo is probably seating the guests." a little part of you wanted to defend this woman. Your future mother in law.

"Or the groom makes problems again." your mother shook her head, like always when she spoke about the young Gojo.

After he didn't show up to a single meeting, she was sure that Mrs. Gojo didn't raise him right and that she as his mother should be blamed.

It was so pathetic. How you already felt his displeasure, his hatred towards you.

"Mother?"

"What is it?" she was annoyed.

"What was your wedding like?"

...

"Just like this one. It's tradition in our clan." her face was stone cold.

And you felt sympathy for her. She also had an arranged marriage. A wedding in which she didn't have any saying. A husband who she never chose.

"It's the bride's moment." The voice of Mrs. Gojo halled through the room.

Your mother smiled at you. You smiled back.

"Just don't mess it up."

~~

There were too many guests. Mostly people you didn't know. And all of them looked at you, while you made your way to the altar.

Under their stares you felt small.

But there was also this man. This guy with white hair, that stood at the end of your path. This boy that refused to even meet you before the wedding.

He gave you a glance and then continued to stubbornly look straight ahead.

As you stood before him, he didn't seem to be here with his thoughts.

And at this moment you knew he didn't want to marry you. No, you knew that before. But you knew that he would never open up or try to make this work.

And you didn't want that.

"I do."

No, you really didn't. And as he spatted the same words you knew that he was lying too.

~~

"Oh, you lucky girl!" The old woman, you didn't even know, said.

The after ceremony was not nice. All the guests wanted to talk to Gojo and some, not many pestered you. What really stung you was that they made more effort to talk to you than your own husband did.

"To marry such a handsome man." she looked at you and smiled knowingly.

"Of course it's an honor to marry Gojo Satoru as he is an important figure for the jujutsu society." Everything you said sounded like a broken record that lost any meaning.

She chuckled. "You can be honest with me. An heir will be on the way shortly, right?"

You hated this talk about an heir. Hated, hated, hated this people that keep telling you to hurry up and sleep with this man that didn't even look at you.

"We will see."

She laughed at that. And somehow you managed to excuse yourself from the conversation.

The rest of the evening was torture, but you somehow survived. Gojo didn't talk to you. He just disappeared at some point, leaving you alone in the cave of the lions.

His mother was right. He was a difficult person.

You hated that you had to ask around to be driven to his estate. Hated, that he didn't open the door, it was the personal chef that was going to leave. Hated, that you stood alone in this cold house.

He seemed to like to leave you alone. To just go.

You didn't want to sleep at this house. You didn't want to, but where should you go? Where could a place be, where you could hide?

Gojo had places. Not you.

You slept on the couch that evening. Your wedding dress was still on, as you didn't know what in this big house was to wear for you.

~~

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Satoru didn't like to hear that from his best friend, as he stood at his doorstep.

"I just need a place to sleep."

"I said to go to the wedding." Suguru felt like babysitting a toddler.

"And I did."

"Then why are you here? And not with your wife at your house?" Suguru slowly began to lose his patience.

"Can you just let me in, you ass?"

After shaking his head, Suguru opened his door wide enough to let Gojo in.

"Why are you here?" he wasn't going to make it easy for Satoru to forget he left you there.

"Had enough."

"You're such a child." Suguru shook his head. That's what ticked Gojo off.

"Stop it!" He threw his shoes on the floor.

"You can't judge me! Not when you don't know how it feels to have your future stripped from you just because you have been born in this family!"

Suguru kept silent this time.

~~

Your things were shiped to this mansion you should now live in. It wasn't a lot but your necessary clothes. Finally.

Finally you could take the dress off.

The clothing that reminded you that this was real. That your reason in life was already fulfilled and now you should just cease to exist.

No, that wasn't true, was it? You still had to bring an heir.

Will you ever get used to this new prison? You doubt it.

It was so big and cold. So many things but it didn't have this personal touch. It felt empty, unloved. Did Gojo even live here?

Well it seems like he wouldn't if you were here.

It was stupid. You didn't know him, just saw him yesterday for the first time in person. And still it was so clear he wouldn't make it easy for you.

You felt unloved.

"A letter, Mrs. Gojo."

The sudden voice blew you away from your thoughts. Another thing you wouldn't get used to. There were servants for the Clan leader. Like this girl. They were only needed in the kitchen, but it still felt wrong.

And something felt so wrong with being called this name.

"From who?"

The girl before you had a pitiful look. "Your mother." She cleared her throat. "She said, it's about your arrangement."

As you looked down at this paper, it felt like cursed energy was coming from it.

"Oh. Alright, thank you." Hesitating you took the letter.

The girl just nodded and made her way to the kitchen. The silence in this house was haunting.

Again you looked at the letter in your hands, and wished it was only paper. What should you do from now on? How would you spend your life?

Well obviously not with your husband as he wasn't even here.

And you would make sure that he didn't see the letters from your clan.

~~

"You're here." Satoru Gojo didn't seem pleased to see his wife in his house at this evening. Rather displeased, the way he frowned like a little child.

'Well.' you thought. 'That's to damn bad. He should have come to the arrangement hours.'

"Yeah. I have to be."

He didn't even look at you. Humiliation after humiliation. What would your child self say? Seeing that your own husband didn't even look or smile at you? The hopeless romantic would be crushed.

And now they definitely are.

"I see." His voice was barely audible. Oh, what a humiliation this must be for him! The strongest! Not even in control of his own marriage.

You really should pity him. Be understanding. Like the good wife your mother wanted you to be.

But you didn't have the strength to do that. No, you didn't sympathize with this man, that stood in front of you. The one who had the privilege of doing what he wanted till now just because he was blessed. Because he was born a boy.

And you were not.

"My things were brought this morning and Hina showed me around. I already-"

"Who is Hina?" Gojo sounded confused.

"The servant girl. The one who helps to cook?" you couldn't believe him. She even told you that she was working here since 3 years!

"Oh, yeah she. Continue."

You didn't like his tone, you didn't like his attitude, you didn't like that you didn't knew anything about him BECAUSE HE DIDN'T SHOW UP TO ANY-

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you." While trying to keep the bitterness down you started to whisper.

"What?"

As you looked up at him, your mind went blank. For the first time Satoru looked at you. With his big blue beautiful eyes, he looked at you. So mesmerizing that you almost forgot about your bitterness towards him.

Almost.

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you in any mean. We can also eat separately. In fact I would prefer that."

He snorted. "That's childish. Not even eating together."

And that broke the straw. The straw your patience was hanging on sooooo desperately.

"You." you poked his chest with force. "Can't tell me what's childish or not."

Your voice grew a bit. "You can't, not after not attending any meetings, actively trying to get away from me on our wedding day, leaving me alone for our clan people, leaving me alone for the night way to a new house I have to call home now!"

He kept silent. Like all the times you saw him.

"SO EXCUSE ME." You made your way to your room, shouting to make sure he knew what you said.

"IF I THINK MY HUSBAND DOESN'T WANT TO SEE ME AT ALL! AND IF I DON'T WANT TO HAVE MYSELF SUFFER THROUGH IT!"

You slammed the door with force.

You don't think your husband will ever even like you. Or if Gojo would ever even be your husband.

[astonmartinii]

big reputation | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem reader

they may have a big reputation and they may be end game, but sometimes you need a push from your girlfriend to enter your reputation era

(also no hate to vasseur and sainz, it's just the way the fic had to go)

MASTERLIST | TIPS

f1newsandgossip

liked by user1, user2 and 13,209 others

f1newsandgossip: after ferrari's continued chaos and inability to get anything right it seems, do you think charles leclerc will stick around and renew his contract?

view all comments

user3: i love him and i love ferrari but if he wants any shot of winning a championship he has to leave

user4: i would die to see him at red bull or even mercedes

user5: would he want to be a second driver though?

user4: babes they treat him like he's the second driver at ferrari at least there he'd have a competent car and team

user6: yes ! he has to leave, no one at that team respects him anymore

user7: he should've left a long time ago but this season has to be the final nail in the coffin

user8: all he does it protect ferrari and ferrari don't even give a shit about him it's actually sad

user9: they don't even protect him from his teammate and his teammate's parents being rude about him in the media

user10: for real the man needs to stop being a team player and tell him how it is

user11: i feel so so bad for him because his childhood dream is turning into a nightmare and through no fault of his own

user12: i know y/n is absolutely seething and the only reason she hasn't said anything yet is because charles is so in love with the team that he won't say anything bad about them

user13: i need her to give him a lil slap around to get his head in gear

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 1,309,556 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: you and me got a big reputation

view all comments

user14: me being delusional: OMG THIS MEANS CHARLES IS FINALLY ENTERING HIS REPUTATION ERA

user15: and then we remember rep is an album about love first and revenge second :(

charles_leclerc: is this a taylor swift reference?

yourusername: yes it is !! i knew you were actually listening when i gave you the full eras breakdown

charles_leclerc: i'd listen to you talk about anything

yourusername: even the things you don't want to hear?

charles_leclerc: i think it has gotten to that point, yes.

user16: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN ^^ ???

alexalbon: when will i be freed from the shackles of having to take cute photos of you two

yourusername: NEVER

charles_leclerc: is a seat on my jet not enough?

alexalbon: YOUR JET? i have clearly missed something here

maxverstappen1: alex is always free to fly air max (MY jet, factually)

yourusername: when did this become a dick measuring contest? (charles would win, you can all go home)

maxverstappen1: i don't want you to see my dick

charles_leclerc: i should think not verstappen

alexalbon: i don't know how i hang out with you morons

user17: gosh y/n is so sexy

user18: i am allowing myself to live in delusion and after the shitshow that was austin, y/n is initiating the reputation era and charles will either give ferrari hell or actually leave

user19: idk that man might be completely in love with y/n but he's even more in love with ferrari

charles_leclerc: nothing compares to her

user20: WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN?

charles_leclerc

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,204,509 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: hola mexico! can't wait for the weekend to start

view all comments

user22: post your team or car? no. post a random picture of your girlfriend? yes.

user23: he should post an explanation as to why his gf was being wined and dined by christian horner

yourusername: ZOOWEE MAMA

charles_leclerc: excuse me?

yourusername: instagram would ban me if i really said what i think

charles_leclerc: oh i'm blushing

yourusername: but always above all you are a cutie patootie

user24: i see posts like this and i wonder why do they always have break up rumours if they are this in love?

user19: bestie we simply cannot be believing everything we read, especially when it comes from a certain spanish paper

liked by yourusername

user24: wait what is this supposed to mean?

user19: any "insider source" at ferrari that has anti-leclerc info is usually the sainz family lol that's why other than ferrari being clowns in general charles needs to get the fuck out

pierregasly: rivalling me with just how much you post y/n

charles_leclerc: ummmm you've met her, and you wouldn't?

charles_leclerc: WAIT don't answer that

user25: so are we just ignoring that y/n was at dinner with CHRISTIAN HORNER?

user26: the red bull!charles dream a bit more feasible now and i am appropriately feral

user27: obsessed with how he's just ignoring the horner thing

user28: i am similarly obsessed with how the media are spinning this to an affair between y/n and horner LMAO

yourusername: he made us split the bill after ordering a really spenny wine :/

user29: I'M CRYING

user30: horner's like if i don't get a driver out of this dinner i will be having a nice glass of wine he's so real for that

scuderiaferrari: let's get it 💪

user31: GET A JOB. LEAVE HER ALONE

liked by yourusername

user32: lol she's so tired of being subtle

user33: TELL THEM SIS

f1

liked by yourusername, redbullracing and 1,450,667 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

f1: BREAKING: charles leclerc signs for red bull racing for 2024 on a four year contract

view all comments

user36: they're MUGGY for the first picture omg

user37: SOMEONE CALL THE EMERGENCY SERVICES FOR ME I CAN'T BREATHE

user38: wait so like who do i have to thank for finally making this happen?

user39: this has y/n y/ln written all over it - the dinner with horner finally makes sense

pierregasly: WHAT ?????????

user40: HE'S FINDING OUT AT THE SAME TIME AS US? DID ANYONE KNOW?

user41: THERE WILL BE NO EXPLANATION JUST REPUTATION

liked by yourusername

user42: okay since y/n and charles have referenced the reputation album so much during this whole fiasco .... taylor swift x charles leclerc piano ballad collab when?

user43: so this is il predestinato who has betrayed his team and completely blindsided him? this is why carlos has always been the superior driver

liked by carlossainz55

user44: not carlos liking this comment

yourusername: i wish he would say something with his chest, always hiding behind his parents and the spanish media ... yeah we know about that and we're no longer under that stupid contract so i can and will say this all to your face

user45: HOLY SHITTTTTTTTTT

carlossainz55: you got the move and attention you wanted stop trying to drag me into it

yourusername: babe there's a difference between you and i, you create fake cheating rumours to try and shake your teammate while your PR team is fulltime constantly having to threaten legal action over you not being able to keep it in your pants

user46: ERM QUEEN THEY STILL HAVE RACES TOGETHER

redbullracing: anyways.... WELCOME TO THE TEAM CHARLES

user47: admin what is going on?

redbullracing: i have no clue but as soon as that man is in a navy race suit i will get the tea trust

user48: so real of you

maxverstappen1: ☕️

user49: LMAO KING

yourusername: i have a feeling we might get on (no more inchidents though)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 1,344,099 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: they said i did something bad, why does it feel so good?

view all comments

user51: momma does not play oh my

taylorswift: proud 🖤 🐍

yourusername: approved by our lord and saviour, thanks mother

charles_leclerc: do you need a pianist?

taylorswift: i'm sure we can work something out

landonorris: ^^ this is so unfair i thought i was the swiftie on the grid :(

danielricciardo: my rendition of our song says otherwise

user52: she really said FUCK FERRARI AND FUCK YOU TOO

user53: as she should

charles_leclerc: i'm not a playboy but i do LOVE YOU

yourusername: i love you even more

charles_leclerc: NUH UH I LOVE YOU MORE

yourusername: i would literally fight every person on earth for your hand

charles_leclerc: oh wow ... mark me scared AND horny

alexalbon: okay that's ENOUGH

user54: i'm so glad she shook him out of the ferrari daze he. might finally have a chance at the championship now

user55: i'd be afraid that ferrari may build a good car next year but then i remember it's ferrari LOL

user56: so y/n mentioned under the f1 post about a contract? was she not able to say anything about ferrari while with charles?

yourusername: yes. i was not able to say anything they considered negative. many times when i expressed disappointment in how charlie has been treated i was reprimanded by ferrari and was banned from the paddock for weekends following any statements

user57: wtf that is crazy ??? makes sense as to why charles always blames himself when it was clearly a pit/strategy issue

yourusername: ferrari have attempted to keep charlie under wraps since his second season at the team. they were worried about him becoming outspoken like seb. this goes all the way down to his music which they tried to prevent him from releasing. i'm glad he'll be given the chance to show his talents next season

user58: thank the lord charles finally left. this is insane. the reputation era was well and truly needed.

maxverstappen1: kelly wants to know whether now you'll be wag teammates that you can raid each other's wardrobes?

yourusername: of course !!! i can't wait to see her more often coffee dates are a must ( + p of course)

charles_leclerc: i'm gonna beat your ass at padel i WILL be the padel king at red bull

maxverstappen1: i will show NO MERCY

yourusername: maybe this was a bad idea ...

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,332,909 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it saddens me to my core to be leaving the team i always dreamed of racing for and winning with, but there comes a point in your career when it's time to put your ambitions above tradition. ferrari has always been the dream for me, but the last couple of years have been a nightmare. i never thought i'd be put in a position where i'd have feelings like these about the team i love, but the constant disrespect, betrayal and the treatment of my loved ones leaves me no other choice. despite this sad ending, i am looking forward to new opportunities at red bull, racing alongside an old friend and under a competent leadership. finally, thank you to y/n and my family for being there for me during this time despite the way we were all treated. i know i will get questions, but there will be no explanation, just reputation.

view all comments

user59: he really left comments open so we could drag ferrari

user60: and drag i shall do... that man despite the absolute tomfoolery got that shitbox on the podium and NONE OF YOU SHOWED UP

user61: for real, they're out here trying to show charles as petty but then KEEP PROVING HIS POINT LOL

yourusername: i am so unbelievably proud of you. i know this was a hard choice but it's the one you had to make. today and every other day i will always be there to support you even if no one else is

user62: subtle DRAG

charles_leclerc: i love you to the moon and to saturn

yourusername: you're my invisible string

yourusername: also this is what i mean when i say reputation is a love story with a side of shade

user63: i know binotto let out a sigh of relief that he dodged this shit storm

yourusername: that fraud is SO lucky i was under contract while he was there otherwise i'd drag his ass so bad he'd be bald

charles_leclerc: i don't know how he made it out of silverstone alive after the whole finger wagging saga, i had to hold her back

sebastianvettel: i hate to say i told you so .....

charles_leclerc: SEB ????? BUT I'M DOING IT NOW, I'M NOT WASTING IT (tell christian to give me the better strategies i know you're still the o.g golden boy)

maxverstappen1: you know i can see this right?

christianhorner: and me?

charles_leclerc: @yourusername baby please take the fall for me

yourusername: I COMMENTED THAT

maxverstappen1: you guys really aren't slick... you're lucky i already love you two

christianhorner: i feel like i need to brief PR already

yourusername: if it makes it any better i'm a great baker and very generous

redbullracing: WE'LL TAKE IT

user64: @netflix make sure there's a camera in that garage at ALL TIMES

pierregasly: proud of you calmar, i hope this works out better for you than it did for me

yourusername: NO ROOM FOR PITY PARTY HERE SIR

yourusername: wait that was rude, we love you pierre

charles_leclerc: thank you pierre

pierregasly: ummmmmm tell y/n she can't say that ???

charles_leclerc: she made me see the light kinda owe her everything rn, so sorry?

christianhorner: definitely brief PR

note: teehee here it is. MY GOD my writing block has been insane - i also went on a trip to london and got horrendously drunk and made AWFUL decisions. alas, i hope you guys enjoy this and the race later !!

EDIT: I AM SO FUCKING ANNOYED AT THIS RACE ONE DAY WHERE CHARLES IS NOT FUVKED OVER IS ALL I ASK WHAT DID HE DO TO DESERVE THIS

[suntoru]

─ ✰ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.

— synopsis: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, the popular guy in your class, chooses to sit next to you, of all people. you've fallen head over heels, what happens next?

— warnings: highschool au! angst, fluff in the beginning, will not be writing a part 2, swearing, gaslighting, betrayal, just a bet troupe, gojo being a dick or everybody generally, 3.4k words!

— a/n: not my proudest work to be honest :( also tried another formatting lmk if u liked it! comments and reblogs r very much appreciated i will love u forever

"yo. can i sit here?" gojo satoru grins, effortlessly sliding into the empty seat next to you and making himself at home.

...huh? isn't that the popular guy who's usually surrounded by his friends? he's constantly the subject of admiration among the girls in your class, eliciting swoons and whispers of infatuation wherever he goes. confusion creeps in as you wonder why he didn't choose the empty seat next to suguru. there's no conceivable reason for someone like gojo, popular and charismatic, to opt for the seat beside you. you feel a sense of self-consciousness settling in.

nevertheless, you nod softly, though you're well aware the question was more of a rhetorical one. he's fashionably late, by twenty minutes, to be precise, unabashedly ignoring the scolding glares from your teacher about punctuality. instead, he buries himself in the deep blue plastic seat, sticking his tongue out when the teacher turns his back, letting out a huffy pout from the lecture.

nervously, you glance up from your notebook, cautiously stealing a peek at your new desk buddy. he's pretty─ real pretty, snowy white lashes adorning his pretty cerulean spheres, dainty fingers idly spinning a pencil out of sheer boredom. and as if kissed by the blush of a gentle sunrise, his lips possess a natural rosy hue, smooth and plump, belong to him like a delicate work of art. you wonder just how many kisses they've stolen. caught in a moment of admiration, you find yourself staring a tad longer than socially acceptable.

his eyes flicker, locking onto yours, and the realization hits you—oh, he caught you staring. shit. immediately, you break eye contact as you cough awkwardly. you swiftly attempt to play it off, pretending as if you were engrossed in examining the intricate texture of your silver-grey desk instead. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you hope he hasn't interpreted your lingering gaze as anything more than idle curiosity.

...should you say something? try to deny you were very clearly eye fucking him? he probably thinks you're a freak now. perhaps he sat next to you out of pity, and now he regrets it. out of sheer embarrassment, the words die in your mouth before they could ever leave, keeping your gaze glued to the floor as you refuse to acknowledge that his presence ever existed.

however, it appears that gojo won't let you suffer the embarrassment in peace. when your stern teacher turns away, he subtly slides a ripped edge of his blue-lined paper towards you, bearing a simple 'hi :)'. he's attempting a conversation, a surprising but welcome distraction from the awkwardness of being caught staring. an opportunity to salvage a bit of your dignity. now, the challenge lies in crafting a response that strikes the right balance.

would 'hey' sound too dry? but 'heyyyy' makes it seem like you're a little too interested. you opt for a casual 'heyy' with your black pen, scribbling the reply with extra caution to avoid prying eyes. as soon as the teacher is out of view, you subtly slip the note back to gojo. his lips curl into a slight smile upon reading your response.

two minutes pass by before you get a response. 'do you get this lesson? i'm soo lost..' accompanied by a small doodle of a crying suguru. you can't help but stifle a giggle; the drawing is poorly done, yet undeniably cute. the teacher swiftly turns around at the sound, prompting both of you to scramble and make it look like you're diligently focused on the lesson. the suspicious gaze lingers for a moment before the teacher returns to the whiteboard.

'maybe it's cause you missed like, half of the lesson.' you write back. he rolls his eyes playfully upon reading your retort, swiftly countering with a pout. "it's not my fault this class is so boring.'

'who said philosophy was supposed to be fun?' you reply. in response, gojo eagerly accepts the note, maintaining the subtle exchange of eye contact. 'hey, be nice to mr. aristotle, he's a great guy :(' he sends back. and thirty minutes seem to pass in the blink of an eye.

the bell chimes, signaling the end of the philosophy session and the need to transition to your next course. reluctantly, you stow your textbook in your bag, feeling a twinge of sadness at the realization that this amusing interaction might have been a one-time occurrence.

it's been a while since you've genuinely laughed. so when his ocean blue eyes latch onto yours with a genuine sense of hope, you quickly fold when he asks you if you're interested in sitting with him again tomorrow.

in those thirty short minutes, you learn three things about gojo satoru. firstly, you realize you've sorely misjudged him. he's not just another nepo-baby cheating his way through school; he's actually quite smart, smarter than he lets on. he's especially good in biochemistry, and he promises to help you study next time.

secondly, you discover that he loves sweets, just as you do. you both agree that kikufuku mochi is better than strawberry dango, and he even tells you about his favorite shop. maybe you can go together sometime.

and thirdly, he doesn't tell you this outright, but you learn that gojo is insecure. what strikes you the most is the glimpse of uncertainty you catch beneath his confident exterior. it's not about his looks or intelligence, but it's actually about his relationship with suguru. he's afraid to lose him, a fear that seems to drive him more than anything else. he overcompensates for his self-doubt. but you find that his flaws make him all the more pretty.

it's peculiar, the speed at which gojo somehow effortlessly integrates into your daily life. how he's feeling is how you're feeling, which is usually reflected on his friendship with suguru. if they had a fight, he'd be sad, and if everything was alright, he was too. but either way was okay with you, you just want to be there for him. what was once a dreaded fourth period now stands as the radiant highlight of your entire day.

despite the limited instances of verbal communication —perhaps a mere once or twice— the inexplicable truth remains: you've fallen head over heels for him. the simple act of passing notes with satoru becomes more than a routine; it evolves into the sole force that awakens you in the morning, the singular thought that propels you forward and keeps you going throughout the day.

and just maybe, the hopeless romantic within you fervently clings to the belief that his sentiments go beyond mere friendship. his actions seem to carry an extra layer of care, an attentiveness that extends beyond your platonic friendship. he notices the little things that escape the notice of others. it wasn't lost on him when you shed tears the other night due to the weight of stress; he went out of his way to procure your favorite candy bar, a sweet gesture aimed at brightening your spirits.

he took notice of your new haircut, expressing in a note that it frames your face nicely. he had comforted you when a classmate aimed a subtle insult your way, he wrote that the words of someone whose foundation didn't match their face shouldn't hold much weight. he even made an effort to be punctual for class, all to engage in the shared exchange of silly notes with you. and honestly, even if he didn't like you back, you'd be fine.

because your heart swells with gratefulness at the fact that he chose to sit with you. he wanted to be your friend even when nobody else did. you trusted and loved him with your whole heart, because that's what you believed he deserved.

so imagine your surprise when you overhear his conversation with suguru that day.

"just a day more, then you win the bet." geto groans, tossing his head back in exasperation. the two of them linger in the now-empty classroom, the echoes of other students long gone.

"yep, twenty four hours, then you owe me three hundred dollars." satoru sings, playfully nudging his best friend's shoulder. he's all sunshine and smiles, swinging his feet from the desk he's currently sitting on.

"and it wasn't even that hard. i just had to get 'em to fall for me." suguru rolls his eyes. "dude, if i was you, i would've tapped out the first week. how'd you manage to do it?" he huffs, clearly annoyed at the impending financial loss.

satoru mischievously grins. "just used my charm." he fluffs his hair with a smug expression on his face. "can't believe it worked so fast, though. they must be real desperate for someone's attention. all it took was for you to fuckin' pretend like you cared." suguru grouches, being a sore loser. you don't hear the rest, the notebook you had lost long forgotten.

a lump forms in your throat, a sensation of dread creeping up on you. you desperately want to believe he's not talking about you, but you can't shake the realization that to him, you were nothing more than a pawn in a bet— a tool used for his amusement. you're overwhelmed by a sense of stupidity, a painful realization sinking in, drowning every rational thought.

he never cared. you could fall dead at this moment and he wouldn't even spare you a glance. you should've known. why would he? you feel stupid for allowing him entry into your life, stupid for naively believing in his sincerity, and stupid for daring to love a heartless jerk who played with the fragile strings of your heart.

they're right. you are pathetic. you just blindly fell for the first person who gave, or rather, pretended to give a shit. a relentless ache throbs in your chest as you stubbornly refuse to succumb to tears over a boy— a resolution crumbling like fragile glass. despite your stubborn determination, an uncontrollable torrent of hot tears streams down your face, distorting the world into a watery blur.

the desperate yearning for someone to choose you, to envelop you in unconditional and pure love, had fueled your hopes. and for a fleeting moment, you believed you'd found it, only to witness your heart being ruthlessly trampled blue. clutching onto the tattered shreds of your dignity, half-broken and bleeding, you muster the strength to leave swiftly before they catch a glimpse of you.

the bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the air, each teardrop is a testament to the shattering of dreams, the dead hope that once soared. the yearning for a love that stands unwavering proves to be a mirage, leaving you grappling with the shards of a love that was never truly yours.

that day, you learn one more thing about gojo satoru. he's just like everybody else.

cerulean eyes, like pools of shimmering azure, flicker with concern as they scan the empty seat beside him. minutes stretch into eternity on the clock, each tick of the second hand amplifying the weight of his worry. nine twenty morphs into nine fifty pretty quickly, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. at this rate, you'll only get in twenty minutes of 'talking.'

you're always punctual—eight fifty-five on the dot. but today, the clock ticks on, and there's no sign of you anywhere. his brows furrow with concern, a nervous flutter dancing in his stomach. did something happen to you? the mere possibility sends a pang of anxiety through him, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat, unable to focus on the lesson before him.

yet, when his gaze shifts to meet suguru's, he swiftly masks his apprehension with an air of nonchalance, as if feigning indifference to your absence. but inwardly, his heart races as he anxiously awaits your arrival. when you finally walk in, he's already scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, filled with questions about what could have delayed you today. yet, as he extends his hand to pass you the note, his eager smile fades into confusion and disappointment.

you walk right past seat thirteen, your usual spot, without so much as a glance in his direction. instead, you approach a random girl and ask if you could sit with her. his heart sinks, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as a torrent of thoughts flood his mind. is something wrong? are you upset with him? he replays every interaction in his mind, searching for any misstep. but he can't find one. he's been careful to maintain the perfect facade when you're around. perhaps you simply forgot, he reasons with himself, attempting to quell the rising tide of hurt and confusion.

yes, that must be it.

...just a simple oversight.

"hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!! just wait a moment!!" gojo's voice cuts through the chatter of students eager to leave as soon as the bell rings. he grabs your wrist, his touch gentle yet firm, halting your attempt to blend into the rush. his heart races in his chest, the sudden surge of adrenaline making his palms clammy.

"um... you didn't sit with me today." he mumbles, the words coming out in a rush, his voice tinged with uncertainty. his fingers toy with the ring around his finger, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggles to find the right words to continue the conversation. he doesn't like the way you're looking at him. there's a flicker of irritation in your gaze, a departure from the usual warmth and affection that he's grown accustomed to. normally, when his eyes meet yours, your cheeks tint pink, your pupils dilate, and you give him the cutest starry-eyed look. but not today.

"yeah," you mutter casually, your eyebrow raising ever so slightly. there's a certain coldness in your eyes that sends a shiver down his spine. you're about to leave again, but he moves to block the door, a frown creasing his forehead.

"did i do something wrong? i don't understand why you're suddenly acting so bitchy," he huffs, irritation lacing his voice. the words tumble out before he can stop them, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "no," you reply simply, your tone devoid of any emotion, as if you genuinely don't care. it stings his ego, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

"you can 'use your charm' to make a new friend. since it's so easy for you, right?" you mutter, your voice trembling with suppressed anger. you promised yourself you'd hold it together, but the wound is still raw, etched deep into your mind as a flush of resentment rises within his eyes widen in shock, a pang of guilt stabbing at his heart. you heard that? no, no, no... he hadn't meant for you to be there. he had been so careful, or so he thought.

"i didn't mean it, i just-" he stutters, desperately searching for an excuse, but he knows it's futile. there's no chance you'd believe him now, would you? his heart sinks. he doesn't want you to hate him. "i was easy, right?" you laugh bitterly, each word dripping with sarcasm and pain.

"i hope that three hundred dollars was worth it. not that you even needed it, though. you think toying with people is fun? you're a dick, satoru, go to fucking hell." you hiss, your words laced with venom, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "let me explain-" he protests, desperation evident in his voice as he tries to reason with you. but you're too angry to even consider it.

"explain? explain what?'" you explode, your voice rising with each syllable, oblivious to the judgmental glances of passersby. you scoff, tears threatening to spill over.

