#like this fic is gonna end SO HAPPY you guys

[adieutristana]

vanity; jinx x fem! reader

loosely inspired by this fic by @moshuka.

summary; jinx used her looks to flirt her way out of a situation. her girlfriend isn’t happy.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; nsfw, porn w (some) plot, sub!jinx, dom!reader, brat!jinx, mirror sex, rough sex, strap-on use, strap-on referred to as a dick/cock, hair pulling, crying, humiliation ig?, slight degradation, use of the word ‘whore’, size queen jinx, squirting

men and minors dni.

at first, you were worried.

jinx tends to get herself into dangerous situations more often than not, way too often for her own good. it's what she's known for, after all. jinx: the mad bomber. the loose cannon. zaun's princess.

but she has a way of getting herself out of those situations. her reflexes are impeccable, her strength nearly inhuman for someone of her stature. it is inhuman, considering the shimmer coursing through her veins. weapons that she's built herself regularly save her in battle, and most of all, she's got a smartass mouth.

one that usually comes in handy, but clearly not this time.

"jinx," you start. your arms are crossed over your chest, one hip popped. you're trembling in frustration- coming apart at the edges. "i heard you were flirting with some guy who cornered you. i'm gonna be graceful and hear you out."

she bristles, and the girl's breath catches.

"what i do depends on if i like what you have to say."

you'd heard from passersby on the streets gossiping about what jinx had done. nothing stays a secret for long in zaun; there's almost always a witness, someone who can't keep their mouth shut. people love to gossip, and with that, they love to twist the truth.

so you're hoping to janna above that what you'd heard was a simple rumor. jinx being cornered by one of smeech's goons. a new one, a guy seemingly too good for the likes of this line of work. apparently not. he'd threatened jinx, gotten close to her, nearly hurt her. but instead of her usual solution of whipping out her gun and pressing the cold barrel to someone's neck as a warning, she'd flirted.

told the guy that he's young, attractive, promising. he's too good for a business like this. if he'd just leave her alone, she'd let him go without any fuss, and there would be no mess to clean up. maybe they'd even cross paths again someday.

"i didn't mean any of it, toots," her hands are raised in a mock-surrender. "he was ugly, honest!"

"i didn't ask if he was ugly," you bite. you're inching closer to her, until your noses are nearly touching. the tone in your voice tells jinx you're not fucking around- yet that makes this all the more exciting for her. "i asked you to tell me what happened."

"i didn't do anything, just flirted a little. no harm done."

"you have a gun. why didn't you use that?" you push.

jinx huffs, rolling her eyes. it only serves to piss you off even more. "i just wanted to switch it up, yanno? try something new. and it worked, didn't it? didn't have to spill any blood or nothin'. no cleanup."

"so what i heard is true?"

"depends what you heard."

"oh, you-"

that's it. you take jinx's wrist, and just about drag her to her cot. she's giggling all the way, that signature shit-eating grin plastered on her face. you wish there was blood to clean up. although you know nothing happened- jinx wouldn't dream of being unfaithful to you, this feels calculated. like she'd done it on purpose, just to get under your skin. she was probably sitting in her hideout, just waiting for someone to start talking.

you want nothing more than to slap that grin off of her, make her grovel and apologize and make it up to you.

but you won't. with a quick motion, jinx is flung onto her cot. she gasps, but doesn’t move from her sitting position, doesn’t stop fucking grinning.

"come oooon! you're always telling me i'm soooo pretty. i’m like a work of art.” she comes to lazily toss around the end of one of her braids, playing with it the same way she’s playing with you. “maybe i just wanted to use that to my advantage.”

gods damn it.

you come to stand closer to jinx, looming over the girl. she’s still sitting on her cot, nice and pretty. she looks so innocent, so sweet, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she actually was. too bad you do know better. your forefinger and thumb grasp her chin, forcing her to look at you. your thumb lazily traces along her plump bottom lip.

“oh, you’re pretty, alright.” your thumb pushes past her lips, flattening against her tongue. “gorgeous, even. but that doesn’t mean you go around using those looks like a fucking whore.”

jinx would be smiling right now, but her mouth is… occupied, not sucking, not licking at your thumb, but letting you do what you must. you withdraw it as quickly as it was put in, wiping her spit on her bare shoulder.

“you’re all talk,” she gasps. “not gonna do a damn thing about it, are you?”

“do you want me to?”

“sure.”

“do you deserve it?”

“does it matter?”

it’s then that you flip her onto her stomach.

“take those clothes off. get back on the cot- face down, ass up. i’ll be back.”

no time is wasted walking to another platform in her hideout and swiping the shattered mirror from one of her tables, and a strap-on from one of her drawers.

you place the mirror directly in front of jinx’s cot, and to no surprise, jinx is completely bare now. her perfect heart of an ass in the air, pussy nearly glistening in the dim light with her arousal. she’s braced herself on her hands, and she isn’t moving, but you can tell by the way her arousal is already dripping down her inner thighs that she’s eager.

it’s a sight straight out of a porn film. the mad bomber, desperate and wanton. maybe you’ll buy a polaroid camera for next time, really capture the moment.

“ugh, toots, are you just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna fuck me?” she whines, only interrupted by the sound of the harness fastening around your hips.

“you’re not exactly in a place to make demands right now.”

you lean over her, your breasts pushing into the smooth skin of her back and your lips almost touching her ear.

“‘revolver’, if it gets too much.” you whisper.

and with that, the tip pushes past her folds. bright pink and dusted with glitter, about 8.5in and girthy. a large task for a small girl, but jinx insists she can take anything you give her.

“hngh- fuck!” she whines out, already beginning to buckle. you’ve got one hand rested on jinx’s hip, the other trailing down her side- her shoulder, the grooves of her ribs, her tiny waist, until it finds purchase on her other hip and you push into her.

another lewd cry falls from her lips. you’re barely even halfway in, and she’s already panting and moaning so pitifully. maybe another day you would’ve taken pity on jinx, but not after the shit she pulled.

“come on,” you coo. “can’t take it?”

“i didn’t- agh, say that-” she pants. the girl’s form is beginning to tremble, but you don’t waver. you ram the rest of the toy into her hole, which brings a borderline pathetic wail from her. the way her greedy hole is impaled by your cock is a sight you wish you could burn into your mind. if she were on her back, you bet you'd be able to see it from inside her stomach, but that can wait for another time.

“fuck- fuck! too big!”

“too big, huh? should’ve thought about that before you went and threw yourself at some guy.”

you ease the strap out of her, before slamming it back in. positively prying your girlfriend open. you then take one of jinx’s long twin braids in your hands, looping it once around your wrist and yanking. forcing her to look up.

she gasps with the motion, yet somehow, she still has the willpower to defy you. squeezing her eyes shut and grunting. you jerk her braid farther back, jinx hissing at the stinging pain.

“look at yourself.” you demand.

it’s then that you move. a slow pace at first, in, out, in, out. drawing wet squelches from her cunt with every thrust. she’s shaking and thrashing and whining, but you can’t deny the way jinx’s cunt sucks you in, clenches around you. greedy and sopping, as if it was made to take your dick.

“aah, hhhng- oh! oh!”

your pace is quickening, and you can hear the skin of your hips slapping into her ass. jiggling ever so slightly with each movement, but the best thing is the mirror.

there’s multiple images of the scene in the shattered glass. the sight is something right out of a dirty magazine; you pounding jinx’s poor, abused pussy from behind. jinx struggling to support her upper body despite her strength, you tugging at one of her braids and forcing her to look directly at her reflection. small tits bouncing with each thrust, plump lips open and the slightest bit of drool dribbling down her chin.

“do you see it?” you pant, the base of the toy nudging your clit with each thrust. “the- hah, way you look right now? while i’m fuckin’ you?”

“yes,” she breathes out, her voice a high shrill. her strength is starting to fail her, shaking on her arms and eventually dropping down to her elbows to support herself. a smirk tugs at your lips at the sight, seeing jinx being broken down so quickly. she brought this on herself, really.

"f-fuck, you look a mess," snapping your hips against jinx's, pathetic whimpers and whines falling from parted lips like a stream. "feels good, huh?"

"feels- hmmph, so good!" she groans. her body is being forced forward and back ever so slightly with each motion, and to see herself being fucked in real time is both thrilling and downright humiliating. jinx never knew this is what she looked like, so wrecked and sloppy, but she can't be bothered to care right now. all she can care about is you fucking into her relentlessly.

arousal dripping down her inner thighs, a stinging sensation in her scalp while you hold onto her hair. she knew you'd get jealous if she flirted- expected a thorough spanking, maybe, or for you to sit on her face and use her mouth until you were satisfied. never did jinx think you'd force her into a front-row seat to her own punishment.

“you’re not gonna do that again- mm,” you groan, base rubbing against you so right. “are you? hngg- tell me you won’t.”

“i won’t, i won’t! unghh, i’m sorry!”

she nearly screams out. the pleasure is mounting, it’s painful, she’s being stretched open and almost split down the middle. but it’s so fucking delicious, the feeling of you fucking her so thoroughly. so deeply. tears are beginning to well in her eyes, her mascara already running down her cheeks. it’s filthy. the tip of the plastic dick kisses her cervix with each thrust, coated in sleek juices.

"oh- oh, please," she breathes out. her bangs are sticking to the thin sheen on her forehead, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. "pleasepleaseplease-"

there it is. jinx is close, that much is obvious from her flushed expression, her straining against your grip, trying to push her hips back onto your cock like some needy slut. your own climax is building, but you want- need to see jinx get there first.

you reach underneath her with your free hand and press against her neglected clit, which draws a high-pitched squeal from jinx. you revel in the sound. right now, it’s as if jinx is an instrument, fine-tuned for your playing. making these beautiful, obscene sounds.

you can see hot tears running down her face in the mirror, lips parted and the pale expanse of her neck bared. her lipstick is smeared from the dribble running down her chin, and thin black streaks run down her cheeks.

“i’m- i’m gonna-!”

the girl doesn’t have time to finish her sentence before she squirts over your hand and the cot beneath her- coating you in light pink. she’s boneless, panting beneath you, collapsing as soon as you pull out of her and release her braid. she can’t muster up any words, she’s spent- laid on her stomach, sniffling and simply trying to breathe.

maybe next time, she won’t be so fucking vain.

[edamameimei]

exactly what i need

"she's so beautiful, sometimes i stop to close my eyes."

pairing: sophia laforteza x singer!reader

synopsis: you're an up and coming artist who was lucky enough to be chosen as the opening act for katseye's tour. throughout your time traveling with the girls, you start becoming closer to their leader.

just a fluffy fic with some suggestive themes! some angst near the end, i couldn't help it. but it's a happy ending! lowk love the idea of oblivious!reader and jealous!sophia hehe. CW: kissing, swearing, and some suggestive themes like i mentioned before.

a/n: as someone who learned to play the ukulele just for this song, i HAD to write something based off of it. and it just had to be about sophia!!! as always, i want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only.

wc: 3890 words

now playing: lemonade - jeremy passion

Lara: HEYYYYY BESITEEEE

Lara: do u wanna open up for us on our tour

Lara: ofc u do ill let our managers kno u said yes

You: bruh i just got out of the shower

And that’s how you find yourself backstage, preparing for yet another soundcheck. Although you’ve done concerts before, they were never quite like this. Before the Katseye tour, you’ve only ever performed in small venues, being a new up-and-coming artist. But as you stand backstage at yet another concert hall, you can’t help the nerves that slowly build in your body. You feel your hands shake as you struggle to put in your in-ear monitor, cursing every time the wire gets caught in your hair. You’re about to ask one of the sound technicians to help you, but you feel someone’s hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you gently. You look over to see Sophia smiling at you softly. 

“You need help?” You can’t help the shy smile that forms on your lips as you nod sheepishly. The leader of Katseye giggles, assisting you with the in-ear monitor. As she does so, she makes light conversation with you. “How are you feeling?” What you want to say is, ‘nervous as hell,’ but knowing Sophia’s tendencies to over-worry, you decide to keep that to yourself. You instead opt for a more positive response. “Great! I feel really good about tonight.” It’s what you’ve said in the last three cities you guys were in, but it’s not like it isn’t true. You do feel good about your performance, it’s the before that gets you feeling overwhelmed.

The Filipina smiles at you, her lipgloss shining in a way that makes your heart flutter. When she’s done assisting you, she pulls you into a tight hug, rubbing your back comfortingly. “You’re gonna kill it. Like always.” The way she says it makes you melt into the floor. You think it's silly, the way Sophia makes you feel. But it’s just another one of your infatuations, another girl you find attractive and will never tell to their face. 

Surely that’s all there is to it. 

Your part of soundcheck consists of you singing an acoustic version of your songs and the songs you have chosen to cover for that night. It’s also a chance for you to engage with your fans and Eyekons (whom you hope by the end of the night will also become your fans). You’re in the middle of finding another song to cover when you hear a random voice in the audience asking what your favorite color is. You couldn’t help but laugh loudly at the random question. You look into the audience, searching for the person who asked the question. Once you find them, you speak into your mic while raising an eyebrow, “Did you just ask me what my favorite color is?” Your incredulous tone causes everyone in the audience to laugh. 

The person nods their head excitedly, happy to be noticed by you. You smile back at them and begin to think about their question. You notice that the person’s nails are painted a very pretty shade of blue. You bring the mic back up to your lips. “I like the color of your nails. That’s my favorite color I think,” Quickly, you add, “I mean that genuinely. Like, I’m not trying to flirt with you… Unless?” You take the opportunity to wink at the person in the audience and the crowd begins to ‘ooo’ at your words. You laugh shyly, looking away. 

If there’s one thing about you that your fans know, it’s that you love to flirt with them. You find it hilarious and it’s a bit that you find yourself doing continuously. Also, your fans love it just as much so who are you to deny them the titillating banter? You stand up from the stool you’ve been sitting on, looking back at the person with a raised eyebrow while gesturing to yourself and then to them. You say into the mic, “What are we?” And you once again hear the audience laugh at your response. It brings you joy–  the attention. You can’t deny it. 

Although, someone backstage wishes you’d direct that attention somewhere else. 

Sophia had always been a big fan of your music. Lara was the one who introduced the girls to your music, telling them how talented you were. Since then, Sophia always had your songs on repeat, even playing one of them during a live. When one of your fans noticed, they immediately reported it to Twitter which caught your attention. 

In response, you tweeted, “Huge honor to hear that katseyeworld listens to my music! I'm a big fan myself :)” 

Your mention on Twitter was all Lara could talk about. At some point, you and the Indian girl exchanged numbers, talking constantly. And soon enough, you and Lara were hanging out often, quickly becoming best friends. Sophia was excited about Lara becoming your friend. However, seeing photos of you two together out and about in LA stirred jealous feelings within her. The feeling intensifies when Lara brings you over one day and the whole time, you are attached to the girl’s hip. Sophia found it quite endearing how shy you were at first with all of them but God,  she wanted to be that close to you. 

So, when the conversation about opening acts comes up while talking about their tour, Sophia quickly suggests you. She explains how you mesh well with the girls. She mentions how your vibes are very similar to Katseye’s concept. Of course, Lara lights up at the idea and quickly texts you about the opportunity. Sophia can’t contain her excitement when Lara announces you accepted the invite to tour with them. 

A chance to spend three months with you? That’s more than enough time. 

To do what? Only time could tell. 

Unfortunately, at one point on the tour, you end up feeling sicker than you ever did before. 

You lay in the bed of your hotel room, tissues stuck up your nose and constantly coughing up a lung every two minutes or so. You made the announcement just five minutes ago that you will not be performing tonight and you can’t help but feel even more terrible than you already do. You hate to think about letting people down, especially your fans. That’s why you’ve kept your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ so you won’t experience the chaos in real time. 

Also, the constant vibrations of your phone would increase the pain you’re experiencing in your head. 

You sadly continue watching whatever show you put on your laptop, covered in blankets with a pout on your face. Suddenly, you hear a knock on your door. It causes you to groan quietly, having no energy to open it. You then hear a familiar voice through the door. “Y/n? It’s Sophia!” It’s embarrassing how quickly you jump out of bed, nearly tripping all over your clothes and luggage as you get to the door. You open the door to reveal a very pretty Sophia Laforteza holding two full plastic bags. You tilt your head in curiosity. “Hey... What brings you here?” Sophia holds up the bags in her hands with a wide smile. She hands them to you as she speaks, “I wanted to stop by and give you these… It has cold medicine, cough drops, different teas– I wasn’t sure what kind you liked so I got a variety…” You look at her in disbelief, you couldn’t believe someone could be so kind. You smile at her with sincerity in your eyes. Your voice is slightly hoarse as you speak. “I… You didn’t have to do this.” 

Sophia shoves you lightly, a teasing smile on her face. “Of course I did. I gotta make sure our rising star gets better for the rest of the tour…” She winks at you, causing you to blush. You set the bags down on the counter and look back at her with an apologetic smile. “I’d hug you right now but I can’t get THE Sophia Laforteza, leader of Katseye, get sick in the middle of her tour. I’d have Eyekons banging on my door…” She laughs, her eyes turning into crescents. You mentally pat yourself on the back, feeling pride in making her laugh so hard. She shakes her head and waves you off. “Oh, I’m sure Eyekons would be banging on your door for a completely different reason…” Her comment makes you raise an eyebrow. You let out a nervous chuckle as you respond, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

The smirk that forms on her glossy lips causes your knees to go weak. She tilts her head, responding in a low, teasing tone. “I’ve seen the tweets on Eyekonville… They can’t get enough of you.” She giggles at the way your eyes widen at her words. She crosses her arms, taking a step back. “Well I’ve gotta get back to my room but when you start feeling better,” she gives you a playful smile, “let me know so we can hang out.” You wordlessly nod your head in response. The Filipina sends you one last smile before walking away, leaving you speechless. You’re not quite sure if you feel hot because of the interaction or if your fever is getting worse. At this point, you’re not even sure which one would be worse. 

You’re in the East Coast part of the tour when Sophia’s words seem to make more sense. 

After a few long hours of practicing, writing new songs, and filming with the girls for their tour vlogs, you finally get a few moments of peace. You decide to stroll around the city to get some fresh air and explore before you get too busy again. As a new artist, you’ve never had issues with people coming up to you randomly. It’s somewhat of a privilege to keep your privacy like this. 

That’s why it catches you off guard when a group of girls find you on the street and ask for a picture with you. And how could you say no? 

PopBase: Y/n L/n, the opener for Katseye’s tour, was seen walking around Charlotte and talking with fans, per several X users.  

User01: met Y/n L/n in Charlotte! they were so sweet )): 

User02: SAW Y/N IN DOWNTOWN CHARLOTTE!!! They had me blushing and kicking my feet a lil im ngl 

User03: all these Y/n stans and Eyekons saying Y/n was flirting with them. When will it be me???? 

User04: Y/n said I looked hot today I stay winning in life methinks 

Back at the hotel, you find Sophia standing by your room, scrolling through her phone. She looks up when she hears your footsteps, beaming when she spots you walking closer. She waves with a wide smile on her face. “Hey! I was looking for you…” You can’t help but blush at her words, your heart doing flips at the thought of Sophia waiting specifically for you. You put your hands in your pockets, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. “Yeah, I was just taking a walk around the city.” She nods in response, pointing at her phone. “I saw it on Twitter. You met some fans?” You let out a loud laugh and shake your head, feeling embarrassed by all the tweets floating around since you were discovered wandering around downtown. 

You look down at your feet as you respond. “I did. It’s the first time anybody has ever noticed me so it was… Cool.” You feel the Filipina place a hand on your arm, squeezing it. You look at her with a shy glance, your heart beating faster with every second that passes. She gives you a sincere smile. “You deserve the attention. You’re so talented.”  Her hand moves from your arm up to the collar of your shirt. She moves her other hand to your collar and begins to fix it. There’s a playful smile on her lips. “It looks like you were giving them a lot of attention too.” She tugs at your collar causing your breath to catch in your throat. You look at her, wondering if the building tension between you two was in your head. She lets go, stepping away from you. She bites her lip and your mind must be playing tricks on you because is she checking you out? Sophia grabs your hand, pulling you away from your room. You allow the Filipina to do what she pleases because you’d be stupid not to. “Where are we going?” She pulls you towards the elevators, pressing the ‘down’ button. She looks at you with a twinkle in her eyes. “Giving you my attention, come on.” 

You’re sitting on one of the couches in the lounge, waiting to be called for soundcheck when Sophia sits next to you, laying her head on your shoulder. 

The action causes you to freeze, your mouth becomes dry. You’re overwhelmed by the scent of her perfume and you are hyper-aware of her hand resting on your thigh. In the last few cities, you’ve noticed the Filipina becoming much more touchy with you and you’re trying your hardest to stop thinking about it. She’s naturally a touchy person, you’ve noticed that about her. With her members, she’s quite attentive, always making sure they’re doing well and supporting them when need be. You tell yourself that’s what she’s doing for you. 

It’s here in New York that you realize how much of a problem it is for you. What you initially thought was an infatuation has become much more, and you’re not really sure what to do with that information. 

You feel Sophia shift next to you, suddenly wrapping her arms around your torso, pulling you closer to her body. She nuzzles her head into your shoulder, letting out a content sigh. Your hands stay in your lap, feeling shy about the proximity. You can feel her take a glance at you and you hear her let out a small giggle. She pinches your cheeks, cooing, “Are you okay?” You nod in response, feeling your cheeks heat up at her words. Your voice shakes a bit when you talk. “Yeah. A little nervous.” She pulls away slightly, looking at you with concern written in her expression. “Nervous? About the show? You’re gonna do great.” She places a hand on your cheek, her thumb caressing it gently. You wonder if she can feel the heat radiating from your face–  if she notices how much redder you’ve become with her simple touch. She tilts her head, leaning in closer towards you. She whispers, “Relax…” But you can’t relax. Not when Sophia Laforteza exists. 

When they finally call your name, you immediately stand up, almost stumbling on your feet. You hear Sophia giggle and it makes you blush even more. You speed walk away, needing to be out of this situation as quickly as possible. 

It is now the last leg of the tour and you have accepted your fate. You like the Filipina a lot more than you anticipated. 

Through all the not-so-subtle touches, glances, and small flirtatious remarks, you also got to know Sophia on more of a personal level. She always ends up in your hotel room somehow, staying for long periods to talk about everything and nothing all at once. You find yourself listening for most of it, but you don’t care. You’re mesmerized by her voice and how animated she is when she talks about something she’s passionate about. At some point, you also begin divulging your details, telling her things you haven’t said out loud in years. You tell her about your life before becoming an artist, about your family, things you’d rather not speak in detail about. 

This night is no different. 

You exit the bathroom, drying your hair with a towel as Sophia lays on her stomach on your bed. She is looking for something to put on the TV for you two to watch for the night (or, more specifically, have it in the background while you two have yet another yap session). When you sit down next to her, she immediately scoots over, leaning her head against your leg. Even though you’ve gotten used to Sophia’s need for physical touch 24/7, you still can’t help the nervousness you get every single time. You hear her sigh dramatically, throwing the remote behind her. You giggle as you watch her roll onto her back, maneuvering herself so she can lay her head in your lap. You instinctively move your hand to her hair, playing with the soft strands. She closes her eyes, a soft smile forming on her lips. 

“Have you ever been in love?” You halt your movements, your eyes widening at the girl. You’re completely caught off guard by her question. She whines when she feels you’ve stopped playing with her hair and swats at your hand, telling you to continue. You clear your throat, obeying her command. “Umm… I don’t know… I’ve never really been in a relationship before…” Her eyes snap open at your sheepish confession. She gapes at you in surprise. “Really?” You shrug, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your lack of knowledge in the love department. “Yeah… I mean. I’ve talked to people but I’ve never… Gone farther than that.” The Filipina covers her mouth in shock causing you to look away. Your cheeks burn hotter than they ever have. You feel Sophia remove herself from your lap to sit up, grabbing your shoulders. She continues looking at you with a surprised expression. 

“But, you’re always flirting with your fans and Eyekons, you really never dated someone?” Her statement causes you to look back at her with a raised eyebrow. You chuckle, shaking your head. “That’s different. That’s just for fun. Sometimes I flirt with people as a joke.” The moment your words leave your mouth, Sophia immediately detaches herself from you, scooting away. You look at her with a confused look. Your confusion turns into panic when she stands up from the bed with an unreadable expression. You stand as well, worried. “You good?” She nods, looking towards the door. She speaks softly, “Yeah… I just remembered the girls and I planned to do something tomorrow morning so I should probably get back so I can go to bed.” Before you can respond, Sophia makes her way toward the door. Before leaving, she turns to look at you with what looks like a sad smile. “Goodnight, Y/n.” You feel frozen in place as you watch her leave the room without another word. You run your hands through your hair, wondering what went wrong. 

“Fuck.” 

Lara: bro whatd you do

You: IDK U TELL ME!!!!!

There are four cities left in the tour and Sophia still isn’t talking to you. 

After that night in the hotel, she has been avoiding you. The Filipina doesn’t even try to hide it. Every time you walk into the room, she immediately leaves. When you two are told to vlog together, she does as she is told, but once filming is over, she is gone before you can say a word to her. It sucks. And you still don’t know why. 

You think about your conversation with Sophia over and over again, trying to find at what point it went awry. But it only leaves you more confused than before. It wasn’t like you two were talking about anything that substantial. 

That is until you recount the events to the leader’s members. 

They all sit on your bed, looking at you with deadpanned expressions. You groan because you didn’t realize you’ve fucked up this badly. You wave your hands wildly, giving them a pleading look. “Well! Tell me what I did so I can fix it!” Daniela sighs, crossing her arms. She speaks as though her words were obvious. “You said you flirt with people as a joke, Y/n.” You look at her, still confused. “What does that have to do with anything?” Manon groans, throwing a pillow at your head that you unsuccessfully dodge. It hits you like her words. 

“You dumbass! You two have been flirting with each other for the last like three months! She must think it’s been a joke to you this whole time!” 

Another city, another sound check. 

Except this time, you feel more nervous than you usually do. 

Since the girls intervened with you, you’ve been trying to figure out how to win the Filipina girl back in your life. You can’t believe how oblivious you’ve been the last few months. You’ve been so busy overthinking your feelings that you didn’t even consider Sophia’s. There couldn’t have been a chance in hell that Sophia Laforteza would see you the same way you do. But, as you reflected on the past few months, you realize that all signs were there. 

And now you’re gonna try to make up for it. Try is the keyword. 

You are in the last few minutes of your soundcheck when you decide to finish with a cover that you’ve been shamelessly practicing for hours the night before. You run to the other side of the stage, grabbing your ukulele. Its appearance makes the audience cheer and you feel your cheeks heat up. For some reason, holding a ukulele embarrasses you. But you can’t back away, you’ve gotta see this one through. You place your mic on its stand, clearing your throat. You speak into it, your voice shaking slightly. “So. I think you guys and I have been getting pretty close the last few months…” You hear more cheers from the audience, agreeing with your statement. You chuckle nervously. “So, I’m gonna tell you guys a secret.” Once again, everyone cheers in response. You hear individual voices saying things such as, “What is it?” or, “Tell us!” 

You strum the ukulele, the random chords reverberating throughout the concert hall. “I really like someone… And I really fucked up– pardon my language,” Everyone laughs but quickly becomes silent, wanting you to continue. “And so, I dedicate this song to them. I hope they listen to it and I don’t know… Consider giving me another chance?” The audience screams a collective ‘Yes!’ When everyone finally quiets down, you begin playing the chords to the song, hoping a certain Filipina is standing backstage listening in. 

“She’s my sunshine in the rain…” 

After saying your goodbyes to the audience, you quickly run off stage, looking around frantically. Disappointment begins to settle in your chest when Sophia is nowhere to be seen. However, a familiar hand grabs onto yours, pulling you into an unknown direction. You can’t help the smile that forms on your face being pulled by Sophia. Once you two are alone, she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. You respond immediately, wrapping your arms around her waist. After a few moments, she pulls away slightly, resting her forehead against yours. She whispers teasingly. “You’re only flirting with me from now on, okay?” 

You kiss her again, relishing the way her lipgloss tastes. When you pull away, you respond, breathlessly, “Got it. Totally noted.”

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed, let me know what you think! this one was rlly fun to write and it helped w my sophia brainrot lately. my inbox is open for requests and any thoughts so send them if you wanna :)

[fairyhaos]

oh wow! wow!!!! thak you so much for this comment oh lord my jaw dropped this is SO MUCHHH nd i absolutely adore it :((

giggling pls im so honoured you loved yeoubi this much! if i could then i'd definitely gift you a book ver of it just to begin to show my gratitude for this comment of urs </3

"ASFHSAD the fact that he was down bad for her from the moment he opened his freaking eyes makes me kind of feral. I love it. I love it. I love it. And the fact that he only seems to fall deeper and deeper for her? I am so soft for Vernon."

love at first sight is THEE CUTEST THING EVERRR i just had to put it in. vernon is definitely the kinda person 2 fall in love just like that, especially when it comes to kind and caring people yk :((

"I screeched! I love Seungcheol but he was really testing my patience in this fic (even if his intentions were noble) and when this scene came, I quite literally cheered. Yes, Vernon, freaking tell him! Protect your girl's honour! (Did I mention I love this portrayal of Vernon?)"

I LOVE THIS SCENE SMMM mostly bc i love the imagery of cutie yokai vernon building a book fort in yn's library but also bc THIS. i knew i wanted to have a scene of vn standing up to cheol bc someone had to knock some sense into him, and who better than the yokai who has quite literally been in love with yn since day one?? also i love the idea of vernon with a very strong moral code because 1) he really does have a strong moral code, and 2) it goes against everything cheol thought he knew about yokai, so it's alovely contrast to make! also. it makes y/n fall for him just a little bit more (tho... she doesn't know that's what it is quite yet wink wink :P)

"Listen. I've read like 20 romance novels since last summer and this scene lowkey tops all of them. Oh, to have a gorgeous sweetheart of a man compare me to spring -- the season of beauty and youth and warmth! I am weak at the knees! I am melting!"

"What if I told you I squeaked in delight??? Like actually???"

"He's just an affectionate guy, your honour! Nooo but this was so cute! And so funny -- I swear I spent like half the fic laughing and the other half kicking my feet and giggling. Also did I already mention this is my new favourite, most beloved portrayal of Vernon?"

honestly im so happy u love my portrayal of vernon cz im gonna b so honest. hes one of the HARDESTT svt members for me to write so i had a LOT of worries when writing yeoubi but i'm so glad the response has been so positive <33 vernon's sincerity coupled with his unintentionally sappy ways have yielded THESE lovely scenes u picked out and tbh full credits go to him for how sweet it is hehe

ALSO OMGGG THE PARTS WITH THE KIDS !!! in my head it was alwayssss gonna be the kids who acted as the bridge for vn to finally be accepted by the villagers and im SO GLADD people loved it sm! vernon would be so good with kids i'm so serious. he'd literally be theee best cz he's just perfect like that and it's totally unfair

"The fact that the 'you're the prettiest person alive' thing came full circle??? The fact that they're so in love? That it feels so sweet and natural somehow? Like it was meant to be?"

full circle metaphors/endings/iconic lines r my most fav things ever so ofc i had to put it here teehee ^^ i had this in my plan from the veryy start and i'm glad it managed to be pulled off so well!!

"And can I just say that your descriptions of the magic is so incredibly beautiful? Like I was in freaking awe. I am obsessed with it."

thank you so much!!!! i feel like i didn't get to put as much stuff ab the magic side of this universe so i was a bit disappointed by that, but hearing so many people say it was still perfect makes me so happy!!

thank you for reading, and thank you so much for this comment. this made my day. seriously. soft silly gentle fics like this r actually my vibe these days so fingers crossed i'll manage to write another long fic like this soon! <3

yeoubi. // chwe hansol

여우비 (yeo-u-bi) : noun. literally “fox rain” — when sunlight filters through rainfall, creating a golden shower.

PAIRING : vernon x f!reader

INFO : east asian historical fantasy(ish. i kinda made up my own mythology), fox demon!vernon, silver!vernon, immortal!witch!yn, fluff, magic, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT : 22.3k+

WARNINGS : blood mention, injuries, slight discrimination against yokai, cursing

NOTES : for the @camandemstudios winter with you collab! i had so so so much fun writing yeoubi and it's genuinely one of the best things ive done this year. writing a fantasy au soft vernon fic was never something that i thought i needed to write, but now i have, and i love him and i love this and i hope everyone loves yeoubi just as much as i do too <3

SYNOPSIS : living as a magic, immortal healer in a rural, human mountain village means most of your existence has been rather peaceful. that is, until one cold winter when an injured yokai stumbles into your life; and though everyone else is terrified of him, you take him in, nurse him back to health, and show the others that some demons aren’t that scary after all. (...and maybe, just maybe, you end up falling for the pretty fox yokai too.)

For the first time in years, the river freezes over.

During winter, it’s often a lot harder for you to notice things like this, as the cold dulls your senses and numbs your fingers, so you’re only informed of this fact when the village children come to your cottage in the morning, their high-pitched voices blending with the mismatched beats of their fists knocking against your door.

“Miss Witch! Miss Witch! There’s something wrong with the river!”

“The river is all solid, Miss Witch!”

“Miss Witch, we can’t play in the river! Can you fix it for us, Miss Witch?”

Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you open the door with a groggy smile, squinting down at the children on your doorstep.

“Hello, little kids. What are you doing here?”

“Miss Witch!” one of the children chirps. “Good morning!”

Despite being half-asleep, you can’t help but laugh a little at their chipperness. The children are, undeniably, your favourite people in this entire village.

“Good morning,” you say, bemused. “How may I help you?”

Their voices rise in volume again, all of them clamouring to be heard over each other. It can’t be any later than five in the morning, and your fingertips prickle with the cold grey of the mist as you blink down at them, surprised at their energy.

A girl tugs at the end of your blanket, wide-eyed. “Miss Witch, the river is all hard. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ah,” you say gently. “I see.” Crouching down so you’re at eye level with the kids, you ask, “If the river is hard, solid, and cold, what do you think that means?”

The children blink at you. 

“What else is hard, solid, and cold?”

One of them brightens. “Ice!”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “The river has turned into ice. It’s nothing to worry about, but it does mean it’s very, very cold right now, so why aren’t any of you wearing any hats or scarves, hm?” 

You ruffle the hair of the nearest child, and she shakes her head, giggling. “We were helping the grown-ups, of course! Something happened at the river, an’ they told us to go away.”

“So we came to you,” another boy pipes up. “They said something’s wrong!”

You tilt your head. Whilst it’s certainly been several decades since the river last froze over, it’s no reason for the villagers to worry that much about it. It’s also not something that your magic can fix, or something that needs to be fixed, so—

“Y/N!”

You look up at the call, and see a man in the distance, jogging down the pathway towards your cottage. It’s still far too dark to see clearly, but you smile at the familiar voice.

“Soonyoung,” you call back. “Good morning! Are you here to tell me about the frozen river, too? Don’t worry, it’s completely normal and not dangerous at all.”

His reply, if he has any at all, goes unheard as one of the children suddenly cries out, as if he’s had an epiphany.

You look down at him, amused. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered, something else happened at the river,” he says brightly. His remark makes some of the other children perk up too, as if they also remembered this other thing that had happened.

The kids are all at the age where something like a leaf falling onto their heads would be remarkably significant, so as you wait for Soonyoung to come closer and deliver the actual news, you decide to humour them, smiling and tilting your head interestedly. “Oh, really? What was it?”

 “There’s a man in the frozen river, Miss Witch!”

“A—” The smile turns to stone on your face. “A what?”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung says. He’s finally reached your doorstep now, and you notice that his usual easy smile is nowhere to be seen. He frowns down at the children, displeased. “What are you all doing here? We told you to go home, not to Y/N.”

“They thought I could help,” you say placatingly. “It’s okay. And if there’s a man stuck in the river, you might need my help after all.”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung repeats, his face darkening. “It’s not a man.”

You raise an eyebrow at the graveness in his tone. “Well, then you certainly do need my help, it seems. What is it?”

Soonyoung sighs. His exhale clouds the air, and your fingers prickle even more at his next words, like invisible icicles piercing through your skin.

“It’s a demon.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You are not exactly a human.

Certainly, you look and dress like one—and you have to eat and sleep like one too, otherwise terrible things happen to your energy levels—but that doesn’t mean you are human. There are some things which make you slightly different.

One of those things being that you live forever.

“What do you mean you don’t know if it’s hostile?” Soonyoung demands, struggling to match your strides as you hurry towards the river. “Of course it’s hostile. It’s a fucking demon!”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to realise that some yokai aren’t hostile,” you respond, frosted-over leaves crunching under your feet. Soonyoung squawks back something unintelligible, too out of breath to make an argument. 

After encouraging the children to return back to their homes and sleep—since it really is five in the morning, and none of them should be awake—you and Soonyoung began making your way to where the rest of the villagers were. 

The river flows down from the mountain that the village is located near. The further up you go, the more dangerous the terrain becomes, and you pause on a jagged rock to frown down at Soonyoung, who’s gasping as he tries to keep up.

“Did you really find the yokai over here? Why were any of you up here in the first place?”

“We didn’t,” Soonyoung said hoarsely. “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. The demon was found near the edge of the woods.”

“Oh.” You blink. The two of you had marched past the woods a decent while ago. “Okay.” And then you float down from the rock, lightly hopping over frozen patches of land, past Soonyoung again. “Come on, let’s turn back, then.”

Soonyoung sighs, turns around, and begins his clumsy, human descent. “You could at least use your magic to help me down too, you know.”

And that’s the other different thing about you. Magic. It’s such a flimsy, weak word for what you can do, but it’s also the best way to describe it. There are certain things about you, certain things you’re capable of in the way that no human can ever truly be.

Without even looking back, you wave a hand, and a glowing stream of wind nudges Soonyoung’s feet towards the easiest path down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And hurry up before those villagers aggravate the yokai even more.”

Demons, or more traditionally, yokai, aren’t something you’ve encountered in countless decades. As technology and weapons developed, and the human population expanded, many yokai simply faded out of existence, unable to sustain themselves in the less wild, less natural environment that humans created. Others were smart enough to recognise they now had less of an advantage over humans, and tended to stay away from densely populated areas, preferring to target any lone travellers who ventured too far into their territory.

Yokai values and morals are vastly different to humans, and they are so incomprehensible to mortals that yokai gained a reputation for being vindictive, vicious, vile, and all other negative ‘v’ words. That doesn’t necessarily make them so, however, and over your lifetime, you’ve encountered some who don't quite fit the stereotype that humans are all too eager to place on them.

It takes you and Soonyoung long enough to get to the river that the sky has lightened ever so slightly, but the lacey edges of morning mist are still blurring the edges of your sight, and you can only barely see what the villagers are looking at, especially with them all crowding around and pushing against each other to get closer to the river.

You crane your neck, standing on tiptoe, before huffing. Scratch that, you can’t see anything.

“Move out of my way, please,” you say sharply, adding a little volume magic to your voice so that it carries over the whole crowd. 

Most of them instantly look back at that and clock your presence, eyes widening. Some of them begin rushing towards you, looking almost like their children as they begin talking over each other all at once.

“Y/N, there’s a demon—”

“Absolutely vile creature, is there any way—”

“—river’s all frozen, how did it even get here—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” you interrupt, adding even more volume to your voice to be heard. “Minah, yes, I know there’s a demon. Soonyoung told me. And no, Joongseok, we don’t know if it’s truly vile yet. And Woongri, yokai often work with magic, so it could’ve gotten here in a variety of ways. But if you want me to do something, you have to let me through. Yes?”

You’re tired, and cold, and dealing with stressed adults is not the best way to start the day, so you're more blunt than is perhaps necessary, but it gets your point across. The villagers look sufficiently contrite and finally shuffle to the side, making way for you to get through. Seungcheol, the village leader, nudges his way through the crowd until he’s by your side, face solemn.

“Good morning,” he says. “Sorry about the chaos.”

“Good morning,” you say back, voice now normal volume once again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s scared. You don’t call me at ungodly hours unless it’s serious, so I don’t mind.”

Seungcheol nods, looking both grave and apologetic. “We only ever want you to use your magic for good.”

It’s a terribly human thing to say, and you  smile dryly. “Of course. What can I help you with this time?”

“Well… You can help with that.” Seungcheol points to a mound of warped ice a little ways down the river. “How can we get rid of it?”

You squint in the direction Seungcheol’s pointing at, peering through the tendrils of mist, and then gasp. Half-buried into the ice of the river, you can make out a blurry, pale-coloured figure clothed in pale silk. Dark liquid pools in all directions surrounding the motionless body, and anyone can tell the yokai is very badly hurt. 

“It’s already bleeding half to death, so it shouldn’t be too hard to finish— wait, Y/N!”

Ignoring Seungcheol’s shouts, you step onto the frozen surface of the river and rush towards the yokai, and your blood runs cold as you take in the sight before you.

The yokai is a fox demon, you notice, with white ears and soft silver hair and a gorgeous white tail, which is partially being crushed by a river’s worth of ice. He’s waist-deep in the frozen water, and a thick layer of more ice has begun to form around the yokai’s torso from where he’s slumped against the surface of the river at an almost unnatural angle, causing his poor tail to be twisted and buried both in the river and the new ice.

“Oh, darling,” you whisper, kneeling down beside him, tracing a finger across the yokai’s cheek. Your finger comes away stained dark with blood, and you swallow thickly, heart constricting.

The crushing ice isn’t the end of the damage: there’s blood pouring from seemingly unknown sources, matted into the fox demon’s hair and streaking down his neck. He must have been in some sort of fight before getting stuck in the river. 

Gently, you thumb over the yokai’s cheek, taking in the pale skin and delicate eyelashes. This fox demon is devastatingly pretty, and seeing him so badly injured makes your heart hurt even more.

Something rustles near the riverbank, and you look back to see some of the children hiding amongst the leaves, peering curiously at you as you kneel next to the yokai. Further up the river, Seungcheol is approaching you, wanting to know your thoughts on the demon, and his eyes widen as he also notices the children in the bushes.

“What are you doing here?” he says in their direction, the disapproval clear in his tone. “It’s dangerous! You shouldn’t be looking at this. Where are your parents? Didn’t Soonyoung tell you to go home?”

“But we wanna see Miss Witch,” one boy says, eyes wide. “Please, can’t we stay?”

You frown and open your mouth, preparing to reprimand them, but then the yokai makes a soft, pained sound beside you, and you instantly return your attention to him, bending down even closer to his face.

Seungcheol cries out, this time in your direction as you lean towards the yokai. “Y/N, what are you doing? Stay back!”

You ignore him, reaching out a hand to brush matted hair out of the yokai’s eyes. “Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”

The yokai scrunches his eyes up, whimpering in pain. The moment he’d returned to consciousness, he’d started shivering intensely, struck by the cold of the river. 

“Hello?” you repeat, gentle. You move your hand away from the yokai’s face, directing it towards the ice surrounding his back instead. Silently reciting an incantation, the ice begins to glow orange under your palm, slowly beginning to melt away. “Can you tell me your name?”

The yokai shivers, mumbles something unintelligible. Then he looks up at you, golden irises shuddering in fear, every movement of his face telling you it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. 

One of the children lets out a shriek, and you whip your head up in alarm. They don’t look hurt, but the yokai notices the sound too, raising his head to look at them with wide, unsettling eyes, and the children shriek again, all of them frozen in fear. You can kind of understand why: the fox demon is covered in blood, and anyone unacquainted with the supernatural would find his slitted golden eyes petrifying. 

But before you can say anything, do anything to reassure them, the ice around his back makes a cracking sound as it melts under your hand, and the yokai’s mouth drops open in pain. He coughs, splattering blood over the ice, more of the black liquid dripping from the corners of his lips as he starts writhing and scratching against the river, hauling himself up onto his elbows, eyes fixed on the children in the distance, and all hell breaks loose.

The children are screaming, ear-piercingly loud, and Seungcheol is screaming too, and the yokai starts writhing even harder, yipping and gasping like a distressed fox, his hands sticky with his own blood as he tries to push against the ice. 

“No, it’s okay— don’t do that—Cheol, let me think!” 

It’s obvious Seungcheol wants you to kill the demon, especially with the way he’s screeching at you right now, but the yokai looks so pitiful, ears shaking, eyes wide, still bleeding from gashes all over his body.

“Think about what?” Seungcheol yells, children cowering behind his legs, and he shields their eyes from the river. “Y/N, please, you have to get rid of it!”

You look at him, and then down at the helpless yokai beside you, and really, it takes you less than a second to decide what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, getting to your feet. Seungcheol tenses, sensing something wrong in your tone as you look down at the yokai again, leaning down with your hand outstretched. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your fingers come into contact with the yokai’s forehead, and there’s a golden glow before his eyes flutter shut and he freezes up, before collapsing against the ice.

Hidden safely behind the village leader, the children stop screaming. Seungcheol also doesn’t make a sound, still staring wide-eyed at you, and now the yokai is no longer moving, the early morning air is frozen still once more. You look back at Seungcheol, and he blinks, his face unreadable.

“Please tell me you killed that thing.”

You smile weakly, dried-up demon blood on your fingertips. At your feet, the yokai’s shoulders move up and down ever so slightly with every shallow breath he takes, unconscious.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Bad idea,” Seungcheol admonishes loudly from outside your window, and even though there’s a whole wall and a thick pane of glass separating him from you, his disapproval is crystal clear. “This is a bad idea. Y/N, let me in. We have to talk about this.”

You don’t look up from the boiling pot on the stove, simply lifting a hand and giving Seungcheol the finger.

“How dare— Y/N, you cannot let that thing live. It’s a danger to us. Especially the children! Y/N, think of the children, please, it could hurt the children.”

Seungcheol raps against the glass insistently, but you ignore him, humming to yourself as you ladle some of the boiling concoction into a wooden bowl. Gently, you blow on the steam, inspecting the lilac colour of the liquid before nodding, pleased, and heading over to the yokai asleep on your couch. 

It’s been some hours since that moment on the frozen river, where you’d decided to save the yokai trapped in the ice rather than kill him. None of the humans agreed with your decision, however, so you’d had to make the tiring trek down the mountain yourself, a heavy, unconscious yokai in tow. That’s partly the reason you’re so tired right now, arms aching as you set the bowl down on the coffee table, where you’ve laid out bandages and various dried bags of poultices and face towels to help clean up the yokai. 

Said yokai is still unconscious and bleeding all over the fabric of your sofa, the golden threads of magic you’d used to briefly staunch his wounds already beginning to fray open once more. You sigh, settling down beside him, and begin inspecting the more serious injuries on his forehead and down his arms.

“What happened to you, hm?” you say softly, ignoring Seungcheol still rapping against your window. “Why are you so hurt?”

Living as the only magic user-slash-competent doctor in a rural village means that you have plenty of experience in patching up the particularly nasty injuries that the villagers sustain, and your hands are careful and practised as you dip a towel into the warm, disinfectant potion you’d made, swiping it over the yokai’s skin. He’s injured practically everywhere: deep gashes are scored along his arms, his hands, and there’s one slashed across his chest. Not to mention his definitely-broken tail, the still-bleeding head wound and, judging by the way blood had been pouring from his mouth out on the lake, some internal injuries you can’t see. 

You wince, taking a towel into your hands. “Sorry,” you say, heart twinging in sympathy for the yokai. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. But don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

Ideally, you’d run a bath first and scrub the yokai clean of all the grime and blood before getting to tending his wounds. But he’s a fox demon—ridiculously tall and with a fluffy tail and delicate ears, so he won’t fit in your tiny tub and it’ll end up being more troublesome than anything else.

So, you’ve resorted to magic, dipping a cloth in the potion you've made to melt and dissolve all the dirt into thin air.

The wounds are all worryingly deep, most notably the still-bleeding one on his forehead, and if he were human, you’d be concerned that he’ll suffer a serious concussion afterwards, along with an inability to use his hands for a long while. But as it is, the ancient demon-magic that he’s made of will mean that he’ll heal pretty quickly, and there should be no grave threat to his life.

Hopefully. As long as he doesn’t develop an infection from the open wounds. 

You finish cleaning up the blood and then wipe down his face with a cool cloth, frowning slightly at how his skin still feels unusually hot. Infections will make his healing process much longer and much more arduous. The poor yokai looks like he’s already been through more than enough, so you really hope the fever dies down soon.

Seungcheol is still yelling at you from your window when you finish your preliminary clean-up, and you sigh heavily, beginning to develop a headache from how annoying he's being. So you walk over to the window, wrench it open, and jab a bloodstained finger in his direction.

“Seungcheol. Kindly, please, fuck off.”

Seungcheol blinks, both startled by your abrupt confrontation and a little affronted, but before he can say anything, you carry on. 