"i didn't mean it," he cuts you off, his own voice strained with emotion. "you're my friend, i just—" his voice cracks. "friends don't manipulate other people's feelings." you interrupt, your voice laced with venom as you spit out each word. you're aware you look like a mess, mascara staining your cheeks. "friends don't trick and hurt you on purpose!" you yell, tongue dripping with malice. "and here's the thing. you may be the greatest, satoru, but you will never, be enough. not for suguru, not for anybody."

you almost regret saying it. targetting his biggest insecurity. but then again, he deserves it. "how could you say that?" his voice is broken, quiet, as he mumbles it out as a whisper. the eyes that you once found so stunning suddenly look just like everybody else's. they well with tears, but are quickly blinked away. "you don't get to cry, satoru," you scoff, unzipping your bag and opening the front pouch.

you toss all the letters you've written in class, all the sticky notes, every single ripped paper, every little doodle, flipping your bag over and emptying it on the floor. every single heart fluttering moment you experienced seems so dead now. "you don't get to act like you cared. it's only fair, after all." you manage to muster, fighting to keep your voice stable. tears drip down your chin as your bottom lip trembles.

every step feels like a battle, a relentless tug-of-war between what your heart wants and what your mind knows is right. leaving him behind is like tearing off a piece of your own soul, but you convince yourself it's for the better— for your own sanity, for your own self-respect. each stride forward is heavy with the weight of goodbye, each breath drawn in a struggle against the ache in your chest. and as you finally turn away, a part of you dies inside, a piece of your spirit crumbling in the wake of shattered trust and broken dreams. you can feel his eyes on your retreating figure, the silent witness to your silent agony.

this time he doesn't try to stop you. and when you leave, gojo finally allows himself to cry.

today, gojo finds himself seated next to suguru, reclaiming his former spot from before the bet. yet, everything feels different now. the idiotic jokes his friends make just aren't as funny anymore. their presence is irritating to him. he laughs, but the sound lacks the same genuine joy it once held with you. he smiles, but it's a mere shadow of the radiant expression he wore in your presence. his heart may feel a fleeting sense of happiness, but there will always be a hole where you once were.

his so-called 'buddies' don't even notice that he's at his lowest point, and he can't help but think about the way you would've noticed immediately.

how you would've sent him a cute note with his favourite candy attached, because you kept them in your bag just for him, for these kinds of days. he feels so numb. he's always been so confident, yet he can't even muster up the courage to pass by your desk.

and he can't help but wonder what might have been if he had chosen differently that day, if his intentions had been pure from the start. would you two have gotten somewhere? he supposes that now, he'll never know the answer. his eyes cloud over at that thought, slouching back down into his seat.

he never had the chance to tell you how sorry he was, how he would take it all back in an instant if he could. he didn't mean to hurt you. he was stupid and careless. and yet, he tries to convince himself that he'll be okay. that he'll be able to get over you one day. one day, when he's married and has two kids, he'll look back at this and laugh. so then why does his heart feel so heavy? you're not suguru, it's true. but suguru never made him feel this way. and he's confused with his own feelings.

he doesn't know what love is.

he's only sixteen.

perhaps he'll never know. but for him, love was sneaking kikifuku mochi into class for you to share. it was sending you cat memes at three am in the morning, only for you to groggily respond with your own. it was doodling you in his notebook in his spare time. it was how what you were feeling was how he was feeling too.

you were right, it seems.

gojo satoru, the greatest, yet not enough to make you stay.

© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[madwomansapologist]

you make loving fun | nanami kento x mom!reader

after years of pain and grief, nanami found himself going home for a placed filled with love and care. he wasn't there at the start, but he will be there until the very end. it's a promise.

cw: papamin au. step!dad!nanami. kid!yuji. fluff fluff fluff. domesticity. found family. the happy ending they both deserve.

an: inspired by this post from @froody and my own experience as someone who had a dad who not only stteped up, but levelled up.

Five minutes before the end of his shift, Nanami put on his coat and muted his notifications.

Staring at the analog clock, Nanami noticed he never did that before. He was never one to rush away from the office. One to get ready, to make sure no one could bother him, and wait for his free time to finally begin.

For how long was he the last to go home? Don't forget to turn off the lights, Nanami would hear that every night from whoever left before him. And make sure to lock the doors. Did he ever said that to someone? No. Probably no.

Once if felt useful. To work overtime was to get stronger to defeat curses. And in a world you won't gain anything for free, extra hours can feel less like a option and more like a duty. Sometimes you can be guilty for not working. It can feel wrong to just live.

But back then Nanami would come back to a empty house, sleep in a cold bed and not say a single word until the next morning. Back then there was no one waiting for him by the door, smiling simply because he came back. Back then he wasn't waiting for anything expect silence.

"Good night, 'amin", and after only twenty minutes he was parking in front of your house, watching how Yuji had to stand on his toes to reach the handle of the main door.

You told him last week Yuji would turn down the volume of his shows and videogames whenever a car passed near your home. He said Nanami drives so carefully he can always tell when to open the door.

"Good night, Yuji." Nanami locked the car, now feeling how cold it was out there. It rained this morning, the road is still wet. He opened his coat to protect Yuji from the wind, and then noticed he was still wearing his uniform. "You haven't showered yet?"

Yuji gave him a bright smile. "Mom's doing a surprise for you."

In moments like that, Nanami can see your shadow lingering over Yuji. He really is a copy of his mom. That charming smile, a tendency to avoid the subject of discussion, and that trick of revealing something exciting so their wrongdoing can be ignored.

"And what's your mom doing, kid?" And just like with you, Nanami always fall for that obvious trap.

"It depends", he said. "Will you watch Caillou with me?"

Nanami blinked. That kid. "Of course", Nanami accepted the deal, stroking his pink hair as they entered the house.

"I dunno", Yuji walked straight towards the living room, leaving Nanami speachless.

He placed his glasses on the table, now working on the knot of his tie. The aroma evolving the entire house was a telltale of your baking, and the sounds coming from his belly reminded Nanami of how long it has been since his last meal.

Deep into your own inner thoughts, you didn't noticed his presence. Nanami made sure to keep quiet, admiring you as you made sure you followed the recipe correctly.

So beautiful. Unaware of his gaze, he knew there was no flourish in the way you moved or how you murmured a song playing inside your head. You weren't trying to charm him, you were just being you, and that was more than enough for Nanami to fall in love with you once more.

It still surprises Nanami. How easy it's to love you. To be in love with you. None of you are performing. There is no lies between you two. Not when Nanami holds your hair so you can vomit. Or when you hear all the complains he kept to himself for years. Nothing but truth when you worried about Yuji's grades, when Nanami cried loudly watching a k-drama with you on the couch, when you sneezed on his mouth.

You make life real. You make loving fun.

It doesn't feel like work.

But that doesn't mean things suddenly get perfectly fine when you both are together. Nanami noticed you're still wearing formal clothes. Your eyes seemed so small, glaring at the phone as if it was miles away instead of in the counter in front of you. You haven't taken your earring off yet.

This house is safe. You made sure to build it with love, brick by brick. To give your son everything a child deserves: to be happy, protected, cared for. And there is no way of doing that alone without working until exhaustion.

But you're not alone anymore.

You haven't noticed his presence, and still Nanami didn't felt you shivering when he hugged you from behind. You recognized him. Was it his perfume? The warmth of his hands? Or perhaps how they always find a way to hold you by the hips, feeling the soft skin with his fingers?

"Yuji's gonna be a attorney", he whispered against your ear. You melt against his chest, eyes now wide open and looking deep into his. Nanami wondered if you felt his heart racing.

You smiled. "Are you saying my son is an asshole?"

"Never, my dear", Nanami hid his face at the curve of your neck. Breathing deep, he felt you shivering. You were using the perfume he gave you. "You're tired."

You sighed. Nanami is a man of few words. Sadly he's also a man of surgically right few words. "And so are you."

He kissed your skin. "I can keep an eye on him", Nanami murmured. "And another on the oven. You don't need to worry."

"Are you sure?" Tempted to accept, you also didn't want Nanami to feel like you were part of his daily duties. You rather give than take from him.

Nanami squeezed your hips, slowly allowing you to go away from him. He needed you to go, but he also needed you to stay. "This house won't burn down just because you stopped working."

"Oh, but it will. I assure you", you laughed it off.

Nanami knew it wasn't just a joke. He could almost taste that bitterness that follows truth. "It won't. I won't allow it."

When he heard you closing the bathroom door—never locking because a part of you was always ready to run if Yuji needs help—, Nanami sat down on the couch. Yuji held the control, so big on his tiny hands, and put on the show he always watches when Nanami is there with him.

This time Caillou was eating some sort of chocolate dessert. Yuji moved his mouth, quietly saying the lines from every character. "Isn't it your favorite series ever?", Yuji asked, laughing as Caillou tried to eat the dessert. "Everything he eats looks so good!"

"I never watched something so great", Nanami gazed at him. It was the forth time Nanami watched this episode. "I like that one when he plants carrots. You should try eating those."

Yuji made a face. "I prefer chocolate pudding."

Nanami looked at the television. He would be free the next day. Yuji behaved well in school recently. You mentioned even thinking about buying him a new video game. "We can make it tomorrow."

Yuji turned around so quickly he almost fell from the couch. "Really?"

"Really."

Drying your face with a towel, you checked the oven. The bread you made was still growing. Good. The television had a cartoon going on, you turned it off and went after your boys.

At Yuji's bedroom, you found him deep asleep. Nanami took off his shoes and socks, covering him with a thick blanket. He was still wearing his uniform, but he looked so at peace you couldn't force yourself to care deeply about it.

You kissed his forehead, whispered sweet nothings, and went back to the living room. A few moments later, Nanami turned the lights off and closed the bedroom door.

Sitting besides you, Nanami knew.

Life was good again.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

general taglist: @lovelyy-moonlight

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[andvys]

Eyes don't lie ⭐︎ S.H

⭐︎ Summary: Nancy got everything she wanted but at what cost? Her eyes won't leave you, her hands crave to touch you, she finds herself in daydreams with you, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, to feel your lips on hers instead of his -- the girl Steve left for her.

And Steve, he is still haunted by what he threw away for a girl he could never love the way he loved... loves you. And while they are longing for something, chasing for someone that they both broke, you are only out for one thing, revenge.

⭐︎ Pairing: Nancy Wheeler x fem!reader | Steve Harrington x fem!reader | mentions of Eddie Munson x fem!reader and Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

⭐︎ Warnings: cheating, mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of breakups, previous steve x reader, stancy, angst, this is some unhinged au of I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss (iykyk). they're all in college (in Hawkins), mentions of affairs, no happy ending... yet? no smut yet, but it's coming I promise

⭐︎ Author's note: This was supposed to be a oneshot but after talking to @hellfire--cult (as always, my hero) we came up with more filth and this will definitely be getting a part two so buckle up hehe. Also thank you for choosing the title bby!!!

Also this took me way too long to post but I lost inspiration AND now I got it back and I can't wait to get started on part two!

Nancy could not focus on anything Professor Harris was saying, she couldn't care less about the numbers he was writing on the board, her mind was elsewhere and her eyes too, no longer focused on the green board or the young Professor that all the girls were lusting over as they sat there in their short skirts, twirling their hair and blinking at him cutely. 

While everyone was focused on him, her attention was fully on someone it should not be on, but no matter how many times she tried to look away, her eyes would always find their way back to you, tracing every inch of you, from your hair to your face, from your nose down to your lips, from your neck to your chest and then down to your exposed legs, skirt riding up on your thighs, skin glowing softly. 

Your eyelashes kiss the skin beneath your eyes every time you blink, your tongue traces your bottom lip before you bite down on it in concentration, your hair falls over your shoulder, locket nestled perfectly in your cleavage. 

She can smell your perfume from here, every time you pass by her, she gets a whiff of it and it causes goosebumps to rise up on her skin. 

Something in her belly stirs every time she sees you and it's nothing new, it happened the very first time she laid her eyes on you but back then you were always in the presence of the guy she now calls her boyfriend and back then, things were different, so very different. She thought that it was jealousy that she was feeling every time she saw you two together, she could not stop watching you both, but she placed her focus on the wrong person, she wanted the wrong person, she went after the wrong person.

Nancy was horrible for what she did,  and she knew it from the moment she started chasing Steve Harrington when he was still yours and it got even worse when she stole him from you. 

She killed the light in your eyes, she caused the sadness that found home in you, she took away your happiness and for what? Her eyes still follow you, her stomach still tingles and burns when she sees you talking to someone who stares at you a little too intensely, who looks at you the way he once did every time he pulled away from your lips and she can’t understand why, she refuses to let herself see why. 

Regret resides in her, it’s gnawing at her, making her sick on the inside for what she did to you and the feeling only intensifies when he kisses her – she blames the guilt that settled into her body, for making her obsessed with you, for making her unable to look away from you or search for you in the crowd. 

She isn’t the only one, she can see the way he still looks at you, she can see the longing gazes between you both, the way he stops listening to her every time his hazel eyes find you, the way his lips curl into a smile before it becomes a sad one when he stares for too long. She knows that he thinks about you, she knows that he imagines you when he is inside of her, she knows it when he buries his face in the crook of her neck, refusing to look at her, holding her tighter and moaning louder, though biting his lip just so he won’t say your name when he comes undone. 

Steve Harrington may be her boyfriend now but he doesn’t belong to her and she knows it, he is still yours, he always will be. 

And a part of her, doesn’t give a damn fuck – she just can’t see it yet, she refuses to. 

It’s been weeks, months, since he had left you for her and not a single day goes by when she doesn’t wonder why he did it. 

She compares herself to you and her mind can’t comprehend why someone would leave you, why someone like Steve would leave you for her. 

Sometimes when she can’t sleep at night, she thinks about you, about you with Steve, about what you looked like underneath him, how your face contorted into pleasure when he unraveled you with his tongue, how his large palm would press down on your lower stomach to keep you from squirming away from him, how you tugged at his hair, desperate and needy, grinding your sopping pussy against his face before he pounded you into the mattress, kissing and biting your skin, covering you in love bites, making you moan and whimper in need as your boobs bounced while he pleasured you, balls deep inside of you, cock filling you up so perfectly that it made you cry and drool all over the pillow beneath you – by the end of each fantasy that haunted her, her stomach was burning and her thighs were clenched together. It was because of him, it was because of Steve, she told herself but it was a lie, he was there, but he wasn’t who her mind focused on, it never was. 

“Cunningham might chew your head off if you keep staring at her girl,” Barb whispers into her best friend’s ear, making Nancy frown at her words. She turns around, catching the blonde cheerleader glaring at her but she isn’t the reason for her frown. “Her girl?” Nancy asks as she looks away from Chrissy with an eye roll.

Barb chuckles, shaking her head as she starts to gather her books, “come on, everybody knows that Chrissy has a crush on her, she follows her around like some lovesick puppy.”

The feeling in Nancy’s chest tightens, the pit in her belly growing as a snarl makes its way on her face. 

“Right.”

Nancy never really paid attention to Chrissy or the way she looks at you but now that Barb mentions it, she sees it too, especially when the cheerleader grabs your hand and drags you out of the classroom once the lesson is over, a possessive look in her eyes that is directed at no one but Nancy. 

“You never saw it?” Barb chuckles, rising up from her seat, she grabs her coffee that she’s been sipping on all afternoon, holding the paper cup against her chest. 

Nancy shrugs, pretending not to care even though that thought is starting to take up every space in her mind. 

“Well, pay attention tonight, wait – you’re still going to Tina’s party, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s all Steve has been talking about,” Nancy grumbles, clearly not impressed by it or him. 

There is only one reason she will go to the party and it isn’t him. 

To… get drunk, yeah, just to get drunk, nothing more or less, only that. 

Not to observe and obsess over a certain someone. 

-

But it’s not what she ends up doing, not even in the slightest, she downs one drink and that’s all, she can’t even feel the alcohol in her system but she gets drunk on the way he looks at you as sick as it sounds, something within her burns deeply whenever she catches him, the fire only grows bigger when she sees the way you look at him, burning bright red whenever your eyes lock and Steve tenses up beside her – she knows all too well why he tenses up the way he does, why his knuckles are white as he holds his cup of beer tightly, why his brows are furrowed so strongly, why there is a scowl on his face. 

You are on the dancefloor, hands in your hair, a lazy smile on your lips, cheeks burning from the heat of the room and from your dancing, a skimpy little dress being the only thing keeping certain parts of you hidden, the glittery material keeps riding up on your thighs, dangerously high but not enough to expose your ass. You are moving your hips so smoothly, so effortlessly, your skin looks so soft and kissable beneath the string of lights above the room, you know how to move your body, how to put on a show, how to steal the spotlight in the room, how to make everything and everyone around you disappear – everyone except for Billy Hargrove who is snug behind you, hands on your waist, chest pressed against your back as his lips are dangerously close to your neck, ready to kiss and bite, ready to mark you up.

Nancy swallows harshly as she watches you, cheeks burning, chest rising up and down heavily, she licks her bottom lip as her eyes catch Billy’s hands moving to your front, palm pressed against your lower stomach to press you tighter against himself. She squints her eyes, nose scrunching in displeasure when you press your own hand over the larger one on your body. 

Steve scoffs under his breath, mumbling words that Nancy can’t make out in the loud room, she narrows her eyes at him, the red solo cup in his hand has dents in it, his eyes are dark, nearly black, his lips curled downwards as his focus is on nothing other than you and Billy. 

He is pissed and he is jealous, it’s written all over his face. 

Jealous over a girl he left, a girl he dumped – the girl he could never stop loving, the one he still craves and aches for. She knows it all, she always did. 

And now she can’t help but wonder why she doesn’t care, why there isn’t a single part inside of her that is filled with rage over seeing her boyfriend pine after his ex-girlfriend. Shouldn’t she be angry? Shouldn’t she feel hurt and jealous? Shouldn’t she feel possessive or even sad? 

She can’t feel any of those things when she looks at him – she doesn’t feel anything at all when she looks at him. Steve is a handsome guy, there is no doubt about that, he is one of the most good looking she has ever seen, from head to toe, he is gorgeous. His perfect hair, his soft hazel eyes, his lips – he is pretty, yeah, but his lips are rough and his hands are too, his skin not as soft as… the one of a girl. 

And when he talks of his future, she finds herself cringing, looking away to avoid the dreamy look in his honey eyes. Waves of nausea crash over her when he mentions marriage and kids, when he talks of a white picket fence and the RV he wants to explore the country with before going back to his small town life, with wife and kids. She hates it, it makes her sick. 

She looks up at him, arms crossed over her chest, bangs hanging in front of her eyes, her heart sinking into her stomach but not because of the way he is watching you, no, but because of the realization that dawned on her only now. 

Steve Harrington is her own personal nightmare. 

Steve Harrington is everything she never wanted. 

And he is only with her because of the summer they shared, the drunken nights, the giggles after smoking a joint together, the comfort he found in her while you were gone ‘doing god knows what with god knows who’ as he had said back then as though you would have ever done anything to hurt him, you worshiped the ground he walked in, the way he should have done for you too. 

You were in love with him and anyone could see it. 

She heard the rumors, the ones that drove him crazy, the ones that led him away from you and pushed him into her arms – well, not exactly, nothing happened between them until he officially broke up with you. But those rumors were only… rumors and yet, Steve believed in them, he believed Carol Perkins when she told him that you were seeing someone else while you were visiting your cousins in Chicago, that you were spending your nights in a dingy bars, admiring skilled fingers working on a red electric guitar, that your lips touched different ones, that your hands were too busy taking off his leather jacket instead of picking up the phone and calling him. 

He believed it with no evidence, he didn’t need it, his insecurities were enough to push him away from you – the sight before him only confirms the rumors of your sinful summer, though Billy isn’t the guy he was worried about during that time, he was always a problem, as well. 

He poured his heart out to the only who listened and that was Nancy, she comforted him with words, with alcohol and weed, nothing more, there was never a moment that could have led to anything more but her mind back then was wired differently than it is now – now she can’t understand how she misread between the lines so badly, how she mistaked platonic feelings for deeper ones, why she was so angry when you came back to college and to him, why the sight of you kissing your boyfriend filled her with so much rage. 

She was jealous. 

She was so jealous. 

But not because his lips touched yours but because yours touched his. 

It wasn’t a sight she had to endure for long because before she knew it, Steve slipped through your fingers after a big fight caused by the rumors he confronted you about, he didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself, didn’t allow you to tell him what had really happened that summer, he just dumped you, like it didn’t tear his own heart out, like he didn’t regret it the same moment he did it. He dumped you and then he left. He showed up at Nancy’s apartment, not caring about her weird roommate who gave him an odd look when he opened the door and stared at him for a good while, just watching the tears streaming down his cheeks before he called for Nancy, who held him through the night and kissed him in the morning, hoping for a taste of something she would only continue to dream about. 

Now they are here and they are together and they are more miserable than ever with each other.  

They are better off as friends and they both know it… deep down, at least. 

Your giggles break her out of her thoughts, she tears her eyes away from Steve and finds you walking into the room, completely ignoring her and his presence as you make your way over to the table filled with drinks and snacks, Billy close behind you, eyes heavy on your ass, bottom lip caught between his lips. 

Nancy rolls her eyes at him and Steve scoffs at the jock, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond.

“Harrington,” Billy smirks, nodding at him mockingly, “how’s it going?” He looks between him and Nancy, lifting his eyebrows at her but she only squints her eyes in response, glaring at him. 

“Peachy,” Steve replies with an unimpressed look on his face. 

You ignore the presence of the couple in the room, not paying attention to them or their interaction with Billy who won’t stop chasing you, especially after your dance with him – it was a mistake and you won’t make any bigger ones, not tonight. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Billy smirks, puffing his chest out as he takes a step closer to Steve, “you don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he chuckles, looking Nancy up and down before his eyes flicker back to Steve’s, “either of you.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Hargrove?” Steve grumbles, eyes falling behind the figure in the back, taking in the sight of you so close to him now, the way your dress hugs your body, the way the strap of it falls down your arm and you don’t even bother to fix it, too fixated on the drink in your hand.

“Why don’t you lighten up a bit, hmm? Shouldn’t you be the life of the party, now that you’re with your ‘dream girl’?” 

Nancy nearly gags at the words of the blond. He always knows how to get under his skin and hers and she sees the way you tense up at Billy’s words, as much as you try to ignore the conversation in this room, you can’t unhear it. 

Steve tears his eyes away from you, looking into the blue ones before him, he takes a deep breath and unclenches his jaw, he opens his mouth to speak. 

“Hey guys, we’re playing truth or dare, wanna join?” Tina’s voice cuts him off, the brunette peeks her head inside the kitchen, looking between all of you with a curious spark in her eyes, a bit of mischief lingering in her eyes as well when she senses the tension. 

Steve rolls his eyes, scoffing in annoyance, “what are we fifteen–”

“I’m in.” 

All the attention is on you now, every pair of eyes in the room, staring straight at you as you stand there confidently, with a smirk on your lips, one that surely doesn’t match the look in your eyes as you are looking straight at your ex-boyfriend. 

“I feel like finding out some dirty truths.” You tilt your head to the side, sparing Nancy only a short look but one that leaves her swallowing harshly and blushing furiously. 

You hate her, she can see it in your eyes, you never fail to make it known either, not with words, but with all the glances and glares you direct at her whenever you catch her staring. 

Steve holds your gaze, intensely so. An unamused chuckle falls from his lips, “yeah, why don’t we uncover some dirty truths, Dolly?” He mocks you with the nickname from your childhood. “Let’s go, I’ve been dying to find out more about your summer.” 

If looks could kill then Steve Harrington would drop dead, right now. 

He never gave you a chance to explain yourself, he never even tried to talk to you about the rumors he had heard. When you came back, he pretended like everything was fine, he kissed you and held you, spent time with you, he was distant but he was still there… and then, he wasn’t. 

Nancy purses her lips, watching the way you slowly make your way towards Steve, ignoring Billy’s presence and hers as you halt before him, tilting your head to the side, you lick your lips as your eyes flicker between his eyes and his mouth. 

You are close, close enough to make her feel like she is floating, getting lost in the scent of your perfume, in the color of your eyes. Nancy isn’t sure if she had ever been this close to you before but something in her chest stirs when her eyes follow the way your lips curl downwards, the way your chest rises up and down, necklace stuck between your boobs, the softness of your skin. She digs her nails into her palms, fighting the thoughts in her mind. 

“Oh, now you want to talk?” You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, “we could’ve talked months ago but you were the one who just walked out on me after believing the shit Carol made up about me. I didn’t believe Tommy when he told me about your dirty little secret,” you mumble with nothing but hatred in your voice when you glance at Nancy. “But clearly I had every reason to believe him, unlike you, Harrington.” 

“Yeah, right.” Steve looks down, avoiding your eyes as he finds himself drowning in regret but also in denial. 

He had every reason to believe her, didn’t he? 

He remembers him, he remembers the metalhead that you befriended before he left his hometown to pursue his rockstar career, the same metalhead that Steve used to buy from, it was his fault that you had crossed paths with him anyway, he invited him into his home, you were there when he showed up to drop off the weed, Steve had asked for. The smirk that crossed Eddie’s face when he saw you skipping down the stairs in nothing but Steve’s shirt, should have worried him then already but it didn’t, not even when you invited Eddie in and he started showing up more frequently, not even when Steve was out of town, visiting his grandparents in Colorado, leaving you to spend spring break with your new friend. 

Only when he came back, did the sudden insecurity hit him, when he saw how close you and Eddie had gotten while he was away, when he saw the playful touches and heard the soft giggles, when he saw the sadness in your eyes when the metalhead left for Chicago after graduating high school. He got suspicious, he got insecure and it only worsened when you chose Chicago out of all places to spend your summer at — he knew you had family there but you never visited them before that, so why this summer? 

You never gave him a reason not to trust you but he was deeply insecure and scared that his fears would come true, that had pushed him into Nancy’s arms, the overthinking and the rumors that Carol had started about you and Eddie, the ones that already got around while the metalhead still lived here – Steve ignored them then but he couldn’t ignore them any longer when you left.

Steve felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what or who you could be doing, the thought that you had fallen out of love because of someone else made him feel blue, though your voice through the phone had sweetened his day and made him forget about what had previously made him cry but even that didn’t save him or your relationship that started to crumble without your knowledge. 

“What?” You scoff again, eyes glaring into his so intensely that it almost makes him shrink, “don’t act like you’re fucking innocent, we both know you aren’t.”

Nancy shifts on her feet, uncomfortably so, she glances at Tina who is still watching the interaction, amused and intrigued by it all, just like Billy. She rolls her eyes and looks back at you, a part of her wants to speak up, to defend Steve, tell you that nothing happened between them then but her words are caught in her throat. 

“Oh and you are?” Steve replies, taking a step closer to you, he looks down at you in anger, like his heart isn’t aching and yearning for you, like it’s easy for him to look down at you like you don’t mean a thing to him, like you aren’t still the girl that he would do anything for. “Don’t act like you weren’t messing around with the freak–”

“Don’t call him that,” you spit back, frowning at him. 

A dark chuckle falls from Steve’s lips, his eyes flicker with rage and jealousy. 

“Freak? That’s the first thing you’re going to address, not the fact that I just said that you were messing around–”

“I never did that.” 

At this moment, Nancy can’t tell whether you’re telling the truth or not, she was convinced that you weren’t messing around with Eddie Munson – she saw the way he looked at you, the way his eyes followed your every move, filled with softness and adoration, filled with lust. But she also saw the way you looked at Steve, you were devoted to him, only to him. 

Though Steve’s insecurities made her question you as well, especially now. 

“Yeah sure, you didn’t, Dolly,” Steve clenches his jaw. “You were just friends, hmm right.”

“Yeah, like you and Nancy,” you fight back, looking at him smugly, angrily. “You were just friends, right? When I came back to Hawkins, that’s all you were right? Just friends, huh? Funny how you dumped me shortly after you had befriended her.”

Her name fell from your lips and that’s all she could focus on, on the anger in your eyes that sparked something within her, that made her lick her lips. 

“I didn’t cheat if that’s what you’re saying,” Steve frowns, eyes lingering with disgust. 

“Of course you didn’t,” you chuckle in disbelief, “that’s why you had no problem getting into a new relationship only a day after breaking up with me, right?... I don’t know about you but I can’t imagine dating a friend, you do realize what it made you look like, right? A cheater, Steve, a goddamn cheater.” 

Steve swallows harshly, shoulders relaxing from the tension that resided in his body for the past minutes when he sees how glossy your eyes get, how pain is the only thing left in them, no ounce of anger showing anymore, only sadness and heartbreak that you had refused to show in these past months since he left. Seeing this, seeing through you, feels like a blow to his chest, something he refused to look at to avoid the regret is now right in front of him, on full display. 

You huff again, shaking your head as you take a step back and look between them, eyes meeting Nancy’s for a moment before you lower your head, glancing down at your drink, you bring it up to your lips and down the rest of it, you slam the empty cup on the counter and step back towards Steve, looking into the hazel eyes that you used to love so much, you pat his chest, “I wasn’t the one who left with no explanation, I wasn’t the one with the dirty secrets and I wasn’t the one who cheated and then accused you of doing it, asshole, so spare me your bullshit.” With one last glare, you step away from him and direct your gaze at the girl who can’t seem to tear her eyes away from you, you step towards her, unknowingly making her heart flutter, “I hope you can taste me when he’s kissing you.” 

You think that anger is what she feels from hearing your words but it’s not that at all, not even in the slightest. 

Her eyes follow you when you walk out of the room, brushing past Tina who looks like she is ready and excited to spread around what she just witnessed. The moment you are out in the hallway and making your way upstairs, she giggles loudly and runs off, making Steve roll his eyes. 

Nancy feels like something is pushing her, pushing her to walk the way you just did, to follow you upstairs, to talk to you… alone, to explain what had really happened this summer or these past few months. 

Billy’s laughter echoes through the room, a satisfied grin appearing on his face, one that Steve easily ignores, he slams his drink down next to your empty cup, not caring about spilling it. 

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he announces, sparing a poor glance at Nancy before he walks out of the room and out of the house, slamming the front door shut so loudly that it’s even heard over the music. 

“Sure,” Nancy mumbles when he is outside already, uninterested. Her mind is in a haze, body angling towards the stairs. Billy’s eyes are on her, intensely so, but she doesn’t bother to turn her head to look at him, her feet carry her out of the room before she can rethink the decision her mind had already made. She pushes past the people in the hallway, ignores the curious glances from Carol and Tommy. 

Her heart is pounding in her chest as she walks up the stairs, fingernails digging into her palms, she bites down on her lip nervously, letting her body move on its own accord. She doesn’t know where to look first, where to go but it's like something is leading her to her wanted destination. 

She finds you in one of the bedrooms, sitting at the end of bed with tears running down your cheeks, sniffles sounding through the quiet room, the lights from the hallway illuminating the dark room, you jump in surprise when you notice her in the doorway. 

“What the hell do you want?” 