“Currently, this yokai is injured, and it’s my job to take care of injured people, regardless of who they are, so you can take any thoughts of me killing him and shove them up your ass. It’s not happening, and it’s never happening, and you’re also disturbing my patient with the racket you’re creating, so please go away.”

If it were anyone else talking to him like this, Seungcheol would have blown up with anger a solid thirty seconds ago—as it is, he simply stares at you, still looking affronted, before he sighs, and all of the energy drains out of him. He knows how headstrong you are, and when you get like this, he knows there’s no way he can sway you. He’ll have to wait until you’re no longer brimming with obstinacy to get his thoughts across.

His gaze drops from yours to your bloody finger, and then he sighs again, folding his hands behind his back.

“Give the demon my wishes for his speedy recovery,” he says at last. “But we still have to talk about this later, Y/N. Okay?”

You huff, and lower your hands. “Fine. Later.” With a resolute swish of magic, you shut the window once again and turn your back on Seungcheol to return to your patient.

As village leader, you can understand why Seungcheol may have concerns regarding a yokai entering a human village, but that doesn’t mean you like how he has no qualms with telling you to just kill it in an instant. Discrimination against magical creatures is half the reason they’re so hostile to humans, anyway, and you’d know firsthand how painful it is to be targeted and attacked purely for being who you are.

It’s not like you ever asked to be magic. And yet, people end up hating you for it.

You look down at the unconscious yokai, with his silver-white fur and gentle eyelashes and those heart-wrenching injuries. Then, wordlessly, you pick up one of the poultices and get to work.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Hansol wakes up to the strong, warm smell of chrysanthemum.

It’s an unusual scent to wake up to, and his ears prick up, alarmed—only for him to cry out a few seconds later, upon realising the action sends a sharp bolt of pain throughout his entire body.

“Oh!” 

A voice sounds from somewhere above his head, and he startles even more, trying to open his eyes and locate the sound, before realising he can’t see.

He cries out again, panicking at the pitch black that surrounds him, flailing around before realising that that action also causes him debilitating pain, and he begins panicking even more. How did he end up here? What happened? All he remembers is being chased through the forest and then tripping and crashing into a river, and then hard ice and the cold water and the throbbing in his head and then— and then—

Something damp and heavy gets lifted from his eyes and he gasps, freezing up as bright white light almost blinds him.

“Sorry, sorry,” the voice from before says, sounding terribly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before doing that.” 

Hansol scrunches his eyes, and then squints, vision all blurry from having been unconscious and now being blinded by bright light. He can’t see who’s speaking, but whoever they are, they carry on, the words steadily flowing out faster and faster as the person rambles. He can barely keep up with the onslaught of noise, twitching confusedly and trying to see what’s going on. The world feels like it’s spinning. He’s pretty sure the world isn’t meant to spin this fast.

“That was probably really scary when you woke up, huh? I’m so sorry. The towel slipped from your forehead and covered your eyes, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I didn’t expect you to wake up now, but I guess that’s a good thing, ‘cause you’ve been out for a whole day, and any longer and we’re veering into coma territory, which would mean that you were really, really hurt. Which is, like, definitely not good, you know? But you did wake up, thank goodness, so that means there’s a chance you’ll get better very soon. Plus, your fever isn’t that bad anymore, so it seems you really are on the road to recovery, which is all very—oh, wait. Sorry. It’s still too bright, isn’t it?”

Another wave of chrysanthemum hits Hansol’s senses and a hand comes up to his face, creating a shadow over his eyes so he’s no longer squinting furiously up at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry,” the voice says, apologising yet again. “Is that better?”

Hansol blinks, slowly opening his eyes fully to look up, and then, the whole world abruptly stops spinning as he finds himself looking at the most beautiful being in the entire history of the universe. He doesn’t say a word, mouth falling open in shock.

You smile down at him, made anxious by his silence. “Hello,” you say, hand still shielding his eyes from the brunt of the winter light. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?”

Hansol squeaks, a small, high-pitched sound that instantly floods him with mortification when it accidentally slips past his lips, and he screws his eyes shut and curls into himself, knocking your hand away hurriedly in his rush to hide his face. He tries to bury himself into the couch, shaking. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, gently, worried you've scared him. “I promise. I want to help.” Perched on the edge of the couch, you lean over and slowly lower the yokai’s hands from his face, coaxing him to look at you again. “Can you please tell me your name?”

You smile, again, and Hansol feels a little faint as he looks up at you. His vision is still slightly blurry from his eyes being shut for so long, and the way you’re backlit by the light makes you look like you’re glowing, a gentle halo of silver light surrounding your form. That, coupled with the way you have the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, is making him feel all dizzy. And a bit warm. The air feels like it’s suffocating him, actually, but all of that is made irrelevant by how pretty he thinks your smile is.

There’s a possibility he’s still in the process of getting rid of his fever, because he blinks slowly, focused, and when he opens his mouth to speak, the next words spill unbidden from his lips.

“My name is Hansol,” he says, “and I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a flush rapidly creeping up your cheeks. Hansol looks at you, worried that you’ll suddenly hate him for what he’s just said, but you just laugh, flattered, and bring your hand up to his forehead. The touch is cool against his skin, like a soothing balm.

“Thank you, Hansol,” you say. “Your fever seems to still be pretty high, if you’re saying stuff like this, huh? I’m currently brewing some chrysanthemum tea, and I think it’ll be a good idea for you to have some too.”

Hansol blinks slowly again. “Chrysanthemum tea,” he muses. He looks up at you. “That must be why you smell so warm and pretty.”

You laugh again, flustered, subconsciously brushing his hair back from his forehead and cupping his cheek, your fingers feather-light. “Perhaps. So would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Hansol says. “I’ll have anything… you… give m…” His eyelids and ears slowly droop, and before he can even finish his sentence, he drifts back off to unconsciousness once again, head leaning into your hand.

Open-mouthed, pink-cheeked, you look down at the one-more unconscious yokai in your hands. 

“Wow,” you breathe out. And then you smile. “You’re adorable.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Over the next few days, the yokai—Hansol—constantly drifts in and out of consciousness, his fever fluctuating in intensity the entire time.

It’s difficult to pull coherent sentences out of him, and anything he says is a mixture of your name, his name, and also how pretty he thinks you are.

You chalk it up to his fever.

His demon-magic must have taken a serious blow from the extent of his injuries, as it takes him a lot longer than you’d like for him to finally shake off the infection. A whole excruciating week goes by, and you almost cry with relief when, as you get up to check his temperature in the middle of the night, you find that his fever has finally broken, and he’s able to breathe easily once more.

When the weak sun finally peeks out from over the horizon, you enter your spare room to check on Hansol. Sometime after his first bout of consciousness, you’d gathered enough energy to move him from your couch to the spare bedroom in your cottage. It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of magic—weakened by the stress of taking care of a dying fox demon and trying to fend off any curious and judgy villagers, it takes a lot of energy for you to do anything strenuous lately—but you managed. And it certainly seemed to help, as he slept a lot better in an actual bed.

Humming absentmindedly to yourself, you make your way over to the guest room, fingers dancing and causing golden threads of magic to tidy up the state of your house as you go along. 

To your surprise, the yokai is wide awake when you enter the room, and he startles when you noisily open the door and step inside. The moment you make eye contact with Hansol, you freeze, the song dying off your lips at the same time as your magic drops a partially-fluffed up cushion in the living room.

“Um.” You blink, hanging off the door handle, staring at the yokai picking his bandages in bed in the middle of your guest room. “Good morning?”

Hansol doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at you, wide-eyed.

You cough, feeling terribly awkward, attempting to adjust your stance and take your hand off the doorknob in the most natural way possible. “Hello. I’m, uh, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

There’s another beat. Then Hansol finally opens his mouth, only to completely ignore your question to say, “You’re the one who smells like chrysanthemums.”

“I— Sorry, what?” You blink, taken aback by the abrupt and unrelated question, before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I guess you remember the chrysanthemum tea I made you?” You smile slightly. “I can’t believe you remember that. That was when you were the most unwell.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s ears twitch, and he continues to look at you with his golden eyes, somewhere between bewildered and amazed. (Amazed by what, you aren’t entirely sure.) “I do remember, though. I remember you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to push down the blush that threatens to rise up your face. Having a handsome yokai stare at you with such focus, saying that he remembers you even when he was deep in the throes of a fever is such a heart-fluttering thing to experience early in the morning. You aren’t nearly awake enough for this conversation. If you aren’t careful, you could accidentally fall in love right then and there.

“That’s nice,” you croak, and then shake yourself. You have a job to do. Hansol’s a patient under your care, and you need to check his condition. “Um. Sorry. But, uh, I do have to check if you can remember anything else,” you say, slipping into healer mode as you step further into the room, walking towards the bed. “Do you remember your name?”

Hansol nods, intently following your movements as you draw closer. “My name is Hansol,” he says.

You smile, relieved by the coherency of his answer. The fact that the yokai remembers his own name is a very good sign. “Yes, you are. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Yes,” Hansol says obediently. “I was in a river. Trapped in the ice. And you… saved me.”

That makes you smile a little wider. “I took care of your wounds, yes! It’s really good you’re finally awake and able to answer questions, ‘cause it’s a sure sign there’s no lasting internal damage. I do have to check your bandages, though, so… may I?”

You make a gesture towards Hansol’s bandaged arms, and the yokai obliges, raising his arms to let you see. 

You take Hansol’s hand in your own, preparing to lift his arm up higher—but the moment your palms brush, you gasp, fingers tightening around the yokai’s at the sudden sensation. Hansol, too, lets out a small noise of surprise, looking up at you.

The yokai’s hands are firm, strong, and perfectly healthy, but they also thrum with magic. You can feel every spark and fizzle of the magic as it dances under his skin, spinning and zipping back and forth like a cloud of hyperactive fireflies. Like the magic can talk, and when it noticed the magic that lives inside you, it seems to yip with recognition, spinning itself around in excitement in the yokai’s hands.

“It’s so strong,” you say, amazed. “I didn’t realise magic could be this powerful.”

Hansol’s also staring up at you, similarly in awe. “You’re magic too?” he asks, looking like he’s never fathomed such a thing is possible. “You’re like me?”

You laugh slightly, made a little giddy by the feeling of how alive the magic is under Hansol’s skin. “Not exactly,” you say, releasing Hansol’s hand to finally reach for the bandages, feeling around to see whether his skin is still tender underneath. “I don’t have the ears or the tail, do I?”

Hansol’s ears flick. You’re decidedly focused solely on the yokai’s bandages, but you can feel Hansol looking at you intently as you work. 

“But you’re very pretty,” Hansol says. “Are you sure?”

fuck. Hansol has to stop saying things like that, because they’re very bad for your poor heart. Very bad.

“I’m sure,” you say with a smile, straightening up once again. “I think all your wounds are healing nicely. Now your magic’s come back to its full strength, it’ll help you heal the rest of the way in no time.”

You can’t help but reach for Hansol’s hand again, once more feeling pleasantly surprised by the light zap of magic when your hands touch. Now you can feel the thrum of it under Hansol’s skin, it’s easy to realise how unwell the yokai was before, when his hands had been deathly cold with no fizz of magic in them at all. You’re just endlessly relieved that you can feel that fizz once again.

Hansol looks down at your intertwined hands, and then up at you, a smile lifting up the corners of his lips. “Thank you,” he says, so very sincere that it melts your heart. “Thank you for looking after me.”

You can’t help but smile back, squeezing Hansol’s hand once. “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Hansol smiles even wider, ears twitching pleasedly, and you once again have to try and valiantly fight away your blush. fuck. This yokai really needs to stop making you blush so easily, and fast, else you’re going to start having problems.

───────────── ‘✽, 

It turns out, the blushing thing ends up being the least of your problems, because later that day, Hansol tries to leave.

Sometime after bringing Hansol a breakfast of soup and chrysanthemum tea (since he really seemed to like the tea), you’re drying away the breakfast dishes when a blast of cold air slices through the cottage, and you look over to see Hansol holding open the front door, looking like he’s about to step out.

“H—wait! Hansol, what are you doing?”

The yokai looks over at you, still holding the front door, confused. The bottom half of his tail is still bandaged, making it difficult for him to move it around, but it still sways from side to side unsurely as he blinks at you.

“I’m leaving,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “You took care of me. And I’m now better. So I’m going to go.”

You gape, jaw almost dropping to the floor at the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Like hell you are,” you say, marching over to the front door and firmly shutting it with your still-soapy hands, and then ushering Hansol back to the guest room and into bed. “You are very far from being better, Hansol. Your tail is still all bandaged up! I’m not letting you leave until you’re back to full health, so don’t you dare think for a second that you get to go before then.”

Hansol makes a noise of confusion as you fussily tuck him back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his head and arranging the covers around him. “What? Why would you let me stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I let you stay?” you counter, patting down the duvet and absentmindedly brushing away the strands of hair that fall in his eyes. “I want to take care of you. I want you to get better. I can’t exactly do that if you go off into the woods all by yourself and get up to heaven knows what, can I?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, you smile and pat his head. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long while yet, mister,” you say, the faux-scolding adding a light playfulness to your tone. “You’re going to stay with me and get better until I say so.”

Hansol looks up at you, tilts his head, and scrunches his nose just slightly as he smiles, shy. “So you’ll let me stay as long as I like?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling back. “However long it takes you to heal, and then some, if you want. Of course, unless you have somewhere else to go.”

The yokai hesitates, ears flicking unsurely. “Not really,” he admits, lowering his gaze. “I’ve never actually had anywhere real to stay.” He looks back up at you again, golden eyes glinting hopefully. “So if it’s okay…”

“Oh, of course you can stay here,” you rush to reassure him. And then you pause, deflating a little. “Although…This is a human village, so they don’t really like… your kind. It might make life a bit difficult, but since you’re with me, they shouldn’t bother you too much. Though I understand if that makes you hesitant to stay.”

Hansol shakes his head, smiling slightly. “That’s okay. I like it here, so I don’t mind staying with just you.” 

“I’m glad,” you say sincerely. “Seriously, you can stay here for however long you want.”

Hansol ducks his head shyly. “Thank you. Genuinely, thank you.”

You awkwardly pat his hand where it lays on the covers, a little embarrassed in the face of his obvious gratitude, and instruct him to rest up before exiting the room. You’re glad that the brief misunderstanding had been cleared up, because you don’t want Hansol to feel anything less than welcomed. Being a yokai, he won’t have received similar acts of kindness in the wild, and as a magical being yourself, you know how that can feel. No one deserves to feel unwanted, least of all an injured yokai who’d obviously been hurt intentionally before you found him.

Unfortunately, though, the trials of Hansol’s first weeks of consciousness do not end there. Some days later, at some point during the afternoon, Seungcheol comes knocking on your door.

You hadn’t intended on inviting Seungcheol in. But afternoons are always a miserable time during winter, when the sky darkens far too early for anyone’s liking, and it’s difficult to find one’s way through the cold, barely-lit paths. That’s why you often get people coming to your door during the late afternoon, lost or confused or panicked because they’ve lost their way, and your cottage, shimmering with gold magic and warm lights is the only beacon they recognise.

So that’s the only reason why, when Seungcheol turns up, you accidentally open the door for him. Not that you have anything against the village leader, but—Hansol’s only been awake for a week at this point, and you don’t have the mental capacity to deal with a talk about getting rid of him.

Unfortunately, when Seungcheol already has one foot in a door, he will not go. Literally.

“Get your foot out of my door,” you say exasperatedly, struggling to push the door shut as Seungcheol pushes back. His foot is still wedged in the doorway.

“Let me in,” Seungcheol says. 

“No. You’re gonna tell me to hurt the yokai again.”

“I’m going to tell you to get him out of here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, finally giving up on the little game and pushing his way through the door like it’s no difficulty at all, making you let out an indignant hey!. “We need to talk about this, Y/N. You cannot harbour a demon in our village without discussing this with anyone. He needs to go.”

“He’s hurt,” you say. “He can’t go anywhere! And he won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.” Seungcheol furrows his brow, his tone grave. “He’s a demon, Y/N. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You can’t keep him here.”

“Yes I can,” you insist, “because he’s a fucking real-life being with feelings, not this scary, evil harbinger of doom that you’re making him out to be, and I know this, because he’s been here with me, in my own home, and he’s quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Over the last several days, Hansol has been healing rapidly, so much so that most of his bandages have been removed and he practically glows with magic every time you see him. It’s incredibly relieving to see, and it’s also allowed you to get to know him better: sometimes unintentionally, as a natural side effect of living with him now, but also, sometimes quite on purpose. Because he’s pretty, and he’s interesting, and you want to know who he is.

Turns out, one of the key things about Hansol is he’s the most adorable being you’ve ever met.

He’s adorable, in an awkward sort of way, from the way he hovers hesitantly in doorways to the way his tail always fluffs up with contentment when he feels the tendrils of your magic brush across the room.

Unlike yokai, who simply have ancient magic embedded in them from birth, you are born of magic and made entirely of magic, so the stuff practically spills out of you wherever you go. The magic can’t only be felt from under your skin, but extends out and away from your being. You’re not used to having guests in the cottage, so you weren’t aware of the extent of how much you let your magic run free when in the safety of your home, until you noticed how Hansol reacted. He always blinks in surprise, lifting his hand palm-up, fingers curling inwards, as if your magic is some elusive silk strand that constantly evades his grasp. It’s as if he can truly feel it, and he always seems to like it.

“Can you actually feel my magic?” you ask one day, and he looks up from his hand, surprised. His tail is all fluffy and big, lazily waving from side to side and creating static against the decorative pillows on your couch. You’re sitting on an armchair next to him, smiling at him amusedly from over the book of hexes you’re reading. He doesn’t even seem to notice what his tail is doing, too occupied with the invisible tendrils between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Hansol says after a moment, closing his hand and resting them both back in his lap, a little awkward. “It feels warm. Nice.”

“Really?” 

You can’t help but smile at that, oddly flattered. To you, your magic is just… yours. It doesn’t feel like anything in particular, nothing more than a familiar tingle in your hands and a weight against your skin. Though you like describing it as gold, in reality, your magic doesn’t have any colour or any real tangibility to it apart from a fleeting pressure. The idea of it being “gold” is just how you feel about it. It never occurred to you that others could feel it, let alone feel differently about it—living amongst humans, your magic has always subconsciously curled tighter around your arms when you interact with the villagers, not wanting to weird them out with your abnormality or make them feel intimidated by you.

Hansol nods, tail swishing once more. The static has caused all his white fur to stand on end, making him look even more fluffy and adorable. “Yeah,” he says again. “It’s so much calmer than the way my magic feels. It’s really cool.”

He’s looking at you earnestly, as if expecting you to totally agree that your magic is “calmer” than his. And even though you’ve only felt his magic twice before, you nod along in agreement anyway, and Hansol nods back, satisfied with your assent. Then he lowers his gaze back to his lap, opens his hand again, and goes back to playing with your magic.

An endeared laugh bubbles up into your throat, and you smile at the top of Hansol’s head before turning back to your book. Goodness, Hansol is so ridiculously cute.

That interaction only happened some days ago, and whenever Hansol smiles at you or stiltedly asks if he can help you around the house, the surge of affection comes back even harder. So you cannot stand Seungcheol standing here, right now, frowning at you like you’re being unreasonable in your decision to treat Hansol like a normal being.

Seungcheol continues to frown, and you simply stare defiantly back, arms crossed. You don’t let him walk further into the cottage, and a stare-off commences there in the front hallway, neither of you willing to back down.

That is, until there’s a loud crash from further inside the house, and both of you flinch in alarm.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, and you look back to where the sound had come from. Connected to the living room, behind a door disguised as an unassuming bookshelf is your own personal library, filled with all the tomes and books on magic and alchemy you’ve collected over the centuries. That’s where the sound’s originated from, which is definitely a cause for concern, but you don’t say so, lest Seungcheol uses this to fuel his argument against Hansol.

“Probably nothing,” you say, though you still glance over in the direction of the library. “You know my cottage. Everything’s old and falling apart.”

Seungcheol looks at you suspiciously. “That’s a lie. You always keep everything in perfect condition.” He begins to move past you. “I bet it’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“No, I—” You try to stop Seungcheol from investigating, but it’s a futile effort. “Cheol, come on, you shouldn’t go see him, he’s still unwell and you could end up distressing him—”

Hurriedly, you trot after Seungcheol through the bookshelf door and into the library, only to end up slamming face-first into his back when he stops abruptly, stunned at the sight before him.

You’re quite proud of your library. It’s an open secret that the bookshelf in your living room leads to it, which is cool all by itself, but your library is also made of magic. What appears as a normal, small study behind the bookshelf turns into a large and sprawling library with high ceilings and mahogany shelves and rows upon rows of books when you step inside. 

You’d allowed Hansol access to the library when he’d asked what was behind the bookshelf, and as far as you know, he’s been peacefully situated there the entire day. But, as you peer over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see why he’s suddenly stopped, you realise you can’t see the yokai at all.

In the middle of the floor, there’s a large… fort of books. A book fort. With four walls built of books piled on top of each other, complete with battlements made of upright books and towers with open books as turrets, it’s actually quite amazing to see. The only drawback is how some of the walls are falling down, books tumbling from where they’re piled up. 

Also the large spread of ice coming from under the fort, that’s very slowly continuing to pool further and further outwards.

Seungcheol blinks. “Uh… Y/N… you wouldn’t happen to be doing this, would you?”

You shake your head. “Weather magic is my weak point.”

Suddenly, two white ears and a head pop up from behind one of the crumbling walls, and Hansol’s eyes widen when he realises you’re here with a guest.

“Oh!” He ducks his head down, and then straightens once more so he can fully see over the walls of the fort. “Hello. I was just building a castle. One of the walls fell down, ‘cause I sneezed, but I can fix it.”

The tip of his nose is slightly dusted with glittering frost, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that or the ice that’s creeping across the wooden floor. His eyes are shining as he looks at you, infinitely more relaxed than when you’d first seen him, and he inclines his head respectfully in Seungcheol’s direction, looking as humble and polite as possible even when half his face is covered by his book fort. 

“Hello to you too. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re not sure what Seungcheol is most flabbergasted by: Hansol’s gentle manners, or the book fort he’s quite amiably making in your very respectable-looking, very grandiose library, or the circle of ice that’s very clearly coming from the yokai. Hansol is very close to giving the village leader a heart attack any time soon, it seems.

“I— This is— You’re using Y/N’s books to do this?” Seungcheol eventually manages to ask, looking both confused and horrified. “She let you?”

Hansol’s ears droop just slightly, but there’s no obvious change to his expression. “Well… no. But none of the books are damaged, and I’m going to put them back once I’m done with them.”

“It’s fine,” you interject. “I could probably fix a few ripped pages. You can do what you like.”

You couldn’t, probably, fix a few ripped pages, because each book is nearly as old as you. But you’re not going to say that, because you don’t want the confusion on Seungcheol’s face to turn into grim disapproval, and you also don’t want Hansol to feel guilty for what he’s doing.

“Although,” you say, looking down pointedly at the floor, “do you think you could stop the ice?”

Hansol peers over the wall, eyes widening when he realises what you’re talking about. “Oh, sorry. It just happened when I sneezed, I think. Everything is still going haywire… I think I’m still sick.”

The movement of the ice slows to a halt, until only a spattering of frost manages to creep over to where you and Seungcheol are standing. It covers the whole expanse of the floor, now, and there’s not a single patch of the warm brown that’s not frosted over, but it’s okay. That is definitely something you can fix.

Ignoring Seungcheol, who’s still standing there like he can’t believe he’s looking at a walking, talking yokai, you move forward and make your slippery way over to the fort. Hansol moves away a column of books, allowing him to step out of the fort and meet you.

“Is this one of the humans?” Hansol asks in a low voice before you even say anything. The sweetness in his face has disappeared, replaced with an icy look of anxiety. “He’s one of the mortals who don’t like me, isn’t he?”

You try not to wince. “Yes. He’s Seungcheol, the village leader here. He… wants me to get you out of here.”

Hansol regards you for a moment. “You make it sound a lot nicer than what he actually means,” he says. “He wants me killed, doesn’t he? At the very least, badly injured and banished from here.”

“Well… no,” you try to say, but yes, that’s actually exactly what Seungcheol wants. “He doesn’t want you badly injured. He’s just… scared. Of your kind.”

“Hm.” Hansol nods, expressionless. “Same thing, really. He wants me out.”