Nancy sucks in a sharp breath, the guilt in her continuing to eat at her when she sees the pain in your glassy eyes before your expression hardens at the sight of her. You wipe your tears angrily and push yourself up, smoothing down your dress, you blink, trying to get rid of the tears. 

“I’m sorry I-I just wanted to–”

“What did you want?” You snap back, frowning in rage as you stalk towards her like she is your prey. “Did you want this room to yourself? Am I in your way? Oh, I’m sorry, let me just make space for you.” Your voice is sarcastic, your face angry but it does nothing to scare her or push her away from here. 

“No,” Nancy shakes her head, knowing all too well what you mean by those words. She sighs, “no, I just wanted to check up on you.” 

Her words are clearly something you weren’t expecting, because for a good moment, you’re dead silent, staring at her with confused eyes and parted lips — ones that Nancy can’t look away from. 

It would’ve been dead silent too if it wasn’t for the voices downstairs, for the loud music or the sound of laughter outside. 

“Check up on me!?” 

The anger on your face and in your voice should be enough of a reason for her to leave the room and avoid you, her brain is telling her that but her body… her body is telling her something entirely else. Somehow, you look even better with the fire behind your eyes, the burning gaze you look at her with, sets her lower stomach on fire, your skin looks even softer beneath this lightning, your lips look so… so kissable.

She can’t deny it any longer, not after months and months of observing and pining, even before she met Steve properly. It was never him that she looked at, it was never him that she wanted. 

“What? So you can laugh in my face and mock me? How you stole my boyfriend!?” 

Nancy shakes her head, “n-no, I’d never do that… I am… I’m sorry.”

You chuckle darkly but a hint of sadness is there too, she can’t even miss it. You roll your eyes at her and finally decide to step away, to leave this conversation that you never even wanted. But Nancy doesn’t even let you pass, in fact, she places herself in front of the door after slamming it shut, standing in your way with a stubborn look on her face. 

“What the— get out of my way, Wheeler.” 

“No.” Nancy shakes her head again, blue eyes burning into yours, cheeks glowing red. “I’m sorry, I really am, I-I know you hate me, I would too, what I did was… was messed up but I’m really, really sorry!” 

You can only stare in disbelief, blinking, you can feel your heart pounding and your chest hurting from it. 

You don’t need that, you don’t want that. 

You don’t want no apology, not from her and not from him. 

He betrayed you and he broke your heart, stomped on it like it was nothing, and then, he just moved on, right away, like you never meant anything to him, like he never loved you, like it was the easiest thing to just forget about you and date someone new. 

And Nancy, she never owed you anything, no loyalty or sympathy, but what she did still hurt, a lot. And her apology angers you in ways you can’t even describe with words. 

“Fuck you.” The way those words leave your lips followed by the venomous look in your eyes should make her feel intimidated, it should make her draw back and let you leave but instead, she feels any of what she should feel. Your anger makes her feel something she had never felt before, some sort of anticipation, a curiosity she never felt with any guy, not the cute guy from summer camp last year whose name she forgot, not Jerry Carlson who was the first ever to ask her out on a date, not Steve Harrington, no guy had ever made her feel the things that burn in her now, only you. 

Fuck. 

Only you. 

She can’t tear her eyes away from your lips any longer, she can’t fight the desire in her that calls your name, she can’t fight the urge to move closer to you and the way your eyes flicker to her lips, even if only for a second, gives her the push to take a step closer. 

You have to feel the tension too, right? 

The fire between you – maybe it’s only anger on your part but maybe, hopefully, it isn’t only that. 

Nancy’s heart starts pounding, she suddenly feels drunk, hazy. Her feet move on their own accord, her feelings act on their own, she no longer feels control over her own body. 

“You and Steve are unbelievable, you know that right?” You snap at her, flipping your hair over your shoulder, arrogantly. “He fucked me over and you helped. You both got what you wanted, you got each other, so why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone!?”

She doesn’t answer you. 

She doesn’t say anything. 

She just looks at you. 

Her eyes are almost unrecognizable, dark and barely blue, a wild look lingers in them as she stares at you like you’re her prey, like she’s about to eat you alive, maybe it should terrify you but it doesn’t, you are too angry to feel anything else. 

Nancy watches the way you roll your eyes like some goddamn brat and she is beginning to lose her patience with your attitude – she deserves it, she knows she does but her feelings overwhelm her and your bitchiness doesn’t help much. 

Enough of her silence, you move forward, about to push her aside so you can make your escape, you reach for the doorknob but freeze in your place when her hand wraps around your wrist and she gives you a stern look and it only angers you more, even when there is a small part of you that feels intrigued by the way she looks at you. 

“I swear to god, Nancy,” you sigh. 

There is guilt in her eyes, beneath the flames that linger and it irritates you so deeply. 

If she is burdened by guilt at this moment, then she must’ve been back then too and it only makes you wonder. 

“Why did you take him?” You ask, trying to hide the pain in your voice, trying to hide what you have been feeling for the past months. 

“I never wanted him.” 

Her own eyes widen after those words leave her lips, not out of shock but out of relief – the truth that’s been there all along, finally uncovered and revealed, not only to you but also to herself because a part of her didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to admit it, that it was you, that it was a girl whom she wanted. 

A gasp tears from your mouth and your eyes widen, hand falling from the doorknob you were holding onto so tightly, your heart lurches to your throat and something stirs within you. It takes you a long moment to realize what is happening, to realize what she is doing, to realize what she just confessed. 

You feel warmth, in your body, on your body, on your lips. You feel her hands cupping your cheeks, you taste her raspberry chapstick, the rum she must’ve had earlier, you feel the intensity radiating off her. 

She is kissing you. 

Nancy Wheeler is kissing you after confessing that it wasn’t him who she wanted. 

Your ex-boyfriend’s girl is kissing you like her life depends on it – lost in the kiss, she looks completely in bliss, with her eyes closed and her lips moving against yours passionately, softly in a way only a girl's lips can feel. 

She kisses you in a way no one else ever has before, with a kind of desperation and need that can only come from someone who has been longing for this moment for a long, long time and to your surprise it makes your stomach flutter but your confusion guides you, you raise your hands and press them against her shoulders, pushing her away from you with furrowed eyebrows and puffy lips. 

Your heart is racing, your thoughts are too. 

What the hell just happened?

Nancy slowly opens her eyes, cheeks flushed and eyes needy as they flicker back and forth between your eyes and your lips, like she’s hungry for you, like she yearns for you, like she needs and wants more. 

You open your mouth to speak but not a single word falls from your lips because what is there to say? You are confused, more than that you are irritated by the fact that the kiss made your stomach burn and your legs shaky, that it left you craving for another taste of the girl that stole your happiness but she looks at you like you’re… something special and it makes your heart flutter and it makes you angry because she is still Nancy Wheeler. She is still the girl who is the reason for all your hurt, she is the girl your Steve left you for. 

She blinks, lashes fluttering as her eyes soften, vulnerability crossing her face. 

“I wanted you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your face flusters at her confession. You don’t know what to think of it, of her. But that little voice in your head, that angry one that has been trying to take control over you these past few months is telling you to use this given opportunity to get back at him. 

She wants you. 

Steve’s girlfriend wants you. 

She looks at you like she is ready to drop everything and everyone for you. 

She is. 

Your eyes flicker to her lips, you can’t deny the fact that it felt good to feel them on yours and you can’t help but wonder what they would feel like in different places on your body. 

But you don’t know whether it’s the thrill, the curiosity or this opportunity that fell right into your hands. 

She wants you so very badly, you can see it in her blue eyes, the way she is practically begging for you to let her in, to let her have a taste, to let her have you, she is needy, not for Steve, no, not for him, for you, only for you. 

And who are you to pass up on an opportunity to have a good time and get your sweet revenge all at once? 

So after a lot of heavy breathing and contemplating, you break out of your trance and move forward, catching her by surprise this time, you grab her face and slam your lips against hers, earning a whimper from her the second you kiss her. 

Satisfaction rushes through you, numbing the anger and filling you with pleasure to know that this will ruin her. 

And him. 

Both of them. 

♡

tagging ppl who might be interested!!!

@thesickestqrmydcll @prettyboyeddiemunson @fanfic-fanatic-2024

[pakhnokh]

some of you have wondered why Lan Wangji just brings in the food, says some short stuff and proceeds to leave instead of staying. Well, there are several reasons for that... I just felt like it's a very Lan Wangjiesque thing to do at this moment of time.

It's the end of the day, curfew time is reaching, both of them are tired both physically and mentally from the events of the day, and Lan Wangji feels like Wei Ying needs his privacy and rest.

Even though Wei Wuxian is under his custody, and in all honesty he can enter and exit this house as he pleases, he doesn't want it to be this way. He doesn't want Wei Ying to feel like he has no free time or free time to himself, as if he's always under supervision.

Also don't forget that they had this "deal" in Arc 1.

Lan Wangji doesn't want to linger any additional moment in Wei Wuxian's private place, especially this late at night, so it won't seem as if he's trying to impose his presence and demand certain things that Wei Wuxian certainly doesn't really wish to do. He wants to gain Wei Wuxian's trust by showing him that he's not there to control him, supervise him, or demand anything of him for his own gain.

Another reason is something that this AU didn't mention yet, but is a huge deal that will be dealt with in future arcs: Don't forget that our poor Lan Zhan is seriously injured from whip lashes that happened only around 4 months ago. Like it's said in the original novel, It took him years to regain his strength.

So how is he out and about in this AU? It's because in order to watch over Wei Wuxian, make his life in the Cloud Recess more comfortable, and protect him should he need to

(like here)

He uses all of his physical and spiritual power to constantly heal, but in fact, he is very vulnerable.

Wei Wuxian thinks that when Lan Wangji isn't with him, then he must be attending the matters of the cultivation world or going to night hunt, but in fact, everytime Lan Wangji isn't with him, it's because he's in the Jingshi or in the springs, healing and strengthening himself T^T

So at this time in Arc 3, he brings in the food, and as you will see in future pages he is less calm and patient, and his manner of speech is not that nice like it was in arc 2. The man is simply exhausted.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Beloved Mine

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Sam sends out an SOS that Bucky isn't in the best mood, so you see him to ease his mind.

Sammy: SOS. he's in a bad mood!

You read over Sam's text and snort. You quickly type out a reply and start to change from your pjs to some appropriate clothing.

On your way to Bucky's, you stopped by his favorite bakery, grabbing his favorite baked goods as well as a wide variety for his people. You also grabbed him a coffee and a drink for you as well.

Sammy: He almost shot the new guy in the foot. Please tell me you're on your way.

You: ETA 10 minutes.

Sammy: THANK GOD.

You giggle and continue to drive to Bucky's family mansion. At the gate, the security guard takes one look at you and immediately lets you in. You give him a pastry in gratitude before driving up the long gravel driveway.

You park beside Sam's car and hop out. The man at the door nods at you, opening the door wide for you to step in. You also hand him a pastry with a smile.

You head towards the back of the house where you hear a familiar, loud distant voice.

The closer you get, the louder the voice. You push through some of the men spilling out of the room until you're inside.

"-HOW MANY FUCKING MEN DO I GOTTA LOSE TO-honey?"

All eyes land to you. You give a sheepish wave, "Hi, sorry, is this a bad time?" You know it is but you feign ignorance.

Bucky sighs, running his hand through his brunette locks, "Just finishing up a meeting."

"Oh, I can wait-"

"No, no. It's fine. Think they all had enough of my shouting," he waves his hand, "Leave, you fuckers!" most of the people scurry out in an instant, not wanting to wait and see if Bucky changes his mind. A small group stay behind, Bucky's closest friends and confidants: Sam, Joaquin, Yelena, and Nat.

You approach them, setting yours and Bucky's drinks in front of him. You open the pastry box in your hands and hold it out to the four, "Take your pick!"

"You're Heaven sent!" Sam exclaims as he grabs a donut and shoots you a wink. You give him a smirk and a nod.

Joaquin grabs a danish, practically stuffing the entire thing in his mouth.

"Did you eat today, Joaquin?"

He shakes his head as he continues to chew the danish. You lift the box higher, "Take as much as you want."

He gives you a grin as he grabs two more pastries and follows Sam out the door.

"Ladies?"

"I'm good," Nat says with a shake of her head in decline.

"Hell yeah, donuts!" Yelena exclaims as she grabs the glazed twists. She hums in delight as she takes a bite, "Thanks, Y/N!"

You chuckle, "You're welcome, Lena."

The two women look to Bucky to see if he needed anything else. Bucky sips his coffee and waves them off and the two file out the door, closing it behind them.

You turn back to Bucky, "Yours are at the bottom," you place the pastry box in front of him.

Bucky's eyes narrow at you, a hint of a smirk on his lips, "Who called you?"

"No one called me."

"So if I check your phone-"

"Technically, Sam texted me. He didn't call me."

Bucky scoffs and shakes his head, "Of course he did."

You walk over to the other side of his desk. He leans back in his chair and you sit on his arm rest, "Bad day?" You begin to run your fingers through his hair and he leans into your touch with a sigh, "Another shipment got intercepted. We lost some guys."

"'M sorry, baby."

"I'm getting real fucking tired of Hydra. And none of my people can find shit out! Anytime they snag one of their guys, they kill themselves before we get any answers. Fucking cowards."

You wrap your arms around Bucky's bulking frame, "You'll figure it out. You always do. Besides, I'm sure Lena and Nat have something cooking, right?"

"Supposedly, but they won't tell me what yet. They're trying to iron out the details."

"Just let them handle it in the meantime. Now, how about a treat?" you grab one of the pastries that you know he loves and he takes a bite. He moans at the taste and his shoulders drop in relief.

He washes it down with his coffee and he looks at you with shining blue eyes, "You really know how to make a guy feel loved, honey."

You giggle, and wipe some crumbs off his chubby cheeks, "Well, duh, I do love you," you peck his lips, "Ease up on everyone, will ya? I know things are tense, but they're all doing the best they can. You can't afford to lose more people."

He slowly nods, "You're right. Fuck, you know, maybe you should step down and take over, hm?"

You throw your head back and laugh, "Oh, please, I'd run your family into the ground! No one would listen to me-"

"Baby, a majority of my people listen to you already."

"...I don't know how to lead people or how the inner workings of all this," you gesture around you, "goes."

Bucky shrugs, "I can teach you. Besides," he takes your left hand, thumb grazing over the diamond ring on your finger, "you should start learning some things anyway."

"Let me just live in ignorant bliss until after the wedding, Barnes," you pat his plump cheeks and he grins at you, eyes soft and full of love.

[eskumii]

❝ TROPHY WIFE ❞ — yandere!uzui tengen/wives + you're his first wife

SYNOPSIS: suppose you're uzui tengen's very first wife, the one that slipped through the cracks of your unwanted arranged marriage with him. along with your disappearance went his heart, and now you must bear the consequences of a man who loves his wife far beyond her understanding—so much so that he would kill for her, die for her, and do anything to make her stay. — navi.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

NOTES: mdni! (cw: non-con) this is an arranged/forced marriage au. it's meant to be one-sided. it took me quite literally forever to finish this lol ,,

PAIRING: yandere!uzui tengen x wife!reader

CHARACTERS: uzui tengen (19-23), reader (18-22), suma (19), makio (20), hinatsuru (21)

I. TO BE WED

imagine being uzui tengen's very first wife.

your hand in marriage was promised to him by your parents, who owned a tax-collecting business that was often the target of hostility from the impoverished people of your hometown. tengen routinely passed through your village on demon slayer business, so your parents could always rest assured knowing he would take care of the violent stragglers that sometimes loitered outside.

ironically being poor themselves, they had little to offer the hashira as payment for his noble duties; well, that "little" didn't exclude you of course, their only daughter who's failed to find a husband far past the age of when other girls were normally wed. you're still young, fertile, and moderately attractive, but your strong disinterest in potential suitors often drove any chances of a wealthy marriage away.

however, after being introduced to tengen, the man you'll be forced to marry out of obligation, you begin to regret being so stubborn after all.

admittedly, tengen found you to be pretty plain at first. you're poor so you can't exactly dress flashy, and you come from a no-name family with little legacy. your parents swore up and down on your domestic efficiency—hardworking, great cook, a tame disposition—and, well, at least you're kind of cute, too. tengen is intrigued by your potential the most.

your parents force you to do whatever you can to get close to him. the truth is, though, you don't really have to do anything with the way he seeks you out himself. he often shows up at your door asking for you, and your parents have no qualms about dragging you out of your room to make you go out with him.

he takes you to the nicer parts of town and pays for dinner or buys you flowers and little trinkets from the shop vendors that line the streets. it doesn't help that the elderly people running the stands egg you on, saying things like "what a lovely young couple" or "your children would be so beautiful!" tengen simply smiles with ease, accepting their praise as if it's second nature. you get rather embarrassed by his shameless indulgence.

there's small talk but you find it incredibly stifling. tengen does a majority of the dialoguing but most of the time your dates get interrupted by his kasugai crow, who squawks at him whenever a demon shows up nearby. he always looks annoyed and promises to make it up to you, leaning down to pat your head like you're his pet dog or something. you hate it and him too, probably.

"i'll be back before you know it, darling," his smile is charming but not to you. "you'll stay right here for me, won't you?"

regardless of your somewhat obvious hesitance to accept his advances, tengen gets attached to you like it was meant to be. the idea of having a pretty little housewife for him to come home to after his draining missions becomes increasingly attractive, and the more time he spends with you, the more he sees the appeal of your being. it must be a miracle that no man has taken you as his wife yet; surely you were saving yourself for a man like him.

unfortunately, though, you don't want to marry tengen.

an arranged marriage? it's simply not the kind of life you envision for yourself. you aren't willing to bet the rest of your days on a man whom you have a slim chance of falling in love with, all for the sake of financial security. but what else can you do? your parents already made it very clear they would disown you if you refuse, and tengen is pressuring you to your death with his sweet words and annoyingly thoughtful presents. you're stuck.

eventually, the incessant nagging from your parents and weeks of endless courting from tengen sway you so sooner. you fold like a cheap hand fan and succumb to your fate, to a future you knew from the very beginning that you would come to despise.

he's the only suitor you have at this point. it's not like you have a choice. and the one choice you do have just so happens to be him, a man who is the nearest thing to a perfect match as you're ever gonna get. you should be happy. thankful. he'll give you the world if you just give him a chance.

at least, that's what he told you.

II. THE SOUND HASHIRA

your parents are so happy to send you off.

they're completely honored that their letdown of an only daughter is finally getting married—to a well-known and wealthy shinobi at that. it's the only time they've shown any pride in you, yet it really only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

after your brief introduction to the head of tengen's clan, everything moves so quickly. just a couple weeks later, you're already signing a marriage contract in which you and tengen become official newlyweds. and before you know it, you're packing what little belongings you have to your name and moving in with him, begrudgingly and regretfully so.

the day you arrive, he shows you around his overwhelmingly gigantic residence; the courtyard full of cherry blossoms and koi ponds, the huge kitchen, and the bedroom where he'll eventually fully claim you. there's lots of other rooms too, but they're either empty or reserved for his weapons and training gear. he tries to hide it but he's obviously so over the moon that you're his wife now. he doesn't even notice your misery through his elated delusion of love.

in hindsight, you didn't realize how difficult it can be to share a space with someone you hardly know. you find everything awkward but tengen doesn't, like always. to him, you're so obedient and polite— such a good girl. you take whatever he gives you; kisses, hugs, subtle gropes here and there, and all of his sweet compliments and gifts. you don't argue with him or raise your voice, you fret over his injuries and make his favorite foods. you're observant, collected, and mature.

he didn't have a type before he met you—you're all he can ask for in a woman, really.

tengen is unexpectedly romantic. he constantly boasts about his strength and fighting skills in order to impress you, and he never stops mouthing off about how he'll prioritize you over himself. he puts consistent effort in getting to know you: what you like, don't like, your favorite color, and any other inkling of your personality that he can manage to wrestle out of you. he seems to have gotten the impression that you're shy or something.

flowers are a constant and you're spoiled with fancy, expensive kimonos and jewelry. had you married tengen under literally any other circumstance, you'd find his advances on you endearing but, unfortunately, he just comes off as clingy and unbearable. any woman would die to be in your place yet you can't even find it in you to want to be in your own place.

what do you think of him, though? well, he's handsome, you'll give him that. you don't deny the appeal of his good looks and flashy, fitted clothing. he's strong, established, and knows what he wants. despite your obvious distaste towards his gifts and grandiose personality, it's not to say you're ungrateful that the man you're stuck with is exceedingly well-off and capable of protecting you. you can't say he's a bad guy.

however, he's a moron.

he fell for you fast. a couple months have already passed since coming to live in his residence. tengen requests to have picnics whenever you go with him to visit his siblings' graves on his off days. of course you have no reason to refuse; as much as you dislike him, you're not heartless. they're important days, so you swallow your pride and pack a bento spread you know he'll like.

tengen will confide in you about the memories of his late siblings, his parents, and his life before becoming a hashira. it's a depressing and heavy weight to shoulder, but you still play your role of the loving, supportive wife with your lingering touches and comforting words. you use these outings as opportunities to gain his trust by being vulnerable.

except, this time, the effect you seem to have on tengen is magnified to the point of no return.

he pulls you into his lap and you're suddenly flush against his rock hard chest, trapped in a suffocating hug. you don't know what prompted his sudden affection; perhaps it was the warm atmosphere you crafted or the intimacy of the moment, but the way tengen holds you so close is telling. he's about to say something you've been dreading since the day you met him.

"i love you." tengen confesses, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing as if he'd just released the weight of the world off of his shoulders.

you knew it. it's the first time he's ever said it to you and you'll never forget the wave of nausea that hit you as you glanced up to see him staring back at you expectantly. your heart is pumping out of your chest and your face is flustered—not because you're flattered but because you're ashamed. you feel his hands squeeze your shoulders, almost like a warning, and his grip begins to feel claustrophobic after your prolonged silence.

you have no choice but to reciprocate.

"...I love you too." your voice is quiet, hesitant, and tengen gently teases you about being shy when you refuse to look at him anymore. he's not right but it's true that lying invokes shame.

he almost seems overwhelmed by your response, as if he hadn't just nonverbally threatened it out of you. you don't dare to sneak even a glance at him. he tightens his embrace around you and goes back to burying his face abashedly into your neck, mumbling sweet words against your skin. his body wraps around you like a vice, trapping you in the prison that is his dreadful existence.

you decide, in that very moment, that there was nothing in the world you wanted to do more than run away.

III. A DIRE MISTAKE

one fateful day, you catch wind of the news that tengen is being assigned on a mission quite far away, somewhere down in the southwest. 

you're so lucked out that you thought it was a trap at first—a ploy to catch you in your undying desire to leave your husband for good. but when the day of departure arrives and tengen peppers your face with last minute kisses, you know for sure that there's no chance he's caught on to your resentment towards him, nor the plan of escape you've been devising all along.

your eyes are teary when tengen releases you from the last of his spine-crushing hugs and he cooes at your cute crying face. honestly, you're tearing up out of joy because your one and only chance to escape has literally fallen into your lap in a pleated handbasket, but you'll let him believe otherwise. you at least owe him the courtesy. 

you already know you don't stand a chance against tengen, at least physically. he can overpower you like nothing and he's so tall that he towers over you, constantly caging you between those muscled arms of his. there's almost nothing you could do against a man like him—well, unless you count poisoning, but you were above murder when it came to getting what you wanted. 

as soon as tengen passes through the looming gates of the residence and disappears down the winding road, you scramble to gather a few belongings before making your way out through the back. there's a twinge of fear that grips your gut but you press on, determined to put as much space between you and that wretched place you were expected to call home. 

the moment you escaped, you flipped your identity. chopped your hair off, powdered your face in white make-up, and wore headscarves wherever you went. you fled as far as your feet would take you, only stopping to rest in a small village when your aching body could take you no further. you hardly spoke to anyone and left nothing behind that could possibly be traced back to you or be used to pursue you. 

it's obvious you can't go back to your parents; they hated you when you lived with them, and they'd hate you more if you returned. they'd sell you out to tengen in two seconds flat, then ruthlessly shame you for running away from a marriage you wanted no part in. the only option left for you is to create a new life for yourself somewhere far, far away. 

and that's exactly what you do. you find a little town on the outskirts of the red light district, where business is booming and it's easy to disguise yourself beneath the constant foot traffic. you go undercover as a seamstress, working in a homely tailor shop under the supervision of the owners, who are a kind older couple that are quick to regard of you as one of their own. 

time marches on and the jarring memories of tengen do as well. you makes friends with the regulars that come by the store often. you've learned the valuable trade of mending clothing and sewing traditional patterns. you've even developed a crush on one of the men that come by often to repair his work uniform.

your life is finally the way you've always wanted it to be. 

meanwhile, tengen copes—barely. days pass. weeks. months. you're still yet to be found, even with the help of all the hashira and the shinobi of his clan. it's as if you disappeared off the face of the planet. he's completely devastated. did you run away because he was gone for so long? were you feeling neglected? did you just want his attention? surely you wouldn't just up and leave when he'd been so loving; he truly couldn't think of anything that would prompt such an extreme reaction. 

as expected, he doesn't come up with a justification for your disappearance. how could he? you could be dead by now with the amount of demon uprisings that have been happening lately. or you could even be halfway across the world right now, laughing at how easily you had fooled him. eventually, his sadness melts into anger. you may be gone now, but it won't be for long. 

wherever you are, he'll find you. 

IV. 'TIL DEATH DO HIM PART

in the following years, tengen's next three wives are chosen specifically by the head of his clan.

and, in the head of the clan's words: "the sound hashira's decision-making must be incredibly poor if he chose a wife who would dare flee from him." the statement only fans the flames of his growing wrath for you. 

however, his new wives—suma, makio, and hinatsuru—are all beautiful and talented kunoichi who admire him to their very cores. as ungrateful as it sounds, there isn't a day where tengen wishes one of them were you. they've worked so hard to try and fill the gaping hole in his existence that was left by you, but it hasn't really been working. he needs you.

they're kind, caring, nurturing and most of all, strong. they've trained all their lives to be kunoichi. he knows he shouldn't complain but they just don't cook like you, look like you... aren't you. of course he loves them, but he could never forget the way his heart shattered the day he returned home to find you nowhere in sight. your disappearance left him in utter shambles. did you ever think about that when you left? you're so unbelievably selfish—is that the kind of woman you turned out to be? 

his wives constantly question his lovesick behavior. tengen never hides anything from them; in fact, he'll sometimes go on long, borderline maniacal rambles about "the wife who got away." to suma, makio, and hinatsuru, you're an enigma that's broken the heart of their husband, and they're not sure what it was about you that makes him act this way. jealousy sparks—if there's a way to get you back to make tengen happy, they would do it, but maybe you're better off gone after all. 

and it's not like tengen didn't search for you. oh no, he looked everywhere within reason. his duties as a hashira kept him chained to his missions near the demon slayers' headquarters, but that never stopped him from interrogating people when he got the chance. any woman that looked even remotely similar to you was sure to be stopped in the middle of the street for further investigation. 

master kagaya is exceedingly understanding of the situation, and he bears obvious concern for his beloved sound hashira. while he's sympathetic of the loss of his wife—it's no matter to be taken lightly, of course—tengen must first be loyal to his occupation as a hashira, and that means going on missions in spite of his mourning. 

and his newest missions leads him to the red light district. 

so tengen goes. he knows his place when it comes to master kagaya, so he has no reason or authority to deny orders. regardless, it's a harrowing and tedious task. drunk concubines practically throw themselves into tengen's arms as he strolls past the many underground sex clubs that line the filthy streets. he has zero interest in any of the debauchery that goes on here, and he especially feels nothing when shoving them away from him with excessive force. 

he scours the area for anyplace that looks decent enough to step foot in, as well as a place where he won't get immediately harassed by ran through harlots. turning down a quieter side street where some storefronts have been shuttered, he happens upon a small seamstress shop sandwiched between two restaurants that look as if they've closed early for the evening. 

shrugging, tengen wearily thinks it's as good of a place as any to begin his intel gathering on the upper moons' whereabouts. he saunters towards the front entrance and a young woman dressed in traditional geisha wear passes him on the sparsely populated road, her wooden sandals clacking against the ground. he can't help but think her hair looked similar to yours and his heart twists painfully in his chest. 

tengen seems to be constantly haunted by the thought of you, forming an obsession in his mind that won't go away until he has you back. until he knows your safe, with him, just like you were meant to be. until he sees you. 

no, literally, tengen sees you, right in front of him. 

through the window of the upscale seamstress shop, he sees you conversing with a man at the front counter, laughing heartily at a joke he must have made. tengen quickly crouches beneath the display window to spy on you, his heart pounding out of his chest at the events that are currently unfolding. he must be mistaken. 

he peeks above the lip of the window to catch a glance and, sure enough, it is you. you're alive and well, almost glowing beneath the low, intimate lighting inside the shop. 

he finally found you! he can't believe it. the grin that's stretching across his face is so broad. he'd recognize your face anywhere, even if it's caked in geisha makeup and your hair elaborately styled. you’re beautiful and he’s captivated by your beauty just as he was the day that he met you. 

he's so unbelievably ecstatic with the way his hands are clamming up, his feet shuffling in the dirt and... 

what?

creeping over the ledge of the display window once again, tengen's eyes immediately grow dark. there's a man there. talking to you. his wife. 

in the midst of your conversation, your eyes absently float over to the window. it's there that your gaze clashes with his, and a blood-curdling look of terror overtakes your features. is that… tengen? 

there's a shift in the air. what happens next, tengen doesn't recall, but when he comes to there's blood on his hands and your hair is bundled up in his fist as he drags you past the threshold the of the shop’s entrance. he looks over his shoulder and on the floor, spread eagle, lies the man without his head. the scene is gruesome.

he killed him. 

tengen looks down at you with a solemn gaze. for some reason, he doesn't even care. the emotions running through him are almost too much to bear. do you know how much your disappearance has destroyed him? do you know how much he's suffered because of you? do you even care? 

he doesn't understand why you're crying. it seems like you were happy enough to whore around with other men in his absence. the thought drives him to the brink of insanity. how much longer do you plan on humiliating him? 

there's too much to be said. tengen's mouth is agape and he's so upset at you that he can't find the right words to express himself. instead, he collapses to the floor beside you and embraces you in his longing arms. he smells your hair and feels how your body shrinks against his—it's all exactly how it used to be. it's exactly as he remembered, as he dreamed of. 

and now, as tengen scoops you up into his arms to take you back home, another dream of his will be fulfilled tonight. he knows exactly what kind of punishment is befit for you. 