“Okay, Y/N, stop whispering with the… him,” Seungcheol says, and you look up to see the village leader making his slow way across the ice towards you. “We need to talk. Discuss what you’re going to do, because you are going to do it, for the safety of our village.”

You frown, frustrated. “Hansol’s not a threat to our safety,” you argue. Seungcheol continues to slide gingerly across the ice, and he sighs and shakes his head as you carry on. “He doesn’t have anything against humans. And if he did, he’d have been dead long before we found him at the river, because—Hansol. Tell him why you ended up there.”

Hansol hesitates, looking at you unsurely. The other day, you finally managed to ask him why he’d been so injured and how he’d gotten trapped in the river. It was nothing unexpected, but it still had broken your heart, and hopefully, hopefully, it’s enough for Seungcheol to feel a little bit of empathy towards the yokai. Seungcheol’s a good man, a kind man, and all he needs to do is realise Hansol’s not evil, and he’ll warm up to him faster than anyone could think possible.

“Some other yokai attacked me in the forest,” Hansol says slowly. “Really old yokai. Older than me. And… I got hurt.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he doesn’t get the point of this. You simply glare at him, silently telling him to continue listening.

“It wasn’t bad. Just a broken tail and some scratches,” Hansol says, and Seungcheol blinks, surprised at Hansol’s nonchalance. “But then some demon hunters found me, and tried to get me to… attack them? I dunno. They were picking a fight, and when I didn’t give it to them, they also hurt me.”

Almost imperceptibly, Seungcheol’s face softens a fraction, and you feel a flicker of hope. You know he’s weak in the face of innocently victimised stories like this.

“And so I was trying to run away from them, but everything is kind of in pain at that point. So I end up tripping down the mountain and into your river. My magic goes haywire when I’m sick,” he adds, “so that’s how I end up accidentally freezing ice all over me, too. It kind of responds to my feelings I guess? So when I’m scared, it starts acting up even more, which is why the ice was so thick, too. Like it was trying to protect me, ‘cause it knew I was scared of someone hurting me.”

It’s the most that Hansol’s said in one go, uninterrupted, before. Seungcheol’s face softens even further, and he straightens slowly. He’s been standing still, a few metres away the entire time Hansol’s been talking, like he’s been frozen by his tale.

“And yeah,” Hansol finishes awkwardly, ears twitching. He’s sensed the change in atmosphere, Seungcheol’s empathy tangible in the air. “Then I ended up here.”

“After several, painful weeks of healing,” you add, and Hansol nods jerkily.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says gently. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were so scared. But…” And then he sighs, straightening up further, the softness melting away from his face. “That doesn’t mean you’re not a harm to the others, now you’re all better. Who knows how you might feel when you’re hungry, or angry. You said your magic acts up according to your feelings, and I can’t have it acting up and hurting people here.”

Hansol’s face scrunches up in confusion. “When I’m hungry?”

It’s a bit absurd that’s the thing he’s focusing on, so you feel indignation over Seungcheol’s whole speech on his behalf, crying out at the injustice.

“What do you mean?” you argue. “You’re saying that like he’s some mindless beast.”

“He may as well be, for all I know,” Seungcheol sighs. “He’s not human, Y/N. We don’t know how he’ll act. And I need to think about the villagers. They’re… they’re like family to me, you know that.”

“I’m not human either,” you point out angrily. “And yet I’m also a part of this village. What are you saying, Cheol? Do you not consider me family?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head instantly. “No, you are. But still, you’re more human than he is. And… there are days where I’m a bit wary of you too, Y/N.” At your outraged look, he rushes to continue, “Because you’re so powerful! But you’ve been with us for so many years, during the time of my father and his father, and his father before that, so I know you’re good. You’ve saved their lives. Saved everyone’s lives. Hansol, on the other hand…”

You scoff, beyond furious. “That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as being ‘good’, just as there’s no such thing as being ‘evil’. We don’t live in a fucking fairytale, Seungcheol.”

“I know. Maybe if you’d made different choices, I’d think of you as less good, too, but…” Seungcheol trails off, shrugging helplessly.

You stare at him, eyes so impossibly wide that it’s actually hurting your eye sockets, astounded by what he’s just said. Seungcheol? Thinking of you as evil? Just because of your power? 

Beside you, Hansol stiffens just slightly, and during the course of the conversation, he’s somehow ended up so close to you that you can feel his magic simmering frantically under his skin. You don’t know why he’s so worked up, and distantly, you wonder whether it’s on your behalf.

Seungcheol, noticing how irate you’re getting, takes a step forward to try and placate you. But he misjudges his balance on the ice surrounding the fort, leg twisting and his eyes widen and he yelps as he falls forward, on course to crashing face-first onto the hard, frozen ground. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to him, before then—

There’s a blur of white fur and Hansol catches him before he falls over and breaks all the bones in his knees, gripping him loosely around the torso, getting to Seungcheol before you can even blink. He gingerly helps him back into an upright position, and you wave a hand to whisk away the rest of the ice with streams of gold before another accident like that happens again. Hansol’s still holding Seungcheol when you’re finished, but by the shoulders now, looking the village leader right in the eye, golden irises soft and determined at the same time.

“I get you have a responsibility,” Hansol says. “I used to have one too, in the wild. To keep myself alive. But my rule, and this should be yours too, is to not hurt anything that doesn’t hurt you first. I haven’t hurt you. You shouldn’t hurt me. And Y/N—” He looks over at you, eyes flashing, before looking back at Seungcheol. “Y/N has never hurt you. So don’t act like you’re preparing for the day she one day will.”

Seungcheol’s face doesn’t change, but you’ve known him long enough to detect the minute shifts in the air around him as he digests Hansol’s words and, grudgingly, accepts it.

“I apologise,” he finally says, reluctant but sincere in the way only Seungcheol can be. “That was cruel of me. To you and Y/N.”

He looks at you, and Hansol’s hands fall away, allowing him to walk towards you.

“Sorry. But you have to understand where I’m coming from,” Seungcheol says, almost pleading, and you realise that, whilst his stance on Hansol’s existence has wavered, his overall reluctance over him being here hasn’t changed. “At least don’t let others see him, if he’s going to stay. They’ll be terrified.”

“That doesn’t sound like Hansol’s problem,” you retort. “I know these villagers, Cheol, and they’ll warm up to him, they really will.”

You look over at Hansol as you say your next words.

“Hansol is sweet and kind and really rather funny, and it breaks my heart to hide him from others because he might be seen as scary. That’s just people’s prejudice talking.” You smile. Hansol’s eyes are wide, lips parted slightly, and a fluttering warmth unfurls up inside you as you continue to smile at him. “Because I’ve seen Hansol, and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hansol’s entire face goes pink, and he looks away.

“Maybe so,” Seungcheol says heavily, and you look back at him. The warmth in your chest fades at his tone, dropping to the depths of your stomach. “But I can’t risk them being near him. Don’t let him out.”

You sigh, disappointed. “No. He can leave the house if he wants to, Seungcheol. He’s not some kind of housepet you can impose rules on just like that and expect me to follow through with them.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my home,” you say, evenly. “Go. You can take your rules and go piss off out of my sight.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You stew in your anger towards Seungcheol for several days. 

He comes to your door every so often, either with a letter or a plea to talk through this, but you refuse to let him in and instead tell him to, not so kindly, fuck off. 

Hansol looks at you with a mixture of affection and disappointment each time you do so. You don’t really understand why he looks at you like that—neither the affection nor disappointment—but he doesn’t say anything and goes back to what he was doing soon after, either playing with your magic, or his own, or reading your books.

Having him around the house is quite like having a very adorable, very shy, fox. You might’ve gotten furious at Seungcheol for treating Hansol like a pet, but you don’t mean it like having a pet fox: it’s just like having an inquisitive, cute being around the house who quite likes following you around as you go about your day.

It’s cute. He’s cute, with his swishing tail and his sudden bursts of frost when he’s fiddling with his fingers, and the way he stays perfectly still whenever you gain the courage to slowly inch closer to him on the sofa until you’re laying on his shoulder, at the perfect angle to peer down at the book in his hands so you can read it with him. They’re all your books, of course, so you know what they’re all about, but it’s quite nice leaning against Hansol, feeling his warmth through the silk of his clothing, and the pleasant hum of his magic under your ear.

He never initiates physical contact, but he seems to like having you near. He’s never protested when you’ve held his hand or laid on his shoulder or (very, very gently) touched his ears, so.

He’s quite like a fox, in that way. But he’s like a fox in other ways, too: namely, how it appears that he’s a bit nocturnal.

Sometimes, you’ll awaken at three, four, five o’clock in the morning to someone clattering around in your house. It always turns out to be Hansol, trying to occupy himself without waking you up, but always failing to do so.

“Hansol?” you murmur blearily, shuffling into the kitchen where the flurry of clatters had emitted from earlier. It’s dark, and all the curtains are drawn; nevertheless, his dim silhouette looks distinctly guilty as he whirls around to face you, pots and pans in his hands. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I read some potion in your book, and I wanted to try it out.”

“At three in the morning?”

“Five,” Hansol corrects. You fix him with a look, and he winces, demon magic-enhanced night vision meaning he can see you perfectly clearly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It’s cold in the kitchen, and being exposed to the chilly night temperature is gradually waking you up. “It’s okay. I guess you don’t sleep a lot, huh? You’re wide awake, even though it’s so early in the morning.”

Hansol shrugs. “Dunno. But I always just feel like I have so much energy. Like it doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I can’t sleep for too long before it tells me to do something.”

“I see.” You purse your lips thoughtfully, pondering why Hansol’s feeling like this and what could cause it. And then, a realisation strikes you and your eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, I get it. I understand why you’re feeling that way.”

The yokai tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, and it’s totally okay,” you reassure, nodding your head. “Totally understandable, too. But don’t worry, it’s easily fixed.”

You wave a hand and turn all the light fixtures on so you can see Hansol properly. The yokai literally does look like he’s vibrating with extra energy, holding your cooking utensils in his hands, ears perked upright and tail fluffed up to the max. Yeah, he’s definitely understimulated and frustrated with it right now, even if he doesn’t realise that’s what it is.

You smile. This is a good way to help him and piss off Seungcheol at the same time.

“Come on, Hansol. Let’s go outside.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Not even an hour later, you’re making a trek up the mountains in your warmest clothes, lagging behind Hansol even with your magic-aided agility helping you up the hardest of the steps. The yokai is bounding on ahead, nimble and quick-footed even in the darkness of the early winter morning, and you can hear the light crunch of snow under his footsteps as he moves.

This is what Hansol needed. Some time outside, where he can finally breathe.

Some minutes later, as you’re sitting on a log on the path to catch your breath, Hansol comes back down the mountain to meet you, settling down by your side.

“It’s so quiet,” he whispers. The air around you is lit with a faint glow, courtesy of a visibility spell you conjured so you wouldn’t fall flat on your face as you walked. It makes Hansol’s face look golden as he smiles at you, eyes shining. “Everything is so quiet out here. I can hear the animals.”

You smile back, finding joy in how relaxed he looks. “Doesn’t that make it noisy?”

Hansol shakes his head, and then looks away from you, ears cocked to the side, listening. “No. This is like a familiar buzz of noise, so familiar that it becomes silent.” He looks back at you again, smiling. “Down in the village, it’s so noisy because of all the people, but up here, it’s all gone.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you say with a smile, and Hansol nods so quickly that you laugh, endeared. “I’m glad. You can go off for a bit, if you want, and I’ll wait for you here.”

Hansol beams. “Okay.”

And like that, he’s off, nothing more than a faint swish of a silver tail before he disappears once more.

He doesn’t come back to you for some time, which gives you a chance to sit there and breathe in the cool air. It’s so cold that it feels like inhaling clouds of peppermint, but it’s… relaxing. 

You haven’t had a chance to properly rest this winter. Winter’s a tricky time for you: the cold numbs your senses and makes your magic more sluggish. This year feels much colder than usual, and now the prolonged adrenaline that came with bringing Hansol back from the brink of death is fading, you’re beginning to anticipate feeling more worn out more often, the warm fizz in the tips of your fingers not as present as it ought to be.

Strangely, though. It hasn’t happened yet. Maybe being around Hansol and his frost-related magic has built up your resistance to the cold.

Or, he’s just so lovely and comforting that you don’t feel the effects of the winter.

That’s always a possibility. You look down at your hands, still glowing slightly with the visibility light you’ve put on yourself. It hasn’t faltered even once, a brilliant gold, and when you think of the colour of Hansol’s eyes, the light seems to glow even more.

You breathe in, and then exhale, kicking your feet out in front of you, looking down the dim mountain. You’ve been up here, thinking, for so long that the weak sunrise is beginning to peek its head above the horizon. Hansol still hasn’t come back. Though, you find you’re not too worried about that: somehow, you know that he will come back to you, though you can’t find ears nor tail of him while he’s gone.

It’s incredible how much you’ve come to trust and believe in Hansol, though he’s only been with you for several weeks. He’s been so reserved, anxious and afraid at times, especially during the early days, when he’d been bandaged up and newly healing in an unfamiliar environment, but now it’s clear how earnest and gentle he is. Something in your chest tightens and then relaxes with happiness whenever you see him smile. He’s just so—genuine, and you really like that about him.

You like him. A lot. He’s certainly an unexpected new part of your life, but now he’s here, and you can’t imagine living without the silver-furred fox yokai by your side.

There’s a rustle in the evergreen bushes to your left, and, as if he’s here answering your summons, a familiar silver head of hair pops out, golden eyes shining when he sees you. 

He blinks at you, ears flicking curiously, twigs in his hair like he’s been rolling around on the forest floor. His tail is out of sight, but you can imagine how it’s waving from side to side in contentment, the morning dew slowly turning into frozen crystals in his fur. You smile.

“Hey,” you greet, the moment you see Hansol’s face. “Are you gonna come over?”

Instantly, he stands up, hops over the bush and makes his way to you. His footfalls are light, looking like he’s dancing over the rocks before he settles next to you once more, looking like he never left your side.

“Hey,” he says. “There are so many rabbits in these mountains, you know? Like I’ve never seen so many rabbits gathered in one place before, because normally they get killed by hunters or there’s just not enough food in that area to sustain so many. It’s actually insane how many rabbits you have up here.” When you just smile, his eyes widen, ears pricking upright. “Oh, is it you? Do you do something to help them stay alive? With your magic and all that?”

Hansol then launches into a flurry of questions for you, so eager and animated that it surprises you a little, before melting your heart.

At the sight of sunrise, you’d taken down your visibility spell, but Hansol is still glowing, looking so alive with his cold-dusted cheeks, shining eyes, wind-fluffed hair and the frost dusting the tip of his nose, which must have accidentally happened when he’d gotten too excited and lost control of his magic.

Hansol’s positively lit up, now he’s surrounded by all this nature. He must’ve been so cooped up and nervous before, when he was just in your house, barely anything to do. Now he’s healed, and outside, and you can tell that being out of the house is where he’s meant to be.

“It’s not me,” you admit after Hansol’s finished conjuring up crazy theories. “Well, kind of. I messed around with the mountains about eighty years ago and did something by accident so we get a lot more winter flowers than normal. The rabbits love eating them, so we get a lot of them too.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, amazed. “That makes so much sense. I saw so many flowers. I thought that was a little bit weird, but I just chalked it up to Mother Nature having fun, or something.”

You laugh. “Yeah. I guess Mother Nature was having fun,” you say, gesturing to yourself, and Hansol grins too. His eyes crinkle as he does so, the corners of his lips spread wide so his pearly whites are fully visible, the tips of his yokai fangs slightly on display. Even his big, bright smile is as cute as he is. You’ve never seen him smile this widely before. It’s… pretty.

Even though he’s all warmed up to you now, even though it’s clear he trusts you, it’s obvious he’ll always be most at peace out here in the big, wide world.

His gaze slides away from yours, looking at something behind you, and he gasps.

“What is it?” You turn to look back, trying to find what had caught his eye, but Hansol doesn’t respond. He jumps up, diving into the bushes without a word.

A moment later he emerges, and in his hands is…

“A daffodil?” you say, amazed. “What’s this doing here? Spring is very, very far off.”

“I guess it’s because of you,” Hansol says, handing you the flower. 

You accept it gratefully, tracing the edges of its buttery yellow petals, such a warm, golden colour in your hands, in stark contrast to the cold white of the snow around you. It’s so pretty, so pristine, and it’s amazing it managed to survive in the freezing winter temperatures. Must be due to your magic, like Hansol said.

“It looks like you,” Hansol says suddenly, and you look at him in surprise. 

“Really? How?”

“You look like spring, to me,” he says. The frosted tip of his nose looks pink, as do his cheeks. A decidedly warmer, blushier pink than they’d looked before. “All warm and gold and pretty. Like the daffodil. And I…” He pauses, and then seems to change his mind, shutting his mouth and blinking at you like he wasn’t about to say anything else.

You smile, so endeared that you’re practically glowing with it. “Thank you,” you say, touched, and look back down at the daffodil in your hands before raising your eyes to the definitely-blushing yokai once more. “That’s so sweet.”

Hansol shrugs, a little bashful, before standing up abruptly.

“I’m gonna go find the rabbits again,” he says, and before you can even reply, he’s disappeared.

You laugh, breathing in the crisp air and then releasing it in a sigh, feeling warm all over despite the cold. You shake your head, fond. Hansol is just so…

That’s it, you decide. You’re not going to let Seungcheol dictate where Hansol can and can’t be. You’ll let Hansol do whatever he wants, and encourage him to do whatever he wants. 

Whatever makes him smile.

───────────── ‘✽, 

From that day on, you make it a point to take Hansol to the mountains as often as you can.

He loves it—he’ll never say it in so many words, extremely shy when it comes to voicing his preferences for reasons you cannot discern, but it’s so obvious that those few hours he gets to spend with you, in the fresh air, away from all the people, are his favourite hours in the day.

It’s another one of those mornings when you’re up in the mountains with him. You can’t come here every day: you’d collapse from exhaustion if you had to wake up at four in the morning every day, but today, it’s a particularly clear-skied day, and you wanted to watch the sunrise with Hansol.

He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, looking silently down at the village below. It’s still not sunrise yet, but the sky’s beginning to lighten gradually, and you can see some of the windows beginning to light up with orange lights, everyone slowly waking. Hansol hasn’t said a word for a while, so you haven’t either, content to just look down at everything in silence.

The entire experience is rather humbling. From the mountain, the village looks so small, like it’s merely a miniscule dot in existence, something that could be missed in a single blink. Like each mortal is worth next to nothing. Like each could be destroyed in a second.

That’s what a lesser immortal would think, anyway. For you, however, rather than how fragile life is, being this high up makes you marvel at the intricacy of it. Every person, every soul, despite being so small, is filled to the brim with so many unique experiences that no one else can ever live through as that person did. They live, and they die, but almost magnificently so. Like a one-of-a-kind snowflake that melts as soon as it lies in your hands.

You look at Hansol next to you. His eyelashes flutter thoughtfully as he looks down at the village, delicate against his pale skin. 

Every life should be cherished, you think. Because if even the fleetings lives of humans are that complex, then what of the immortal creatures, who live forever? No one should tell them to hide themselves away.

“I can hear you cursing Seungcheol in your head,” Hansol says abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He’s staring at you, now, no longer focused on the village, and he tilts his head bemusedly when you meet his gaze. “You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

You blink, and then smile. You were kind of cursing out Cheol in your head, you admit, and it’s kind of funny that Hansol picked up on it.

“I am,” you sigh, looking down. “Well, now I’m more annoyed, really. I know I should be glad that he’s not going to extremes, like some other people in the world, but…”

Hansol nods slowly. “I get where he’s coming from, though,” he admits, and you look up. “What? Seungcheol cares for his village. These people… they all mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t know me, so I guess it’s natural for him to be cautious.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s no excuse. These people all mean a lot to me, too. I watched them all grow up! And Cheol should know I wouldn’t suggest anything that puts them in danger.” You frown. “It’s frustrating. It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgement, even though he’s literally known me his entire life.”

The yokai hums, and reaches over to pat your hand placatingly where it rests in your lap.

“Also, it pisses me off that he’s saying all this without ever making an effort to get to know you, and see if his judgement is right,” you say, looking at Hansol, catching his hand in your own when he begins to move away. “You’re just—you’re just so lovely, and how dare Seungcheol try to hide you away, like you’re something taboo, or something to be ashamed of?”

Hansol’s eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly, before averting his gaze to your intertwined hands. “Oh,” he says, after a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sincere compliments. “That’s… nice.”

You laugh, fond, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’m always nice,” you tease. “I’m the nicest person in the entire world, actually.”

To your surprise, Hansol doesn’t smile back at your joke, and simply ducks his head shyly. “You are.” 

And then he keeps lowering himself down until he’s laying in your lap, the tips of his flickering slightly at the contact as he adjusts himself until he's practically lying down in the log, head in your lap. You stiffen in surprise, and Hansol slowly shifts so he can blink up at you with innocent, gold eyes. 

“Can I lie here?” he asks, even though he's clearly very much lying there already, and you smile, relaxing. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, and Hansol smiles, closing his eyes as your hand goes to his hair and begins to gently run through the strands with the tips of your fingers. 

You stay like that for some time, running your fingers through Hansol’s hair and over the soft fur of his ears. Abruptly, he playfully flicks his ears as you trace a finger through the fur at the base of them, making you yelp in surprise, and he smiles, pleased at having made you jump. You lightly tug at a few strands of hair, teasing, and he smiles wider, eyes still shut, the slight points of his canines visible.

Too distracted with Hansol’s face, you end up completely missing the full sunrise, and eventually it becomes late enough in the morning that the village fully awakens, bustling with noise as people go about their day. But curiously, you can’t hear a single thing. It’s like your world has narrowed down to you, your hands, and the yokai laid comfortably in your lap.

He really is very pretty. You notice the small spattering of snowflake-like freckles on his cheeks, and smile. He’s so pretty that it isn’t even fair.

You trace a thumb over his cheekbones, opening your mouth to comment on them before Hansol’s eyes snap open, and his ears suddenly tilt towards something down the mountain, listening. Your hand freezes, and you let him turn his head, alert.

“What’s wrong?”

Then, you hear it: the crunching of twigs underfoot, and the telltale huffing and puffing of a human making their way up the mountain. Your hand falls, and you get ready to stand up before—

“Y/N?”

Soonyoung, clad in winter furs and holding a woven basket in his hands, blinks at you in confusion, and then he glances to the yokai in your lap, and shakes his head, his expression becoming even more mystified than before.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” you ask back, equally confused as Soonyoung. “You literally hate climbing the mountains. What are you doing?”

Soonyoung looks at you oddly, lifting up the empty basket. “I’m here to collect wildflowers for you,” he says. “I asked you the other day if you could make some of that non-dangerous magic fire you did last year. You said you needed wildflowers harvested at sunrise to make that potion, so I’m here to get those.”

“Oh. Did you really ask me that?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “You said you’d make them for me. And also complained for like five minutes because I tried to pay you, and you wanted to refuse ‘cause you said I was paying you too much. As if there’s such a thing as being paid too much money.” He rolls his eyes for emphasis, and you laugh.

The conversation comes back to you now, and you shrug sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that.”

Soonyoung makes a disgruntled sound, feigning annoyance before his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Don’t worry about it, boo. Just as long as you remember to make the potion, it’s all fine. The children’ll love it for the bonfire tonight.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to make it for tonight? There’s a bonfire tonight?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “I specifically told you when I asked, as well. Goodness, you’re forgetting everything today, huh?” Then he gestures casually to Hansol, who’s still lying in your lap, looking unsurely at the villager. “Don’t tell me, you also forgot you have the injured demon in your lap, too?”

He points to Hansol so naturally, so calmly that you look down in surprise, as if you really had forgotten the yokai was there. Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head as he bends down near a bush, poking through the dirt to see if there are any flowers. He turns his back on you and Hansol, craning down towards the ground to see better as he continues to talk.

“Cheol told me all about the demon and how he disapproves of you keeping him alive,” Soonyoung says. He manages to find a few wildflowers, and lets out an aha! of pride, putting them away in his basket. “Not gonna lie, I agreed with him a bit. But then I come up here and find him in your lap as you pet him like a cat, and now I’m thinking, maybe not so much.”

Soonyoung turns back to face you once again, and somehow, during those thirty seconds, he’s managed to get dirt all over his nose.

“Plus, you seem to like him,” he carries on. “So he can’t be bad, can you? Because you’d kick his ass if he was.”

You quirk a grin at that, proud. Then you nod down at Hansol. “He has a name, though, you know. And he can hear you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen in realisation, and he stands up quickly, brushing down his clothes. “Oh, sorry, you’re right. Sorry. Hi, I’m Soonyoung, one of the villagers who live here. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extends a gloved hand towards Hansol, and Hansol looks at the hand for a long moment. Then he slowly sits upright again, and grasps Soonyoung’s hand in a firm handshake, the corners of his mouth relaxing slightly.

“Hansol,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And then he must do something, because Soonyoung lets out a small yip in surprise, withdrawing his hand quickly as Hansol observes him amusedly, eyes glinting. 

“Did you…” Soonyoung starts, wide-eyed. “Did you just. Give me an electric shock? On purpose?”

Hansol cracks the slightest smile, evidently pleased with Soonyoung’s reaction. He’s in a playful mood today, you muse, smiling as Soonyoung stutters, clearly not sure what to do when a yokai plays a prank on him like this. It makes you smile too, amused.

“You have to show me how to do that,” Soonyoung eventually says, going from surprised to confused to full of amazement. “Can you show me? Is that something which can be taught?”

That makes Hansol smile properly, lips curving upwards. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!” Soonyoung says, but something about Hansol’s smile must make him smile too, because eventually he laughs, shaking his head. “Goodness, you magic people need to stop messing with me. One day, I’ll accidentally set myself on fire, and it’ll be your fault.”

“You’d do that anyway,” you tease, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I have to get going, I think. Jeonghan’s coming over for a poultice for his back pain, and I need to get to my cottage before he does.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says. “This is a hell of a way up the mountain, by the way. I might go down with you as well, and see if I’ve missed any flowers.”

“Cool.” This is definitely not that far up the mountain, and even though Soonyoung hates climbing, it shouldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes to reach where you are. It’s clear he wants to walk with you for a moment to tell you something, so you look at Hansol, and offer him the chance to stay up in the mountains by himself for a bit.

He agrees, so you and Soonyoung begin your slow descent.

“What do you want?” you ask, when you’re out of Hansol’s hearing range.

Soonyoung just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing bad,” he says. “I meant it when I said Hansol seems like a cool guy. I just…” He pauses, thinks over his words, and then leans in closer. “Bring him to the bonfire tonight.”

You reel back. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Hey, if you’re worried about him getting hurt, you shouldn’t be,” Soonyoung says placatingly. “Hansol’s a demon. He can hold his own. Plus, the people aren’t as against yokai as you might think. Cheol’s just overly cautious, and the elderly might have traditional views about it, but it won’t be hard to make them like him. He’s cute.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“He is!” Soonyoung argues. “I saw him in your lap, Y/N. He’s adorable. And very… docile? Like, he’s so quiet. But also very silly. The kids would love him, you know. So would everyone else.”

“Even Seungcheol?”

Soonyoung thinks about it for a second. The cold air has made his cheeks all ruddy red, and he looks like a very earnest, very red-cheeked schoolboy as he nods firmly. “Yes. Even Seungcheol.”

You hum, still incredibly sceptical. “Well. I’ll think about it. We’ll have to see.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Unfortunately, even though you were slightly swayed by Soonyoung’s words and his instant kindness and all-round chillness in Hansol’s presence, you ultimately end up not bringing Hansol to the bonfire night. It’s not your decision, though: it’s Hansol’s.

“Are you worried about the humans?” you ask, when Hansol tells you that, respectfully, he doesn’t want to go. “You don’t have to worry about that. I could blast them all to pieces for insulting you, if that makes you feel better.”

Hansol smiles a little, before shaking his head. “No. It’s actually just… I’m not really a big fan of all the noise and stuff. And how hot bonfires are.”

“Oh.” You soften, concerned. “Have you been… hurt by fire before?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hansol says. He shrugs. “I just don’t like being too warm. Makes me uncomfortable.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. Because even as he says this, he’s cuddling up into your side, head on your shoulder, his tail curled comfortably around him. “Really?” you say. “You don’t like being too warm?”

Hansol’s ears flick. “Yeah. My magic originates from winter, as you might have noticed, so…”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised,” you say teasingly, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. “I thought the white fur and random bursts of frost on your skin meant you were a summery fox.”

Hansol scrunches his nose, and you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it does mean I don’t like being all warm, so fires are a no-go for me. Especially bonfires, where there are many people. That’s way too much warmth for me, for sure.”

“I see,” you say, reaching a hand up to tuck some of his silver hair out of his face as he nestles closer into your side. “That’s cool. But I am going to have to go, even if you aren’t. Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself in the evening?”

“Yeah. Can you make me dinner before you go, though? Last time I tried, I almost destroyed your kitchen.”

“What? When was that?”

“Oops. Did I not tell you?”

Anyway, the bonfire night ends up being a bit of a disappointment. Several of the villagers have cottoned on to the fact you’re housing the yokai, and express their concerns to you over the matter several times over the course of the night. You love these people, you really do, but hearing so many of them advise you to send him back off into the woods for your own safety really wears you down after a while.

“I think Y/N understands what you’re saying now, imo,” a gentle voice butts in, right when you’re in the middle of having a particularly exhausting conversation. This tricky older woman’s insisting you let the yokai go… only, she’s using much more unkind words.

You were very, very close to losing your cool with her—respect the elders be damned because hell, you’re way older than she is—before she’s interrupted mid-sentence by a villager appearing over his shoulder, and you smile in relief as you recognise him.

At the call of “auntie”, she looks up and comes face-to-face with your saviour, Joshua, and all it takes is another gentle smile and some sweet words before he successfully convinces her to leave your side and rejoin her friends on the other side of the bonfire.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua says when you thank him for his help. “You know how they are. Once they latch on to you, it’s impossible to get them to leave without using some sort of witchcraft to pry them away.”

You laugh at that. “And yet, it seemed to be you who helped get them off me. Maybe you’re the real witchcraft user out of the two of us.”

Joshua laughs, light and melodious, magical fire reflecting in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything to your joke, however, and nods into the distance behind you, down the darkened paths that lead to your cottage. “You need to bring him out, though,” he says. “Whilst he’s still unknown, they’ll continue conjuring theories that become wilder by the day. They need to see the yokai so their suspicions can be wiped away once and for all.”

“Wh—Hansol?” You blink. “It’s dangerous, Shua. They might hurt him.”

“They’re hurting him now,” Joshua says. “They’re hurting you and hurting him by making stuff up. Just introduce him to them, okay? He can’t become part of our village if he never meets our villagers.”

At your stunned look, Joshua smiles. 

“What? I know you, Y/N. You’re attached. You want him to stay. And honestly…” His smile turns a little more secretive, a little more knowing. “I think he wants to, too. The yokai will stay for you, but to truly bring him in, you have to bring him out to us.”

Joshua smiles again, the colours of his irises swirling together, before he pats you on the shoulder and gets up, leaving you there speechless.

He isn’t… wrong. But hearing it like that sounds insane.

You shake your head. Hansol will have to meet everyone sooner or later, you suppose. You very much do not want to go ahead with Seungcheol’s idea to let him be hidden, like a secret, so of course, you need to bring him out into the open.

You shake your head again, mystified. Joshua’s correct, but how does he know so much?

Honestly, you really do think he’s more of a witchcraft user out of the two of you. His incredible timing, his knowledge of all your thoughts, the fact he’d called Hansol a yokai rather than demon…

Also. How old even is he, anyway? 

Too confused and befuddled by all the thoughts in your head, you end up playing with the children and run through the fire all night instead. It’s a lot safer than having to deal with all the grown-up stuff of thinking about things.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Both Soonyoung’s and Joshua’s words linger in the back of your mind for days after that, and you contemplate how to get Hansol out of the house. Hansol had never really shown signs of wanting to be part of the village, which had made you reconsider this whole thing, wanting to brush away the villager’s words, before you actually asked the yokai, and—

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah. I’d like to get to know everyone. I want to be part of the village.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he says again, smiling at you. “This village is your village, and I want to be with you.”

Oh. You smile back, touched. Hansol smiles wider, brightening at the eye contact, all sweet and lovely and really quite cute, before ducking his head and disappearing back through the shelves of your library once again.

So Hansol turns out to be not as against the idea as you thought, which makes you feel a lot better about thinking of how to get the villagers to trust him and how to get Seungcheol off your back for taking care of Hansol in the first place.

However, it ends up not being you who makes the first steps into getting him known. Oh, no.

Instead, Hansol does that all by himself.

It happens during the first snowfall of the year. You’d woken up to the beautiful sight of the white crystals floating down and covering the entire village with a soft, muffled coat, and the equally beautiful sight of Hansol, who had already woken up, practically pressing his nose against the window to look at the snow in awe.

He’d clearly wanted to go out and be in the snow—as a winter yokai, that made sense—but you’d had some errands to run that day, so you’d told him he could stay only in the front yard of the cottage and go no further.

Hansol had smiled at you, an amused quirk of his lips that acted as all the reassurance you needed.

So he’s sitting in the snow in front of your cottage, legs out in front of him, the silk of his clothes getting damper the longer he sits on the cold ground, but he hardly notices, more focused with tracing a finger through the soft white that is steadily building up.

Snowfall is Hansol’s most favourite wintry thing. It’s a perfect, wondrous phenomenon: the intersection of the perfect time and the perfect weather and the perfect temperature that makes the sky release soft handfuls of the white stuff down on Earth. Even nature falls silent when the snow falls. In Hansol’s opinion, that’s proof enough that it’s something to be appreciated beyond belief.

His robes, his old robes, used to have silver snowflakes embroidered into them, intricate and sprawling patterns that he could run his fingers over and almost feel the cold gust of wind that accompanied the snow. They’re not on the robes he’s wearing now—he’s wearing ones you’ve given him, after his old ones were ruined by his own blood—but he traces his fingers gently over the sleeves, letting frost spread out from his fingers like the feathery patterns that used to adorn the cloth he wore.

He quickly grows bored of that, though, and turns to the real snow in front of him, ears flicking absentmindedly to get rid of the small pile-up gathering on his head. He absentmindedly gathers the stuff in his hands, patting it into shapes and then leaving them out on the lawn. 

This carries on for some time, and eventually there is an army of misshapen snow clumps in your front yard, all frosted over with a touch of his magic, and he grins, satisfied. And then his ears twitch again, and he feels… eyes. Watching him.

Hansol turns around, and some houses away, peeking from over a well-trimmed, leafless hedge, he sees three children clad in fluffy winter clothes staring at him, curious.

He doesn’t have much experience with human children. Or any children, for that matter. But he’s pretty sure that, when a yokai makes eye contact with them, they’re not meant to light up with glee and come running over with absolutely no regard for the icy paths or the danger that said yokai could present.

Surprised, Hansol jumps up to his feet, reaching out hands to steady the little kids as they skid over the snow and come to a stop right in front of him, eyes shining, expectant. He doesn’t know what they’re expecting, and being so close to these mini humans is a very awkward experience for him. He’s not sure what to do.

So he lifts a hand, and waves. “Hello?”

The three children beam, and one of them, the girl, practically vibrates with happiness when he speaks.

“Hello!” she chirps, and waves back. “I’m Yeowon! What’s your name?”

Hansol blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m Hansol.”

“Hansol!” Yeowon keeps speaking in exclamation marks, and it’s honestly kind of amusing. “It’s nice to meet you! This is Junghoon, and this is Minjun!” she says, gesturing to the boys on either side of him, who also give Hansol equally enthusiastic waves.

“Hello,” he says unsurely. How old are these kids? He doesn’t know much about human years, but they look… very young. Where are their parents?

He doesn’t get to voice his concerns before Yeowon starts speaking again, going a mile a minute and he can hardly get a word in edgeways.

“We were watching you from Minjun’s house,” she says, and picks up one of the snow balls that Hansol was making, lifting it up so he can look at his own handiwork. “These are so pretty! We wanted to come over and play with you, ‘cause we’ve never seen you before, but you live with Miss Witch, right?”

Hansol opens his mouth, but it’s apparent that wasn’t an actual question when Yeowon barrels on.

“So you must be a good guy! So we wanted to come say hello and play.”

She blinks big, innocent eyes up at him, as do the two boys, evidently begging him to play with them, or something. He doesn’t know what play entails, but… there’s no harm in entertaining these fun-sized humans, right?

So Hansol nods, says they can play with him, and sits down in the snow again. And then, before he knows it, they’re all shrieking and climbing over him and asking him to make figurines out of ice and snow and patting his hair in amazement and asking if his ears are actually real.

Children are very overwhelming, Hansol quickly learns. But he also kind of likes them: likes the way their eyes light up when he makes them the little ice characters they want, likes their fascinated smiles and the way they very gently touch his ears and accidentally get damp suede of their gloves in his mouth in their excitement. They’re bubbly, full of life, and so friendly with him that it honestly makes him so delighted that it surprises him.

“Make me one too! Make me one too!”

“Your ears look super fluffy! Can I touch your tail?”

“Why are your eyes yellow?”

“Can you make me something out of magic too, Mister Fox?”

“Mister Fox! Mister Fox!”

Hansol doesn’t know how it happens, but he blinks and suddenly he’s surrounded by what seems to be every child in the village, clamouring around him and asking if he could play, Please, Mister Fox, won’t you?

Your front lawn is quickly becoming a gathering place for the little humans who had swarmed towards him so quickly that Hansol’s starting to think they were waiting in the background for his very opportunity, and he makes more ice figures and listens interestedly to their babbling as they conjure stories for the figurines on the spot. They’re all so very noisy, but Hansol smiles, brimming with a similar sort of energy as his magic fizzes and pops with glitters of snow and makes the children laugh.

There’s no other way to describe it. He’s feeling happiness, pure and simple.

Unbeknownst to Hansol, there’s one human who’d been watching the entire scene right from the beginning. Coming down the path, on his way to visit the village’s magic-user, Soonyoung had noticed Hansol sitting by himself and had prepared to go over, extend a hand and a friendly word before Yeowon, Junghoon and Minjun had run over.

As a result, Soonyoung retreated a little ways round the bend to watch from a distance, which is where he is now, smiling at the innocent joy of both the children and Hansol.

From the opposite end of the path, he spots you walking back to your cottage, and clocks the exact moment you realise what’s happening in your front yard. Your eyes widen, and you stop in your tracks, before your eyes slowly lift further and you notice Soonyoung standing there too, smiling.

See? he seems to say with your eyes, meeting your gaze. They love him. 

One of the children shrieks with laughter as she grabs Hansol’s tail and he playfully gasps in shock, scooping her up and lifting her into the air until she’s giggling and burbling for him to put her down. At his feet, one child is patting snow into the hem of his robes, and another is playing with a fox-eared figurine that Hansol had made him.

It looks so natural, and you watch them for a moment before looking at Soonyoung again. Soonyoung smiles even wider. You have nothing to worry about.

You laugh, a little bit in disbelief, warmth spreading across your face as you smile back, looking fondly at the sight in your front yard. Finally, you really do believe that that’s the truth.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Let’s go out,” you say, and Hansol looks up from his book, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Hm,” he says in reply. “Are you sure?”

It’s been a few days since the first snowfall, but the wintry precipitation has not let up, and it continues to softly drift down from the sky even as you speak. The blanket of snow covering the earth has also blanketed your senses, and your magic is nothing more than a gentle hum beneath your skin. A month ago, this would have stressed you greatly, but with Hansol and his winter-attuned magic singing happily around the entire room, you feel nothing but peace. 

Nodding in reassurance, you smile at Hansol. “Very sure. Let’s go out today.”

Hansol blinks, once, and then smiles back, closing the book and getting up from the couch. “Okay. Where are we going?”

You smile wider. “To make you some friends.”

That was the plan, anyway. Ever since the first snow, when Hansol had been accosted by the children and ended up playing with them for a good part of the day, you’ve had several villagers come to your door, either complaining about the yokai or wanting to know more about him. So, you figure, today you should get him out to the village square so he can finally meet everyone. Regardless of their opinion of him. 

Because you have trust in Hansol. Now, you have confidence he can turn their opinion around. 

Hansol, despite having all the appearances and mannerisms of an introvert, doesn't seem to mind leaving the house for so many days in a row, and eagerly agrees as you urge him to get dressed and head out to the village square. There's the daily market taking place, and most people will be there, so it'll be a good opportunity to introduce him. 

But, like you said, that was the plan. 

Unfortunately, you're whisked away by some of the villagers who need help with their sick relative, leaving Hansol stranded in the village square. 

“You don't have to stay,” you insist to him, as you're rushed off to deal with the medical emergency. “Seriously, Hansol, you can go home. Especially if anyone starts throwing insults, then just go, okay? I'll be with you as soon as I finish.”

Hansol watches you go, head tilted, slightly amused. It's kind of cute that you think he needs protecting. You know, since he's an ancient demon, and all. But before he can say as such, there's a small voice near his knee, and he looks down to see a small child, piping up in favour of him. 

“Don't worry about Mister Fox!” the small boy chirps brightly. “We will look after him!”

And as if out of nowhere (seriously, where do these kids come from?) several children come up to him and cling to his robes, waving at you as you leave the market square. Hansol waves too, mystified by the miniature support latching onto him, but also a bit touched by their loyalty. They're really sweet. 

“So what do you wanna do, Mister Fox?” the first little boy says, and Hansol recognises him as one of the first children to come up to him a few days ago. Minjun. “Are you hungry?”

Without even waiting for Hansol's answer, Minjun and the rest of the children start ushering him to the food stalls, fiercely advocating for their choice of what Mister Fox should eat first. 

“Wait,” Hansol says, interrupting the particularly fierce fight over having hotteok or bungeoppang first. “Kids. Do you have any money?”

There's a short silence, and all the children look down, which is how he learns that they don't, and so they don't end up buying anything at all. Except, Yeowon, who joined the discussion partway through, manages to wheedle some of the stall-owners to give her free food with her big puppy eyes and innocent pout.

It’s like a magic trick, Hansol has to give her that. And when she happily tells the vendors that she’s sharing the food with Hansol, the villagers do nothing other than blink in surprise and then smile, polite and awkward, well. That’s also an incredible magic trick too. 

They sit on the outskirts of the village market, pillowed by the mounds of snow all around them as they eat their steaming hot snacks. They’re delicious, and sticky, and very sweet, so it’s not too long before Hansol has several super-hyper, sticky-fingered children on his hands, who are all practically launching themselves into the snow with the bounding amounts of energy they have.

It becomes very noisy very fast, and Hansol starts panicking slightly, before he loudly suggests they ought to go and make some snowmen, and all the children whip their heads around to look at him, wide-eyed, and then—

“That’s such a good idea!”

“Yes! Let’s do that!”

“I’m gonna make the best snowman!”

“No, me!”

“No! Me!”

And then they go tumbling off into the snow, and Hansol slumps back down, relieved. He can still see them, and he can still sense them, too, so there’s no worry in any of them getting lost. At least he can now have some peace and quiet.

Twisting his lips thoughtfully, he gathers handfuls of the white snow, turning it over. He turns it over again, and then begins patting and shaping it in his hands until he has something that resembles a little snow duck.

It’s terribly misshapen, and the beak is a bit too long to be a duck, but it’s cute, and Hansol’s pleased. He swirls his fingers in the air, and uses some magic to add finishing touches, trying to rectify the wonkiness. It doesn’t work, but he still thinks it’s cute. You’d probably find it cute, too. Right?

Probably. Hansol hums to himself contemplatively. You like everything he does. It’s very sweet, he thinks, that you’re always so receptive to him, and it’s even sweeter that you genuinely enjoy his company. You brighten like a blooming chrysanthemum, spring-like in your warmth whenever he says something to you, and it makes him feel all warm too. Ever since the first time he woke up on your couch, out of his mind with a fever, and he’d noticed your floral chrysanthemum tea scent and accidentally called you the prettiest person ever, you’ve always been so gentle and kind and oh, Hansol likes you so much.

You’re just—lovely. You’re the loveliest being he’s ever met in his entire life, and that’s saying something, because Hansol’s been alive for a really fucking long time.

“Hello.”

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a light, melodic voice coming from over his shoulder, and Hansol looks up in surprise to see a villager bent over him, warm brown eyes glinting and the corners of his lips curving upwards in a seemingly permanent smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just saw you, and thought I’d say hi,” the villager says, smiling properly, extending a hand. “I’m Joshua. You’re the yokai, right?”

Hansol manoeuvres his body around awkwardly and shakes Joshua’s gloved hand. “I’m Hansol, and yeah, I am the yokai. How could you tell?” His ears flick pointedly as he talks, and Joshua’s eyes immediately go to them before he smiles wider.

“Yeah, I guess it was a silly question,” Joshua says, and his fur boots crunch in the snow as he climbs over a mound and crouches down next to Hansol. “But I don’t wanna seem impolite, you know?”

Hansol shrugs, but he understands. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joshua smiles.

They say nothing for a moment, and Hansol lifts his head up briefly to check on the children. He can still see all of them, actually, dotted about the edges of the market as they build their snowmen. He watches them thoughtfully, and then down at the snow at his feet.

It only takes a moment for a snowman of his own to begin to form, aided by his magic as the snowballs roll themselves to become bigger and more round.

“That’s really cool,” Joshua comments, and Hansol had almost forgotten he was there. He’s so quiet, feather-silent, but when he catches Hansol’s eye and smiles, there’s a twinkle to his presence that makes him wonder how he could have ever forgotten him. “I’ve never seen anyone other than Y/N be able to do that.”

“Hm?” Hansol looks at the snowman that’s slowly being built. “Oh, well, it’s nothing, really.”

Even as he says so, his tail fluffs up in pride at Joshua’s words, and he begins adding more and more intricate frost details to the snowman. The feathery patterns wind through the body of his creation, like embroidery, and Joshua whistles, amazed.

“It’s very cool. Your magic is very cool.”

Hansol shrugs, bashful. “Thank you. But really, it’s nothing.” As the snowman continues to construct itself, he leans over to Joshua as if confiding a secret. “In the wild, there are yokai who can create literal monsters out of ice. In about five seconds flat. But I mostly just deal with frost and snow, so it’s a lot more difficult for me.”

Joshua tilts his head, genuine interest written all over his face. “Oh. I didn’t know there were differences in yokai magic.”

“Of course there are,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “Like there are differences in humans’ skills, there are differences for yokai, too. We are not unlike you, you know.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Joshua says thoughtfully. And then he looks Hansol in the eye again, smiling. Joshua is honestly so friendly, and even though they only met two minutes ago, he feels like he’s known him for years. “So you won’t object to being friends with a human, right?”

Hansol blinks, surprised, and Joshua’s smile just widens. It’s obvious what he’s asking, and Hansol feels… touched, that he’d even suggest such a thing.

“Yeah,” Hansol says, and his magic finishes off the snowman with an intricate flourish of frost. “I’d love to be your friend.”

“Joshua!”

The calling of the human’s name makes both Joshua and Hansol turn around, and they see one of the elder villagers coming over to them, the skirts of her robes swishing as she walks. She’s terribly intimidating, greying hair pulled back into a bun with a pointy hair stick, marching over with incredible grace even through the ankle-deep snow that has gathered. She squints at the yokai and how close Joshua is sitting to him. 

“Mrs Choi,” Joshua greets, apparently oblivious to the sharpness of the woman’s gaze. “Hello. It’s very cold today, isn’t it?”

She eyeballs Hansol for a moment before nodding at Joshua. “Very. Frightful weather, but at least the children are enjoying the snow.” Mrs Choi lifts her gaze and squints into the distance, where the children are playing. “I hope someone is supervising them.”

“Oh, well, Hansol is, so don’t worry about it,” Joshua says with a smile. 

Mrs Choi snaps her gaze back to them. “Is he really?” Hansol nods, doing his best to look as earnest and trustworthy as possible, and she hums. “I see.”

“He has them doing a snowman competition, actually,” Joshua says. “He’s very good at making them himself, too. Look. Don’t you think his creation looks amazing?”

He points to the snowman in front of them, glistening with frost and embroidered with thin ice, clearly a work of his magic. Hansol swallows, expecting Mrs Choi to fly into a tizzy over the presence of such witchcraft, but she just scrutinises the snowman, and then—

She smiles.

“It’s very pretty,” she says, and in the blink of an eye, her expression has turned warm. She’s smiling so nicely at Hansol, and then she leans down and brushes a hand over the top of his head, gently dusting away the snow that had landed in his hair. “Just like you, my dear.”

Hansol blinks up at her, open-mouthed. “I— thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckles, straightens, adjusts the skirt of her robes. “No need to thank me. I’m simply telling the truth.” Mrs Choi nods in the direction of the children, before turning away. “Thank you for taking care of the children, also. Keep up the good work.”