V. A JUST PUNISHMENT — (NSFW: NON-CON)

"tengen-sama! you're ba-" 

a woman with colored bangs and a ponytail attempts to greet tengen as he enters, but she's cut off by not only the expression on his face but also the strange, disheveled woman he's hauling behind him. 

he drags you across the cold, laminated wood floors into the bedroom by your hair and peels the delicate, silken layers of your yukata back, exposing soft flesh and ample curves. tengen is so starved of your touch—of your voice, your scent, you. he'll make you pay for what you put him through. he'll make you stay this time. 

you can't even fight back. you're so afraid of what's going to happen that your body refuses to move, to speak. and even if you could, there was no way you would win against a hashira, of all people. 

tengen starts by pushing you to your knees. when his hands begin the hasty work of undoing the belt of his kimono, you already know where this is going and it makes your stomach churn in volatile sickness. he eagerly slides his under pants down and from the top of its elastic band springs his semi-hard cock, which nearly hits you in the face. you gasp at the sheer size of it; that is not gonna fit inside of you.

"don't look at me like that, [name]. clearly i was too lenient with you back then. i should've disciplined you..." he trails off as he stares into your pleading eyes. he smiles but, in it, is no mercy.

"c'mon, baby. you'll be a good girl and open your mouth for me, won't you?" 

you refuse. no, you wouldn't even dream of it. you've never done anything sexual with a man before and you certainly aren't going to wi—

tengen suddenly reaches down and grabs ahold of your now tangled hair with one of his large hands. it takes barely any pressure before your mouth is pried open by the force of his fingers alone, and his now engorged cock head is being stuffed into your warm, unyielding mouth. 

you can only let out a choked cry at the vile intrusion. 

"that's it, baby, good girl.." he praises, stroking your head with his thumb as he slowly inches his pulsing cock down your throat. 

your screams are completely muffled. tengen begins to pick up the pace, letting your drool be the lubricant that allows his giant dick to slide in and out of your tight throat. it hurts so bad that you try to bite down and free yourself from this act of vulgarity, but tengen doesn't allow it. he instead tugs your head back by the grip he has on your hair, forces his cock all the way in, and holds you there until you decide to behave yourself. 

you can hardly breath. lewd, wet noises fill the room as tengen gags you almost to the point of unconsciousness. the vibrations from your screaming must have been making him feel good, though, because it takes just a few minutes before he's shuddering in orgasm as he bottoms out and cums, which you have no choice but to swallow. 

he pulls out of your mouth and you're mortified, but even more so when you see how he's still hard. his cock is covered in a thick layer of your saliva and his cum drips onto your exposed chest in globs that make you cringe in disgust. you think you're going to throw up. 

and you almost do, if it weren't for tengen picking you up from under your arms and tossing you onto the plush bedding. your legs are forced open and tengen slides his twitching cock against your pussy, slowly and teasingly. you begin to fight against him but he easily pins you down long enough to push his fat cock head into your tight pussy. 

tengen pounds you into the plush cushion of the futon all night long. you've given up struggling and crying, only mewling in pain as the brutish man stretches your virgin pussy wide. he ruthlessly kneads your breasts with his calloused palms and overstimulates your clit with his fingers until you cream and squirt repeatedly all over his dick. you can do nothing but lay there as he roughly moves your body into various positions and fills your womb with his seed—there's no way you won't be pregnant after this. 

all the pent up rage that tengen was forced to weather after your disappearance is released in that very room. he sounds like a crazy man with the way he lapses in and out of fits of rage where he's cursing at you with his hands around your throat, then slipping into pleasure induced "i love you's" as he dumps yet another load of cum deep inside of you. 

"h-how does it feel, my love?" he groans, reaching over to caress your flushed face. "mm, you sound so cute making those noises. lemme hear you scream, darling."

and oh, you sure do scream. for him to stop, to get off of you. that you've had enough. that you hate him. over and over again you scream, you cry, and you struggle, but it does you no good. he only seems to thrust faster the more you beg. is he getting off to your desperation? he must be by the way his cock pulses at any form of physical resistance from you. 

you thought it would never end. he's almost insatiable. your tears have long dried up—for the most part, anyway—but the skin on your face feels raw from tengen "lovingly" wiping all your tears and snot away while simultaneously pounding a you-shaped hole into the futon. you feel disgusting. you don't even have the strength to make a sound when he spanks you for the hundredth time, moaning heatedly about how you've been such a bad, bad girl. 

when it seems like he's finally spent, he doesn't pull out. instead, he collapses on top of you with his cock still twitching inside your sloppy, ruined cunt while drawing you in for an unreciprocated kiss. he whispers praises in your ear and gently strokes your face, cooing at how much you're trembling against his much larger form. 

"i should've done this a long time ago. maybe you wouldn't have left if i dumped my kids into you sooner." 

eventually, his softened cock slips out of you and a gush of warmth runs down your legs; you can already feel a soreness settling in your pelvis. tengen sighs contentedly at the sopping squelch that sounds when you snap your legs shut in order to roll as far away from him as possible. he roughly wraps a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you back towards him as soon as he sees your attempt to create distance. 

"i missed you so much, darling," tengen mumbles against your skin breathily, offering a soft smile. "did you enjoy your welcome back?" 

he's making fun of you. you refuse to even look at him. it's to be expected, really, he can't imagine how bad it must feel to think you actually got away from him as you lay in his arms once again, right where you belong. you need to learn your place; no wife of his will disrespect him like you did ever again. if you have to be an example of that, then so be it—youput this on yourself, after all. 

leaving you with a final kiss, he gets up, wraps a towel around his waist, and goes to let his other wives into the room to help clean you up (they've been waiting patiently ever since you showed up, curious about the woman who supposedly "stole tengen's heart," as he put it). you're still naked and exposed with tengen's cum leaking down your thighs but you don't even have the mental capacity to care anymore. all three of the girls look shocked at the state you're in, but they don't comment and rush to get you in the bath. 

they're all very pretty, of course. when you emerge from your haze of disorientation, you're left reeling at the fact that tengen had amassed three whole wives in light of your absence. well, not that you have any right to be surprised considering your short lived emotional affair. you're still in mourning over what had happened to him. 

regardless of your fragile state, the three women swarm you with questions that prod at your past: who you are, where you're from, and how you met tengen. you don't even have half the mind to reply. you can only stare at your tear-stricken reflection in the soapy water, ready to burst into tears yet again at the horrible predicament you've found yourself in. 

what can you do now? sit around and get bred by tengen? rot away in this dreadful house for the rest of your life? the other wives seem to catch onto your unresponsiveness after a couple dozen of their questions go ignored, so they sit quietly and gently wash you clean. they look genuinely worried for you—not that their pity will undo the damage that's already been done. 

makio will scrub your back and grumble about how jealous she is while suma and hinatsuru fret over the small bruises that are now beginning to form around your hips from tengen's manhandling. suma washes your hair next, commenting on how beautiful it is, while the other two move onto rinsing the soap from your body. they wrap you up in a fluffy towel when it's over, and a shiver wracks your spine when their hands guide you to another room, down the hall, with a clean bed ready for you to rest in. 

you don't really know who they are but since they're dressed like kunoichi, it's obvious that they don't share the same mindset you do, or were forced to be wed to tengen like you were. you can't ask them to help you escape from this hell, not a chance. 

even as you lay in the criminally comfortable futon with new silken pajamas, a cup of cold water at your side, and a warm blanket, sleep doesn't find you. 

and with tengen around, you're certain it never will. 

VI. A HAPPY EVER AFTER (EXTRA)

a few months later, your pregnancy symptoms are in full swing.

tengen is as protective as ever and the other wives have already grown attached to you despite your bitter and unforgiving attitude towards them. you learn quickly that they're all very... obsessive, constantly hovering over you and going to overbearing extremes to make sure you don't do anything that would physically strain yourself in any way.

hinatsuru and makio follow at your heels like guard dogs while suma takes charge of most of the cooking and cleaning. she keeps the peace most of the time and holds makio back when she's attempting to murder hinatsuru over something childish. you're never in the mood to talk to them, however, and they often try to bribe you with your favorite sweets (which is intel that they've gathered from tengen) in order to get you to participate in their activities.

unluckily for you, tengen had decided to completely retire from being a hashira following a particularily harrowing encounter with an upper moon demon (even after you tried to subtly guilt trip him into not doing so). he insisted that you and the baby were "more important." you know that it'd be difficult to escape with the other wives around but to add tengen on top of that makes it surely impossible. 

every morning, the dreadful man himself meets the four of you in the kitchen and will beam proudly at the sight of his adorable little harem. he goes down the line and gives affection to each of his wives individually, in the way they prefer, and saves you for last as you're his "greatest prize," or whatever he said. you're just completely exhausted and you resent them all from the deepest depths of your heart. the least you can do is make it obvious. 

tengen finds your rebellion adorable. everything about you is and even moreso now than when you left him all those years ago. he'll grab you by the jaw and force you into a quick one-sided kiss, pulling away with that fond smile of his. his fingers ghost over your swelling tummy but his very touch makes you feel so awfully sick. you'll roughly push him away and he's so out of his mind that he attributes your justified anger and moodiness to your "pregnancy hormones." regardless, he's happy. it's you who's going to bear his child. it's you who first said you loved him too. as long as you live, you're bound to him as his wife. nothing can come between a man and the woman he loves; uzui tengen certainly made sure of that, didn't he?

[zreamy]

won't let you go (this time)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

playlist: seasons wave to earth, understand keshi

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

fic taglist: @enhastolemyheart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you say. “Can I sit?” 

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

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

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

You set your jaw. “Okay.” 

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

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

“Do what?” 

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

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

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

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

He’d give anything to be that Heeseung instead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He told me.” 

“You guys still talk?” 

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

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

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

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

“Heeseung.” 

“I really have to go.” 

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

You don’t follow him. 

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

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

“Is someone sitting here?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung shrugs. “It’s reliable.” 

“It’s absurd.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t.

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

“They’re so cute!”

“They’re talking.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So she doesn’t.” 

“I didn’t say that.” Jay shrugs. 

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

“Are you crying?” Jay coos. 

“Sure.” 

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

Heeseung grunts in response, considering taking a nap too. 

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

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

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

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

“Noted.” Jay nods. “Club later?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

All he can do is nod, smiling too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung: what is smth.

Jay: cartilage probs

Heeseung: im getting my roots done at 5

Jay: okayyyyyyy good shit man !!! tmrw? 

Heeseung: 👍👍👍

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

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

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

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

“No, ne—just no.” 

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

“Why would I go on a date?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung shakes his head. “Just home.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Host what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung can only shrug in response. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Caesar Cipher, perhaps?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did he say?” 

“That you were having a hard time.”

Heeseung nods slowly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you guys have fun?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, cool.” 

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

“Good for Jimin.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably. Heeseung’s friend.” 

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

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

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

“And now?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know,” he admits. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do something,” Jay mumbles. 

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

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

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

“Insane,” he admits. 

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

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

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

“Good luck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.” 

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, maybe.” 

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

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

“Is it harder to take off?” 

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

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

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

“Oh.” 

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

“It’s 12:23.” 

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

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

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

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

“I wish I never left.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You punch his arm. “Heeseung!” 

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

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

“And YN!” Jake adds from his seat. 

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

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

“Kiss, no. Make up, yes.” 

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

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything,” you mumble into his shirt. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, ouch.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are we eating?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

jake: heeseung probably 

jake: idk tho

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

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

heeseung: when?

my girl: i would have rejected you hoon

my girl: whenever ur free !

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cool.” 

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

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

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

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

“Like, what’s your task?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well.. yes. I just.. I don’t know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I actually like beer these days.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung nods. He does know. 

“You’re weird too.” 

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

“You’ve always been weird.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“A little.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It kind of was.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime.” 

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

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

“You wouldn’t?” 

“Never.” 

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

“Got it.” 

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

He’s never drinking with you again. 

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

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

“I think it was yours.”

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

“Or we could skip?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” Heeseung says noncommittally. 

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung says nothing. 

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

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

He doesn’t move. 

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

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

You’re drunk. This will pass. 

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

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

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

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

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

“My pocket,” you mumble. 

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

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

“You can look, Hee.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would have made the wrong one.” 

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

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

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

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

“Heeseung.”

“What?” 

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

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

You don’t put up a fight, you don’t say anything, only letting your shoulders droop before you sigh and lead Heeseung to the front door. He says goodbye as he puts his shoes on and all you do is watch as he leaves your apartment. He waits for you to close the door and lock it before walking away.

Heeseung walks all the way home and only cries when he closes his door, sliding down the back of it like something from a movie. With tears in his eyes, and his knees to his chest, he pulls out his phone to text you. I hope your hangover isn’t too bad, he types. Let’s only talk when we need to.

The two of you manage to hold this up, with you finding others to sit with during classes, and no one seeming to question Heeseung’s skipping plans or new close friendship with Mark’s group who he spends time with between classes instead. But as always, things have a funny way of going different to how Heeseung expected them to. 

After three weeks of near radio silence, Jay barges into his room with his face scrunched up. “What are you doing?” 

“Right now?” Heeseung asks, confused. Standing by the bed with the corner of his duvet in his hand, in nothing but his underwear, he thinks his plans look a little obvious. “I’m about to jerk off.”

Jay rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what I mean.” 

“Evidently, I do not.” 

“Why don’t you hang out with us anymore?” he asks, squinting at Heeseung. 

“We’re hanging out right now.”

“Forgive me if I don’t count an impromptu circle jerk as hanging out.”

“I don’t.. want to do that.”

Jay clutches his chest. “I’m crushed.” 

Heeseung studies his expression. Serious, an inch of concern pooling in his eyes. “We dated for six years, she dumped me, I turned into a shell of myself, but she moved back home and we’re all friends again, so I think things are looking up for me.”

A deep sigh leaves Jay as he sits on the bed. “What happened at the bar with YN three weeks ago when we all left?” 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What exactly counts as ordinary for you two?”

Heeseung’s still trying to figure that out. He shrugs. “Making the right decisions.” 

“So you’re okay?”

“Never better.’

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?” There’s a sincere look on Jay’s face as he leans back on his hands.

“Which is why I’m being honest.” 

It doesn’t seem like Jay’s going to let this go, but to Heeseung’s surprise, he smiles. “Perfect,” he says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the mirror where he checks himself out. “Because she and the guys are going to be here in ten. Put some clothes on.”

He does just that, pulling some shorts over his hips and a shirt over his head before pulling the two bean bag chairs stacked next to the couch to sit in front of the TV, claiming one of them with his body by sinking into it. The cosy material is soft against his thighs and he wonders why they don’t use them more. 

Ten minutes go by like seconds when Jay gets up to answer the door, laughing at something one of you says before leading you all into the living room. He’s watching some show Jay left on, greeting you and the boys with a wave before turning back to the TV. Behind him, the four of you laugh and talk on the couch but Heeesung’s too wrapped up in an argument on screen to join in. His attention only falters when he reaches for the open six-pack on the coffee table. It’s barely out of his reach, so he turns around to take a beer, trying to ignore the way his heart sinks in his chest seeing you and Jay cuddled up together. It’s friendly, he knows that. Jay’s with Yunjin and you’re.. He’s still not sure, but it hurts nonetheless. You’re bickering over a bowl of popcorn and he only laughs when you throw a handful at him. 

The red speaker Sunghoon’s holding chimes three times when he turns it on, a Frank Ocean thudding out of it that drowns out the show he’s watching, leaving him to follow along with the subtitles instead. But he can’t focus. 

Heeseung tries to settle his heartache, comforting himself with the thought of the two of you in another reality. One where it’s him instead of Jay. Or one where you come over and sit with him, curling up in his lap, pouting because Jay’s being mean. He pictures himself stroking your hair and kissing away your pout, holding you into his chest when Jake and Sunghoon start teasing you. In this reality, however, he watches you peel Jay’s shirt from his chest and dump a handful of popcorn in the gap, cackling to yourself at the clear frustration he doesn’t verbalise. Heeseung sighs, looking back at the TV and taking a sad sip of his sad beer. 

After a while, you fall into the beanbag next to him, sprawling out over the whole thing and looking at him. “Hey, Heeseung.” 

“Hello.” 

“I’m sorry about that night.” Your voice is quiet, clearly apologetic if the way you don’t meet his eyes is anything to go by.

“Okay.” Heeseung nods and a beat passes. “I meant what I said, what I texted you.” It hurts to say but it’s for the best. He stands up out of the beanbag, making a show of stretching his arms and legs before sinking into the couch next to Jake. Over Jake’s slouched form, Jay shoots him a look, arching a brow. Heeseung only stages a chuckle, shrugging before looking at the TV again. He can’t make sense of anything on the screen. 

Sunghoon emerges from Jay’s room with a grin on his face, asking when you’re going to eat. In standard fashion, the four of you stand around Jay in the kitchen, bothering him by telling him what to do like he’s a child as he puts frozen pizza and some garlic bread in the oven. 

“The middle one’s the timer,” Jake says, pointing at the knobs above the oven door. “It’s there so you can set how long the food needs to cook for, and after you set it, it’ll go off so you know it’s ready.”

“But it’s all up to you and your discretion. You can open the door whenever you want to check on everything,” you coo, patting his shoulder.

If Jay’s actually annoyed, nothing about his smile gives it away as he nods with a clenched fist, closing the door and sitting next to Heeseung on the countertop. Heeseung’s almost too busy focusing on the way his beer heats his stomach to notice the way you watch him with a small frown from barely an arm’s length away. Sunghoon picks up on your declining mood and thrusts an open bottle into your hand. “We like to drink with—” He’s cut off by Jay taking the bottle and setting it behind you on the counter, mumbling cut it out, dude, and tugging you out of the kitchen by the arm when he notices the tears in your eyes. 

He hears Jay’s door close and nobody says anything until the timer goes off and Jay comes back alone, filling a plate with food and going back to his room. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Jake says to the back of Jay’s head, offbeat and half smiling as he washes his hands in the sink. 

Sitting at the table, he watches Jake and Sunghoon eat while pretending nothing’s wrong. 

At the end of the night, when everyone’s gone home, Heeseung gets into bed, barely managing to pull the duvet up when there’s a knock at his door. “Yeah?” he calls out. Jay appears with his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says quickly. 

Jay regards him with a frown. “I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You were going to.” 

“Yeah.” He nods, and Heeseung prepares himself for a lecture. “I was going to say, I’m going home next week, for Christmas, so I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.” 

The holidays go by in a soju and tteokguk-filled blur, with Heeseung choosing to stay at home until the day of his first class of the second semester so he doesn’t have to be around you. He tells himself it’s for the good of your friend group, as he watches you all make plans in the group chat through notification bubbles, so he doesn’t leave a read receipt. 

The commute is more jarring than he realised. What had been a twenty-minute drive turns into an hour-long journey, including a thirty-minute walk to the train station ‘near’ house, fifteen minutes on the train into the city centre, and another fifteen minutes on foot to campus. He’s drenched in sweat despite the below-zero temperature and has to make a stop to the bathroom to sort himself out.

He arrives early at least, finding the room where his Ethnography: Theory and Practice 2 class is set to start in fifteen minutes. The only indicator that he’s in the right place is the lecturer’s name and contact information written in the top corner of a whiteboard, and Heeseung picks the seat furthest from the door. It’s an elective class and, judging by the nine empty chairs next to him, not a very popular one. He’s relieved at least that he’ll be able to start off the semester without running into anyone he knows, least of all you. As seats start filling up and the lecturer arrives, he’s feeling unusually lucky. 

So, of course, you show up, running a hand through your hair as you walk through the open door, apologising for being late even though there are still two minutes until the class is scheduled to begin. Of course, the only empty seat is the one next to him, which you sit in without looking at him, making an effort to angle your body away from him. Of course, the lecturer assigns a presentation for two weeks time, pairing the class with the person they’re sitting beside. Neither you nor Heeseung say a word to each other, but you raise your hand when prompted to pick a topic to cover. He can’t help his irritation at you for making the decision without asking him, but you look so nice in your hoodie with your hair tied up that his annoyance settles before it has a chance to bloom. 

“YN YLN and Heeseung Lee, we’ll do music and cultural expression,” you say, picking the topic he wanted to do anyway. 

When class is over, you’re quick to get out of your seat, pulling on your jacket and stuffing your laptop back into your bag before leaving so quickly that Heeseung has to leave his stuff behind to go after you. You don’t stop walking when he calls out your name, and too scared to make a scene, he overtakes you, leaving you with no option but to stop in front of him. 

“We should go to the library, get the research and shit out of the way ASAP,” he suggests.

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m going to get my stuff.”

You follow him back to class, watching from the door as he puts his things in his bag before putting on his jacket. You don’t say anything on the walk to the library, when you get there, or when you browse the Cultural Studies section. Heeseung glances at you and you’re chewing on your lip, crouching a bit to read the spines of the books on the lower shelves. “Are you alright?” he asks with genuine concern. 

You look up at him, nodding. 

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t said anything in an hour.”

This makes you straighten up, your brows furrowing in an expression he can’t figure out. “Sorry, Heeseung,” you say, your voice weak. “I’m just trying to figure out if you think I need to talk right now.” 

“Obviously, a paired project is a situation where we need to talk.” 

You sigh, muttering oh, my God, before you look at him. “You know what, I’m going home. Let’s do this tomorrow.” 

“We have class in twenty minutes.” 

“Yeah, I’ll read the slides when I get in.”

Unsure what to say, he watches you walk away, deciding that he should just go home too. 

At the flat he hasn’t seen in five weeks, Heeseung feels slightly out of place, going straight to his room and into bed, not even getting up when he hears Jay coming home. Jay opens the door without knocking, his mouth falling into an excited ‘o’ shape. “Hey, stranger,” he says. “I thought you weren’t coming back, so I started advertising your room on Gumtree.” 

“Any offers?”

“No one as good as you.” Heeseung doesn’t have to look at Jay to know he’s smiling. “Move over,” he mumbles, lifting the duvet. 

Lazily, he rolls over in bed, making room for Jay who makes himself comfortable under the covers. 

“What are you doing, Heeseung?” 

“Trying to sleep.” 

“Talk to me, help me understand.” Jay sighs and Heeseung’s lips curl into a frown. “You’re my best friend,” Jay says quietly, with a tenderness that strikes him. 

“You’re my best friend,” Heeseung repeats like an affirmation. 

“So why won’t you talk to me?”

There’s a subtle hurt in Jay’s voice that upsets Heeseung, who shifts around to lie on his back. “I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that YN hasn’t already.” 

“She only told me that she fucked up.”

Hearing it from someone else’s mouth makes it sound drastic, especially considering he’s the one who left. Again. But he’s too bitter to say that out loud so he bites his tongue. “Seems to be the theme in our relationship.” The words taste rotten when he says them.

“Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you get to be a dick,” Jay says. “What happened?” 

It takes some time but Heeseung explains everything, letting Jay ask questions and make comments until the end when he looks away, pressing his eyes shut and saying, “Oh.” 

“Oh?”

“I don’t think I get it. Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Why can’t you just be together already?”

Everything sounds painfully simple when it’s put like that. But there’s too much between you both for it to go that way. It’s not like he didn’t want to be with you when you confessed, it’s that he didn’t know how he could without knowing why you left him in the first place. Without knowing what he did that was so terrible you couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with him, never mind the same area code. 

A beat passes before Heeseung speaks. “There was something wrong, and instead of trying to fix it, she just.. gave up. I would’ve done anything she asked me to. I could’ve changed, could’ve fixed things, but she didn’t even tell me.” 

“Maybe she didn’t feel like she could. I don’t think she wanted to hurt you, Heeseung.” 

“But she did.” 

“Yeah,” Jay admits, sympathy lacing the word. 

“How can I be with her knowing there’s some awful part of me she hates?” 

“It’s not like that, not really.” 

“What’s it like then?”

“I’m not sure it’s my place to say.” 

Heeseung laughs, shaking his head. “Do you keep my secrets as dutifully as you keep hers?” 

“Are you kidding? She doesn’t even know you have secrets.” Jay sounds exhausted as he speaks, and it’s the last sound to come from him until a few minutes pass and Heeseung hears him snoring. 

You didn’t reply when Heeseung texted you asking to meet in the library before class, but you show up anyway, pulling out the seat across from him and dumping your bag on the table. “I don’t know if you saw the email, but the partner work is just for the presentation.” 

“Cool.” he nods, relieved. 

“I think after that, I’ll start hanging out with Yunjin instead, so you’re not uncomfortable.” 

Heeseung frowns, shaking his head. “I’m not uncomfortable around you,” he says. “I just don’t.. get you. You dump me and move as far away as you can. Now you’re back and what? You love me again?” 

You furrow your brows, inspecting him for a moment before you speak. “I don’t love you again, Heeseung. I’ve loved you this whole time.” 

“So why didn’t you choose me? I just wanted you to choose me.” He’s too anxious to know the truth to worry about how desperate he must sound. Until he notices that the guys sitting at the other end of the tables are watching him, their brows arched sharply in a mixture of shock and curiosity. Heeseung runs a hand over his face, hoping the motion might wipe away the flush burning his cheeks.

“You wanted me to choose you over my future?” 

“I could’ve been your future, part of it. I’d never ask you to choose me over university, you know I wouldn’t. I’m saying you could’ve had both.” 

“It wasn’t as easy as that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Heeseung,” you say like it’s an answer. 

“Just tell me why you didn’t want me. That’s all I want to know.” 

The following silence makes him consider packing up abruptly and faking an emergency. He’s sure he could probably fake his death if he slumps in his chair slowly enough. 

You sigh heavily, interrupting his train of thought—now, he’s wondering if he even wants to know. “Because you would’ve put me first,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “If I stayed here or moved away, I would’ve been your top priority and I couldn’t let you throw away everything you worked for, for me.” 

“I loved you, of course, you were my top priority.” He can’t believe he even has to say it, can’t believe you might have thought you weren’t the single most important thing in his life. 

“Heeseung, you were sacrificing your life for me. You missed your cousin’s engagement party to help me study for a history test, you deferred your scholarship entry by a year just so we could go to college at the same time. How could I keep letting you miss out on your life?” 

“Deferring my entry wasn’t just for you,” he lies. “And it’s not like I missed the wedding.” 

“But I think you would’ve if I stubbed my toe.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” 

You sigh again, shaking your head. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t keep living like that, you can’t just throw everything away. You’re such a hard worker, Heeseung, and I’d hate to see you waste that over some girl.” 

“But you’re you. You weren’t just ‘some girl’ you were my girl.” He doesn’t mean to say it but it’s true. “We were in high school and I was studying constantly; it didn’t matter back then. And you were so far away, it’s not like I could feasibly drop everything and go to you every time something happened.” 

“Heeseung.” 

“You had a choice.” 

“Heeseung.” 

The way you’re saying his name reminds him of your breakup—the pink walls of your childhood bedroom and the pictures of the two of you stuck up all over them, in frames on your desk, and stickers on your light switch. How they seemed to close in around him as he put all of his energy into staying on two feet, instead of falling to the floor and begging you on hands and knees to stay with him. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve spent the last year and a half wondering what I did wrong, I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” We could’ve tried, he wants to say. I could have changed and we could’ve tried. 

“I didn’t want you to lose that. I felt really lucky that you loved me like that, and I didn’t want to rob someone else of it, you know. I thought maybe you’d find a balance with someone someday, but I didn’t think that person would be me.” 

Heeseung has to put in an effort to stop his jaw from dropping. How could there ever be someone else? How could you ever think he could have someone else? There’s so much he wants to say, to ask, but he can tell by the way you press your lips together that you’re done with the conversation. 

“It’s not too late.” 

You tilt your head at him. “What?” 

“In your room that night, you said you were too late,” he explains. “I love you.”

“Still?” 

His heart shifts uncomfortably in his chest at the tone of your voice and the way your eyebrows shoot up. “Always,” he says. 

A smile starts to curve your lips, but it slips before it has a chance to bloom, stifled happiness that you cover with your hands, hiding your face completely. “I don’t think we should talk about this here.” Your palms muffle the words but not their impact; you’re right and he knows it. 

It’s been a year—the longest of his life, and the hard part is already over. He knows now and he’ll do anything he can to fix it. “Right.” Heeseung nods but you’re not looking at him. He’s going to fix it. For now, though, he says, “What’s our research topic again?” Despite having had Music and Cultural Expression typed into the search bar since before you arrived. 

With Heeseung’s work ethic and your commitment to being the best, the presentation goes quite smoothly. You make no mistakes, and Heeseung, distracted by how pretty you look in professional attire, manages to stumble through the script he’d rehearsed. The two of you even win the first place prize — satisfaction that you got a perfect score — and celebrate with coffee afterwards. 

Between the four walls of the campus café, you and Heeseung sip lattes that taste like temperature — still too hot to have a real flavour — and laugh with each other about something Jay said when you all hung out last night. Neither of you mentions your conversation from two weeks ago, deciding instead to fall into the patterns of your first term together: napping in his bed after class and coming up with excuses for alone time. He makes an effort to follow through with his commitments, even when you ask him to hang out, to show you that he’s different now. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t said anything about it, but Heeseung tells himself it’s a good thing while missing shots on the court with Mark, too hung up on you to focus on anything else. The only thing left is to figure out a way to be yours again and do everything he can to make sure he doesn’t lose you. 

Over your shoulder, through the window, the sun slips below the horizon, casting long shadows around the café. He takes a deep breath when he looks at you, smiling down at your phone as you take a picture of your half-drunk latte and the milky swirls still peeking through your coffee. A tangible determination settles in his chest as evening’s first stars appear in the sky, he knows one thing for sure: he has to grab the chance to be yours again with both hands, and once it’s his, he won’t let go this time. 

The café may be clearing out, but his heart is full of hope and for the time being, sitting with you as a friend is.. fine. 

You’d often imagined what it would be like if you hadn’t broken up with Lee Heeseung. 

Most of your first year was spent daydreaming about him in all of your usual hangouts. Sometimes, at drinks with your friends, you envisioned him showing up, a smile on his face as he apologised for being late. He’d slide into the booth next to you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and kiss your cheek. Other times you imagined him showing up to surprise you, sitting on a bench in the quad and grinning when he saw you leaving. He’d run up to you with open arms and a bouquet in his hand, wrapping you in a hug and whispering that he missed you too much to wait another day to see you. You would even fall asleep thinking about FaceTime calls that stayed on overnight or drunken texts after the club, misspelt I love yous and can’t wait to see yous filling your text thread. 

You didn’t tell your new friends much about him, briefly mentioning a partner you’d watched some film with or an artist he liked if they came up, and most nights were spent begging Jay to send you Heeseung’s social media posts and tell you every detail of the day they had without you. Based on accounts from Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon, it seemed like he was getting on well, a fact that — while hurtful — pushed you to try and do the same. After a month of avoiding your flatmates, you finally managed to connect with them, going to various social events around campus and rolling your eyes any time a drunk guy complimented you. 

This is why it took you by surprise to see him at Mark Lee’s party in the summer—sitting alone in the garden, in sweatpants and a flannel, looking at his phone with a deep frown etched over his lips. When you think about it, it feels like so long has passed since then and it’s hard to believe it wasn’t even a year ago. 