Hansol watches her go, feeling a little dazed. She had looked so sharp and stern at first, but something about him sitting there harmlessly and making a harmless snowman with harmless snow gathered in his hair must have done something to convince her that he’s, well, harmless. Which is good. Very good. Hopefully she’ll let everyone else know, too.

“Yeah, she looks scary, but Mrs Choi is anything but,” Joshua says with a laugh, when Hansol directs his wide-eyed gaze to him.

“She’s terrifying.”

“Her son takes after her,” Joshua chuckles. “Choi Seungcheol. He looks scary, but he’s a right softie on the inside, trust me.”

Hansol’s eyes widen further. “She’s Seungcheol’s mother? The village leader?”

“The one and only,” Joshua affirms. He laughs. “Don’t worry about him. His own mother found you cute. I’m sure he’ll be won over by you in no time. Especially if you keep making snowmen that rival Y/N’s in their intricacy. Seriously, I think yours are the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Shua, I hope I didn't just hear you dissing my amazing snowman building skills.”

Hansol looks up at your voice, and sees you slowly treading over to them, a drawstring bag dangling over your shoulder as you pick your way through the snow. The tip of your nose is red from the cold, cheeks a pretty pink with an amused smile on your face, and the moment he sees you, it’s like you’ve stolen his breath away.

Whilst Hansol’s too busy being starstruck, Joshua laughs, leaning back on his hands.

“So what if I was?” he teases, and nods to Hansol’s snowman. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

You look away, directing your gaze to the snowman. Humming thoughtfully, you eye Hansol’s creation, and he begins to grow a little nervous under your critical silence, fiddling with his fingers and digging them into the snow, wisps of cold air seeping from his skin.

And then you smile, a lopsided smirk that makes Hansol feel a little dizzy.

“I can certainly do better.”

Before he can say anything, you set down your bag, and with a flick of your wrist the snow begins to swirl and gather itself before you. Under your command, golden streaks of magic begin to press the snow together, creating larger shapes that you obviously plan to sculpt into a showstopping piece.

You look almost relaxed in your movements, the entire process taking nothing more than a slight twitch of your fingers as magic sparks zip around the sculpture that’s gradually beginning to form. Hansol can only watch in awe, amazed at the fluidity and effortlessness of your power. By his side, he thinks he hears Joshua chuckle softly.

After a few short moments, the three of you are staring at a large, smoothly finished sculpture of a winter fox, and you smile and cross your arms, satisfied.

“What do you think?” you say, smug, confident in your belief that you’ve proved yourself.

Hansol’s jaw is on the floor. Delicate pointy ears, a fluffy-looking tail all made out of snow, and wow, are those whiskers? Did you really make whiskers?

“Wow,” is all he can say, staring at this lifelike fox that’s made entirely out of snow. “Wow.”

Just then, there are high-pitched exclamations from somewhere in the distance, and the children that Hansol’s been supervising come bounding over, shouting in amazement at the fox that you’ve made. 

“Hi, kids,” you say when they’re close enough, laughing when Yeowon barrels into your legs to give you a hug. “Quick question, which snow sculpture do you think is better? The fox, or the Frosty the Snowman?”

They all look very thoughtfully at the two snow pieces in front of them, before unanimously pointing to your creation, and you grin triumphantly at Joshua and Hansol. Hansol just smiles back, totally expecting such an outcome. You’d beat him any day when it comes to stuff like this, and he’s totally fine with that.

“That’s not even a snowman,” Joshua protests, but it’s clear he’s arguing just for the fun of it. “Y/N, that’s not a fair competition.”

You shrug flippantly. “I’d win anyway.” And then you wink, pleased, and Hansol feels like burying himself in the snow just to try and get rid of his red cheeks.

“Mister Fox, we wanna play with you now,” Minjun says, and he looks up to see the children standing around him, red-cheeked and damp-haired but still eager to play more. “Can we play a game with you?”

“It’s getting late,” Hansol tries to say, but apparently, that had been a rhetorical question, because they’re hauling him up to his feet so they can play with him. “The market’s already closing. Shouldn’t you all go back to your parents now? Joshua? Y/N?” He looks back pleadingly as he gets dragged away, and you and Joshua just laugh, waving him goodbye.

“Have a nice time!” Joshua calls, standing up from the snow and brushing down his clothes. He stands closer to you, smiling as you both watch him begin to play. “He’s good with them, isn’t he?”

You smile too. “He really is.”

“The best,” another voice adds, and you look over your shoulder to see some of the villagers also watching Hansol. They’re all the parents, and yet they seem perfectly content to let their children play around with the yokai, any trace of hostility gone from their faces. 

That makes you smile wider. “I’m glad you think so, Mrs Lee,” you say, and the woman smiles back. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep your children safe.”

Mrs Lee bows her head in acknowledgement, eyes turning soft as you all watch Hansol let the children punt tiny clumps of snow at him. “We know.”

They stay with you for a little longer, chatting about Hansol’s gentle nature and how wonderfully he gets along with the children, before eventually they disperse and begin packing up the market for the day. Next to you, Joshua is also smiling, looking fond, which is really weird because he barely knows Hansol but there’s definitely a clear look of admiration and affection in his face. Before you can comment on it, though, he pats you on the shoulder, and begins to step away.

 “I better go,” he says. “Cheol’s coming your way. I think he wants a talk.”

He bids you goodbye then trudges back through the snow, and you look over your shoulder to see that Seungcheol really is coming your way. Instead of greeting him, however, you look back out at Hansol, and wait until the village leader is by your side.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hello, Seungcheol.”

You don’t offer him anything else, and so the two of you stand there in silence, continuing to watch Hansol play with the children. It is an adorable sight, though, and makes the corners of your lips twitch upwards the longer the silence goes on. He’s totally lenient with them, letting them pull his tail and ambush him with damp gloves and shrieking laughter. His head whips back and forth constantly between the two sides of kids that have inexplicably formed, somehow finding himself in the crossfire as snowballs get flung around him.

It’s cute, and it makes you laugh, heart warming with fondness. You can feel Seungcheol watching you out of the corner of your eye, and when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything until you do, you sigh and turn your back on Hansol at last, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?” you prompt. “What’s up? You didn’t come find me just to say hello.”

Seungcheol pauses, and looks down. “No. I didn’t.” A beat. “My mother actually told me you were here.”

“Okay. And?”

“She talked to Hansol,” he says, and both your eyebrows raise this time, in surprise. “She said to me that she liked him, and she wanted me to open my eyes and finally realise how much of a good person he is.”

Seungcheol clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. He looks over your shoulder, at where Hansol is undoubtedly doing something silly to entertain the children, and his eyes go gentle. They don’t soften, and they certainly don’t melt, but his gaze becomes a little more mellow, like a layer of hardness has finally given way.

“And he is a good person,” Seungcheol says, looking at you again. “I’ve been watching him all day. All week, in fact, and even if my mother hadn’t said anything, I would’ve sought you out to tell you this, because I think I owe you an apology.”

You breathe a laugh. “You certainly do,” you say, but there’s no real bite. Seungcheol’s actions were understandable. You’ve already forgiven him.

Seungcheol seems to know that too, because his lips quirk up into a half-smile. Nevertheless, his words are genuine when he says, “I’m sorry. I was too rash, and too harsh. Any worries I had over yokai did not excuse the way I talked about Hansol. Do you think you can also tell him how sorry I am?”

You draw in a long breath, cross your arms and lean back, staring down your nose at Seungcheol. His smile wavers, a little, but then you relax, breaking out into a grin.

“You can tell him yourself. He’d love to talk to you,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles too. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You’re just looking out for the village, like you always do. But…” You shrug. “I was looking out for my kind, also. I was frustrated that you were treating Hansol like that just because he was a yokai.”

Seungcheol breathes out, wisps of white spilling from his lips. “I get that. It makes sense that you felt that way.” His eyes lighten with mischief suddenly, his smile taking on a teasing edge. “Especially considering the fact you’re in love with him, too.”

The world grinds to a halt. You stumble, taken aback by Seungcheol’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nothing else gets to be said about the matter, though, because a small child goes zooming past you right at that moment, brushing against your side. And then, half a millisecond later, a fat clump of snow hits you square in the back.

The child continues running off, bubbling laughter fading into the market square. Slowly, very slowly, you spin on your heel and come face-to-face with the culprit.

Hansol’s still frozen in his throw position, one hand incriminatingly covered with snow. The moment he sees your face, his face breaks into a wide grin, that beautiful, big grin that shows the slight point of his yokai fangs. His eyes are glowing, alight with amusement and another, warmer emotion you can’t quite name.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the snow gently tumbling down your back. “Whoops?”

“Whoops?” you echo, breathing a laugh. You look at Seungcheol, as if saying Can you believe this guy? before turning back to Hansol, a handful of snow magically making its way into your hands. “Oh, you’re going to be saying a lot more than ‘Whoops’ in a minute.”

Hansol laughs, holding his hands up placatingly. “Now hold on a minute—”

Abruptly, his head jerks back, and he gets knocked off his center of balance by the force of the snowball you’d just lobbed at him.

You burst into laughter as Hansol, sitting on the ground and with snow in his hair and up his nose, wipes his eyes with a grin. “Now you’re just asking for it, I think.”

Still laughing, you snap your fingers, and several more balls of snow float up around you. “Oh, it’s on.”

Cut to several minutes later, and somehow, the snowball fight between the two of you has devolved into a village-wide thing, children slipping and sliding in the snow alongside their parents as Seungcheol yells at his team to close ranks and you yell at yours to focus their sights on Hansol. The icy air stings your cheeks, and at some point it begins to snow again, hard, blurring your sight, but the whole thing still continues, the square filled with the laughter of the villagers.

And throughout it all, Hansol manages to find your gaze no matter where he is, gold eyes seeking your gold magic, and the beautiful sound of his laughter leaves you breathless every time.

───────────── ‘✽, 

All things considered, perhaps it’s totally expected that you end up falling for Hansol.

You don’t get to truly mull over Seungcheol’s last words until much later, when you and Hansol have both changed out of your sopping wet clothes and are sitting curled up together on the sofa, both of you blinking sleepily at the fire you’ve lit in the fireplace.

The snowball fight ended incredibly amiably, with everyone agreeing that Seungcheol’s team had obliterated everyone else’s, despite the lack of magic users in his group. You’d helped some of the villagers dust themselves off, and used magic to dry off the people who had gotten the most wet. Soonyoung, inexplicably, looked like he’d been dunked five times in a swimming pool, rather than emerging victorious from a snowball fight.

Finishing with Soonyoung, you’d looked back, and of course—Hansol was playing with the children, again, as if he had endless reserves of energy to spare. But in between letting the kids climb his legs and play with  his swishing tail, he was chatting with the rest of the villagers, helping them tidy away their things.

It made you smile. 

And then Hansol had looked back at you, as if sensing your gaze, and his entire face had lit up, brighter than the brightest summer’s day, and he’d quickly said goodbye to the villagers before coming bounding over to you, face so open and comfortable and warm and—

Yeah. You like him a lot. And you’re sure that he likes you a lot too.

Hansol yawns, big and wide and content, his tail flicking lazily as he rests on your shoulder. Outside, the snowfall has increased to a snowstorm, complete with howling winds and dark, looming clouds, but inside, your cottage is warm, and you have a sleepy yokai pressed against your side, and life is, admittedly, kind of perfect.

There’s just one thing, though.

You need to tell him.

Lost in thought, you shift around absentmindedly, and Hansol looks up questioningly at the movement. The warmth of your magic prickles softly in the air around you, and when he takes your hand, you can feel his own magic murmuring softly in tandem with your own. 

He continues to look at you, and then smiles, eyes glowing. Goodness, he really is so pretty.

“I like you,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if he’s enchanted you, bewitched you into saying how you truly feel for all to see. “I like you, Hansol.”

Hansol blinks, slow, cat-like. He lifts his head up, pulls away slightly from your shoulder so he can sit up and look at you properly. His eyes are shining, slitted pupils widening and rounding in adoration.

“That’s good,” he says. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

It’s almost a direct copy of the first words he’d said to you, almost a lifetime ago, when he had been out of his mind with a fever, red-cheeked and hazy-eyed and fixated on the way you smelled like chrysanthemums. The memory makes you laugh, heart squeezing with fondness, and you reach forward to cup Hansol’s cheeks, smiling wider when his eyes flutter shut briefly and he leans trustingly into your touch.

“That’s funny,” you say. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Hansol’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, showing those yokai fangs that you adore so much. His ears twitch with happiness, light speckles of frost covering his cheeks as he blushes. He’s so pretty, and you love him so much.

Slowly, you inch closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. So close that you can count the snowflake-shaped freckles on his cheeks.

“You forgot to say it back, though,” you murmur. “Hansol, you didn’t say you like me back.”

Hansol breathes a soft laugh. “I thought it was obvious.” His smile widens, so enamoured that it warms your heart. “Y/N, I like you too. In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”

You beam. “You know what? I think I’m in love with you too.”

And then you lean forward, and Hansol leans in too, and your lips meet in the softest, sweetest kiss. He tastes like magic, like love, like soft snow that numbs your senses but leaves your heart alive and alight and oh, this is everything you never knew you needed and more.

Hansol’s silver-white hair is falling into his eyes when you pull away, his golden irises shining brightly through them like dazzling, gorgeous sunlight peeking through the translucent colours of snowfall. The sight makes you instantly lean in to kiss him again, dizzy with adoration because goodness, this happiness is for you. He looks like this because he loves you.

And you love him too.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[crispyjenkins]

HI EVERYONE DHA KAR'TA UPDATE

it's been two years and i'm about to lose it at the wonton passing of time

also why did tumblr take away the ability to edit the info in a link. like why can't i tell you what fic it's from. whyyy

[theflyingfeeling]

fic talk in the tags 💝

[dhmis-autism]

SORRY. JUST REALIZED I ORIGINALLY SKETCHED THE STUFF FROM THAT LAST WIP POST IN. MARCH.

GODDDD...

[daz4i]

If you had to invent any kind of AU involving Nikolai, what would it be?

ooooooooo probably some performer au! actor or musician, but not a big one. he tends to explore philosophical and deep topics in his works so not a lot of people are into it. the story is more about the struggles of remaining true to yourself vs needing to make a living (yusuke's confidant-esque situation, yknow how it is), and how it affects other aspects of his life like, if he has friends in this setting, how it affects his bond with them to struggle this much and probably not being the most stable in general.

ok putting it more coherently lemme brainstorm it into a proper story (that halfway through i realized is basically a tick tick boom rewrite. i am so sorry. i did try to stray from it i promise) (also this got so long i'm sorry. so under a read more it goes):

nikolai, 26, just wrapped up a solo project he's been working on where he writes, directs, and performs. it's a bit abstract, unclear, and confusing, but he's proud of the result regardless

however, after only 2 nights, the venue tells him his show simply does not pull enough audience so they know he won't be able to keep paying them to rent the place, and that tonight will be his last run

still, he pulls through, finishes the show with a smile, except this time in the end he adds something to the show to... maybe not ruin but kind of vandalize the venue a bit, as his own "fuck you" to them. he acts like it's all a planned part of the show, and the audience indeed eats it up, some of them even asking when they can come see the show again bc "it's so daring! very unique! can't wait to see what you do next!" etc.

but. obviously this gets him in trouble. he's already depressed abt the show getting cancelled, trying hard to find some other place that'll host it (and hopefully for a cheaper price), moping in his dingy apartment, when he gets a call from that venue demanding he pays to fix whatever it is he vandalized or they'll take legal action. so now he's got more shit on his mind

through it all he's obviously very stressed, and when his friends (sigma and fyodor. obvs) try to visit him or call to check on him he's being very short and unpleasant, unable to keep up his upbeat persona

sigma is a bit tired of his shit. i imagine they won't be SUPER close in that universe? sigma is more like his previously close friend from college who somehow made it big and is now rich and busy and therefore has less time for this stuff. still, he offers to help with the money and legal end of things, but nikolai has to ask, and has to be courteous in whatever meetings sigma arranges for him

nikolai, ofc, does not take the offer, bc he doesn't wanna rely on handouts, let alone from his friends. also he has some trust issues and warped perception of what friendship is bc he's nikolai, and he doesn't wanna feel like he owes sigma in the future. he tells sigma he'll take more shifts in [insert job] and figure it out himself

fyodor doesn't mind his behavior too much, but does try to remain logical here and keeps giving nikolai advice on how to fix things which only makes him more upset.

he takes on more shifts, pulls out some money his parents gave him before he left home that he refused to touch, but it's still not quite enough to both make up for the cost of renting the venue, plus fixing it, plus his usual expenses. i think he will have a full on breakdown of some sort here ngl

(couldn't find a place to shove it but since i mentioned usual expenses here^ i imagine he'll start having issues with like. electricity/water/rent for his apartment and such, which will definitely not help his mental state to say the least)

i also feel like sigma might help him behind his back by paying for stuff secretly, bc even tho he's mad, they're still friends. when nikolai finds out he somehow loses his shit even more.

i do want it to have a happy ending tho. so. through his breakdown, nikolai starts writing, and comes up with a new show/new music, and it's really really good, and raw, and real. he doesn't do much with it yet, if it's music/a music based show he might record it, but that's it for now

however! also behind the scenes, fyodor figured out that giving that guy advice is a bit pointless. so instead, he did him a favor in his own way and uploaded footage of his last show - the one that got cancelled at the start - online, and it's a hit! nothing too mainstream, but the people who loved it originally are able to show it to more people, and by now it's gotten popular enough to actually make money

when he tells nikolai about this. he does not take it too well. "why did you do this?? i didn't ask you-" "i know. i didn't do it because you wanted me to. i did it because i thought it was the right thing to do. more people deserve to see your show, and you deserve to have your art seen by more people." and when he gives him some of the money it already made, "why are you giving this to me? is this your plan here? to make money off my work without even asking me?" "for christ's sake kolya, this is your money, your worked for it, all i did was post it for you. all i want here is so you get what you deserve for the work you put in, because i'm your friend." it's a very touching scene :P

eventually nikolai gets it, and he gets why sigma did what he did as well and meets up with him to thank him properly (i'm imagining it as like "let's meet up somewhere! my treat :)" "i'm gonna regret this aren't i" and then he takes sigma to some lame ass fast food place or cheap coffee spot, and sigma is not only touched by the gesture but makes a joke about how refreshing it is to go someplace like that after he got used to all the fancy places he usually has meetings in)

he releases his new stuff - online if it's music, or finding a new place to perform if it's a new show - and while they're still very niche, he develops somewhat of a cult following within other weird ass people, possibly even meeting new friends through that

so, things aren't perfect, but this way he feels like he can continue doing his own thing, and he even if he doesn't make a lot through it to be rich or w/e he can still at least keep his life running, and while he's still not 100% with it he also finds himself able to rely on his friends for help more and open up for others as well uwu

[cherrygirlfriend]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what are friends for?

pairing: rafe x bsf!reader synopsis: rafe helps his best friend have her first orgasm with someone. warnings/tags: smut, oral (fem. receiving) wc: 700 a/n; i’m currently working on nerd!rafe fics so here’s a reposted fic!! originally posted 08/05/2024

rafe cameron masterlist ♡

you and rafe were laid down on the floor of his living room, the rug tickling the back of your neck the room littered with red solo cups, empty bottles of booze, several of vases belonging to his stepmother in pieces around the room, music still playing faintly in the distance, but the only thing you could focus on was rafe's laughter as he laid on the floor next to yours.

"hey, it's not funny!" you exclaim, but the boy simply raised his brows amusedly, making you roll your eyes, "alright, it's a little bit funny."

"thirty seconds? seriously?" rafe laughs, and you smack him gently in his chest. "next you're gonna tell me he could never even make you come."

it was just a joke, but when he looked at you and saw the aloof look on your face as you stared at the ceiling, your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly avoiding looking at your best friend, rafe gasped, knowing that he just hit the nail on the head. "really? he never made you come?"

you sighed, and turned to your best friend, a teasing expression on your face, and you just knew you'd never hear the end of this. "alright, he never made me come. are you happy?" you scoffed, hoping he'd drop it, making rafe burst out in laughter, the pout on your face becoming more and more visible, "it's not funny..."

"okay, okay, i'll stop laughing." rafe said, and like he said, the laughter in his throat slowly dying down, "only if you answer one question." he said, his head now leaning against the palm of his hand as he watched you with interest.

"alright, what is it?" you asked exasperatedly, desperately wanting out of this situation.

"how many guys have been able to do that?"

you hid your face in your hands, but rafe simply took hold of your wrists, and pulled them away from your face, forcing you to look at him in the eyes as you bit down on your lower lip, not knowing if you should lie to him or just come out and tell him the truth.

"come on, i'm your best friend, you can tell me anything."

but when you quietly whispered the word "none," and stutteringly explained that you'd only been able to do it yourself, you could see a grin take over his lips, the one you'd known for the entirety of your life, the one that told you that rafe found something interesting, challenging, something to achieve, to conquer.

rafe swore it was just something that'd happen just once, that it wouldn't change your friendship, that it was normal. still, as his fingers slid in and out of you with ease due to the arousal gushing out of you, moans slipping out of your lips while your manicured fingers were holding onto his hair, it was feeling less and less like friendship, like the closer you got to your orgasm, the more intense it got.

"rafe..." you moaned when his soft lips wrapped around your clit, drawing sensations out of you that no other guy had before, ones you'd only managed to get yourself to feel, now much more electrified by the fact that it was him touching you.

"i'm just helping my best friend..." rafe said quietly against your clit, the vibrations of his words against the sensitive spot, causing you to throw your head back as you enjoyed every sensation his mouth and hands were giving you.

and when the electric feeling inside of your stomach finally spread throughout your body as if it had been set free, you were too naive to know just how much this would change your friendship, your moans far too loud for you to hear the little mumbles of "mine..." that your best friend was whispering against your cunt.

[paarksunghoon]

you plus me | heeseung

SUMMARY: it's been six years since heeseung stopped being your friend and the thought of him tagging along an annual camping tradition makes you feel like the world is crashing around you. one misunderstanding and one trip later makes heeseung re-evaluate all he knows, and it makes you believe there might be life after love.

NOTES: first full length fic!!!!!!! enjoy :) x

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader (featuring enhypen)

WORD COUNT: 34.1K

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, mentions of poor relationships with parental figures, mentions of infidelity, bad friendships, smut in the form of: fingering, oral (f. receiving), creampie.

***

“Please don’t make me go.”

“Y/N, you already said yes. We’re only gonna be gone for a week.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Jungwon. You just said that Heeseung is gonna be there.” 

Your best friend sighs and sits down on your bed, inspecting the duffle bag you have that’s half-packed. Your clothes are haphazardly strewn all over your bedding while you plead with him to no avail. You’re so desperate that you consider getting on your knees to beg.

“I’m sorry for telling you now, but he was able to get people to cover his shift last minute and paid for a spot on the kayaking rental.” 

“If he’s going, I’d rather save us all the trouble and stay at home.” Jungwon watches you cross your arms over your chest. “Every time we’re in the same room, it’s just a matter of time before things become awkward.” 

“We’ll be outside in the suuuun,” Jungwon says, tilting his head to the side and giving you those amused eyes that he always gives you when he’s trying to convince you to do something with him. You scoff and look away. It almost works. 

“I bet that it’ll be worse since we have a few things planned with the guys already.”

“So what? You two don’t get along. Big deal. We’ve already made reservations to secure a spot on the campsite and set a deposit for kayak rentals.”

“Won, I think you and I view Heeseung very differently. He doesn’t just not like me. He hates me.” 

“Hate is a wrong word.” 

You huff. “I don’t think you grasp just how weird it is every time we’re together. You could cut the tension with a knife.”

“Seriously, Y/N. It’s one week. I’m sure you can survive that. You’ve never missed a camping trip and it’s the first time all of our friends are coming.” Jungwon deadpans and throws a shirt towards your chest, which you hastily grab after being startled by his sudden movement. You know better than to argue with him when he gets like this. “Just help me pack your clothes, dude. Jay’s gonna be here to pick us up tomorrow morning, and you don’t want to be under-packed.” 

You relent and grumble. “Are you still staying over?”

He nods. “My apartment’s in the opposite of where we’re going, and I didn’t want to make him drive an extra twenty minutes since he needs to pick Riki up. Just need to drop Maeumi off at my mom’s before coming back here. ” Your eyes fall for a flat second before you squash that feeling down.

“I didn’t invite you over, you know.” 

“No, but don’t pretend like you’re not excited,” Jungwon says with a laugh as he pulls your clothes out of the bag and starts to readjust the clothing you’ve folded poorly. Seeing your best friend smile tugs a bit at your heartstrings and you can’t say that you aren’t happy to have him with you. “We should get you packed now so you don’t stress out later.” 

Begrudgingly, you allow Jungwon to sort out your clothes for you and pull last minute items you’ve yet to pack. It annoys you watching him be so calm when you’re simmering with worry. But you know he’s right—you’ve invested some money into this getaway, and it’ll be the last big outing before you move away from Korea for a year-long job opportunity in Okayama before pursuing your Master’s degree. Jungwon knows you a little too well, and sometimes it irks you. 

The end-of-summer camping trip is always one for the books. For as long as you can remember, the two of you have been going camping just before everyone goes back to school to celebrate the beginning of a new academic year with your families. But this time, the trip wasn’t just about continuing an annual tradition. It was also to commemorate a new chapter in your life. 

You’re a year older than Jungwon. He’s known you since you were obsessed with learning how to double dutch, and you’ve known him since he first learnt how to ride a bike. The two of you started out as neighbors when you moved into the house next to his, and his family had adopted your own like old friends, eventually inviting you and your parents into their annual camping tradition. Even when dynamics changed and people left, the tradition was the only thing that remained a constant for you.

This is the first summer that your loved ones announced they wouldn’t be coming along. They all thought it was time for you to embark on new traditions with new people, and nobody seemed to mind the change that much except for you. Jungwon had been ecstatic about it since he invited his friend, Jake, to the camping trip last year. You’d been wary at first since Jake is friends with Heeseung, but he never brought up your confusing arch-nemesis and chose to have a great trip before you all started university again.  

Sure, you had a lot of fun. You might even consider last year’s trip as one for the books. But your mom pulling out of the camping trip and everyone around you agreeing that it was for the best made you feel like your world was crumbling around you.

When you graduated university three months ago (Jungwon swears he didn’t cry, but you know better than to believe him), the weight of leaving your home started to sink in. In the blink of an eye, Jungwon wouldn’t be a twenty minute drive, and hanging out with all of your friends wouldn’t be as easy as it once was. You’d be in Japan all alone.

This past summer has been a whirlwind as you tried to do everything under the sun, savoring each moment until you wouldn’t be able to anymore. Jungwon’s been a good sport about it, never once complaining when you drag him to your latest adventure. He deals with your sudden shift in mood from happy to sad, letting you cry on his shoulder and braving the cliche words you say when telling him you’ll miss him a lot. 

Unlike past seasons, this is the first summer you haven’t seen Heeseung very often. Lee Heeseung, who usually keeps his head down and minds his business, always seems to have a bone to pick whenever his eyes settle on you. It confuses you to no end, and he keeps his quips to a minimum when your mutual friends are around, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering what you must’ve done to make him act like that towards you. It’s a shame because that small childhood crush you always had on him was squashed the first time he ignored your presence. 

None of your friends comment on it much. They’re used to the dynamic between the both of you because it's been years of this. Elementary school saw the two of you become friends for the first time and middle school brought more friends into the group. It was in high school that things changed and Heeseung started ignoring you out of nowhere until one Thursday afternoon when he’d told you to leave him alone after pestering him about his change in behavior. 

The odd tension followed you into university and continued to seep into your life. You don’t think you’ve ever been in a room with Heeseung where he’s been anything but nonchalant towards you, often acting like you aren’t there to begin with. You do your best to put up with it and plaster a smile on your face, but six years have gone by, and you don’t think you can handle a seventh. All of your friends seemed to have moved past it. You don’t know why you can’t.

“Don’t think about Heeseung,” Jungwon says with a sigh. “In fact, don’t think at all. Let me handle everything and enjoy this trip before you move to Okayama, okay?”

“Okay, fine. But I want to see Maeumi.”

Jungwon snorts. “She’s gonna be real pissed when she doesn’t see you for a year, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jungwon knows you like the back of your hand and has seen what you bring on these trips enough to know what you like to have in your duffle. He packs things you neglected to pull out because your mind has been elsewhere. As much as he wants to flick your head and tell you to quit overthinking so you can help him, he did tell you to let him handle everything. 

Your best friend makes you triple check that the two of you didn’t miss anything before heading back to his apartment to fetch Maeumi. She jumps into your arms when you squat to pick her up and won’t allow Jungwon to pet her white fur body while she’s nestled against you. This fondness and the familiar jab of Jungwon’s elbow to your ribcage make your heart ache despite the sweet moment. You’re really going to miss home. 

Ever the concerned mothers your mom and Jungwon’s are, they send you with a tray full of sweets for the road. They make you tell them exactly when you’ll be picked up and by who (“Jongseong, Eomma,” Jungwon says for the umpteenth time) and when you plan to come back. His dad gives you a spare bucket hat for when you’re on the water and an old sweater from his college days when Jungwon complains about how you never pack enough layers. The gesture feels warm since you consider his father to be somewhat of your own.

Leaving them to go back to your house feels a bit bittersweet. A lot of your belongings sit in storage boxes in the garage from when you moved out of your campus apartment upon graduating. Jungwon decided to get an apartment for himself with the money he saved from his part-time job as a busboy at a local chain restaurant. Staying over with you makes it seem silly when you remember he used to live next door. 

It’s nine in the evening when the two of you get ready for bed. Jungwon puts your bags by the front door so neither of you would forget while you finish brushing your teeth. He grabs extra blankets from the linen closet and settles onto your L-shaped couch, pulling the fabric just underneath his chin. Your heart feels like it’s sinking in on itself when you think about how this might be the last time you’re able to be so casual around him. 

“Stop overthinking,” he says in the quiet of the night, as if he can hear the thoughts in your head. The living room lights are off and the moonlight is what’s responsible for illuminating the space. 

You refrain from throwing your pillow at him. “I’m not overthinking. You’re overthinking.” 

Jungwon snorts. “We both know that’s not true. I know you’re scared about Okayama and I know that’s why you’ve been on edge about Heeseung. You’re usually never this loud about it.” Like always, your best friend is right. 

“It’s hard not to.” Your meek voice makes Jungwon’s heart lurch. “Everything’s changed so fast. I feel like I didn’t get enough time to properly say goodbye to everyone.”

“You’ll be in Japan, not America. It’s not like we’ll never see you.” 

“Yeah, but I won’t be able to annoy you for boba and you won’t be coming over to have dinner with my mom and me." Jungwon frowns. Too caught up in making sure you were happy this summer, he hadn’t given it that much thought. “I know I won’t be far, but I’m scared that things will change too much.” 

For the first time today, Jungwon doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better. “I’ll miss you a lot.” 

“I know that, dummy. I guess…I feel like I’ve been dealing with a lifetime of shittiness and the universe wanted to throw another curveball at me.” Jungwon’s heart softens at your confession. He’s used to your quick jabs and sarcastic humor. Knowing you’ve more afraid than excited makes him upset. 

“The universe sucks,” he says, happy that it pulled a laugh out of you. “I’ll always be a phone call away and you’ll never have to worry about me ignoring you because we both know I’m gonna blow up your texts anyway.” 

“I can always count on you to annoy the hell out of me.” You can’t see his face, but no you already assume Jungwon’s sporting a shit-eating grin. Even if you both know the main reason why you’re afraid of living in Okayama, neither of you say it. You’re grateful that Jungwon doesn’t bring it up. “Still, though. You know how I am with change. I’m really scared that I’m going to hate it there and not have you to keep me company.”

“Life is crazy and unpredictable but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be miserable. I mean, you did a pretty good job of making sure both of us had happy childhoods even though I know you were hurting when we were younger.” 

“It’s really hard not to have expectations or think badly about the future when I feel like I took everything for granted.” 

“I know, Bug,” Jungwon says, using a nickname from your childhood he reserves for when he thinks you need an extra bit of comfort. “But you’re the best person I know. You didn’t do anything wrong. Life just…gets in the way.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

Jungwon is quiet for a moment. “Just please promise me you’ll try to have fun, okay?”

“I know I’ll have fun, Wonnie. I’m scared that I’ll have too much fun and be a sobbing wreck when we get back.” 

The two of you share a laugh. “Alright, fair. Promise me you won’t let Heeseung get under your skin.”

You groan. “If he doesn’t like me, that’s fine. I don’t need everyone to like me. But why go out of his way to act like I’m scum of the Earth?”

“Just ignore him, okay?” Jungwon pleads. “I know it’s uncomfortable but he paid for a last minute spot. I’ll tell him to be mature about it too.” 

And, well, part of you believes Heeseung will listen to Jungwon. Despite being on the younger side in your shared friend group, everyone seemed to listen to your best friend most of the time. Jungwon has an authoritative aspect to himself when he’s refrained from being the silly, happy-go-lucky guy you all know him to be. 

It’s quiet for a brief moment with the wind gently tapping on the windows behind you. “I don’t know why he doesn’t like me.” 

Truthfully, neither does Jungwon. “I’m sorry he’s putting you in a tough spot.” 

“Won, sometimes I really wonder if he hates my guts. He doesn’t talk to me and he never replies to my messages in the group chat. It’s like I don’t exist to him.”

“I think that might be a little extreme.” 

“It’s not and you know it.” 

Jungwon hums. “Well, at least you’ll get away from him when you move to Okayama.” Just like that, all of your worries come flooding right back.

“Yeah,” you say meekly. “I’ll have Okayama.”

You don’t see him, but you know Jungwon’s smiling since you agreed with him for the first time tonight. “That’s more like it. You have your whole future ahead of yourself, dude. Heeseung is just a blimp. In three weeks, he won’t matter because you’ll be having fun in Japan. Just think about that.” 

You try not to think about the fears and hesitations you have about starting anew. This time, you wouldn’t be going back to university after the camping trip. You’ll have a week and a half back home before you’re boarding your flight and saying goodbye to the place you’ve called home for the past two decades. Thinking about the future keeps you up until you hear Jungwon’s snores from the other side of the couch. 

Unsure of when your mom will be coming home, you snuggle further into the cushions and curl yourself into a ball before falling asleep. 

***

The next morning, Jungwon wakes up just before you do and you see him and your mom talking before they see you sit up. Barely noticing their hushed tones, you find yourself yawning more than normal and force the blankets off of your body. Your mom fixes you a cup of tea while Jungwon finishes packing, leaving you to freshen up and do the same. 

“You know, this trip will be good for you. I can feel it,” your mom says when you sip on your tea. It’s hot and nearly burns your tongue, but you don’t mind. Somehow, that sharp pain makes you feel even more alert than the strong brew. 

“You say that every year.” 

“Yeah, but this time I won’t be with you.” 

She laughs when she hears you huff. “Baby, I know you love it when I come on these trips but we’ll always have other ones. We’ll have next year too.” 

“I just don’t get why you and Jungwon’s parents don’t want to come on this one.” 

“Like we said all those months ago–it’s time for you guys to break tradition and spend some time with your friends before you move to Okayama. Next year, we can rent out the whole campsite if it means we can accommodate us, the Yangs, and your friends.” 

Frustration bubbles within you but you’re quick to shut that feeling. “I guess. It won’t be the same.”

“Jake’s going this year, right? You guys had a lot of fun last summer.” 

Well, she isn’t wrong. “Sure, yeah. I had fun with him.” Motherly instincts kick in and she bumps your hip with hers. 

“I know you’re scared about moving and seeing Heeseung. But you’re much braver than you give yourself credit for. Sometimes people are meant to be lessons and maybe Heeseung is the biggest one of all.”

You throw a fake-disgusted look at her. “Did Jungwon put you up to this?” She laughs and shakes her head, bringing you into her arms. Her lips on the crown of your head feel warm and you don’t shy away from her embrace. 

“No, but I carried you in my stomach and brought you to term. I like to think I know you pretty well.” 

You chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you do. I’ll try not to let Heeseung bother me too much.” 

“Jungwon’s pretty worried, even if he won’t say it. I told him to relax a little. This trip isn’t supposed to stress anyone out. It’s supposed to be a nice getaway before you go back to your normal life.” 

“I feel guilty for making Jungwon worry about me. I know he’s still friends with Heeseung, somewhat, even though nobody can figure out why he doesn’t like me so much.” 

“That old saying about boys being mean to their crushes is bullshit.” 

You pull away and gasp when you hear her swear. “Eomma!”  

“I used to swear like a sailor before I became a mom, you know.” Her eyes light up when she watches you giggle and from the corner of her eye, she can see Jungwon walking back into the living room. 

“Jay’s almost here,” he says, shoving his phone into his back pocket. 

“Does he want a cup of tea?” 

Jungwon shakes his head. “I think it’s better if we head out as soon as possible. We still have to pick up Riki and then we have a four hour drive to the campsite.” 

She looks at the two of you like she has stars in her eyes. Wordlessly, your mom pulls Jungwon underneath her other arm and kisses his forehead before kissing yours. “When did you two become so grown up, huh? It feels like just yesterday that Y/N stopped crying whenever she got papercuts.” 

Jungwon snickers. “She still does.”

“Hey!”

“And it feels like just yesterday that Jungwon stopped needing to sleep with a nightlight.” Jungwon’s cheeks turn pink and you snicker at him. 

“Time flew by fast,” says Jungwon. She lets the two of you go and the doorbell rings. “That must be Jay.” 

Indeed, Jay is standing behind the door and bows at your mom before she offers to help you both carry things to his car. They make small talk while the two of you put them into the trunk (he loves to cook while she loves to bake. Likewise, they enjoy talking about this with each other). Jay’s Jeep is far too expensive for you to wrap your head around, but you don’t complain when he offers to drive you in it. A yellow rubber duck sits on his dashboard and it never fails to bring a smile to your face whenever you see it. You wave goodbye to your mom and stick your body halfway out the window until you’re restricted by the seat belt.

“Can we get coffee on the way?” you ask, yawning into your palm. It’s eight o’clock and everyone’s agreed to arrive around noon for lunch and to relax before sleeping. 

“Yeah, good idea. Let’s pick up Riki and then stop somewhere.” 

Jay plugs his phone into the aux cord at a red light and turns on some music. You like driving with him because you always discover new songs you obsess over for the next few days. It brings a pang in your heart when you think about how this will have to stop when you move to Japan. The two of you have created many playlist blends and he’s curated a few for you. While you’re not as musically inclined like your friends may be, Jay is the only person who’s willing to break things down for you in depth so that you can understand them too. It’s nice, especially when he talks about his own musical talents. You can see why he loves music so much and you don’t mind if he sends you a million songs to listen to. He turns onto the freeway and you know you’re about to see Riki soon.

He’s about to be a first-year in the university you graduated from. He moved to Korea from Japan a few weeks prior to get a lay of the land and become more comfortable in his surroundings. Originally planning on enjoying your summer until he reached out to you, your mother chided your decision and told you to help Riki move into his new dormitory. 

It was the least you could do for your half-brother. 

Begrudgingly, you spent a lot of time making sure Riki felt comfortable and settled in when you could’ve been soaking up the sun. Maybe that’s why you were so adamant about hanging out with Jungwon whenever you could. Being around Riki made you feel drained because his mere presence was enough to remind you of why you started losing faith in people. 

The dorms aren’t too far from your house. The drive there is silent, save for the music coming from Jay’s stereo. It gives you plenty of time to think about what the next week or so might look like. Avoiding Heeseung is out of the question since there will be eight of you participating in the same activities together. You’re not worried about having to watch over Riki too much either. Before moving to Korea, he met Jungwon the first summer he spent a few weeks vacationing here and they instantly became friends. He introduced Riki to the people you’d be camping with too. Without fail, the seven of them were always up to no good when he was in town. 

Spending three weeks with him in your neighborhood felt like someone was trying to set your life ablaze. He was so young back then, barely speaking Korean until you had to translate conversations into Japanese for him. You tried to mask disdain for having to help him, but even then, Riki understood why you were hesitant to have him in your life. If he were in your position, he’d probably feel the same way about you. 

He didn’t come to Korea very often but started to when he had school recess for the holidays and summer breaks. Since he expressed an interest in attending university in Korea, it felt like the right decision to send Riki whenever school wasn’t in session. He’d stay with his paternal grandparents and saw you every so often when you were both invited to the same place. Neither of you made a real effort to keep up with each other on social media or over the phone. At this time, Riki followed you on Instagram and you hadn’t bothered to follow him back. In all honesty, you didn’t see the point. 

You held a lot of resentment over Riki for things you know you can’t blame him for. But with new life changes that came your way, Riki seemed like the perfect scapegoat. He feels it sometimes, the way you pull him in just to push him away when the moment gets too familiar. He shoves down his feelings, choosing to treasure when you laugh with him. 

The two of you are doing somewhat better nowadays. You followed him back on Instagram the night after you dropped him off at the airport at the behest of your grandparents. They insisted Riki arrive at the airport four hours early despite the flight’s duration equating to two and a half hours. You suspected they wanted to force you into spending a little bit of alone time with your half-brother and get to know each other. 

To your surprise, the two of you got along pretty well. Riki was a dweeb trying to mask himself as cool. You bought him ice cream (pretending like you didn’t see him smiling so hard that he forced it off of his face) and sat in your car for two hours to talk. He found out you were a genius when it came to mathematics, a subject he did not excel in, and you found out he’s in a hip hop dance crew and wants to study dancing in Korea. Riki showed you a few clips of him dancing and from the corner of your eye, you could see how happy he was to be sharing this moment with you. It made your heart twinge and guilt crept up your spine when you think of all the times you’ve blown him off. You said goodbye to him at the gate and he surprised you with the first hug he’s ever given you. 

Still, it’s a bit awkward when the two of you spend any time together without your friends acting as buffers. It irks you that Riki and Heeseung get along so well because they share similar interests and are often awake at the same time, especially during the midnight hour. Part of you wondered if Heeseung would tell you all about your “rivalry” and how the two of you didn’t get along. If he did, Riki never let you know it because he’s been the same Riki you’ve known since you first met him three years ago. 

You can tell Heeseung is a bit irritated, too, that your half-brother still chooses to be nice to you. In fact, you realize he’s annoyed at everyone about this, especially Jungwon. You don’t call him out on it because you know it’ll spark a useless argument that makes you and everyone else feel upset. How Heeseung has the energy and stamina to avoid you for hours on end is strange to you. 

You and Jungwon meet Riki at the front door while Jay gets out of the car to make room for his belongings and the lawn chairs his grandparents dropped off for this specific trip. There’s exactly eight of them and they somehow all fit into the rear with all of the other cooking gear he’s packed. You assume the other car has everything needed for pitching tents and fishing.

“Hi,” Riki says before you can acknowledge him. He steps forward like he’s about to throw his arms around you but stops himself. “Good morning.” 

“Morning, Riki,” you say while grabbing the duffle bag from his shoulder. “Let me put this in the car. You and Wonnie can load the chairs.” 

“Aye, aye, captain.” 

It’s Riki’s first time on the camping trip and you find yourself a bit more nervous with him coming. He’s not someone who’s been camping before and you wonder if any of the other guys are going to look out for him. Jungwon, for as responsible as he is, tends to turn into a younger version of himself when he’s with your half-brother. You furrow your eyebrows when you put his duffle bag in Jay’s trunk as he rearranges and waits for the two boys to load everything in before settling back into the car. 

Riki and Jungwon immediately hop in the backseat and you’re quite pleased that you don’t have to call shotgun. They talk about things you don’t understand while Jay starts the car and resumes manning the aux cord. That strange feeling of nervousness creeps back into your stomach. You turn around and startle Riki when you look at him. 

“Do you have everything you need?” you ask him. 

“Yes,” Riki says with a nod. “I have my water bottle, my Swiss army knife, and sunblock.” 

“Bug spray?” 

“Jungwon says he’s bringing a few bottles.”

“Swimming trunks?”

“C’Mon, Y/N. We’re gonna be camping by a lake. That’s the first thing I packed.”

“Toothbrush?”

“Second thing I packed.”

“Enough shirts and socks?”

“Okay,” Jay says, pulling your wrist to get you to look at the road. “Riki’s got everything he needs and if he doesn’t, I’m sure someone else would let him use or borrow it.”

“I’m just making sure he’s got everything so we don’t need to stop somewhere,” you mutter, slinking into your seat while Jay sighs. You don’t catch it, but Riki sits behind you with a happy smile on his face. 

“Relax. We’re trying to make the most before summer ends. You deserve that too.” You know Jay’s right. He smiles when you fix your posture and hands you his phone. “You know my passcode. Queue up whatever you want.” 

You do just that, especially since Jungwon and Riki are engrossed in a conversation about God knows what. You think of interrupting them to ask what they want to listen to but ultimately decide to play a few songs you and Jay could jam out to and some from Jungwon’s playlists. You also try to remember the songs Riki has danced to in his Instagram videos and the musicians he posts on his stories and add them to the queue too. 

“Thanks for letting us come on this trip,” Jay tells you with chatter in the background, not once taking his eyes off of the road. “I know it’s a thing you and Jungwon do with your families.” 

“Eh, it was bound to happen anyway. Jake was the only one here last summer and I knew it was a matter of time.” 

“Still, I know how you’ve been feeling lately and it must be overwhelming to have so many people around you right now.” Damn. Jay is almost as receptive as Jungwon is. 

You don’t bother lying to him. “Yeah, I think I’m just scared about starting my life in Okayama. I know a few people but it’s not like here. I thought it was what I wanted to do when I accepted the position but now I can’t help but feel like I made a mistake.” 

“It’s not a mistake if you believed in it enough to do it all those months ago. I mean, there’s a reason why you’re moving.” 

“I guess.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, dude. You’re like, a fucking wizard when it comes to numbers and even Jake is speechless. You know how he feels about math and physics.” 

That makes you laugh. “It feels kinda nerdy to love math so much but fuck it. It got me a paid year’s worth of employment before I earn my Master’s.”

“See? Not so bad, isn’t it?” You suppose it’s not. “Junwon, can you please tell the others that we’re about to stop for coffee then be on our way?” You see the notifications on your phone. 

wonton: we just picked up riki

jaeyunnie: who’s we

wonton: me jay and yn

jaeyunnie: AYOOOOOOO YN

you: JAEYUNIE :DD

jaeyunnie: idk why i thought jay was driving alone. whatever this is about to be the best camping trip of my Life. even better than last year

sun sun: is it just me or is jake always really fucking dramatic. also i’m lowkey offended i wasn’t invited last year …

jaeyunnie: shut Up u know nothing about me sunoo. and u were in bejing how tf could you have gone with us

sun sun: so much attitude 🙄

fanghoon: yn save me PLEASE. i’m in a car filled with animals

sun sun: HEY

jaeyunnie: who are you calling an animal big guy ?

you: sunghoon what makes you think i can do that 

you: jk come over here ~i will protect you~

fanghoon: Thank You. It’s Literally 8am

jaeyunnie: u guys need to become morning people

you: pass

sun sun: PASS 

sun sun: noona we are the same 🙂‍↕️

you: i know that’s right

wonton: we’re gonna stop for coffee before heading to the campsite 

jaeyunnie: oh shit we should make heeseung stop for coffee too

wonton: jay says to stop blowing up his phone in the group chat. we’ll text you when we stop for gas and when we’ve arrived. bye!!!

***

After one stop to fill up Jay’s gas tank (you paid for him as a thank you) and a snack run (Jungwon and Riki split the cost), the four of you are at the campsite in no time. You’re all somewhat grateful that it’s a little bit cloudy outside because the sun was killing you on the two-hour mark of your road trip. The weather is a little cooler and you tug on the sweater that Jungwon’s dad gave you.  

You see your other friends park just after you do. Jungwon and Riki are first to get out of the car and greet them like they haven’t seen the group in years while you and Jay take your time getting out of your seats. Since when did your joints become so stiff? You blame it on the fact that you woke up from a nap just a few minutes before you arrived. 

“This place was hard to find,” you hear Heeseung say from a distance. You try not to let it dampen your mood. 

“Where’s Y/N?” You’re sure that was Jake. 

“Waking up, probably,” says Jungwon. “She took a nap in the car and we just woke her up.” 

“The drive wasn’t even that long.” You assume your best friend gives Heeseung some kind of reaction before the latter apologizes quickly. 

Jake is by the passenger door as you open it and looks at you like a dog who wants to be taken out on a walk. He holds the handle to the door and bounces in his shoes until you push yourself out of the car. The loud slamming of the door behind you makes you wince. Jake pulls you into a hug faster than you can process. 