Being back in Heeseung’s life has been more challenging than you thought it would be when you filled out your transfer application. Especially in the weeks since you finished your presentation together, since you suggested the library might not have been the right place for the conversation you were having and never followed up on. 

Now doesn’t seem like the right time either—you’re sitting on the floor in Jake and Sunghoon’s living room with your back against the couch, sharing a blanket with Heeseung. Jay left about an hour ago to go to Yunjin’s, leaving the four of you to your own devices. You know you can’t bring it up with Jake and Sunghoon around, but you’ve had plenty of opportunities to over the last month. 

When you finished your celebratory lattes, Heeseung walked you home. The sky was a perfect inky black, and it was cold enough to see your breath, just the way he liked, so cold he offered you his jacket to wear. He didn’t say anything about it, only shrugging it off and setting it gently over your shoulders, shocking you so much that you stopped walking. The scent of his cologne, dark and woody, was overwhelming as you slid your arms into the sleeves, zipping it up and after three paces without you, Heeseung turned his head with wide eyes. You could have said it then, you wanted to say it then, but you bit your tongue and thanked him instead. He smiled, gulping when you closed the gap, you should have kissed him, he was close enough, his lips just a tip-toe and tilted head away, but you hugged him instead. 

After that, the two of you had all the time in the world together. Between your shared classes and going for meals alone. All the time you’d spend in his living room together, cosy on the couch when Jay would go to sleep. So many moments to talk, to get back together, but the words would die in your throat every time you thought them. It all seemed too cheesy or not cheesy enough, too dramatic or too casual, you couldn’t strike a balance and had no idea how to even find one. 

Last night was probably the most jarring occasion. Yunjin and Chaewon had been trying to convince you to go the club all week but you just weren’t in the mood. They seemed happy enough when you suggested hosting pres—but now you think they’d been hoping you’d be so drunk you’d just agree to go out. Yunjin brought half a litre of vodka and Chaewon brought a soup flask with enough murky cocktail in it to feed a small family. Together, the three of you drank and gossiped around the small table in your living room, with Chaewon’s phone in a glass to amplify her playlist. After taking a whiff of whatever she brought, you and Yunjin decided — for everyone’s wellbeing — to hide her flask and take shots of vodka, finishing off the cider you had left in the fridge. 

“Please come out,” Yunjin begged. “I’ll feel bad leaving you here, all pretty and drunk by yourself.” 

“I’ll feel bad too!” Chaewon added, clasping her hands. “Not bad enough to stay with you, but I’ll probably have less fun.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t even have an outfit.” The words were like music to their ears and you regretted them as soon as you said them. Both girls grabbed you by the hand, tugging you to your room and flinging open your wardrobe. Yunjin looked for a top and Chaewon for a skirt, though both of them gasped when they saw the dress you wore for Heeseung’s birthday. Chaewon pulled it from the rack, holding it out in front of her. 

“We won’t pay for anything if you wear this,” she squealed before she and Yunjin started chanting: Free booze! Free booze! 

You sighed, thinking of Heeseung and shook your head again. That dress, though beautiful, hadn’t been enough for him to lose all composure and skip the party in favour of fucking you into the mattress, and you didn’t love the idea of guys that weren’t him ogling you all night. “Anything but that dress.” 

Yunjin and Chaewon seemed sad, but you were able to distract them by bringing out the disaster cocktail the oldest girl brewed earlier, pouring each of them half a glass and ordering an Uber to come and take them away. You promised them you’d go out next time, locking your pinkies with theirs and closing the door behind them. 

Alone in your room, with nothing but thoughts of Heeseung to keep you company, you called him. He answered right away. You can’t remember exactly what you said but you remember the soft sigh he let out when you said it. You could practically see him tilting his head, weighing his options. 

“I’m trying to get a paper finished, it’s due Monday,” he said finally. 

“But it’s Thursday.” 

“Yeah, and I want to have my weekend free. If you’re still up when I’m done, I’ll come over, okay?” 

You nodded. “Okay.” 

Heeseung hung up after that and you got out of bed to clean up, hoping the time would fly. It didn’t, but your flat was clean again so you pretended not to mind. 

He called you after midnight. “Do you still want me to come over?” he asked, breathless. 

“Please.” There was a knock on your door after you spoke and you mumbled hold on before going to check it. Warped by the peephole, you saw Heeseung standing there, holding his phone to his ear and playing with the zipper on his jacket. He hugged you when you opened the door, asking if you were okay. “Perfect,” you said, looking into his eyes. 

His pretty face scrunched up and he pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers, turning his head. “Well, you smell like a distillery.”

Heeseung stood in the doorway of the bathroom while you brushed your teeth, grinning every time his eyes met yours in the mirror. Tell him now, you thought. You have to tell him now. Those thoughts nagged you as you gargled mouthwash, plagued you when you hugged him again and tortured you when he carried you to bed. 

He stiffened when kissed his jaw. “You can’t do that,” he mumbled, setting you down under the duvet. “Not now.” 

Then when? you wanted to say. “I’m sorry,” you said.

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s just.. It’s okay.” 

Neither of you spoke after that, you made room for him on the bed and he lay down next to you, let you rest your head on his chest and played with your hair until you fell asleep. He was gone when you woke up in the morning but he left a glass of water and some paracetamol on your end table, along with a note. 

I had to go to class and you wouldn’t wake up :(  We’ll talk about everything soon, we have to. See you at Jake and Sunghoon’s later? 

— Your Hee. 

If you hadn’t been drunk he might have been okay with the kiss, he might have looked down at you and kissed you properly. You might have talked last night, fixed things—you’ve never regretted drinking so much in your life. 

Things are better tonight at least. You’ve been nursing the same can of cider since you arrived a few hours ago and Heeseung’s only had two sips of his beer, so hopefully, if you get some alone time, the two of you can finally talk. You’re still not sure what you should say, if you should apologise for waiting so long, for leaving in the first place. It seemed like a good idea at the time, applying elsewhere. You didn’t even think you’d get in but you knew you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least take the chance. It seemed like a sign when the acceptance letter reached your inbox before the term had finished, an unconditional offer to a high-ranking university, you couldn’t pass it up. And knowing Heeseung as well as you did, you knew he’d do anything to be by your side when you needed him, you knew he’d drop everything to move with you if you let him. You’d owe him forever. It wouldn’t be fair on either of you. 

You called Jay in tears after a month away, telling him you made a mistake, that you needed to come back and had already filled out a transfer application. He convinced you to at least stay until the end of term, to actually make friends with the girls you were living with and see how you felt. A week later, he, Jake and Sunghoon showed up on your doorstep with chocolate and booze, hoping your room was big enough for all of them to stay for the weekend, it wasn’t, not really, but for three nights, the four of you slept head to toe in your bed after eating your body weights in pizza and ice cream. There was no talk of Heeseung, even though you begged them, and by the time they left, you felt much better. At the end of your first year, you quietly submitted your transfer application and shared a tearful goodbye with Yizhuo and Minjeong before finally flying back home. The boys seemed happy to have you back, even if it meant sneaking around to hang out with you—A nudge pulls you out of your thoughts, Heeseung.

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

When you look at him, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. His eyes are brimmed with concern, wide and beautiful, a deep brown you’ll never get sick of. His lips are curved into a soft pout, a crease running along his brow that you want to smooth out. 

Heeseung relaxes a little when you nod, but he seems unconvinced. “You sure?” 

You reach up to poke his cheek, grinning when he turns his head, trying to fight a smile. “I’m good,” you say, pressing a dimple into his cheek anyway. 

He holds your finger in his hands, unclenching your fist and locking his fingers with yours. A wide grin stretches over your lips as you plead with your cheeks to stop burning. Jake’s hand interrupts the moment, falling from the couch, limp and curled into a fist that smacks the back of your head. He’s fast asleep, not stirring at all even when Heeseung laughs. 

Unfortunately, you lose rock, paper, scissors and have to wake Jake up. He shifts a little on the couch when you shake him, whining at you to stop and scrunching up his face at you. Heeseung and Sunghoon eventually sigh, grabbing him by the arms and legs to carry him to bed. 

Both boys return, laughing about something and Heeseung sits down next to you again while Sunghoon leans in the doorway, yawning. “You two can have my room,” he says, cutting his eyes at you. “No funny business though, I just changed my sheets.” 

You chuckle nervously and Heeseung makes a show of hiding his face in the crook of your neck, much to Sunghoon’s visible dismay. He clutches the doorframe so hard you see his knuckles paling and uses his free hand to point a stern finger in your direction. “I mean it,” is the last thing he says before leaving. 

“Sorry,” Heeseung mumbles when the door closes. “It’s just so funny teasing him.” He’s grinning when he lifts his head and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me about your group project.”

A sigh curls out of you, dramatic and loud as you let your head fall back against the couch at the thought of it. You brought it up in passing on Monday after class and spent the rest of the week pretending it didn’t exist. 

“Damn,” he mutters. “That bad?” 

You don’t have many friends in your Archaeology class, but you always look forward to it — because you’re covering Ancient Egypt — and enjoy it. But this morning, you slept in, arriving late, to find your lecturer assigning groups for a project weighing 25% of your final grade. She put the groups together based on where people were sitting, which left you, standing in the doorway fighting for breath, being added to a group of boys you shared a seminar with last term. They never contributed, and rarely showed up, constantly sending messages in the class Whatsapp group to ask if anyone had the tutorial answers. The sinking feeling that your project was doomed before it began plagued you throughout the lecture and all the way to lunch with Yunjin afterwards. Even though it doesn’t have anything to do with the story, you tell him in meticulous detail about your time with her that day. Thankfully, you’re sober so don’t admit that you spent a lot of the meal exchanging increasingly ridiculous ideas to get him back. 

Heeseung is just as beautiful and good at listening as always, nodding his head and uhm-ing and ah-ing at all the right parts. Until his gaze changes for a split second into something so soft and so sweet that it leaves a mark on your heart. “I was pissed about it earlier, but now I’m here, with you, and I want you to be my boyfriend again,” you say, jaw hanging open as soon as the words come out. 

His eyes widen, lips parting in shock. Then his brows furrow, pushing a crease into his forehead. 

“I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry.” You start running damage control and pray that Jake or Sunghoon will wake up and come back. “I really didn’t mean to say that, especially not now when we haven’t talked about everything. But you looked at me, Heeseung. You really looked at me just now and I can’t pretend I don’t want to be with you. I’m sorry, really, but it’s your fault I said that.” 

Mortified, you cover your face with your hands. “Can you say something now?” you ask, mumbling into the heels of your palms. 

All he says is your name and a pit forms in your stomach. “God, anything but that,” you groan. 

Heeseung chuckles, which you think is a good thing. “Would it be better if I called you baby?” 

“In what context?” 

Holding your breath, you watch as he presses his lips together, humming as he tilts his head. “Term of endearment between a girlfriend and her boyfriend.” 

You lift your head, separating your fingers to see him properly through the space and the pit in your stomach dissolves into something live, butterflies fluttering in a frenzy from the look on his face. The gentle curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, and the slight flush on his cheeks all make your head spin. 

“Really?”

Heeseung nods so hard his hair follows the movement. “Yes, baby.” 

“Can we kiss now?” 

“Maybe if you move your hands out of the way.”

“I don’t like maybe.”

“Definitely if you move your hands out of the way,” he corrects. 

You can’t bring yourself to move, worried that the sudden motion might disrupt something, might knock you out of the moment. Heeseung laughs, so softly it sounds like an exhale, as he takes your wrists in his hands, tugging gently. With your face in full view, his eyes flit over your features for a beat before he cups your cheek in his hand, dragging his thumb over the soft skin of your lips. 

You don’t even realise he’s leaning in until his lips touch yours. There’s a rush of something in your chest, an intense warmth surrounding your heart. His lips are softer than ever, gentle as he kisses you like you might break—you think you might. Nothing is better than this, better than having Heeseung’s lips on yours after all this time. You lean into him completely, pressing your body impossibly close to his and twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you,” he whispers, barely pulling away. “I love you so much.” 

You can’t bring yourself to reply, emotions too close to the surface, tears too close to spilling. Instead, you smile into the kiss, somehow holding him closer and hoping he’ll understand. He pulls back, just enough to gaze into your eyes with a look of pure affection. He doesn’t press for words, a reassuring smile tugging his lips. 

He understands, Heeseung always understands. 

Sunghoon’s sheets are soft against your skin when you wake up, tickling your nose with the scent of detergent and Heeseung’s shampoo—fresh and light. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers curling around the strands as Heeseung watches you with a soft smile, eyes scanning your features, taking you in. He lets his hand rest on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there and his eyes flick up to meet yours. You feel like a teenager, a giddy smile gracing your lips, giggles tumbling out at the tickly feeling of lovestruck butterflies rumbling in your stomach. Heeseung beams, nuzzling into the touch of your hand as his eyes flutter shut. 

“If we’re going to work out this time—I want us to work out, but we need to talk,” you say after a beat. 

Heeseung’s brows raise like he can’t believe what you’re saying, his lips pushing into a pout. “We are going to work out, of course we’re going to work out.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a deep hoarseness that’s too sexy for the cute way he’s chewing on his lip, doe-eyed and sweet as his eyes scan your face.

“I know, baby, I want that.” You nod, using your hand to push his hair out of his face. It’s so long now it’s starting to cover his eyes, the soft blond strands curling into his eyelashes. “But you have to say no to me, you know? I want you to have a life of your own, we both should.” 

“No.” 

“No?” You press your eyes shut, sighing. “What do you mean, no?” 

“I’m starting now.” 

“I’m serious, Hee, this is serious.” 

He pouts for a second before nodding. “I’m serious too. I can say no to you, I will say no to you.” 

You can’t help your scepticism, raising your brow at him as you inspect his face. There’s nothing about his expression that suggests he’s not being serious, nothing in those huge eyes seeming insincere. But you know Heeseung, you’ve been with Heeseung, and you know better than anyone, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do if it meant spending time with you, so you have to ask. “So from now on, if I text you when you’re in class or out with friends, and I tell you I want to see you, what are you going to do?” 

Heeseung sighs. “I’m going to text back and say that I’m.. busy.” His lips curl into a frown. “My heart will be super heavy though.” 

“But you’ll do it? You won’t see me until you’re free?” 

“I’ll do it, I won’t leave or anything.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“Yeah, baby, I promise.” When you smile at him, Heeseung leans in to seal his promise with a kiss, his lips meeting yours softly. 

You flinch when the door opens and Heeseung chuckles against your lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. Over his head, you see Sunghoon standing in the doorway, hair dripping water on the floor with a towel wrapped around his hips. 

Sunghoon sighs, loud and dramatic, his head falling back. “I specifically said no funny business,” he mutters. “Quit looking at me.” He comes into the room and lifts the duvet over your heads. 

Under the covers, Heeseung pulls away, poking his head out and laughing. “We’re just kissing.”

“Yeah, with your shirt off. Why is your shirt off?”

“She wanted to wear—”

Sunghoon cuts him off with a gasp, pulling the duvet back. “Wait, why are you kissing?”

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” 

The word makes your cheeks burn and you hide your face in Heeseung’s chest. His lips find the top of your head, kissing you as he wraps his arms around you. 

Sunghoon groans at the sight. “I haven’t missed this at all,” he says. “Who else knows?”

“Just you so far.”

You can hear Sunghoon grinning when he drops the duvet back over your heads and shuffles around the room, getting ready for skating. Heeseung calls you cute and holds you closer. “I’ve missed you so much, missed this,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you.”

Dating Heeseung again is better than anything you could have imagined, even if it has only been two weeks. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and even the simple things he does make you smile so hard your face aches. Like when he picks up snacks for you after class or sends you pictures of sweet things he wrote about you in his old diary. Chaewon and Yunjin comment that you seem happier, that you’re glowing, and you can’t help the giggles that always escape and the flush that burns your cheeks when you mention your boyfriend, Heeseung.

Even under the pressure of taking on a group project by yourself, you find yourself fighting a grin in the library just thinking about him. Your class finished an hour ago and you’re doing research in the computer lab while waiting for him so you can go back home together. With a crease in your brow, you try to make sense of conflicting articles on the origin of the Great Pyramid of Giza, happy when your phone lights up with a text. 

hee: we should go on a date tonight !!! how does the fair sound? 

you: sounds good :D 

hee: ❤️

As if sensing that plans have been made without him, Sunghoon sends a message to the group chat asking who wants to go to the Spring Fair in the city centre tonight. 

you: hee and i are alr going :/

sunghoon: awesome i can meet u at hee’s in a few hours?

You really can’t find the heart to tell Sunghoon it’s a date so you decide not to say anything, only feeling worse when Jay replies. 

jay: sounds good :D 

hee: it’s a date dumbass, you’re not invited.

sunghoon: ok.. i can still go

jake: time?

With your date set and whatever else the boys are planning in the group chat, you manage to finish up your work in time for Heeseung to show up with a grin on his face as you pack up your notebook. Excitement stirs in your stomach when he locks his fingers with yours and you’ve never looked forward to the sticky heat of a night in spring as much as you are right now. 

“How was class?” you ask, squeezing his hand. 

Heeseung grins at you, swinging your hands between your bodies as you weave through tables to leave the library. “Turns out I focus really well when you’re not sitting with me.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Mm.” He nods, biting his lip. 

“I can sit with other people if it’ll help you focus.” 

“No!” he whines, loud enough to draw side eyes from the students around you before the tips of his ears burn red and he pulls you out of the library at lightspeed. 

When you reach his flat, Jay’s sitting on the couch grinning at something on his phone, so distracted he doesn’t even realise you’ve arrived until you sit down next to him. He’s got a lot to say about his mock trial and tells you everything, all while you’re cuddled up to Heeseung, with your head on his shoulder. 

You blink and the sun’s gone down, Jay isn’t around anymore and Heeseung’s arms are around your waist, holding you close. “Hey,” he says when you stir. “The boys left already, you just looked so cute sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you.” 

There’s a wet patch on his sweater where your mouth was that you try to wipe away. It doesn’t budge. And a burning flush attacks your cheeks and neck when Heeseung uses his thumb to wipe some of the drool by your mouth. “So cute.” He chuckles. “Should we get going?” 

You spend the whole journey to the city centre with your hand in Heeseung’s, trying to fight the butterflies in your stomach every time he smiles at you. It’s weird. To have been with him for so long, yet still feel giddy when he looks at you. This is new though, you suppose, to live away from home and see him whenever you want. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder and you can’t help the grin on your face at the thought of spending infinite nights like this, with him. 

The Spring Fair is alive with laughter and squeals of delight that you can hear from around the corner. Winking lights spill onto the pavement in rapid succession, somehow showing the whole spectrum at once. Heeseung is bursting with excitement, running down the street with you in tow, desperately trying to keep up with his stride and regulate your breathing. His eyes are huge when you reach the gates, scanning the area for the churros he’s been talking about for the entire walk and he gasps when he sees the stall, pulling you along with him. You have to weave through the crowd, dipping and dodging tired locals and excited tourists as you call out apologies to everyone Heeseung bumps into. The first night is always packed like this, so full it’s hard to believe the fair runs for six whole weeks. 

You share a heart-shaped churro and pose for the photos he wants to take, your heart swelling with affection as you pretend to be embarrassed when he buys matching character headbands for you both. Two years ago, Heeseung would’ve told you that headbands aren’t a good use of your money and bought them anyway, but today, he spent fifteen minutes trying on and taking photos with each character before finding the perfect pair. You can’t help but grin as he puts the headband on for you, a sense of excitement blooming inside you, so great it’s overwhelming.

Heeseung buys a blue raspberry slushy in an obnoxiously large reusable cup with two straws, and as he clutches his head with each brain freeze, chuckles pour out of you, only increasing when he pouts. 

At every opportunity, the two of you take selfies, and the grin on his face in each one warms your heart. He posts his favourite to his story, showing you all the compliments he’s getting in his DMs, all aimed at you. He seems so proud and excited to be with you, and butterflies go mad in your stomach as he reads some of them out to you, agreeing with and adding to the messages.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I think I might delete the picture,” he says, frowning as the story replies pour in. 

The look on his face makes you laugh, struggling to talk but trying anyway. “But I love it.” 

Heeseung puts his phone away, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I love you,” he says, using his free hand to tip your chin towards him. He grins when you say it back, tracing his thumb along your jaw. An odd stillness hits you, in the midst of vibrant chaos. Flashes of multi-coloured LEDs dance in orange and purple strobes over his face and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are pretty and wide, flicking from your eyes to your mouth a few times as a flame starts to burn in your stomach, low and scorching. 

“I love you,” you repeat, tip-toeing to close the gap. 

You kiss him, slow and sweet to savour the sugary taste on his lips as they move against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss and the taste of syrupy artificial fruit, leaving you craving more, craving him. A pop goes out in the air and you flinch in Heeseung’s arms. He chuckles against your lips before he pulls away, looking up. Trails of pink and gold paint the sky above, vibrant sparks spreading everywhere as a few more go off. If you weren’t so busy trying to catch your breath, you might appreciate their beauty, but you are and the next pop only startles you too. 

Heeseung looks down at you, his slightly swollen lips curving into a grin. “How are you so cute?” he coos. “And don’t most people want fireworks to go off when they kiss someone?” 

“It’s probably a sensation thing, Heeseung.” You know it’s a sensation thing. The first time he kissed you, it felt like you were floating on air, as if Sunghoon’s basement, cold and dark, was the most romantic place on Earth. You were sweaty and nervous, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Heeseung while the boys were sleeping. He was the one to lean in and he kissed the tip of your nose by accident.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Come here.” His voice is so deep and raspy that it spurs the flame on, burning higher, hotter, until it’s the only thing you can think about. His hand finds your jaw again, pulling you towards him to kiss you. Of course, you can’t resist; he’s Heeseung. 

The kiss is rife with neediness, whether from you or Heeseung you can’t tell, but you’re tugging at his hair and he’s clutching at your t-shirt, both of you struggling to get enough of the other. You nip at his bottom lip with your teeth and a heady sigh falls from his mouth into yours, brewing a storm in your mind, a thick fog obscuring everything but thoughts of him.

At the sound of a forced throat clearing, you break away from Heeseung, seeing an elderly lady with a steaming cup in her hand and a disgruntled look on her face. She extends an arm, gesturing behind you. When you follow the direction of her hand, you see a bench that you’re standing right in front of. Heeseung grabs your hand, mumbling an apology and tugging you as far away as possible. You struggle to stifle a laugh at the redness of his ears against his hair. 

A huge ride swings and spins into the air, catching your attention, though Heeseung seems to be more interested in the way Jake stands by the entrance with a scowl on his face. Jake waves you over when he sees you, grinning and hugging you both like it’s been years since he saw you. 

“Jay and Hoon are..” he trails off, using his arm to vaguely gesture towards the sky. 

“Man,” Heeseung whispers, pointing a reverent finger to the sky, “R.I.P.” 

Countless fireworks shoot up noisily, painting the dark sky, and Heeseung’s arms fall heavily around your shoulders, his body warm against your back. If not for the way Jake’s flinching next to you, covering his ears with his hands and ducking slightly at the bang of each one, it might feel like the two of you are alone in the moment. Alone despite the chatter, the laughter and squeals. Just you and Heeseung. 

And Jake. 

Heeseung is amazing at fair games, especially the ring toss. But a tired-looking man in a business suit wins the Hello Kitty plush you’d been eyeing for the snotty toddler wrapped around his leg, so you settle for the Kuromi plush instead. Heeseung says it’s cuter. You agree. 

His voice is soft when he asks, “Maybe we can go on the Ferris wheel later?” This is a far cry from the boy of sixteen who fainted at an amusement park just from seeing the drop on the biggest ride there. When you look up at him, his eyes are wide, boring into you, holding the stars in his pupils with a grin across his blue-stained lips, and how could you say no to that face? 

The platform by the Ferris wheel is sticky under your shoes, making you cringe with every step you take towards the front of the line. Heeseung’s grip on your hand is tighter than you think it’s ever been when he realises that you’re next to get on. This might be the most scared you’ve ever seen him, your poor boyfriend with his overpriced Kuromi headband shivering beside you. 

You frown at the sight, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We don’t have to do this, Hee,” you say.

He tries to play it cool, shrugging with a nonchalance that doesn’t match the fear in his eyes. “I want to,” he assures, though his voice lacks conviction. 

“Are you sure?” The way he flinches when the ride operator opens the gate gives you his answer, but Heeseung is firm in his words as he pulls you towards the cart, despite wincing when the operator locks you in. “Baby,” you whisper, touching his cheek. “It’s not too late to get out.” 

In what appears to be a display of his bravery, he makes a show of rocking the carriage — only to be told off by the operator (who can’t be older than sixteen) — and cheering (with no conviction) about nothing in particular. You can’t help but laugh, the cart shaking slightly as you let your head fall back and you only laugh harder when Heeseung gasps because of it. 

He flinches again when the ride starts moving, an unsettling creak sending you forward just enough to allow the next victims — according to Heeseung — to get on the ride. When the last of them board, the wheel sets off in a slow spin and he spends the entire first rotation with his eyes clamped shut, only opening them after a while when he thinks the ride is over. 

The wheel creaks more than what you think is necessary and he only grows more and more outwardly uncomfortable, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and gripping the safety bar above your laps until his knuckles turn white. 

“Would it make you feel better if I held your hand?” you coo, holding your left hand out to him. 

He rolls his eyes but takes your hand in his, holding it between his palms. Seemingly at ease, Heeseung shifts slightly in his seat to close the tiny gap between you, pressing his knee into yours. 

Even in the distance, the fair’s LED lights are beautiful, melting away into flashing bokeh before your eyes as the carriage inches higher and higher. You almost forget your company, leaning over the edge to get a better look, only for Heeseung to put his arm on your arm, mumbling, “Stop it.” 

His skin is warm despite the slight chill that comes with your increasing altitude, and you wish the carriage was smaller—cramped even, forcing the two of you together so tightly that you have no choice but to become one. You sit in the quiet of the night, excitement on the fairground growing quieter as the wheel spins, agonisingly slow, until eventually it’s just the two of you—you and Heeseung: the only people in the moment. 

The only people in the world.

“Why are we even on this thing?” you whisper, squeezing his hand. 

Heeseung shrugs his shoulders as gently as he can manage so as not to rock the carriage. His eyes are big when he looks at you, holding your gaze intently. “I wanted to be romantic.” 

Oh, Heeseung, you think, pressing your lips into a frown. He’s the sweetest person in the world and just the thought of it makes your stomach flutter. “You’re plenty romantic,” you say sincerely. 

He scoffs. “Yeah, because pretending you didn’t exist for a year is romantic.” 

“Yes! Very!” You chuckle, nodding your head. 

Again, he rolls his eyes at you but he uses his hand to hold your face, pulling you in. His kiss tastes like candy floss and the blue raspberry slushy you shared earlier, lips soft, relaxed against your own. Your hand reaches for his thigh, meeting instead with the squished plushy between your bodies and you can’t help but laugh. 

With your presentation out of the way, you and the guys are all sitting in Heeseung and Jay’s living room for the first night of Spring break. You’ve just about reached your limit, cuddling into Heeseung’s side with your eyes closed, sleepily listening to the conversation. It’s unintelligible, more laughter and wheezes than anything else. 

You shift your way into Heeseung’s lap after a while, moving around to get comfortable. It only takes two movements for him to grab you by the waist, holding you still. You try again, and his lips catch the shell of your ear. “Relax, baby. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you admit, moving around again until he sighs, relieved, you think. A wicked grin spreads over your lips when you feel him getting hard, grinding down on him a little and liking the warmth that spreads in your stomach from having him pressed against you. 

“Stop it,” he whispers, kissing the spot behind your ear. 

You heed the warning but can’t help the thoughts filling your mind, though you try to ignore them, laughing at something Sunghoon said about Jake’s ugly hat and shoes. Jake doesn’t find it as funny as the rest of you seem to.

Another hour passes by in the same way before the boys stumble into Jay’s room, calling out a slurred goodnight to you and Heeseung on the couch. You stand up first, holding out a hand for him to take and giggling when he presses a kiss to the back of it. 

In his room, he stares at a spot on the wall as you close the door, a contemplative look on his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, but he doesn’t look at you, only nodding his head with a crease along his brow. 

You kiss him, a featherlight touch of your lips against his. It’s soft for a while, sweet and sincere until he clutches your shirt like his life depends on it. Heeseung’s hands are all over you, stroking and squeezing every part of you he can reach. Overwhelming heat burns your skin under his touch. He inhales sharply through his nose when you reach for his waistband, tugging the drawstring free but he grabs your wrist, stopping you. He keeps kissing you, keeps trying and frowns when you pull away. 

“You don’t want this?” 

He tilts his head, looking down at you with concern flooding his wide eyes. “Do you think we’re going too fast?” His voice is quiet and he chews on his lip after speaking. 

“We’ve been together for six years.” 

“A month,” he corrects, looking at his feet.

As badly as you want him, you don’t want him doing anything he’s not ready for, so you wiggle your arm free from his grip, dropping it at your side. He lifts his head to look at you, brows knitted together, the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with wide eyes. “I just don’t want us doing anything you’ll regret.”

“I’m not going to regret this, I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Heeseung,” you say, holding his face in your hands. 

He closes his eyes, nodding. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“Never,” he whispers and the word has you falling to your knees. 

It’s hard to see his exact expression in only the dim glow of the streetlights outside, but you can clearly see the way he’s watching you. The way his eyes are lidded as he chews on his bottom lip, watching you reach for the buckle on his belt. Heeseung threads his fingers through your hair, groaning, and for a few seconds, you’re hypnotised. Too wrapped up in tipsiness and lust to move your fingers, completely focused on the way his breath starts to pick up before you’ve even done anything. You’re starting to think it might be enough for him just to see you like this, on your knees for him, wide-eyed and eager. 

Whether on purpose or not, Heeseung tugs on your hair gently, pulling you from your trance. His blunt fingernails scratch at the back of your head as you undo his belt, tugging his jeans down. He steps out of them as soon as he can, smiling when you toss them behind you. Too worked up to wait, you push your face against him. You take a minute to hold his covered cock between your lips, shuddering at the feeling of the damp spot at the top of it. Heeseung grunts, bucking his hips. He looks like sin when you lock eyes with him, licking a strip to the top of his waistband, sucking and nipping at the skin and coarse hair there. 

“Quit teasing,” he says, still keeping control of his voice. 

You blink up at him sweetly, shaking your head. “I’m not,” you mumble, pulling his underwear down. 

Heeseung’s dick smacks his stomach with a wet sound that makes you clench around nothing, and you sit back on your heels to admire him. Maybe it’s from time, or your unbearable desire, but he looks bigger, thicker, and much prettier than you remember. When you finally drag your eyes from his dick, you notice a mark on his hip, right above where his thigh starts. It’s a smudge of something dark, inky almost. You furrow your brows, licking the pad of your thumb to try and get rid of it. He practically flinches when you touch it, moving away from you. The increased distance between you and the low lighting only further obscures it—when you rub at the mark it doesn’t budge. 

“What is this?” 

“It’s nothing,” he says, sitting down on the bed and covering it with his hand. 

If it was anyone other than Heeseung, you might have thought it was a tattoo, but you can’t make sense of the thought so it slips your mind as soon as it occurs. You reach for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on, losing your breath at the sight of his skin glowing golden in the light, and the tip of his cock is a tempting, glossy red. You can’t help but take him in your hand, stroking him slowly. 

“Tell me, baby.” 

“It’s a bruise,” he manages through a gasp, licking his lips.

Your thumb swipes over his slit and he crumbles. “Heeseung.” 

“Butterfly, it’s a butterfly.” 

A fuzzy warmth starts to bloom in your chest, overwhelming you. “Lay down,” you say, voice as soft as it’s ever been. 

Heeseung obliges, linking his fingers with yours when you move his hand from his thigh. Under the light, you can see it clearly, dark strokes of ink forming a pretty butterfly, tiny, and heart-achingly familiar. 

“Is it..” You trail off, moving your lips around words that you can’t get out as tears sting your eyes. “Did I draw this?” Leaning over him, you get as close as you can, using your finger to trace the shape. 

Sitting up on his elbows, he looks down at you with a worried look on his face as he nods. “Do you hate it?” 

“I love it.. it’s perfect.” You let go of his hand, using the back of your fingers to wipe at your eyes. 

Heeseung sits up, letting his hand cup your cheek and looking at you. He uses his thumb to wipe some of the tears you missed before leaning down and kissing you. His lips move slowly with yours, he’s being gentle, so gentle that you hear your heart thudding in your ears. 

“Come sit,” he mumbles against your mouth, helping you up and guiding you into his lap, a whine falling out of him when you sit on his cock and you mumble an apology that you don’t mean.

“When did.. Why did you..”

His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “My first birthday I spent without you. I just wanted to have something for you.”

You’ve seen it and you’ve heard it from him, but you still can’t make sense of it. “But you’re.. you’re Heeseung. You’d never get a tattoo, you told me that.” 

“I’ll probably never get another tattoo, it hurt like hell,” he says, frowning. 

“You’re such a sweetheart.” You cradle his face in your hands, gazing into his eyes, your sweet Heeseung. So different yet so incredibly similar. “You’re, like, obsessed with me.”

There’s a loud adoration in his eyes that makes your stomach turn. “How could I not be?” His smile is wide even though his lips are smushed a little by the way you’re holding his face. 

Heeseung tilts his chin towards you so you kiss him, the two of you passing moans and whines between your mouths as you grind on him, his hands gripping your waist under your shirt. He shudders under you, rutting his hips against yours with a groan. He’s harder than ever underneath you, his cock hot between your thighs, pressed up against your core in the most maddening way. It can’t be comfortable for him, the friction from your underwear but he seems like he’s enjoying it just as much as you, maybe more, you think, when he starts throbbing. 

Conscious of the boys across the hall, you try your best to be quiet, though Heeseung doesn’t share your concern, his lips parting too wide to keep kissing you and his head falling back as he lets a whine out into the air. His nails dig into your skin, hips speeding up more than you can keep up with as he trembles, clearly so close to the edge that you moan at the sight of him all fucked out in front of you. You chew on your lip, watching his whole face scrunch up before falling to your shoulder, his cum leaking out all over your panties and the tops of your thighs. A grin covers your lips while your pussy aches from the heat of his release and the feeling of his staggered breath hitting your skin. When he finally sits up, sweat slicks the column of his neck and chest, a nervous look in his eyes that he can’t quite bring to meet yours. 

“This is j—” Heeseung cuts you off by covering your mouth with his palm. 

“I remember. You don’t have to say it, baby, I remember.” 

“You were so cute that day,” you say when he moves his hand. Butterflies fill your stomach when you think about it, the first time you ever did anything with each other, with anyone. He was fifteen, with cute round glasses perched on the end of his nose and teeth too big for his mouth, finishing in his jeans with you in his lap.

“You don’t think I’m cute anymore?” he asks, frowning. 

“You’re always cute.”

Heeseung grins at your words, so wide and sweet your heart races. He kisses you gently and slips his hand into your underwear, his finger trailing the length of your pussy slowly, groaning into your mouth at how wet you are. You whine into the kiss when he strokes your clit and gasp when he pushes a finger into you easily. Gradually, he adds more fingers, fucking you open on his knuckles and watching as you fall apart.

His lips move from yours, falling to your neck so he can kiss and suck the sensitive skin there. “You feel so good, baby. My sweet girl,” he mumbles, breath searing your skin. The words make you clench, your stomach fluttering relentlessly as he uses his thumb to press on your clit, the pressure enough to make you spiral. It’s all too much too fast and before long, you’re squirming and mewling in Heeseung’s arms, finishing all over his fingers. 

Immediately, an excruciating flush burns every inch of your body as you hide your face in his neck to catch your breath. His arms wrap around you and he whispers sweet nothings into your hair while stroking your back.

Ever since that night in his room, all your senses feel heightened when Heeseung is around. 

And it doesn’t help that you spend every waking moment with him. Whether in his flat or yours, you’re joined at the hip and it’s near impossible not to pounce on him. In your stomach blooms a heat you haven’t felt in years. An all-consuming flame that makes you hold your breath when he cuddles you; makes you look away when he strips before showering.

He’s taken a liking to shirtlessness, only seeming to remember that the garments exist when he has to leave the house—which isn’t often now that classes have ended. This sudden cotton allergy plagues you, burning the image of his ever-increasing muscle definition and the tattoo on his hip into your memory, so deeply they’re the only things you see when you close your eyes at night. 

Even when Heeseung’s being romantic, cooking dinner for the two of you and almost burning his finger with a match while lighting a candle, you’re thinking about him fucking you. When he goes out with the boys and stumbles into your flat, drunk, with a crushed bouquet in his hands, you’re thinking about what might have happened if you’d gone out too. If he’d finger you in the back of a taxi or take you against the door when you got back. 

Weeks go by like this until you finally reach your limit. 

There’s nothing overtly sexual about the way Heeseung’s sitting. About the way his lashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks, or the way his hair sits in a sleepy mess on his forehead. But it’s Heeseung. So these things existing on him drive you crazy. 

Given the lack of privacy in your family homes — by way of an open-door rule when visiting each other — you and Heeseung didn’t have many opportunities to have sex that didn’t involve being tangled around one another in the backseat of his car. And even those occasions were few and far between. 

With the only three brain cells that seem to function around your shirtless boyfriend and your head on the doorjamb, you begin to scheme. It doesn’t have to be elaborate—just a way to get Heeseung to fuck you without you having to bring it up. 

“What’s up, baby?” he asks, finally looking over at you. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, with a raspiness to it that makes your thoughts run wild. From head to toe, his eyes drag over your body, his tongue coming out to run over his lips. 

Clearly, a very delicate, well-timed conversation is in order and the gears in your mind scrape against each other, turning egregiously as you try to figure out how to start the conversation. “I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out. Not the most delicate approach, but the way Heeseung’s eyes widen suggests you might be on the right track. “I didn’t mean to say that,” you admit sheepishly. 

He chuckles deeply in a way you haven’t heard in years. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a challenge in his question, evident from his raised brow, the setting aside of his phone, and the way he sits up straight. The movement forces the duvet to slip a little, falling from above his belly button to his hips in one fell — effortlessly sexy — swoop. 

In spite of this, you can’t help but roll your eyes at him. How could you be standing there, in nothing but his t-shirt, asking him to fuck you and he’s caught up on semantics? “That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“What are you saying?” When you don’t say anything, Heeseung lifts the duvet from his body entirely, grinning when your gaze locks on his hips. His pyjama pants are sitting low enough to show off the waistband of his underwear, and they don’t do anything to hide the way his hard cock pushes against them.

Heeseung towers over you, overwhelming you and the space of the doorframe as his mouth quirks up at one corner. “You want it, baby?” he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face in his hand, using his thumb to trace your lips. 

His face dips down to yours and you can’t resist reaching up to kiss him, whining at the contact as you move your lips in sync with his. The sounds he’s making are dizzying, deep groans you feel in your chest. His hand grips your waist, pulling you as close as possible so you can feel him, hard and thick, pressing against you. 

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing his kiss, but Heeseung only chuckles. “Say the word and I’m yours,” he whispers, looking down at you with those big eyes. 

“I’m not going to beg.” 

He smiles sweetly, a soft curve of his lips summoning butterflies. “Suit yourself,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of your neck and leaving the room. 

Flustered, you follow him, flinging your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back. “Okay, I’m going to beg.”

“I’m listening.” 

“I need you,” you mumble into his skin. 

“You have me.” 

Even though his words and the way his lips audibly split into a grin make your heart race, you can’t help your frustration. “Heeseung,” you say, pleading with him. 

He frees himself from your grip, turning around. When you look up at him, he’s watching you closely through lidded eyes, his lips parted in a soft pout that makes your heart melt. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close enough to feel him pressing against you. “I’m all yours, baby. What’s up?”

“Why are you torturing me?”

This makes him smile as he shakes his head. “I’m not.” 

“Please.”

He brings a hand up to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and you can’t help but nuzzle into his palm. “Please what?” 

“You know what I need and I can’t go any longer without it,” you mumble into his hand. Heeseung only raises a brow and you sigh. Somehow, your want for him is greater than your embarrassment so you sigh, looking him in the eye. “If you want to, please, please, fuck me, Heeseung. Any way you want, baby, just promise me you’ll do it. I need it, need you.” 

A shit-eating grin takes over his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Was that so hard?” he asks, frowning when you don’t reply. “Don’t get all moody, baby, talk to me.” 

Heeseung picks you up, holding you close as you wrap your legs around his waist. Both of his hands are spread over your ass and you’re too embarrassed to say anything, chewing your lip and staring at the little mole on his forehead. 

“Need me to fuck you ‘til you can talk again?” There’s a roughness to his voice that makes your cheeks flush, but you can’t help but laugh, head falling back in a fit of cackles. 

“What are you talking about?” 

His pretty lips come together in a pout before he speaks. “I don’t know.” He shrugs, the tips of his ears burning red as he carries you to his room, using his foot to close the door behind him. “I’m rusty.”

You shake your head before kissing his forehead. “You’re perfect.”

Heeseung sets you down on the bed gently, crawling over you. “I like seeing you in my shirts,” he says, clutching the fabric in his fists, tugging a little. 

“Someone has to wear them.”

A breathy laugh falls from his lips. “What?” He tilts his head, leaning away from you to sit back on his heels. “You don’t like seeing me like this?” 

It’s hard to find a balance between missing his warmth and looking at his body. Staring at the definition that marks his chest and stomach and the way his muscles stick out over his biceps, you can feel yourself leaking at the sight of him. Your eyes catch on his waistband, on the strip of hair that’s cut off by the start of the fabric before falling to the bulge in his pants. 

“You’re looking at me like I’m your next meal,” he mumbles, leaning back over you with a deep flush on his cheeks and neck.

“I think I want you to be.” 

“You think?”

You nod eagerly, anticipation swirling in your stomach. 

“Anything I can do to make you certain?” Heeseung’s voice is thick with something you think could be enough to make you finish. 

“Whatever you want,” you say, desperate. 

He chews on his lip, considering you for a while before kissing your cheek. Once more, he sits up, tugging at your waist. “First, I want this shirt out of my way,” he says with a smile. 

Immediately, you lean off the bed to let him take it off, tossing it behind him. “Anything else?” 

Heeseung’s too busy staring to speak, taking you in hungrily with a jarring combination of lust and adoration behind his eyes. You thought you’d feel shy about him seeing you after so long, but you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life as he reaches down to lock his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “You’re so pretty,” he says against your skin. 

There’s no stopping the flutter in your stomach or the smile that spreads over your lips. You tell him you love him and he says it back as he leans back down to kiss you slowly, his tongue licking into your mouth at an agonising pace, a line of saliva connecting you to him when he pulls away. 

“I want to get my head between your legs,” he mumbles, letting his hand dip between your spread thighs. “So wet already?” he asks, dragging your slick up to your clit, rubbing it with a featherlight touch that leaves a whine slipping from your lips. “Will you let me?” 

You nod. 

Heeseung smiles and you match it before he dips his head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there for a minute. His breath and wet mouth are hot, burning a trail down to your collarbone and chest, where he gets distracted, pulling one of your nipples between his lips.

Your stomach twists at the sight of him, his pretty, pouty lips sucking and biting at your sensitive skin, the way he’s moaning against you, using his thick fingers to tug and pinch your other breast. It takes him a while to move on but you don’t complain, even when he presses tickly kisses to your stomach. 

When he reaches your legs, he gets off the bed, kneels on the floor and hooks his arms around your thighs to pull you towards him. You feel exposed when he uses his thumbs to spread you, staring at your pussy with wide eyes, his lips parted a little until his head falls back with a groan. 

“Missed this pussy. Been thinking about it so much, all the time. So beautiful, baby.” He manages to drag his gaze from between your legs to lock eyes with you. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” His lips touch your thighs, kissing the soft skin there, sucking marks into it and biting softly. The sting is subtle but it makes you clench, a movement that isn’t lost on him. “You’re so needy, huh? You want me that bad?” he asks, looking up with a tilted head. 

You mumble the word ‘no’ and shake your head. “Need you.” The words come out of their own accord, nothing more than a desperate whine that makes Heeseung press his eyes shut. You watch as he shifts on the floor, leaning in and giving you the attention you deserve. 

Heeseung’s nose grazes your slit and you gasp at the sudden contact, flinging your head back into the pillows when he licks a strip from there to your clit, giving it a quick peck. 

You card your fingers through his hair, gripping at the strands so hard it must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, going slow despite the way you’re trying to rut against his face. He kisses the spot above your clit, his tongue poking out to lick at the skin there, only hitting the bud a few times and the anticipation is enough to make you spiral. 

Time stands still, all concept of it demolished when, finally, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit, running his tongue over it with a pressure that leaves you shaking against the sheets. Moans pour out of you like water from a faucet with nothing but pleasure and Heeseung’s sweet mouth crossing your mind. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s ever going to stop, only coming up for air for a brief moment before sticking a finger into you and attaching his mouth to your clit, burying himself in your wetness. The stretch is minimal, barely registering in the waves of pleasure crashing over you, until he adds a second finger, thick and rigid as he works you open for him. By the time his third finger enters, you have to pull him away by his hair, struggling to find the words to say and settling on a whiny cry of his name.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, face covered in slick that shines on his chin and nose, shoulders rising and falling heavily, but his fingers don’t let up, curling towards your belly button torturously slow.

“Want to cum with you inside.”

Heeseung’s eyes darken and he licks his lips. “Yeah?” 

“Uh-huh, and I don’t want you using a condom either, want you to fill me up.”

“Are you sure?” 

You nod. “I’m still on the pill and you’re the only person I’ve ever been with.”

Heeseung wastes no time standing up from the floor, watching hungrily as you sigh at the emptiness, moving up on the bed. He uses his fist to pump his cock slowly, sighing when he drags his thumb over his tip. A beat passes before he grins, boyish and handsome while crawling over you again. His face softens and his eyes burn into yours as he cups your cheek in his palm. “You sure about this?” 

“I’m sure, Heeseung, you’re all I want,” you whisper, pecking his lips. 

“Me too.” 

He uses his free hand to reach for his cock, rubbing his tip over your clit and chewing on his lip. He lets his cock split your folds, grinding his length against you, rubbing your cunt with a wet sound that fills the room. Heeseung straightens up and you moan when he spits into his palm, stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. You hold your breath, bracing for the stretch and crying out when he pushes in. His head falls forward with a sigh, his hair tickling your forehead.

“I missed you,” he groans when he bottoms out, his thumb running over your lips. A moan slips out of him when you open your mouth, running your thumb over the pad of his finger and sucking on it. “Missed these pretty lips, this pussy. Don’t know how I got on without it.” His words and the feeling of him inside after so long only make you dizzy, knowing that he wanted you like you wanted him. He watches you with parted lips, rocking his hips tenderly against yours. 

“Faster, Hee,” you whisper. “Harder.” 

Heeseung’s brows knit together and he slows to a pace that lets you feel single vein and inch of him as he bottoms out before pulling almost all the way out. “Can you take it?” he asks, a jarring tone to his voice that you think is a challenge. 

You nod desperately. “Please.” 

The word flips a switch for him and he speeds up, thrusting so hard, so deep that your back arches off the bed as his tip nudges your g-spot each time. Just when it all starts to feel too much, Heeseung lifts one of your legs, hitting deeper than he has before and tangling up a knot in your stomach. 

“You’re so good, baby, so good for me.” His eyes are dark and lidded, full of all the love in the world as he gazes into yours, a tangible love that overwhelms you, eating you alive along with his praise.

Sweltering heat stretches through every part of your body at the drag of him inside, the push and pull of his cock along your stuttering walls. It’s enough to make you shiver and a cry of his name rips out of you when he starts rubbing your clit again, pushing the bud in slow circles that make you screw your eyes shut. 

“That’s it. Cum for me, baby, make a mess,” he whispers and that’s as much as you can take. 

Stars flash behind your closed eyes as every single part of your body sets alight, dazed by Heeseung’s whines and the feeling of being full, finally being full, until both ends of the knot tug and tug, leaving you with nothing but a hoarse moan that dies in your throat as your orgasm hits you like a truck. 

A lewd squelch accompanies each of his thrusts as they get sloppier and sloppier, losing their rhythm and intensity. It seems like he’s right there with you though when he collapses on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck and his moans slipping out like music to your ears.

It’s hard not to fall apart under him, but you try your best, dragging your nails over the toned muscles of his back while telling him you love him over and over until he finishes. Both of you are trembling, fighting for breath and whining as Heeseung sloppily fucks you full of his cum. The sound is downright pornographic, loud and wet as your cum mixes with his for the first time in so long. An inexplicable intimacy so thick it hangs in the air, perching on your shoulders as he looks into your eyes. 

Heeseung slows down after a while, stopping completely but not pulling out yet, keeping you full and aching around him. When he catches his breath, he gives you a dreamy smile, thanking you before pressing soft kisses to every part of your face he can reach. 

You whine when he pulls out, missing him as soon as he’s gone. Despite your sensitivity, you want to beg him to come back, to slip back into you and stay forever, though Heeseung has other plans. He sits between your legs, dragging a lazy finger up your slit and watching with a smile as cum leaks out. You squirm against the sheets, pushing your head into the pillow when he uses two fingers to push it back in.

“Wish I could keep you full like this forever,” he mumbles absently, curling his fingers. 

All you can do is sigh happily. Long minutes go by until he takes his fingers out of you, reaching behind him for his shirt to wipe you up before leaning down to your face, mumbling against your lips to come and shower with him.

You’ve never showered with Heeseung before and a voice in your head tells you to press your cheek against the tile and let him have you again, but you’re way too sleepy for that. The warmth of the water and his big hands roaming your body do nothing to help, only forcing your eyes to fall shut as you lean back against Heeseung’s chest, willing yourself to stay awake. 

Once you’re all showered and clean, you only feel sleepier, standing on the plush bath mat in front of the steamed-up mirror. Droplets of water trickle down your skin and you can’t help but revel in the warmth of the room around you. Wrapped snugly in a soft, fluffy towel, you find yourself too tired to follow Heeseung out, slathering some of the expensive moisturiser Jay keeps in the bathroom over your skin. You peer into the mirror, though you don’t see much, and for a moment, it’s just you and the steady trickle of water from the showerhead. The bathroom smells like Heeseung’s minty shower gel and you miss him already, but you take your time anyway, savouring the moment and everything that came before it. 

You find him in his room when you’re done, tucking the last corner of a fitted sheet around his mattress. 

“You want to nap, baby?” he asks when he sees you, holding out a clean shirt for you to wear. 

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head and dropping the towel so he can put the shirt over your head. 

“Let me just fix the pillowcases, yeah?” 

You nod, slumping into his desk chair and watching the muscles in his back shift and flex as he moves around the room, dumping the dirty bedding into his laundry basket and slipping the clean linen over his pillows. He pulls the duvet back and pats the mattress, grinning when you shake your head and make grabby hands in his direction, 

Heeseung stretches his arms above his head and comes over to you but you stop him before he can pick you up. 

“I’m going grocery shopping with Yunjin later and I need a pound for the trolley, do you have any?” you ask through a yawn. 

He scratches his chin, thinking about it. “If I do, they’re in my wallet,” he says, reaching for it on the desk and handing it to you before taking a seat on the end of his bed. 

When you pull on the zipper to open the coin slot, you find a shiny pound coin and a folded piece of lined paper. You leave the coin where it is and hold the paper between two fingers for him to see. “What’s this?” 

Immediately, he hides his face with his hands but you can still see the flush on his ears. You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting, but despite your curiosity, you won’t look at it if he doesn’t want you to. “Sorry, baby,” you say, putting it back. “Forget I asked.” 

Heeseung sighs, looking up at you through the gaps in his fingers. “You can look if you want, it’s nothing bad, just mildly humiliating.” 

Nervous anticipation settles over your body and you can’t help but laugh a little, feeling your breath catch in your throat when you unfold the crumpled and creased paper. It’s blank. You arch a curious brow at Heeseung, who, though still slightly embarrassed, gestures for you to turn it over. 

What meets your eyes on the other side leaves you stunned. There, inked in blue with delicate care yet bearing the natural imperfections of a hand-drawn butterfly, was a familiar image. It’s the very same butterfly you drew in your notebook on a spring date with him four years ago. Your fingers tremble as you trace the lines, your heart racing as you remember how he’d torn it from the page, eyes full of appreciation for the simple drawing. 

Tears well up in your eyes when it dawns on you. It’s the very same butterfly he has tattooed on his hip, a permanent reminder of your love that endured separation and time. 

Your voice is weak as you look up at him, quivering with emotion. “You kept it after all these years,” you whisper.

Heeseung smiles, his eyes full of love. “I never let go of what matters to me.” 

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[xomakara]

Next Door To Forever

SUMMARY |  You thought you would never see the guy you'd have a one night stand with but when you meet Haechan again at a club and when you find out he's your neighbor, you can't help but be intrigued by him.

PAIRINGS | Haechan x Reader

GENRE |  college!student!Haechan, college!student!Reader, Nerd!Haechan, college au, one night stand, smut,

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, drinking, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (both male/female receiving/giving), public blowjobs, creampies, praise kink, pet names

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

LENGTH |  12,532 words

TAGLIST | @hisunflower

NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Oh god, I hope this turned out okay. Maybe it's because I'm always the worst critic of my own work so I always never feel satisfied about it lol. Been awhile since I wrote a Haechan fic and lately, he (and Jaehyun) have been flooding my feed. I hope you all like it!

After moving the last of your boxes into your spanking new place that would be yours for the next few years of school, you flop down on the bare mattress in the middle of the living room that the movers left there. You were just thankful that they set up the frame. You really weren't up to doing any more heavy lifting and the mattress was the only thing left to do before the moving van left.

Your new place was located in an apartment complex that was a good distance away from the main campus. It was perfect for you because you weren't fond of all the ruckus going on in the dorms. You were a junior so the thought of having to live in a crowded building full of underclassmen was less than ideal. Plus you really weren't interested in going through all the trouble of trying to get roommates. So you decided to take this opportunity to live alone and get an apartment of your own.

Apartment hunting was no joke and you had been at it for almost two weeks until you finally found this place. It wasn't too far from campus but the price was right and the size was just perfect for you. The rent was pretty reasonable and it wasn't in a bad neighborhood.

You sigh as you stretch yourself out and lay your head on the pillow. You didn't have a TV yet or any furniture besides a mattress, a couch and a coffee table. That would be something you'd have to take care of later. Your phone rings and you pull it out of your back pocket and check the caller ID. It's your parents and you know what they're calling about. They're still trying to convince you to let them help with the apartment.

"Hi, mom."

"Hi honey. How did the move go?" Your mom's voice sounds through the speaker.

"Good. It's finally over." You speak into the speaker and run a hand through your hair, sweeping your bangs back off your face.

"We wish we could have been there to help." Your mom sighs through the receiver.

"It's fine mom. I managed." You sit up on the bed.

"Are you sure?" Your mom insists.

"Yeah, it's not like I had a lot to bring with me." You say as a look around the large empty space, save for the boxes lining the wall and the mattress that you are sitting on.

"Do you need anything? Any furniture? Food?" Your mom offers.

"Food would be great, mom. Thanks." You respond, suddenly getting the realization that you were hungry and hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

"Your father and I are sending you a care package with some food, toiletries and other things you might need." Your mom says.

"Thanks." You smile, looking forward to the package. "You don't have to, y'know." You add.

"Don't worry. We'll also send the money that we would have used for furniture. Just go and get what you want and don't worry about the cost." Your mother says.

"Really, mom?" You ask, almost in disbelief.

"Yes, it's not a big deal." Your mother adds.

"But mom, you and dad are retired. I don't want to use your retirement money." You argue.

"Your dad won't take no for an answer. Besides, your brother and sister-in-law are sending you some money too." She explains.

You sigh in defeat. Your mom and dad had always been stubborn and they were hard-headed when it came to taking care of their kids. You didn't want to fight it, especially since it would be pointless. "Alright, mom. But make sure you take money from Minhwan-oppa and Nari-unnie too. I don't want you and dad spending too much money on us. I want you guys to spoil yourself once in a while."

"That's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart. We will do that. I'll text you when we send the package." Your mother replies.

"Ok, thanks mom." You say gratefully.

"No problem. Love you, honey." She answers.

"Love you too." You finish the call with a smile and lean back on the bed to rest.

You hang up and lay there in silence. It had been a long day and you were exhausted. You had been packing and moving for the last few weeks and the stress was starting to get to you. You were ready for a break.

Your phone rings again. It's your brother, Minhwan.

"Hey, oppa."

"How are you holding up, Y/N?" Minhwan says into the receiver.

"Tired but otherwise ok." You muttered. "Did mom talk to you? She's been on my ass about sending money to me."

"She mentioned it but I told her I wanted to talk to you first." He answered.

"Thanks, oppa. I appreciate it." You sigh gratefully.

"So, do you need anything? Money, clothes, food, whatever? I'm sending you an additional package with mom's." Minhwan tells you.

"Well, yeah. I need food and toiletries and stuff. But, I don't want to ask too much of you and unnie." You admit.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to Nari and we'll make sure you get everything you need. And I mean everything." Minhwan emphasizes the last word.

"Oppa..." You murmur, catching his tone.

"It's ok. You're our baby sister. Let us do this. Don't worry, we're not hurting for money. I'm a doctor and Nari is a lawyer, remember?" He laughs.

"Ok, I guess. But don't spoil me too much. I'm not going to be independent if you keep spoiling me." You frowned. "At least spend it on mom and dad. Buy them a trip somewhere or something."

"We'll take care of that too." Minhwan said. "But the money will be going to you first."

"What? But-" You stuttered, stunned.

"I gotta go, Y/N. Nari's calling me." You heard the unmistakable sound of her voice on the other side.

"Oppa-"

"I'll talk to you later."

He hangs up before you can say anything else. You sigh and close your eyes. You could use a nap right now.

Your stomach growls loudly and you sit up and stretch. "Well, I can't go to sleep now. Not until I eat something."

You stand up and grab your wallet, then head downstairs to the nearest convenience store. The streets were pretty quiet and there was a slight breeze. You could smell the scent of spring in the air and hear the rustling of leaves in the trees. It was a beautiful night. You reach the corner and turn onto the street where the convenience store is located. There are a couple of other college kids hanging out around the front door. One of them calls out to you as you walk past.

"Hey, Y/N!"

You stop and turn to look at him. It's Mark, a friend of yours that's in the same program as you, that also lives in the same apartment building. "Hi, Mark."

"What's up? Where are you off to?" He smiles at you.

"I was just gonna get something to eat. I just moved into the building, you know." You laughed.

Mark's eyes widened. "Oh shit. Was today moving day? Man, I would have helped you."

You shake your head and smile at him. "It's cool, I had a moving service come in and do most of the work."

"Nice. Well, if you need anything, let me know." Mark said sincerely.

"Will do. Thanks." You let out a laugh.

"Hey, what are you guys talking about?" Another one of your friends, Jaemin, approaches.

"Hey, Jaemin." You greeted. "We're just chatting. What are you doing here?"

"Getting some snacks for tonight. Jeno and I are watching horror movies at his place. Oh, wasn't today moving day for you? You wanna hang out with us later?" He asks excitedly.

"I'll pass. I'm tired and I still have stuff to unpack." You said, remembering the boxes stacked on top of each other.

Jaemin frowned. "Bummer. Maybe the gang will stop by and help you unpack."

You shake your head. "No thank you. I don't need Hendery and Yangyang causing a ruckus. Remember when we helped move into their place?"

Jaemin snorts. "How can I forget? The two were like monkeys, bouncing off the walls. Renjun almost got a black eye when Yangyang threw a shoe at him."

You laughed. "Yeah, that was pretty funny."

"Well, if you change your mind, give me a call. Or, if you're too tired, text me and we'll bring the movies over." Jaemin offered.

"Sounds like a plan." You smile.

Jaemin and Mark bid you farewell and you walk inside the convenience store. The fluorescent lights are bright and the music is too loud. You walk over to the frozen food section and pick out a few microwave dinners, a few bottles of water, and lots of instant ramen. You head to the cash register and pay for your food, then leave the store.

You make your way back to your apartment building and enter the elevator. The doors close and the elevator begins its ascent. The floor numbers blink as the elevator ascends and soon enough, the doors open again. You exit the elevator and head to your apartment. You keyed in your passcode and entered the small apartment. The lights were on and the air conditioner was working. You closed the door behind you and kicked off your shoes.

You put the microwavable meals and the bottle of water into the fridge, placed the bag of ramens on the counter and flopped onto the mattress that was still on your living room floor. You were exhausted. Moving was tiring but you needed to at least move your mattress unto your bed frame.

You laid there for a few minutes before getting up and dragging the mattress into the bedroom. You set it on top of the bed frame and began pushing the bed into the corner. It took a while but you eventually got it where you wanted it. You sat down and leaned against the wall, looking at the room. There were still a few boxes that needed to be unpacked but it was coming together. You felt satisfied and proud.

You stood up and headed to the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle of water and a packet of instant ramen. You poured the water into a pot and put the noodles in. You set the heat on high and watched as the water began to boil.

You looked around and sighed. You'd have to unpack more tomorrow.

You were too tired to think about it. You were ready to eat, take a shower, and crash for the night.

You took the pot off the heat and dumped the contents into a bowl. You rummaged around in one of the boxes that held your utensils and pulled out a pair of chopsticks. You sat down on the couch and began eating. After finishing the noodles, you went to take a shower. You stripped down and stepped into the bathroom. When you were done, you wrapped a towel around your body and headed to the bedroom. You rummaged through the boxes and found some clean underwear, a tank top, and a pair of shorts.

You put the clothes on and got into bed. It was only 8 pm but you were exhausted. You pulled the covers up and closed your eyes. You were asleep within minutes.

You wake up the next morning and check your phone. It was 9 am. You had a few messages and missed calls from your parents and siblings. You reply to their texts, telling them you were fine, and let them know that you were going to unpack.

You put your phone away and get out of bed. You go to the kitchen and start unpacking the rest of your dishes.

It takes you a couple of hours but you finally get everything in the apartment unpacked.

A knock is heard on your door, startling you. "Coming!"

You open the door and find Mark, Jaemin, and the rest of your friends standing in the hallway.

"Hey, guys." You say as you let them into your apartment.

"Yo, Y/N! What's up?" Renjun asks.

"Nothing much. Just finished unpacking." You tell him. The guys scan your apartment and whistle in surprise.

"That's good." Chenle says. "Need any help?"

You shake your head. "I'm good. But thanks for offering."

"Alright, well we're going out. Wanna come with?" Mark asked.

"Where to?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"To a club. There's a new one that opened downtown and the guys are dying to check it out." Yangyang muttered.

"Dude, it's like noon. Isn't it too early for that?" You questioned him.

"That's why I'm saying we should go during the day. Less people, less lines." He reasoned.

"Hey, if we're gonna party, we gotta get there early. Gotta scope out the place and see if it's worth our time." Hendery smirked.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna pass."

"Boo. Y/N, don't be a killjoy." Jisung whined.

"Do you hear something? Is the wind blowing or is it a ghost?" You ask, pretending to be surprised.

"Oh, fuck you, Y/N." Jisung retorted.

You burst into laughter and the others joined in.

"I can't believe you fell for that." You say, wiping tears from your eyes.

"You're the worst." He says, giving you the stink eye.

"Fine, I'll go with you all but come back at like 5 pm. I'm not going out at noon." You scoffed.

"Fine. Fine." They all muttered as they turned to walk away.

"And invite Jaehyun!" You called out.

"Boo! You just want to eye-fuck him all the time." Jaemin scoffed.

"So what?" You smirked. "He's hot. Can't blame me for appreciating a piece of fine man."

"Fine. I'll invite him. But don't get all touchy-feely with him." Mark frowned.

"Why? He's single. I'm single. What's the harm in having a little fun?" You retort.

"You're a player, Y/N." Mark sighed.

"You know it." You laughed.

"Just keep it PG-13, ok?" He says.

"No promises." You grin mischievously.

"Ugh. See you later." He says in defeat as he walks away.

They leave and you close the door. You spent a few hours organizing and rearranging your furniture and making sure that everything was in its proper place. You didn't have much to unpack.

You go to the bathroom and start getting ready for the night. You take a long hot shower and then blow-dry your hair. You put on some mascara and a light coat of lip gloss. You put on a tight black dress that showed off your curves and some black heels.

You check yourself in the mirror and are satisfied with the results. You grab your purse and head downstairs. Your friends are already there and are waiting for you.

"Hey, Y/N! Ready to get wild tonight?" Renjun smirked.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm always ready."

"Cool, let's go!" Chenle said.

The group heads downtown and walks a couple of blocks until they reach the club. The bouncer checks their IDs and lets them in.

The music is loud and the place is packed. The lights are flashing and the entire floor is moving. The place is dark except for the light over the DJ and the bar. Everyone is moving and jumping to the music. You see some kids from campus.

You take a moment to breathe in the atmosphere. The smell of sweat and alcohol hits your nose. The room is hot and humid and the sound of the music seems to vibrate through the floor. The bass is heavy and it pounds against your chest. You can feel the energy in the air and the tension. There's something different about being in a place full of strangers. You feel invigorated, alive. It's intoxicating.

"I'll get us some drinks." Yangyang said.

"Me too." Hendery said.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Renjun said.

"I'll come with." Jisung said.

"I'm gonna dance." Jaemin said.

"Me too." Chenle said.

"We'll find a table." Mark said. He grabbed your wrist. "Let's go."

The two of you push your way through the crowd and find an empty table near the back of the club.

"So, are you gonna try to hook up with Jaehyun tonight?" Mark asks.

"I might." You smirk. "Oh! Is that Ten over there?"

"You gonna try to hook up with Ten too?" Mark looks amused.

You shrug. "Maybe. Or Johnny. He's got some nice muscles, don't you think?"

"Y/N, you're unbelievable." Mark rolls his eyes.

"I'm a single girl with needs. Sue me." You laugh.

"I can't deal with you." Mark rolled his eyes.

You and Mark chat for a while, and then the others join you.

"Here, drinks." Yangyang hands out beers.

"Thanks." You grab a bottle and take a swig.

"Cheers!" Renjun says.

"To a fun night!" Hendery adds.

You all clink bottles and drink.

"Hey, I haven't seen Jeno around. Where is he?" You ask.

"He said that he's trying to drag someone out of hibernation." Jaemin rolled his eyes.

"Who?" Chenle quirked his brows.

"Haechan." Mark said, nursing a beer in his hand.

"Who?" You asked, confused.

"The guy who was with Jeno at the frat party. You remember him right?" He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I can't remember shit. I was wasted as fuck." You shrugged.

"Fair."

"So, where's Jaehyun?" You asked.

"Over there, talking to Ten." Yangyang pointed. "Hey! Where are you going?!"

The boys watched as you waved at them while you approached Ten and Jaehyun. They watched as Ten and Jaehyun gave you appreciative looks.

"She's unbelievable." Mark said, shaking his head.

"She's gonna hook up with both of them." Hendery stated, noticing the way Jaehyun snaked an arm around your waist.

"I bet she's gonna end up taking both of them home." Renjun scoffed.

"That's our Y/N. The best player in our group." Chenle sighed.

"What?" Jisung asked, confused.

"Nothing, Jisung. Let's just enjoy our night." Mark smiled.

Haechan didn't want to be here. He didn't like parties and he hated being surrounded by drunk people. He felt suffocated in the sea of writhing bodies that were all trying to bump and grind against each other. The music was too loud and there was an almost unbearable smell of sweat in the air. The lights were low and the whole atmosphere seemed oppressive. There were strobing lights flashing on and off that only seemed to disorient people further.

"Why did I let you drag me to this place?" Haechan muttered as he looked around the club.

"Come on, dude. Live a little." Jeno smiled. "Drink some booze. Relax."

"I'd rather stay home and read." Haechan replied.

"Dude, you need to get laid. When was the last time you got some pussy?" Jeno asked as he nudged his friend in the arm.

"A few weeks ago, remember? At that frat party? The one where I got too drunk and had a one-night stand with someone." Haechan rolled his eyes.

Jeno pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows, trying to recall the incident that Haechan spoke of. After a moment of silent thinking, Jeno looked at his friend. "Ah. Yeah, I remember. You were a mess that night."

"Yeah, thanks for that." Haechan muttered. "I can't believe you and the guys know her."

Haechan thought back to the night of that wild frat party. Jeno had dragged him along when Haechan tried to study at his apartment. They had arrived at the frat house and were immediately given red solo cups. They had joined the party, the sounds of hip-hop music pumping in the background. Jeno had chatted up the sorority girls and disappeared from Haechan's side. Haechan was left standing at the edge of the room, wondering what he was doing at the party.

He had gotten lost and had bumped into you. The alcohol in his system had loosened his lips and he told you the embarrassing story of how he was dragged to the party. You laughed at him and teased him a bit but soon, you began flirting with him. It didn't take long before the two of you had ended up back at your dorm room.

It was a drunken mistake. He remembered waking up with a pounding headache, a hangover that was more painful than anything he had experienced, and his clothes and underwear scattered on the floor. It had taken him a moment to realize that he was in your dorm, and another moment to remember why. The memories were blurred and faint but it didn't take a genius to realize that he had sex with you. And it had been a rough one judging by the bruises he found on his back.

"I can't believe you don't know her." Jeno laughed. "She's been friends with Mark and Hendery for a damn, long time before she met Jaemin, Yangyang, Renjun and me."

"And now she's friends with Chenle and Jisung?" Haechan wondered out loud.

"Yeah. She's cool, bro. You'll like her." Jeno winked.

"I doubt it." Haechan muttered. "She doesn't seem my type."

"How would you know? You didn't even know her name." Jeno cackled.

"Shut the fuck up." Haechan huffed. "It was one time."

"Come on. I'll introduce you." Jeno chuckled, walking off.

"Wait, no. Dude, come on." Haechan trailed after him.

"I won't tell the others that you two hooked up." Jeno laughed as he grabbed Haechan's wrist and dragged him over to the table where you and the guys were seated. "Yo, Y/N! Guys."

"Jenoooooo!" You called out. You were obviously tipsy and a little bit buzzed. 

Renjun tried to wrestle the bottle from you. "Give it up, Y/N. You're done."

"Oh, come on! Don't be such a party pooper!" You whined.

"Dude, stop hogging the bottle." Hendery muttered.

"Hey, Jeno. Hey Haechan." Mark greeted.

"Sup, Mark." Jeno fist bumped his friend.

"Hey." Haechan greeted, a little shyly.

"Glad you're out and about Haechan." Renjun smirked.

"Stop drinking." Mark sighed as he took the bottle from your hands.

"Noooooooo." You whined.

"Y/N, you're drunk." Mark stated, matter-of-factly.

"I'm fine. Just a little tipsy." You giggled.

"How much have you had to drink?" Jaemin asked, his tone stern and serious.

"I don't know. A lot." You confessed.

"Give me the fucking bottle." Jaemin said.

"Dude, you're cut off." Mark declared.

"That's what I told her." Renjun scoffed.

"Aww, you're no fun, Mark." You pouted.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Mark muttered. He turned to look at Haechan. "Thanks for showing up. You haven't met Y/N yet, right?"

Haechan gives you a quick glance before turning away, and pretends not to know you. He avoids meeting your gaze because the incident from the night of the frat party made him feel embarrassed. It was a spur of the moment thing and he hated losing control.

"Ohhhhhhh, so this is the guy you were trying to drag out of hibernation." You hugged Jeno but then you furrowed your brows. You leaned in to look at Haechan. "Wait...have we met before?"

"Uh, I don't think so." Haechan stammered.

"Are you sure?" You narrowed your eyes.

"Yeah." Haechan said a little bit too quickly.

"Huh, weird. I swear I've seen your face before." You peered at the handsome face and then it dawned on you. Those eyes, those lips, the moles on his face and neck, the shape of his nose. It all clicked. Your eyes widened and the liquor-infused brain of yours recalled what happened that night. How he had felt inside you, how he had begged for your pussy, and how he had given you a world-changing orgasm. It all came back to you.

"Oh my god." You muttered.

"What?" Jeno asked.

"We've fucked." You said out loud.

"I'm sorry, what?" Haechan gawked at you, shocked.

"You're the guy that I hooked up with a few weeks ago." You said, realization dawning on you.

"Dude, Y/N, shut the fuck up." Mark muttered in disbelief.

"What the fuck?" Hendery gawked at his friends, confused. "You two hooked up?"

"How do you know it's Haechan?" Renjun asked.

"Like I would forget that beautiful constellation of moles." You muttered. "It's him. No doubt about it."

"Dude." Mark gave Haechan a look.

"Dude." Jaemin also gave Haechan a look.

"Dude." Hendery also gave Haechan a look.

"Dude." Chenle and Jisung gave Haechan a look.

"What?" Haechan asked.

"When the fuck were you gonna tell us you hooked up with a chick from our group?" Yangyang questioned.

"You guys were never supposed to find out about that." Haechan deadpanned.

"Well we know now and we're all very interested to hear the story." Yangyang grinned.

"Not gonna happen." Haechan retorted.

"Boo. So uncooperative." Yangyang pouted.

"Hey, I was drunk. I don't remember anything from that night." Haechan defended himself. "Besides, I've never met her before until today. She's not part of our group. So why should I have told you?"

"Bro." Jeno looked at him.

"Bro." Mark also looked at him.

"Bro." Hendery also looked at him.

"Bro." Yangyang and Jaemin also looked at him.

"Guys, shut up. I don't want to talk about it." Haechan muttered as he tried to walk away.

"Wait." You grabbed his wrist.

"What?" Haechan paused.

"Can we talk? Preferably far away from these idiots." You said, glaring at your friends.

"Hey!" Everyone objected.

Haechan sighed, not having much of a choice. "Um, ok."

You get up and Haechan follows. You drag him outside and head over to a bench. Sitting down, you looked at the random people milling around the club. The vibe was completely different from a couple of hours ago and you welcomed the change.

"So..." You begin.

"So..." Haechan mutters, looking everywhere but at you.

"I didn't mean to put you in an awful position like that." You said, looking down at your lap. "When I start drinking, I tend to lose control and I don't know how to filter what comes out of my mouth."

"It's fine. Really." Haechan shrugged. "It's not your fault. Besides, it was a one-time thing."

"Yeah." You nodded. "We were both drunk. We didn't know what we were doing."

"Mhm." Haechan hummed.

There was an awkward silence.

"Hey, look." You began. "I don't want this to be a weird situation. We both have a past and it was just a one-night stand. What happened, happened and we can't change that. We hang out in the same social circles and sure, this is the first time I've officially met you but that doesn't change the fact that I have a connection with you, in a way."

"I guess." Haechan shrugged.

"I'd like to be your friend. Would that be ok with you?" You asked, nervously.

"Yeah, sure." Haechan nodded.

"Cool." You smiled.

"Cool." Haechan said, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Hey, um, would you like to go somewhere else and just chill? I kind of don't want to go back in there and hear the guys talk shit." You laughed nervously.

"I don't blame you." Haechan lets out a small laugh. "They're a weird ass bunch."

"You can say that again." You chuckled.

"Where do you want to go?" Haechan asked.

"Let's go to a coffee shop. I need to sober up a little." You replied.

"Coffee sounds good." Haechan nodded.

"Great." You stand up and start walking away. "Let's go."

"Uh, ok." Haechan gets up and follows you.

You two walked side-by-side and talked about random things.

"I have to ask." You began. "How are you a friend of Jeno and the rest? I've been friends with Mark and Hendery since we were kids and we became close to Jeno, Jaemin, Yangyang, and Renjun through college. I know Chenle and Jisung because they're sophomores and they hang out with Renjun and Yangyang. But how the hell do you fit in all of this? You don't really seem like the partying type."

"I'm not. Jeno dragged me to the club." Haechan said. "And as for why I'm friends with the guys, we met through a gaming app and then we met in real life and we just hit it off."

"Wow. I would've never expected you to be the gaming type." You chuckled.

"I'm a nerd." Haechan shrugged.

"Well, I don't think that's a bad thing." You replied.

"It's not?" He asked, surprised.

"Nope. I think nerds are super cool. And it's good that you have a passion. Even if it's gaming. And, I'm not saying that gamers are losers or anything. That's just my personal opinion." You clarified.

"Thanks." Haechan gave you a small smile. "I appreciate that."

"Anytime." You grinned.

The two of you continued walking, enjoying each other's company. After a few minutes, you arrived at the coffee shop.

"This is the place." You said as you opened the door.

"Cool." Haechan followed you inside.

You ordered your drinks and then found a table near the window. You're really glad you found this shop. It's cozy and warm, the smell of coffee is inviting, and the interior is very comfy, reminding you of an old coffee house in an old tv show.

"This place is nice." Haechan said as he looked around.

"Yeah, it's one of my favorite places to hang out." You replied.

You both sipped your coffee and made small talk. Haechan couldn't help but look at you every now and then.

"What?" You asked, catching him staring.

"Sorry." Haechan blushed. "It's just that, um, you're really pretty."

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Haechan muttered and took a sip of his drink. "Sorry, was that too forward?"

"No, no, not at all." You said, blushing a bit. "I'm just not used to hearing that."

"Really? I've been seeing people checking you out at the club." Haechan blurted out.

"They were probably drunk and not thinking straight." You waved it off.

"Maybe. Or maybe they just have good taste." Haechan smiled.

"Maybe." You smiled back.

Haechan let out a small smile. "You're different from what I expected."

"Different how?" You asked.

"I didn't think someone as outgoing as you would be interested in someone like me." Haechan said.

"What do you mean by that?" You tilted your head.

"I don't know, I just figured you'd be more into the popular crowd. You know, the athletes and the rich kids. Not the nerds and the losers." Haechan muttered.

"I used to be a nerd too, you know." You laughed. "Way before I started partying and dating and all that. Back in middle school and high school, I was the definition of a nerd. I had braces, glasses, wore sweaters, and kept my hair in braids."

"Really?" Haechan couldn't believe it.

"Yes. But once I got to college, I wanted to reinvent myself and try new things. And so I did. But just because I like partying and going to clubs and bars, it doesn't mean I can't still be a nerd and have my own nerdy interests." You took a sip of your coffee. "Sure, folks see me as that wild girl or the one who gets around. But they don't see the whole picture. And besides, I like to think that everyone has layers to them and it's just a matter of finding those layers."

"That's true." Haechan said. "I never thought of it that way."

"What about you? You're the type of guy that I never thought would be friends with the guys. Jeno is a party boy and the rest are just wild." You mused.

"I know." Haechan chuckled. "But when you have something in common with someone, you just click."

"True." You agreed.

"They're good people though. Even though I want to stay in and play video games all day, they managed to drag me out of my shell." Haechan says, smiling softly. "They make me feel included and that I belong somewhere. I appreciate that."

"That's good." You said, smiling. "So I know Jeno dragged you to the frat party and all, but did you have fun at least?"

"Yeah, I guess. The food was good." Haechan jokes, laughing lightly.

"The food was the best." You agreed.

"I'll admit, I wasn't a fan of the loud music and the crowds." He shrugged.

"That's understandable." You nodded. "It was a frat party. They're all the same."

"True." Haechan laughed. "I don't think I would've stayed long if it weren't for the food and the alcohol."

"You're a lightweight." You teased.

"I am not." Haechan pouted.

"Sure, sure." You laughed.

You and Haechan continue to chat for a bit and eventually, you two have finished your coffee.

"So, are you ready to go back?" You asked.

"If you are." Haechan said.

"Not really, to be honest." You chuckled, making the boy smile. "I kind of wanna stay here and just be away from the guys. And talk to a cute boy. Or am I being too forward?"

"Uh." Haechan was shocked and blushed a little.

"I guess that was a bit too much, huh?" You felt embarrassed. "Let's just go back."

"Wait." Haechan took your wrist.

"Huh?" You were surprised by the sudden action.

"I wouldn't mind talking to you longer." Haechan admitted.

"Really?" You asked.

"Yes." Haechan blushed again and turned away, muttering.

"Ok, then." You were laughing and Haechan couldn't help but stare. The way your eyes lit up when you laughed. It was mesmerizing.

"Come on." You stood up. "Let's go. We have all the time in the world to talk."

Haechan's lips tugged upwards and he stood up too. He walked with you outside. You kept on looking at Haechan and then suddenly stopped and paused, biting your lip. Haechan caught your action and his breath hitched.

"Are you ok?" Haechan's breath was haggard.

"Maybe we should go back to the club..." You suggested.

"Are you going to drink?" Haechan tilted his head.

"Hell no. I'm done drinking for tonight." You shook your head.

"Good." Haechan smirked. "Because I have an idea."

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow.

"You said you're a nerd. And I happen to be a nerd as well. Why don't we hang out and play some games?" Haechan suggests.

"I'd like that." You grin.

"Cool." Haechan smiled. "Come on. My place isn't too far."

You made your way to his place, noticing the familiar signs and landmarks. This all looked too familiar, and not just because you're drunk. This is the path you've walked on countless times before. In fact, it led straight to your own home.

"Hey, I didn't know you live in this complex." You pointed out.

"Oh, yeah." Haechan scratched the back of his neck.

"I live here too." You grinned.

"No way." Haechan was surprised.

"Yes, way." You laughed. "I just moved here a few days ago."

"I had no idea." Haechan remarked.

"I guess fate works in mysterious ways." You shrugged.

"That's for sure." Haechan agreed.

The two of you continue walking, enjoying the night breeze.

"I'll admit, I was nervous when Jeno dragged me to the club earlier." Haechan said. "But I'm glad he did. I never would've gotten to know you otherwise."

"Same." You smiled.

The two of you made your way to the elevator. Once the doors closed, you couldn't help but take notice of how close you were standing to each other. Your shoulders were brushing and you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"It's weird how we live in the same building and we didn't know each other." You mumbled.

"Well, now we do." Haechan gave you a shy smile.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. You blinked a few times and stared at the hallway that you knew quite well.

"This is my floor." You muttered.

"Yeah, this is my floor too." Haechan said. He pointed to his door. "I'm down that way."

"No way! We're neighbors." You said with a surprised face. "I'm right next to you!"

"Are you serious?" Haechan laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

"Yeah! Now we really have no excuse to not be friends." You said, nudging his side.

You and Haechan looked at each other, both trying to hide the smiles on your faces.

"No wonder I've been hearing noises in the apartment next to mine." Haechan muttered. "It was you."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry. I've been moving a lot of things in and there's a lot of noise." You rubbed the back of your neck.

"It's fine. I'm used to loud noises." Haechan says, waving off your apology.

"I promise I won't disturb you too much." You assure him.

"No, no. It's fine." Haechan said, a smile tugging on his lips. "I actually don't mind."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

You smiled.

"So...would you like to come in?" Haechan asked.

"Sure." You said.

You and Haechan walked towards his door. You waited as he unlocked it.

"Welcome to my humble abode." He said.

"Thanks." You said as you entered his apartment.

The first thing you noticed was that it was very clean and organized. The second thing you noticed was the massive television screen that covered the entire wall.

"Wow." You said. "This is awesome."

"Thanks." Haechan smiled.

"You have a really cool set up." You said as you took in all the details.

"It's all I have. My life revolves around gaming, after all." Haechan said.

"Ok, what are we gonna play?" You asked.

"Why don't you pick something out?" Haechan gestured to his bookshelf. "There's a bunch of games over there."

"Really?" You walked over.

"Yeah, sure. Anything you like." Haechan said as he removed his jacket.

You went to his bookshelf and checked out the various titles. There were a lot of game titles you've seen before and even more that were unfamiliar to you.

"Hmm, how about this one?" You said as you pulled a case from the shelf.

"Oh, that's a good one." Haechan smiled.

You spent the night playing games and having fun. At one point, you were both so immersed in the game that you forgot how late it was.

"Oh my god, it's three in the morning." You gasped.

"Oh, wow." Haechan looked at his watch. "Time flies when you're having fun."

"Yeah, it does." You nodded.

"Do you want to crash here?" Haechan offered.

"Sure." You nodded. "Too tired to go to my place even though it's next door."

"Alright." Haechan laughed. He stood and made his way to his bedroom and returned with blankets and a pillow. He put them on the couch. "You can have the bed."

"No, no. I'll take the couch." You said, feeling guilty about taking his bed.

"Nuh-uh, I'll be fine on the couch."

"Haechan." You stood up, planting your hands on your hips. "I can't let you sleep on the couch in your own apartment."

"Why not?" Haechan shrugged.

"Just- It's not right." You didn't know how to explain without sounding stupid.

"I'll be fine." Haechan reassured you.

"Are you sure?" You asked, worrying.

"Positive." Haechan said.

Without a fight, you didn't argue any further. He led you to the bedroom. It's simple and cozy. Nothing super fancy, but the furniture is modern and stylish. It also smells of him. That familiar musk and sweet scent, which oddly relaxes you. He has a queen-size bed, a couple of posters hung up on the wall, and a desk and a chair.

"So, goodnight." Haechan says before he turns off the lights. "Sleep well."

"Night." You smiled.

Haechan turned off the lights and went to sleep. You stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You were so excited and happy to finally have met Haechan. You were also curious about him and couldn't wait to learn more.

As you slowly drifted off to sleep, you smiled, thinking about your new neighbor.

And how the two of you will be spending a lot of time together from now on.

"So you ended up spending the night at his place?" Mark asked hours later as you met up with him and Hendery after your afternoon classes ended.

"Yeah." You nodded, unable to hide the exhaustion from your face.

"And you're saying you stayed up late playing games and not fucking?" Hendery asked, his eyebrows raised.

"We just played games." You shook your head.

"And nothing happened?" Mark tilted his head, questioning.

"Nothing." You shrugged.

"Damn, girl." Mark laughed. "Who are you and what happened to Y/N?"

"I don't know." You sighed.

"Did you like him?" Hendery asked as he opened his soda and chugged it down.

"Yes. But I'm not gonna do anything about it." You shrugged.

"Why not?" Mark asked.

"I'm not that kind of girl." You shrugged.

"You are." Mark and Hendery said in unison.

"Look, I'll admit that I have a reputation, but I'm not the kind of girl that goes for every guy she sees. And besides, Haechan and I had a really great time last night." You shrugged.

"Aww, look at our little Y/N being all mature and responsible." Mark said, pretending to cry.

"Shut up, Mark." You scoffed.

"You're growing up, Y/N." Hendery wiped away a fake tear.

"Just shut up. Both of you." You rolled your eyes, walking faster. Your friends just laughed and teased you even more.

Meanwhile, Haechan is spending the day trying not to think of you. But how can he when you're literally the only thing he's ever thought of?

Haechan knows it's stupid of him to believe you two were destined to meet. And yet, after one night of passion, the universe decided to play a trick on him and place you in the same building, mere inches away from each other.

Haechan didn't really expect anything the morning after, although he had a pretty nice time with you last night. But when he wakes up the morning after, the first thing he thinks of is how he wants to see you again, even though the two of you are not even dating and your one night of passion might be just that.

There's just something about you that draws him in and makes him want to be around you more. And the funny thing is, it wasn't just a physical attraction. No, Haechan wants to learn more about you. Wants to hear you talk about whatever you're passionate about. Even if that meant hearing you ramble on about something he barely understood or even didn't know.

However, being the shy nerd he is, Haechan has no idea how to act and what to say to you. He doesn't want to come off as needy or pushy, but at the same time, he wants to spend more time with you. He knows how you like it loud and wild and how much fun it is for you when people are around. But he's seen that side of you and you know the person behind those glasses. The real person who's a nerd, just like him.

He remembers the conversation you had with him the night before as clear as day. About you once being a nerd and how people didn't know about your gaming skills and interests. He can't help but find you more attractive when he's learning more about you. Your nerdy interests, the way you play video games, your humor. And he loved the fact that the two of you can bond over those things. It made him feel special, like it wasn't easy to come by. He's usually the first one to shy away from most people, but not with you.

A loud ring echoed through the air as Haechan snapped out of his thoughts and stared at his laptop.

"Sorry about that." Jeno quickly picks up his ringing phone, trying not to disturb his friends. "Hello?"

Haechan watches as Jeno walks away while on the phone. Jaemin, Renjun and Yangyang are too engrossed in their game, barely paying attention to him. Haechan decided that now was the best time for him to talk with them. "Guys, I need some advice."

"About what?" Renjun asks.

"Is it about Y/N?" Jaemin asks without missing a beat.

"What?" Haechan gasped. "How did you—"

"It's written all over your face." Jaemin deadpanned.

"Oh."

"Come on, just spit it out." Renjun nudged him. "Do you like Y/N? Because she has that effect on most of our male species, let alone on guys from other colleges."

"I mean...you guys like her, right?" Haechan hesitantly asked, his face heating up.

"Yeah. But it's not like we're gonna fuck or anything." Yangyang asked, clearly confused.

"She's a free spirit." Jaemin smirked. "She can do whatever and whoever she wants."

"I don't...look I just..." Haechan let out an exasperated breath.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just hear it." Jeno returned as soon as he hung up.

Haechan looks at each of his friend's faces, trying his best not to blush.

"Well," He says, fidgeting with his sleeves. "It's...it's just that Y/N is awesome." He stammers.

"No shit." Jeno chuckles.

"No, really!" Haechan exclaims. "And last night was so much fun with her."

"Did y'all fuck again? You were in such a good mood this morning, it wouldn't surprise me at all." Renjun says.

"No, we didn't!" Haechan shakes his head. "We spent the entire night playing games."

"Oh, I was about to tease you so hard, man." Renjun fake cries.

"Well, I liked hanging out with her and we played games all night, but there was nothing sexual or anything like that." Haechan said quietly.

"Oh." All of them speak in unison. They exchange confused glances and turn their attention back to the gamer before them.

"How can someone be that cute, man?" Haechan pouted.

The guys blinked.

"What?" Haechan furrows his brow.

"Haechan...you're okay, right? Like, mentally, are you okay? Physically?" Jaemin asked as he reached over to place his palm against the nerd's forehead. "Are you sick?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes, Jaemin, I'm fine. No, I'm not sick, thank you very much. No fever." Haechan slapped Jaemin's hand away.

"Seriously, man. We haven't seen you this cheerful and all smiles ever since...ever." Jeno furrowed his eyebrows at Haechan, confusion written all over his face.

"I have to make sure, dude. Because this isn't like you. You don't fall for people this easily. Especially after one night, mind you. And I've never seen you like this...ever." Jaemin shook his head at him.

"Come on." Renjun spoke for the first time. "Tell us everything and we can give you some feedback."

"Uh..."

"And be detailed." Jeno winks.

Haechan let out a long sigh before he explained everything that happened last night. How you both went to get coffee,  going back to his apartment, finding out that you were neighbors, playing and talking about video games, and crashing at his place. He even explained what happened this morning where the both of you said goodbye.

Once he finished explaining, his friends all stared at him in disbelief.

"Wow..." Jeno shook his head. "So, no sex, huh? Really?"

"Really. That's the first thing you ask?" Haechan asked incredulously. "Yes, really! For once, I wasn't the nerd that sat on his ass while playing games. For once, I had a good time! What, am I supposed to have sex every time I go out?"

"No, but—" Jeno starts.

"Listen. When Y/N and I were playing, I couldn't stop smiling. I had the time of my life with her and she made me feel great, and not because I got laid." Haechan looks at his hands and sighs. "What I'm trying to say is that I haven't felt that way in a long time. Just knowing that she's here, just an inch away and not at the club where there are a thousand other guys waiting for the same treatment. I couldn't have it any other way. Does that make sense?

Renjun smacks Jeno upside the head before anyone can respond to the question. "Dude, Haechan has a crush!"

"Ow. And finally. Took him long enough." Jeno grunted and rubbed the spot. "Now we can tease him even more."

Haechan blushed profusely. "I-I wouldn't call it a crush. Just because we had a good time. Like, yeah, she's hot, and a gamer and super chill, but—"

"Did you just call Y/N hot? Damn, you really are gone." Jaemin said.

Haechan slapped Jaemin's arm. "Shut up."

"But, like, have you ever considered that this could work?" Renjun asked.

"Have I...what?" Haechan started.

"Look." Yangyang says. "You guys fucked before. You guys are neighbors now. You guys clearly have the same interests. Kinda. And you are both available. Plus, you two seem to have this connection. So why not give it a shot?"

"Yeah." Jeno said as he took a sip of his coffee. "Besides, it'll keep you out of your bedroom."

"Or get you stuck inside a bedroom." Renjun snickered.

Haechan shoots him a death glare but doesn't say anything.

"What are you guys planning to do now? Just hang out? Play video games? Do the do?" Jaemin asked, smirking. "Just try to enjoy the rest of the semester and have fun with her. Who knows? It might even lead to more."

"Yeah." Renjun shrugged. "Besides, it doesn't hurt to get closer. You're both single. Might as well shoot your shot."

"Yeah, okay. Sounds fair." Haechan sighed. "Thanks for the advice, guys."

"Yo, that reminds me." Yangyang's face lights up as he opens his backpack and pulls out a pair of tickets. "Haechan, why don't you take Y/N to this?"

Haechan eyes the tickets suspiciously. "What is it?"

"It's a local convention. All these nerds are coming out. You know, for video games and comics and shit. If Y/N likes these things, then this is a perfect date." Yangyang smiles.

"I guess it's pretty interesting." Haechan picks up a ticket to examine the details. He tried not to smile at the thought of seeing you there. "Do you really think Y/N would enjoy going there?"

"Maybe, I don't know. What's stopping you from asking her though?" Yangyang asked as he raised his eyebrows.

Haechan looks down at the tickets and then to Yangyang's face, a slow smile spreads on his face. "Thanks, dude. You're right. It wouldn't hurt to invite her."

You let your gaze wander as you glanced at the crowd and wondered when was the last time you attended something like this. A comic convention filled to the brim with cosplayers and hardcore geeks and nerds. Some fans even had merch with their favorite characters, while others just came for the sake of it and maybe even for a date or two.

You caught a few people from your college as they had fun and watched a panel on some show or another, while some of them are doing some sort of art, reading a book or checking out the games that are in store. There is even a special guests section in one corner. You shook your head in disbelief, thinking how lucky you were that Haechan even let you tag along, seeing that it was usually impossible for you to buy tickets these days, seeing that the queue to get these is always filled and you are lucky enough to even have the chance.

Your gaze moves from the crowds around you to the person standing next to you, or rather the person you are currently leaning onto. You see that his eyes are also roaming around the crowds and that the people next to him are chatting, not paying attention to you.

"See? Didn't I say that it would be awesome to have you here with me? So far, we haven't even had any awkward conversation and we aren't bored, like my friends were yesterday. It's totally worth getting out of my apartment." Haechan exclaimed, a huge grin on his face.

You couldn't help but smile and give him a side eye, glancing at his side profile. Haechan is kind of adorable, with his big, thick, round, black glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles and the dimples that are displayed every time he opens his mouth or when he speaks. It makes your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt from the pit of your stomach. His pink, soft and full lips are also incredibly kissable and make him look very sweet and innocent.

"Totally, Haechan. We could stay here forever." You say with a laugh.

"You think?" His eyes sparkle with amusement.

"I know." You bump his shoulder playfully. "Maybe we should come here together the next time one of these comes by. What do you think?"

"Definitely." Haechan says eagerly, smiling widely.

"Cool. But since this is just the first time that we've come here together, what do you want to do now, Haechan? Go shopping or take pictures? Or maybe we can watch a couple of the shows in the main hall. I bet you are really looking forward to this." You ask while pointing to one of the posters in the convention area.

Haechan thought for a moment before replying, "To be honest, I would have loved to see some panels. But we can shop too. How about you? Are there any artists you are interested in?"

"Sure." You agreed, looking back at him with a smile on your face, "It's totally okay to want to go and have fun. As long as we don't get lost, let's shop for whatever. I'm cool with anything, Haechan."

"Alright," he agrees, letting you continue leading the way.

"Hmm...Should we go and see what this year has to offer?"

The two of you start walking around and look at all of the new books that have been published, including the special ones with artwork in them. Some of those are signed, which is a huge bonus to collectors or those who can afford it. After a while, the both of you decide on the comics that interest you the most and buy two copies of each to make it easier. You also pick up a few books for your respective shelves in your apartment, the ones that you are sure will be treasured.

You wandered to a booth that was selling some adult content and flipped through a few comics. You bit your bottom lip as you read a pretty steamy scene on the page that you flipped open and imagined you and Haechan doing the same positions as the characters on the page.

"Found a comic that caught your interest?" You look up to find a smiling Haechan standing next to you.

"What?" You raise one brow and look over at the comic before placing it back on the table and walking a short distance away. Haechan watches you walk away but grabs the same comic that you put back down and flips the pages. Once he lands on the page that caused you to bite your bottom lip, he understands why you put it back down.

He blushes deeply as his eyes scan the steamy artwork.

He shut the book closed. "Um...are you ready?" He calls out, holding the book tightly.

"I'm almost ready," you tell him as you approach him, placing a few comic books in your shopping basket, "I need to decide between the second one or the third one."

Haechan grabs the adult comic and tosses it in the basket without you noticing and leads you to the cashier to purchase it. You never noticed and you were never aware that it was in your basket. Haechan was so stealthy that he managed to pay for the whole basket before you even noticed.

After walking for a while, you needed to use the restroom and pulled Haechan with you. Luckily you found a restroom with no stalls and after pulling Haechan into the room, you locked the door behind the both of you. Once he realized that there were no stalls, he turned red with embarrassment.

"Did you drag me in here because of that adult comic?" He questioned, fidgeting his hands in front of him nervously, biting his lip.

"Maybe. I saw that you picked it up while I was grabbing my things. Thought you were sneaky, huh?" You smiled as you walked up to him and grabbed hold of his hand, pressing it against your stomach. "Haechan?" 

You looked into his brown eyes as you pushed his fingers down under the waistband of your skirt. He sucked in a breath.

"Do you...uh..want to try it out?" You asked while grabbing the belt loop on his jeans.

"Try it out..." he repeated slowly. "Like right now?"

"Well...I mean...we're here..."

He was silent for a minute before looking back up at you. "...yes" he nods.

You pushed him to sit on the closed toilet seat and drop to your knees in between his spread legs. You stare up at his innocent expression.

"Fuck, I can't believe we're doing this in a public restroom," Haechan said, watching you slowly unbuckle his pants. You smirked, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

"What? Are you shy?" You ask softly.

Haechan narrowed his eyes, and you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down, along with his boxers. Then you raised your eyes and gave his crotch a quick glance, noting the size, girth, shape, color. When he noticed the way you were admiring him, he tried to hide his reaction, but ended up covering his face with his left hand.

"Haechan...we've already done it." You point out.

"Not with the lights on and with both of us sober..." he muttered under his breath.

"Shh..." you cooed gently, reaching for his length and stroking gently.

"We could get caught," Haechan murmured, still peeking down at you from his hand.

"I locked the door, it's okay."

"I don't think..." he mumbled again as he began to squirm.

His penis was growing in your grip as it hardened. Haechan shuddered when your thumb rubbed along the tip.

"Still embarrassed?" You ask quietly, kissing the base of his penis. You hear him take a shaky breath as you kiss all along his length, feeling his thighs tense as he tries not to move too much. He's holding back. You liked that.

"Yes," he responds a little breathlessly, and you lick the slit at the top of his dick, "Oh fuck," he murmurs and you hear the sound of his head hitting the tile wall behind him. You take the head in your mouth and begin to suck, sliding down his length inch-by-inch until he's deep in the back of your throat. His hand slides around the back of your head. His breathing becomes irregular and he moans as you begin to bob up and down.

Haechan didn't moan, or whisper encouragement, or try to control your motions with his hand, like you've experienced with past sexual partners. He allowed you to set the pace and you sucked and licked at your own speed, while he made quiet moaning noises as if he was trying to stay quiet but couldn't help himself. That drove you to push yourself harder, try to make him lose control. You wanted him to cry out, to grab the back of your head and make you swallow his entire cock as he exploded down your throat. You were almost aching as you swallowed around his cock.

It wasn't until you moaned quietly with his penis filling up your mouth and his tip hitting the back of your throat that Haechan moaned louder and gripped onto the back of your head.

"Ugh, Y/N." He groaned your name, tightening his grip and making your head bounce a little faster than you were before.

"Don't stop, god, you're gonna make me..." his hips suddenly rocked up into your mouth as he held your head there and you felt his body tense and his cock began to throb as he came in the back of your throat.

Haechan held you there and released in several spurts, nearly hitting your gag reflex at the back of your throat, but not enough to cause it. When you felt his hold lessen and his penis beginning to soften, you finally swallowed his semen. Then, you let his penis slowly slide out from your mouth with an audible 'pop.'

Looking up at Haechan, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes half lidded and staring into the space above your head, he looked blissful and happy. That caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach and the beginnings of arousal to settle in between your legs.

Pulling his boxers and his jeans up, Haechan sits up a bit and blinks and the world comes back into focus.

"That..." he said.

You grinned cheekily. "Good?"

Haechan leaned down and pecked you quickly before whispering, "Thank you."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sweetness of that action. He really is adorable, you thought.

"Let me return the favor in the car, okay?"

You could only nod, knowing your panties are already soaked and wanting to ride his cock already.

A week after attending the convention, the two of you are hanging out in your apartment. You and Haechan are seated side by side and are currently gaming, sitting with each other in your living room. You are watching the TV screen and pressing the buttons on the console's gamepad, immersed in the game. On the television, you are fighting a boss battle against an over-sized monster. You and Haechan sit silently as the fight plays out, neither one of you daring to talk as the game has become quite intense. After a few more minutes pass, the big, final boss is defeated and you let out an exhale, throwing your controller beside you with an exasperated grunt.

"Fuck." You say, with a mixture of happiness and frustration. The game was fun, but frustrating. Haechan nods in agreement as he removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Wonder what Mark and the others are doing right now?" You asked.

Haechan opened his phone and scrolled through the list of messages. "Looks like they're headed to another frat party. Wanna join?"

"Nope. Early lecture tomorrow." You mutter. "And I was kind of hoping to spend some time with a cute nerd," You said and placed a small kiss on Haechan's nose.

"Good, cause I was really hoping to get to know that cute girl better." He whispers, smiling. You felt butterflies flutter in your stomach at his confession and your lips couldn't help but tug up into a grin.

You settled in to watch a film, Haechan had chosen some B rated comedy that you'd already seen ten times.

Halfway through the movie you felt his arm circle your shoulders and instinctively moved into his body, curling your legs up, wrapping your arms around his waist. His warmth and scent, instantly comforting, reminding you how safe you felt when wrapped up in his embrace. You hadn't realized, as your focus drifted onto how good it felt having him near you, how comfortable it was just to sit with him like this, that the feeling was returned in kind. His body relaxed a little, allowing him to settle deeper into the sofa cushions, while his thumb gently stroked against your shoulder, soothing both of you in equal measure.

Losing all awareness of the movie and your mind switching off from any task that might ordinarily pull at your focus, you simply enjoy the feeling of his warmth. At least you thought, you were both lost to the moment, as it wasn't long before his fingers brushed against your throat and up over your jaw to capture your chin. Gently, he tilts your head towards his, and you notice how his breath has quickened just the smallest amount. You can't help but feel the fluttering in your belly from that, as well as his warmth and the softness of his eyes in the darkened room.

There are only a couple of inches separating your lips. He slowly closes the gap, waiting for you to pull away. When you don't and instead lean into the softest kiss imaginable, he hums softly into your mouth. It's slow, teasing and almost lazy. A total opposite from the eager, impassioned lust of your first encounter together. His tongue explores the corners of your lips and across your teeth while he nips, sucks and nibbles lightly at your full lower lip. He tastes of mint toothpaste, his breath, and something sweet and earthy. It sends your senses into overdrive. Your fingers comb gently into the soft strands at the back of his neck. You need this, you've never wanted anyone quite as much as you want him right now.

It's so unfair really; that no one could make you this hot by simply brushing his lips over yours and then along the edge of your ear. His tongue tracing across your sensitive skin just behind your earlobe. That a single kiss to your throat was all it took to have you gasping, tingling all over and so turned on. And yet, you wouldn't change a thing.

“Can I taste you?" He whispered hoarsely, in a deep husk and you couldn't hold back a shiver of anticipation. "Every inch of you?"

How could you say no? And more importantly why would you. You nod with a tiny gasp and are rewarded with another light brush of his lips to yours. 

Oh, god. You couldn't stop now even if your life depended on it. And maybe it did. You felt so desperately out of control, as his tongue played lazily with yours, his lips suckling and nibbling on yours until you could do nothing but melt into him.

“Haechan…” Your breath hitched, barely able to speak, your mind swirling and intoxicated. “Do you want to spend the night? There's no reason for you to go back to your apartment. We could, um...keep this going, if you want..."

“Okay..." Haechan said softly as you stood up and pulled him towards your bedroom. The bed was a mess as you pushed him down on his back.

Haechan reaches down to pull his t-shirt off, and you straddle his legs, fumbling to undo his zipper as quickly as possible. In no time, you were both fully nude. Your lips and tongue meet Haechan as you roll over. He was straddled over your hips and was staring down at your naked body, licking his lips slowly.

"You're beautiful." Haechan breathed softly, tracing his fingertips delicately over your neck, collar bones, and shoulders. Goosebumps appeared in the wake of his touch and you closed your eyes and whimpered a little, tipping your chin up.

He captured your lips softly and slowly in a hot kiss that quickly turned fierce.

He moves to kiss the side of your face, and down to the base of your earlobes. Slowly his hot breath trails lower, over your chest and stomach and even lower. When his head settled between your legs and your breathing picked up, and you got up onto your elbows to look at him. Haechan made eye contact, looking so sweet, cute, and totally irresistible as he was positioned down between your legs.

A few seconds of heavy breathing and you decided you wanted his face against you, immediately. So you fisted one hand in his hair and tugged, getting his attention. Haechan quickly learned how to give the most incredible tongue kisses; just slow enough to tease you and enough pressure that it made your back arch. He kept at it with alternating soft and firm licks; swirls of the tongue that alternated with broad flat-tongue swipes along your wet pussy.

Haechan paused, breath hot and mouth still so close.

"Does it feel good, when I lick you like that, baby? Let me hear it, too. I've been dying to taste your perfect pussy and make it gush," Haechan spoke gently.

"God, where'd you learn to talk like that??" You gasp.

"In your books." Haechan pointed towards the pile of adult comics on your dresser.

You swallow. "Well keep going, because it's really fucking working."

"Tell me what to do next," Haechan said and sucked hard, while rubbing slow circles over your clit with one finger.

"Fuck me with your tongue," You breathe, and Haechan happily complies. You're absolutely soaking as Haechan makes good use of his hands as he flattens his tongue over your clit, then flutters his tongue against it. When his fingers dive inside you, your grip tightens and you tug his hair.

"Yeah. Haechan...keep touching me. Just like that," You tell him, a little breathlessly. You try to keep eye contact as you rock into the movements of his hand. When his fingers curve to find that spot inside you, your breath catches in your throat and you can't help it as your eyelids flutter closed for a moment. Haechan responds by latching his lips around your swollen, throbbing clit and suckling a few times.

That action combined with the internal pressure of his fingers pushes you over the edge. Your hips thrust wildly against his mouth and a strangled sort of whine leaves you, followed by gasps, groans, and mewls of pleasure.

When Haechan's hands finally fall from your thighs and he looks up at your flushed face, he chuckles softly. Haechan crawls over you, and presses his face in your hair, placing soft kisses down to your shoulder. "Good girl," he purred.

"Haechan," You said breathlessly as he lifted his head up, grinning. He moved down the bed slightly, positioning his throbbing dick between your wet folds. The sensation had your spine arching, your inner walls contracting around the emptiness, desperately searching for the fullness of him inside you.

You gasped as Haechan moved forward and eased himself inside you, stretching and filling you until you felt that intoxicating fullness. You stared up at his features and he blinked slowly, keeping his gaze steady on you, watching and gauging your reaction. You chewed on your lower lip and clutched at his biceps, nails digging into flesh and dragging down his arms.

"Move," You whimpered. His soft chuckle caused an excited chill to run up your spine and a sweet moan to leave your lips.

Haechan leaned down to kiss the side of your neck as his hips moved with his thrusts, his penis burying itself inside you with short, swift strokes.

The friction was heavenly. Each time the tip of his length touched against the end of your slick pussy, and withdrew again, he caused more ripples of pleasure to shiver across the surface of your skin. You shivered against the sheets below you, your eyelashes fluttering, his name leaving your lips in soft cries.

You opened your legs wider and wrapped them around his waist to let his length push into you more easily. You raised your hips off the bed, grinding yourself up against him. This elicited a groan from him, and your thighs clenched around him more tightly. The tips of your breasts rubbed against his chest and tickled. It felt so, so good...

"Haechan...please..." Your moans continued as his hands gripped at your thighs, spreading them further apart as he slowly increased the speed of his thrusts. "Don't stop, baby...fuck..."

His breathing grew rougher and shorter. Your fingernails scratched down his sweat-slick chest. Every time he sank his cock deep inside you, you could feel his tip kissing up against a pleasurable spot and it caused sparks to explode inside you. You were panting, crying out. Haechan could feel your hips lifting off of the bed to match his every thrust as his grunts and moans grew deeper and more lustful. You were so incredibly close, and by the look of his handsome, strained face, he wasn't far from finishing either.

"Fuck. Yes, Y/N...that's it. Say my name," Haechan uttered, his gaze now burning right into yours, and his body shaking a little. "Don't fucking stop saying it...I wanna hear your sexy voice telling me how good it feels when I fuck you."

The pulsing between your legs intensified and before you knew it, the familiar shudders rushed up your torso and shook every part of your body. "Yes, Haechan, right there, fuck. You feel so good. Don't stop! Don't stop!"

You felt his hips start to lose their rhythm. You closed your eyes and drew a deep breath.

"Oh god, baby, Haechan...just like that," You spurred him on, clinging to his shoulders. He gave a few particularly fast, desperate thrusts before groaning and pulsing inside you. That feeling sent you over the edge and you called his name, nails raking down his back and fingers gripping the sheets so tightly you swore your knuckles were turning white. 

Haechan kept rocking slowly inside you and he brought his palm up to the center of your stomach and circled his fingertips over the surface, rubbing down into your lower abdomen. You shuddered pleasurably at the contact.

"Don't take it out, stay," You told him quietly, eyes sliding closed, and you breathed out heavily through your nostrils. He murmured incoherently and continued massaging your lower belly while keeping himself buried deeply inside you. 

After a short time, Haechan pulled out slowly, leaving his warm semen to slowly drip out of you.

He made his way up to you and brought you close, draping his arm over you to keep you by his side. "Hmmm, you're so pretty...But let me ask you something."

"What?" You yawned and shifted over to rest your head on his chest, nuzzling into his warmth.

"Can we keep doing this? Like regularly?" Haechan asked and combed a hand through your hair.

You sit up and open an eyelid. "As in...?"

"You...me..." Haechan waggled his fingers. "And us having sex, together."

You laughed softly. "Seriously Haechan?"

He gives an innocent look. "It's not the worst idea, is it? We have a great chemistry, obviously."

You turned on your stomach and faced him, smiling. You brushed some of his sweaty hair off of his forehead. "I love chemistry."

Haechan smiles back and shifts closer, pressing your noses together. "So...?"

Your response came out a soft whisper. "Yeah."

"So, you're basically gonna be my fuck buddy?" Haechan tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes. "How about your girlfriend? Hmm?"

"I'll take that option." He smirks and grabs you for a kiss. "So...shower first or sleep first?"

"Shower and then sleep sounds nice..." You trailed off and rested your hands over his around your chest.

He gave you a squeeze and a nudge to your rear to get you moving. With a grumble you threw off the sheets and followed him, making your way to the bathroom for the first of many wonderful nights together.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

hi hello!! i love both your mer aus theyre wonderful omg

could we mayhaps have more of gaz seeing through remora readers shit and being so over it? like (if i remember correctly) he likes annoying the real her out when he feels like shes sunken too deep into the brainless lil fishy thing, but what exactly does he do? now that im actually thinking abt it i lowkey just wanna see them sass each other lmao

-- monstie >:3

pspspsps mer Gaz enjoyers @thoseofmonsters @persephone-kore-law @cod-z

47 / 1.2k

...

You peek out of the water's surface next to Gaz. He's laid out on a smooth, flat rock, sunning. You'd think he's indulging himself, but he does this all the time.

"Gaz?" you pipe up. "Aren't you drying out?"

Gaz peels an eyelid open, squinting in the sunlight as he glances over to you. The motion is lazy in the heat of the day. "Nah."

You glance up at the gulls gliding by overhead. You don't trust them. "Well... aren't you hot?"

"S'pose. Not uncomfortable, though." Gaz closes his eyes again, basking leisurely. He pats the rock next to him, offering the open space. "Sit with me."

"No, thank you."

Gaz cracks a single eye open at that, frowning. "Why not?"

You clutch the edge of the rock with nervous hands and glance over your shoulder. "There are boats over there. Humans."

"So? You like humans.”

"When they're in the water," you mutter. You eye the boats in the distance. They're small, but they're not diving boats. "But not like that."

Gaz rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to look at you. He doesn't so much as glance in the direction you're looking. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you if that's what you're worried about."

"Don't they look at you funny? When they see you up here?"

"Maybe." He rolls onto his back again, stretches his arms overhead, arches his back, and lets out a content sigh. Then he laces his fingers behind his head. "Don’t care. I like being out here. They can ogle me as much as they want."

You notice the boats aren't coming too close, either. "They don't try to talk to you?"

"They do." The corners of Gaz’s eyes crinkle. "I ignore them. Most get the message pretty quick and steer clear.” He glances at you. “What's wrong? You're more skittish than usual.”

You grab his hand and tug it. "Come on, we need to go back to the reef now."

Gaz peers down at you over the ridge of his bicep. "Not quite yet." He closes his eyes again. "I’m comfy."

"Please?" You rummage around your brainthoughts trying to come up with a reason. "I need your help with something."

"With what something?"

"With something. And you're the only one who can do it."

"Yeah?"

"And it has to be now."

He smirks at your pitiful efforts to budge him. Your persistence is cute. "And what is this it that I have to do right this instant?"

"It's... taking me to the cliffs where the seabirds nest."

"You know how to get there."

"But Ghost will get mad if I go alone.”

"Then say I took you. He's asleep. He won't know."

You huff. "Gaz, that's lying."

Gaz rolls onto his side again to look down at you. "Oh, tsk, tsk. Poor little thing. Always so honest and forthcoming yourself, aren’t you?"

Heat pinches the hollow of your throat. He's shaming you.

Gaz leans in, his voice low and lazy. "Tell me something, darling. Do you pretend your head is empty because you can’t help yourself, or because you’re afraid not to?"

You sink down into the water until only your eyes peek out. Heat licks all the way down your chest, radiating against the cold water. "You're being mean."

"Am I?" he croons, his lips curled smug. "I don’t like it when you play dumb. Makes me want to be mean."

If you were a bolder creature, you'd call him a brute.

He reaches out and gives your ear a fond flick.  "S’cute when you pout."

"So you're not coming with me?" you mumble.

"Mm, I didn't say that." Gaz glances up at the sky as he pretends to consider your wants. The corners of his mouth tug up into that dimpled smile of his that never quite disappears. "I'll take you there if you lay with me."

You grasp the edge of the rock again, pulling yourself closer again in relief. "You will? By the cliffs?"

"No." He pats his sunning rock again. "Here."

You look down at the salty, ocean-smoothed stone. "But people will see."

"Don’t care." He pats again, more firmly this time. "Come up. Get warm. You're worrying so much it’s wearing me out just watching you.”

You glance over your shoulder again. It's not like you haven't laid out in the sun before. You like to snooze in the sun as much as any mer. But it always seems to attract attention. Human attention. You're not scary-looking to them like Gaz is. You're more like a novelty. A bauble. Something from old sailing stories.

Humans get way too close to you if you give them the opportunity.

Gaz watches you. “You really think I’d let anyone lay a hand on you?”

"No, but..."

Gaz reaches out and gently grips your face, turning you to look at him again. “Now," he says calmly.

You nod at the command. "Okay. Now. Yes." For Gaz. Your fingers flutter over the edge of the rock as you look for a place to pull yourself up. You try to tune out the ambient human noise behind you.

Gaz helps you pull yourself up out of the water, depositing you on the sun-warmed rock next to him. You end up on your side, mirroring him chest-to-chest.

You stare at his collarbone. "Hi."

He slides a warm, rough-skinned palm up under your jaw to tilt your chin. “Hi yourself.”

His sharkshin feels strange when it’s dry. Not bad, but... strange. Still smooth, but grainy with salt. And it's cold up here. Even in the sun, the breeze makes you shiver and duck into Gaz's chest. You still feel so exposed with your bare back to the busy shallows.

“Relax. Fussy thing.” Price’s words. Gaz pulls you against him, one arm curled over you. Then he stretches out on his back, bringing you with him to sprawl over his chest. He drapes his hand over the fin that trails down the base of your spine, rubbing his thumb over the arch of your lower back.

"Better?" he asks, his voice barely above a rumble against your ear.

"I guess so." Not really.

"Don’t pout. No one’s gonna come up to you while I’m here, you know. Only thing snatching you off these rocks is me. That make you feel safe? Cuddling up with the most dangerous thing here?”

You give him a flat look, still feeling your earlier embarrassment. You’d push him off this stupid rock if you could.

His grin widens. "Don't look at me like that. You started this."

"I'm telling Ghost."

"Tattle-tale."

"Hmph." You wriggle over until you slide into the crook of his other arm with your hand on his chest. This way, you can see the humans and their boats over him, but you're mostly hidden from view.

"Sullen little…" Gaz's other arm slides over your back, holding you snugly to him. One big hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing in a way that makes your eyelids flutter. His mouth is right next to your ear. "Now will you stop flinching every time a boat passes?"

“Okay."

"Good. Now stay," he orders in a low voice, "and stop wriggling."

...

more mer au / more Gaz / masterlist

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[jiveyuncle]

Keith cringes at the hiss of the bedroom door sliding open and the unforgiving hall light racing in to fill the darkness. Still, Lance doesn't stir from where he lays sprawled out across the mattress, hair mussed in the pillow and foot hanging off the edge. Keith feels a twinge of guilt at encroaching on his space as he slides his jacket off to hang on the coat rack next to Lance's.

It's not that Keith isn't welcome here - he knows he is. This little back and forth pattern of theirs has been going on long enough that these motions should be as easy as sliding into his own bed, but it's not. Instead, it makes his heart ache just that little bit more, makes the pit of his stomach open up to swallow his insides and leave him feeling empty even as Lance pushes into his space each time to fill it. Because the problem is Lance is comfortable with Keith. He's comfortable with Keith because he is comfortable with everyone. It's who Lance is. Inviting. Open. Caring. He gives himself freely. And after the first few times of bumping into each other wandering the ship in the middle of the night in hopes of exhausting themselves into sleep, then actually falling asleep on the common room couch next to each other only to wake up with achy necks, Lance started boldly dragging Keith to bed and holding him in place to prevent him from wandering until morning.

“There's no way I'm letting you in bed with your shoes on.” Lance mumbles. A precautionary hand appears from under the sheets and flops down over the blanket to ward off any attempts to climb under them.

Keith lets out a huff of air that's just light enough to be considered a laugh. “I was going to kick them off.”

“No, no. We're civilized. Put them away.” The hand guarding the covers lifts and shoos him towards the wardrobe before dropping lazily.

“I wake up before you. You won't even see them.” Keith argues even as he crosses the room to oblige. The cabinet to the wardrobe cries out in protest as he opens it, and Keith winces, yet again, at any sound that disturbs the peaceful quiet. He makes a mental note to bug Hunk for some oil to grease the noisy hinges. If he's going to start putting his shoes in here, it's going to need to be quieter.

“I tripped over them when I got up to piss last time.”

Keith smiles to himself as he slinks back over, Lance already peeling the sheets back to invite him in. Keith slides down into the space to lie on his back and has to fight the urge to swallow hard when Lance's arm lowers down with the covers over his chest and never draws back away. “You're awake?” he says instead.

Lance hums quietly. “Brain won't shut off. The usual stuff. I was actually thinking about heading your way before you showed up.” Lance peeks an eye open, squinting through the exhaustion in the dim light. “You came in day clothes.”

“Walked a couple laps around the ship first. Didn’t know I was coming over.”

Lance lifts his chin in the hint of a nod before letting his eye fall back shut. “Glad I waited, then.” His fingers tug lightly near the collar of Keith's shirt, fiddling with the fabric in the mindless way he does with anything he can get his hands on - sometimes it's a leaf plucked from foliage as they trek through forested pathways, sometimes it's a pen spinning endlessly between his fingers during long diplomatic negotiations, sometimes it's a spoon that never settles back on his plate even an hour after he's taken his last bite and the conversation is flowing, and other times it's Keith’s shirt or hair or fingers at 3am when neither of them can sleep and whatever tension that is sustained in the daylight slips away.

And, as always, it sends a mixture of unwanted hope and desire through Keith's veins that quickly burns away to leave guilt in its destructive wake.

This habit. This closeness.

It means something different to each of them, and it's getting harder and harder for Keith's heart to remember that.

Keith reaches up to still the moving fingers on his chest, but Lance's unquestioning thumb seamlessly, innocently, agonizingly slips up along the side of his hand to trace over his knuckles instead.

Keith controls his next exhale and tries to ignore the gentle movement, but his mind can’t help supplying a word with each tender pass of a thumb: maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe there’s a chance. Maybe these things don't mean something quite so different to Lance. Maybe, if Keith offers a hand, then warm fingers will be there to take it.

Maybe.

He doesn't move again until Lance's breaths deepen and the soft brushes eventually slow to a stop.

When Keith rises in the morning, he bypasses the squeaky wardrobe, tugs on his jacket, and slides out into the hallway with only his socks to fight off the chill of the castleship floors from seeping into his feet. The warmth of a decision burns in his ribs as Keith settles into his lion 20 minutes later to start the early journey out to pick up a member of the Blade. Red senses the change, and a growl of approval rumbles through their bond, deep and affectionate and proud.

Keith’s mouth twitches up at the corner. He sends back his appreciation.

Dead Keith/Red Paladin Lance AU (Part 4/?)

Too bad he came to that decision a little late. Now, he’s kinda stuck not wanting to initiate something that he can no longer start.

Excited for y’all to spot where little nods to this snippet pop up in future chapters.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You can now read this on AO3 as:

Empty Spaces You Left Behind