“I missed you dude,” Jake says. He puts his arm over your shoulder and slowly leads you to the group. “Did you have a good summer?”

“You know, despite the incredibly hot weather that made me feel like I would sweat to death, summer wasn’t so bad. How was Brisbane?”

“I missed the heat,” Jake says with a pout. “But it was pretty good to be back home for a month. I really missed my parents and my brother.” 

“I’m sure they missed you too.”

Jungwon spots you. “Your eyes are so puffy.” He takes his thumbs and tries to put more color underneath your eyes and onto your cheeks. Riki, Sunoo, and Jay have slipped away to start setting up camp.

Jake laughs beside you when you swat Jungwon’s hands away and lets his own arms fall when you lurch forward to give him a taste of his own medicine. He always liked that Jungwon was able to bring out a childish side to you because he’s always seen you carry yourself like you had to shoulder the weight of the world. Watching you chase Jungwon as he tried to escape your pinching fingers made him a bit more happier knowing you’d have friends like him to return to when you came back from Japan. 

Heeseung, however, rolls his eyes and speaks low. “She’s so childish.” 

“Dude,” Sunghoon sighs in exasperation. “We’re gonna be with her for a week. You need to quit making those comments.” 

Heeseung shrugs. “What? It’s not like she can hear what I’m saying.” 

“Yeah, but we can. We’re friends with her too, Heeseung.” 

The eldest tries to hold in his disdain. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll keep shit to myself.” 

“Just for now,” Jake encourages. “Y/N never starts anything with you but sometimes you say something that goes a little too far. No one is asking you to be her best friend.”

“Just remember it was Y/N’s mom and Jungwon’s parents who invited all of us,” Sunghoon reminds his friend. “We wouldn’t be here without them and if I recall correctly, you really wanted to come when you found out we were all planning to go.” Heeseung wants to argue and justify why he’s annoyed but can’t find a good enough reason. 

“You’re right,” he relents. “I’ll make nice but do not expect me to do shit for her.”

“We aren’t.” Sunghoon pats Heeseung’s back. “You’ve got this. It’s supposed to be a fun trip before we all go back to reality. All we want is one week where you two don’t create tension.” 

“I can do that.” Jake and Sunghoon share a look between the two of them when Heeseung isn’t looking and pray that he means it.

When Jungwon decides he’s out of breath, he accepts his fate and runs into Sunghoon’s arms when you outstretch your arms to pinch his cheeks and pull them apart like he’s made out of dough. The broken laughter coming from your best friend makes you laugh too. Everyone, save for Heeseung, laughs when Jungwon’s face becomes distorted due to your fingers. 

Eventually, you pull away from him and he starts to grab his duffle bag and the lawn chairs. The three of you follow suit once you realize you’re missing a few people. You lift your duffle over your shoulder and put on your hiking backpack while trying to hold more lawnshairs than you can carry. 

“Woah,” Sunghoon says as he catches a falling chair. “Let me help.”

“Thanks, Hoon. I don’t know why I thought I could carry two chairs at once.” 

“You’re strong but you’re also carrying a fuck ton of things.” 

He smiles at you and it makes you laugh. You haven’t seen much of Sunghoon over the summer because he’s been working nonstop at a local ice rink, teaching kids how to skate in back to back summer classes. Sunghoon is sometimes too tired to hang out after work or falls asleep on your couch whenever he hangs out with you to watch movies. Your mom thinks it’s a bit endearing and never has the heart to wake him up. Between Sunghoon’s impromptu sleepovers, Jungwon and Sunoo’s unannounced visits, Jay’s cooking and baking sessions in your kitchen, and Jake appearing out of nowhere every few nights for dinner, you’re starting to think your house might have an unspoken open door policy. 

Heeseung is the only one who doesn’t frequent your house if you don’t count Riki, who doesn’t spend enough time in Korea to become a permanent fixture. The only time Heeseung has been to your house is when he dropped Jungwon off after he had one too many to drink and he’d been adamant about going to your place because it was closer to the bar in comparison to your apartment. One awkward conversation later and Heeseung was out of your driveway. Jungwon woke up with a hangover the next morning and you were grateful your mother chose that weekend to take a girl’s trip with her best friends.

You don’t invite Heeseung over like you do with the others. The only reason why you haven’t deleted his phone number is because of the big group chat you’re in to discuss plans. He never responds to your texts in it and you don’t respond to him unless absolutely necessary. Sometimes you catch him laughing at your messages only to retract it when he realizes it’s you who sent it. It’s been six years of dealing with this and as much as it confuses you, part of you has learned to tune out this behavior and focus on the other friends you do share. 

Sunghoon must know you’re thinking about his friend because he looks at you like he’s been trying to get your attention. “Sorry,” you apologize. “What did you say?” 

“I said thanks for letting us crash your trip. I know this is something you and Jungwon do with your families every year. Can’t help but feel a little special that we get to come along.” 

You coo at him. “Do you remember when you could barely look me in the eye, let alone tell me something as sweet as that?” Sunghoon rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, shut up. You know I’m an introvert.” You bump your hip with his. 

“I’m just messing with you. But in all seriousness, it’ll be fun having you guys around.”

“I’m excited to see what you and Jungwon do every year.” 

“Nothing too out of the ordinary. Swim, eat a lot of food, kayak, hike, the usual. But there’s one spot we usually go to, just he and I, that’s away from the main spot on the lake.” 

“How’d you find it?”

“Jungwon found it by accident when we were younger. He said it was gonna be our secret spot and told me not to tell our parents. I think the whole campground panicked for an hour or so until somebody found us in the clearing.” 

Sunghoon snorts. “Yeah, that sounds like you two.” 

“They told us to tell them where we’d be and promised to leave us alone if we gave them a heads up. It’s not really noticeable if you don’t know where to look, but it’s so beautiful. It leads to another part of the lake and it’s always so peaceful and quiet.” 

“In that case, I’m honored that you’re showing us.” 

“Eh, it’s about time we add new members to the club.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow. “There’s a club now?”

“Mhm. Gotta pay me two fish to join.” 

“Like you know how to fish.” You bump your hip with his again.

“There are things you guys don’t know about me, Park. Just wait and see.” 

Sunghoon lets the conversation end when he finds himself at the campsite where Jay and Riki have started to organize things and make spots for tents. It’ll take a few trips for all of the supplies and camping gear to be fully unloaded so you each take turns until everything is sitting in a big pile, waiting to be sorted. 

“Okay, I’m a bit out of my depth,” says Sunoo, who kicks around a rock as he speaks. “I, for one, will need help pitching a tent.”

“I’ll help you,” you say, nodding for him to come over. 

“You can pitch a tent?” Heeseung asks like he doesn’t believe you. 

You nod and pick up a bag. “Yeah. I do this every year.” You don’t say it with any bite in your tone but Heeseung, who forgot this fact, feels like an idiot for making a fool of himself in front of his friends. He chooses to look away from you for now. 

“We have three tents we need to put up,” Jay says. “I’m thinking we pitch those now, have a snack and water break, and then start to organize before we eat lunch.” 

“Sounds good.” You agree. “I’d rather have everything set up so we can enjoy our evening. Besides, we should do this before it gets dark.” 

“Right.” Jungwon clears his throat and hands out each bag, assigning your friends based on the size of the tent. Everybody gets to work, clearing the flat ground of rocks and debris before deciding where your tents will go. You all hammer the groundsheet into the dirt before assembling the poles.

You teach Sunoo the basics and give him pointers when he struggles to connect the joints. He’s learning much faster than he gives himself credit for because in no time, he’s jumping for joy when he finally manages to grasp what he’s supposed to be doing. It’s nice to watch him be so happy over this, as Sunoo originally declined the invitation to go camping since he isn't a huge fan of the outdoors. But now it’s like you would’ve never guessed that because he’s pretty quick to pick up your lessons.

Your tent is pitched up in no time. You roam around like a camp counselor to see if anybody needs help. Jake, Heeseung, Jay, and Jungwon seem to know what they’re doing and have the biggest tent halfway set up. Sunghoon and Riki look like they need a bit of assistance. Sunghoon’s figuring it out quickly while Riki fumbles with his fingers. 

“You have to do it slowly,” you say from beside him. Riki hands you the attachments when you beckon him to hand it over and show him slowly. “Like this. See? If you do it slowly, they’ll catch easier and it’ll be smoother when we feed them into the tent.” 

“Oh.” Riki nods when your trick works. “Thanks, Y/N.” 

The three of you pitch up your tent too, with Riki handing you the pegs to hammer them into the ground after zipping the door. Sunghoon dusts off his hands on his shorts and takes a big gulp from his water bottle. Sunoo’s mom packed enough fruit and onigiri for a midday snack, and all eight of you feast quietly after exerting more power than anyone anticipated. You really need to start working out again. 

“Before we clear out and organize everything else, we should probably figure out who sleeps where,” Jungwon says. “That way, we can put our stuff in our respective tents and have that out of the way.” 

“Good idea,” Jake says. “How should we do this? Rock, paper, scissors?” 

“Sure, but I think Y/N and I should share a tent.” Heeseung rolls his eyes at Jungwon and you see it from the corner of your vision.

“What?” Riki asks. “Why?” 

“Because all of you get too comfortable around her and forget she doesn’t want to hear you snore or see your boxers in the morning.” Jungwon laughs. “It’ll be easier since we’ve been camping together anyway. She’s used to rooming with me and I’m used to waking up next to a Zombie.” 

“I hate you.” Jungwon merely smiles at you.  

“You just want to get out of sharing a tent with three people,” says Sunghoon. Jungwon nods. 

“That too.” 

“Rock, paper, scissors it is,” Sunoo says, getting his hands ready. 

They all battle one another until the rooming situation is sorted. You and Jungwon will share a tent while Sunoo and Jay share the other smaller one. That leaves Jake, Sunghoon, Riki, and Heeseung sharing the big one. You all throw your belongings in before helping Jay organize the portable stove, chairs, and other things that need to be stored properly. 

When all is said and done an hour later, Jay and Sunghoon start a barbecue. All of you are spent, sagging your bodies in the camping chairs that are positioned around the campfire. You know you’ll need to fetch some wood from the outpost if you all want to have a bonfire. But that can be a task for later.

“Your mom makes the best onigiri,” Riki groans as he shoves another bite in his mouth. “It reminds me so much of home.” 

Sunoo smiles proudly. “She’s the best, isn’t she?” Jake, who is busy stuffing his face with sliced watermelons, agrees. They pick at the leftovers from snack time and Jay chides them for it.

“Don’t spoil yourselves too much or you won’t have an appetite for lunch.” 

“He’s so bossy,” Riki says as he leans over towards you. “But it’s kinda nice having someone who does shit and takes charge.” 

You nod. “Mhm. Usually Jungwon and I are the ones spearheading everything but Jay’s got some camping experience. I’m fine taking the backseat.” 

“Do you camp a lot? Besides this tradition, I mean.” Riki watches you shake your head. 

“No, not really. This is as much as I can handle. It’s more like a gigantic lake house with hot showers and a few convenience stores miles away to replenish food if we run out of anything.”

“It looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“That’s because I do, Riki.” 

He blushes. “Right. Thanks for helping me with my tent earlier.” 

“Don’t sweat it. You’ll be able to do it without my help in no time.” That brings a shimmer of hope to the younger boy sitting next to you. 

Heeseung avoids looking at you when Riki purposefully sits beside you on the empty lawn chair. He doesn’t completely understand why the younger boy likes you so much. Heeseng thinks you’re a nuisance and that you overstay your welcome at hangouts. But Riki clings to you like you’re his lifeline and he gets that you’re his half-sister and all, but you weren’t the most welcoming to him when he started hanging out in Korea more often. Riki would never tell Heeseung the details about his past and he never tried to pry past what the youngest would reveal. Six years of avoiding you made him forget every single detail he once knew about you when you’d both been somewhat friendly towards one another. 

There were some days when you wouldn’t make room in your schedule to see Riki as often as he’d wanted you to and he lamented that to Heeseung. But every time he’d start to talk about how unfair it was for you to pick and choose when you got to see our younger brother, Riki would defend you every time. He didn’t get it, feeling the frustration bubble to the surface before realizing that it wasn’t his place to question why Riki acted the way he did. Sure, he was younger than Heeseung, but he respected family matters and didn’t care about you enough to figure you out anyway. 

He keeps these feelings to himself mostly. The friends you share don’t really understand why he has a distaste for you and he refuses to elaborate because the memory is too painful, and instead chooses to bury these feelings. It’s nobody’s business anyway. He certainly doesn’t want to start anything with Riki involved because he would feel guilty for putting him in an uncomfortable position, and because he knows he’d defend you regardless. Even though you’ve made progress to open up yourself to Riki, Heeseung still scoffs whenever he sees the two of you together. 

By the time lunch is done, all eight of you are crowded around a table built into the ground, feasting on meat and vegetables. Everybody thanks Jay for cooking and the seven of you agree to clean up after every meal so Jay doesn’t have to work twice as hard. You’re not sitting too far from Heeseung (to both of your dismay). Sunghoon purposely sat in between you both when he realized the other empty spots were filling up and didn’t want to chance an uproar during mealtime. 

“So,” Sunoo starts to say after closing the bottle cap on his cola. “What’s on the agenda for today? Personally, I think we should take it easy until tomorrow.” 

“I agree.” Jungwon nods. “We’ve done a lot and drove for a while. I say we relax and do whatever until dinner.” 

“I’m going to nap, that’s for sure.” You all snicker at Jay. Typical. 

“Me too,” says Riki. 

“Is anyone up for walking around the lake?” Jake asks. 

“I could go,” Sunghoon says from next to you. 

“Sure,” you finally say, “why not.” 

“I think I’ll hang back here.” Heeseung says it almost immediately and it stings a bit. “I’ll probably nap too.” 

“I want to read.” Sunoo changes the direction of the conversation before anyone can pick up on the awkwardness and you throw him a smile. 

“I think I’ll join you.” Jungwon pulls a book from his backpack and the pair begin to brainstorm where they should sit. Natural chatter falls back into place and you focus on eating, as your stomach has been grumbling pretty loud. 

Heeseung breaks the silence. “Can someone pass me the pineapple?” You don’t register that your arm has moved on its own accord and pass the container to him. Heeseung gives you a look you can’t decipher and it’s only then you realize what you’ve done. Sunghoon gulps. 

“Thanks,” Heeseung mutters, taking the pineapple from your hands. You’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t make a comment about how he isn’t craving it anymore and watch him eat some from the corner or your eye. 

By nightfall, all of you are too exhausted to sit around the campfire. The hot shower stalls provide the kind of warmth you would go crazy without and you find yourself contemplating underneath the water longer than you’d like to admit. A plethora of thoughts run across your mind and they drift from the events of today, Riki, Heeseung, and moving to Okayama. Your friends don’t bring up the move and you’re grateful for that. 

When you return from the shower and from brushing your teeth, Jungwon asks if you’re okay. You lie and say you’re fine but exhausted and he lets it go, too tired himself to pry the truth out of you. The last thing you think about is Heeseung. You send a silent prayer out into the universe and ask that the two of you are able to make nice during this camping trip. Then, you fall asleep.

***

Everybody is up bright and early after a good night’s sleep. All of you agree today’s the best day for a short hike to get used to the terrain before you explore harder trails. You and Jungwon know the hike like the back of your hand and lead the group expertly through trees and dirt pathways. All of you have a backpack for your essentials, and each of you has packed a portable lunch for when you reach the top of the peak at the end of the trail. 

Halfway into the hike is not as uphill as you recalled it to be. The scenery is still breathtaking and you temporarily forget that Heeseung is burning eyes in the back of your skull. Last night’s prayer seems to be working, as he hasn’t said a word to you or argued with you when you started leading everybody towards the start of the hiking path. You’re not sure whether his feelings about you changed or if he knows you’re the literal expert since you grew up here, but you don’t think you care either way. 

Heeseung makes a false step and twists his ankle. You hear the commotion behind you and turn around. He stumbles and a sharp edge of a branch catches his thigh, creating a gash that starts to bleed. Everyone crowds around him when they realize it and make him sit on a large rock and he feels like shouting at you to back away when you start to walk towards him.

“Guys, I’m fine. It’s not that bad.” He feels more embarrassed than hurt. 

Jake looks concerned. “Dude, your leg is bleeding.” 

“It’s just a cut.” 

“Let me inspect it.” 

You pull your backpack off of you and take out your water bottle and first aid kit. You drop to your knees to inspect the wound and Heeseung refrains from coughing at the awkward position from where he’s sitting. You don’t seem phased by it, however, as you push up the fabric of his shorts and use your water bottle to clean the dirt from his wound. 

Your face is somewhat close to his leg and he jumps when your hand touches his thigh. The guys mistake his sudden movements as pain and rush to help stabilize him. Heeseung insists that he’s fine and brushes them off of him. He won’t admit that his fidgeting is because the last thing he expected you to do was patch him up. He figures Jungwon would be good at that kind of stuff, not you. 

Heeseung winces at the sudden contact of water in his wound. “Okay, maybe it hurts a little.”

“You won’t need stitches or anything, but I should get you cleaned up and put a bandage on it.”

Heeseung watches as you do your best to clean it with the wipes you have and ointment that will keep any debris out. The wound isn’t too gnarly but it’s no small papercut either. He watches as you expertly deal with the wound and keeps quiet, even though he feels uncomfortable and wishes he could turn back time to avoid any of this. It’s awkward to know your hands are on him because he feels like ants are crawling up his leg.

“I think we should probably go back and rest a little,” says Jungwon. “We can eat lunch there and maybe hang out for a bit.”

“Good idea,” Heeseung mutters when you’ve stepped away from him. Sunghoon and Riki each help him up and allow the eldest to use them as crutches as he limps back to the base. He mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ in your direction and doesn’t pay attention to see your reaction. You feel like you got your hopes up for nothing because he turns his back towards you before you can smile at him. Defeated, you try to put your best self on display and follow everybody back to your tents. 

Heeseung decides to rest on the chairs and eat his lunch there. You aren’t particularly eager to spend any time with him and figure he’d appreciate it if you weren’t around while he recovered. You take your sack of lunch and tell Jungwon you’ll be walking around the lake like you did yesterday. He tells you to be safe and then you’re on your way. 

“Hey, wait up!” You turn around to see Jake running until he’s caught up with you. It’s a bit unfair how he barely runs out of breath when he jogs. It’s definitely because he’s an athlete, but it’s still unfair. 

“Care to join?” 

“Can’t a guy accompany his friend on a nice, brisk walk?” 

That makes you laugh. “Yeah, sure.” You fall in a quiet tandem enjoying the silence and the environment for a while. “I had a lot of fun camping last year. I think my favorite part was kayaking or when Jungwon accidentally dropped his entire s’more in the fire.” 

You snicker at the memory. “His mom was so mad that he kept eating the marshmallows.” 

“Yeah, it was pretty funny. I still feel kind of embarrassed that I managed to flip over in my kayak somehow.” 

“Eh, it makes for a good story.”

“It’s not my fault Jungwon slammed into me!” Jake defends when you begin to laugh. “Seriously, Y/N. How the fuck do you put up with that menace?” 

“The same way you do, dummy.”

Jake bites into his sandwich. “I love Jungwon.”

“Me too.” 

“Our parents loved having you come too. Jungwon’s dad loves fishing with people.”

“I still can’t believe how many we were able to catch. I’m sad the guys weren’t there because they keep shitting on me for not being able to catch any when we go together.” 

You bump your shoulder against his. “They don’t know what I know. I’m sure my mom has pictures somewhere.” 

“How is she, by the way?” Jake asks. 

“Eomma’s doing alright. She just got a huge bonus at work for managing a really difficult client and completing this campaign she’s been working on. It stressed her out for months but I’m happy if she’s happy.” 

“That’s awesome. I’m happy for her.” 

“How are things with your family? How’s Layla?” 

“My parents are actually on a trip to the States to see some family and my brother just got promoted at his job. I’m super proud of him. He worked really hard for it. Layla’s doing okay too. She’s staying with my cousin until I come back.” 

“I miss her.”

“She probably misses you too.” 

The two of you settle into a comfortable pace and eat your lunches. There are no awkward moments with Jake. Something about his personality makes everyone around him divulge their deepest secrets and he always seems to know what to say, too. You haven’t been close to him for very long but you know him well enough to know that he’ll keep anything you say between the two of you. 

“I know you probably feel a little awkward with Heeseung around but you’ve been handling it really well.” Jake’s tone softens and he looks straight ahead as he talks, breaking the temporary silence. “I don’t know what goes on in his head half the time.” 

“I just wish I knew what I did so I can apologize and fix it. He gets mad every time I ask and accuses me of bringing up bad memories for him. I don’t know what to do, Jake. It feels like he gets along with everybody in my life but me.” 

“We all know Heeseung’s been through a lot and has trouble talking about them sometimes. He’s been in therapy but we had to really convince him to set an appointment.” 

You scoff. “Sounds like him.’ Jake doesn’t disagree. 

“I guess I understand that having to deal with shitty cards makes a person go insane.”

“Sure. I just wish I wasn’t the scapegoat.” Jake winces but tries not to let you see. 

“Sorry you’re going through this. Sunghoon and I made him swear to be on his best behavior.” 

“It’s a little awkward still but at least he isn’t picking a fight with me. Although, who knows how long that’ll last.”

“Have a little more faith in him, Y/N.” You deadpan and he holds his hand up in mock surrender. “Okay, next topic. How are you feeling about Japan?” 

Your shoulders slump. ”Awful.” 

Jake’s head quirks like he doesn’t understand. “What do you mean? You were really excited when you got the job offer.” 

“I know but…it doesn’t feel right anymore. My whole life is about to change and I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“You don’t have to know anything. In fact, I’d be a little worried if you had your shit figured out.” You punch his arm. “It’s really cool that you’re leaving Korea to pursue your dream. I know how hard it is to leave everything behind for a better opportunity.”

You look at him softly and nod because you know he empathizes with you. Back when you first met him, he’d moved from Australia to Korea because your university had one of the best physics programs in the world. He knew how to speak your native Korean but wasn’t confident in conversing back then, and you had your fair share of mentoring him in formal greeting and the basics when it came to interacting with people. Jake definitely understands where you’re coming from and doesn’t want you to feel alone. 

“We’ll always be here for you too,” he reassures. “We won’t be too far away and you can come home whenever you have the time and aren’t working.” 

“I know, but it feels like everything in my life is changing at the same time and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I wish I was a freshman again. I wish I could turn back time and really enjoy my life before I make a life changing decision.” 

“You’re really torn up about this, aren’t you?”

Nodding, you look at the ground beneath you. “There are so many things I’ve been dealing with over the past few years or so and it feels like I’m giving up on things if I just leave. Everything feels so scary, you know? I feel like I’m being suffocated every time I open my eyes. 

“On top of starting a new job in a place I’m not that familiar with, I’m leaving my mom behind. I’ve never lived farther than an hour away from her and I hate knowing that I won’t be able to see her whenever I want. Not to mention Riki studying in Korea means I’ll be spending even more time with him.”

Jake chooses not to comment and nods with his lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t know what’s going on between the two of you but has his suspicions after hearing your hushed conversations with Jungwon. Even before the two of you became as close as you are, Jake has always looked out for you because he knows Jungwon loves you like a sister. It was easy to tell that you’d fallen into some sort of depression as you graduated high school and barely managed to pull yourself out of it before graduating university. 

Riki has always been a sore subject for you. Jake doesn’t bring him up unless you do, no matter how much he adores the younger boy. The relationship you have with him is complicated but it tears him up inside to see Riki longing for you when the two of you are together. Jake knows there’s a great deal of tension that follows both of you too. He could feel it the first time you brought up having a half-brother and started to put the pieces together. 

“I love that Riki’s more comfortable in Korea. I really do,” you confess. “I love that my friends get along with him too, but part of me is scared that you’ll all forget about me since he’ll be here to take my place.” 

“You are not replaceable.” Jake looks at you when he says it. “You’re about to chase your dream, Y/N. None of us will throw our friendship down the drain just because we won’t be able to see you everyday. Riki is great but he’s not you.”

He’s pleased when you lift the corners of your mouth into a small smile. “Thanks, Jake. I don’t know where this fear came from.” 

“You’re dealing with a lot. It’s understandable. I don’t know much about what’s going on between you and Riki, and you don’t have to tell me, but you should know that he loves you a lot and would never think about dishonoring you while you’re gone.” 

“I know. I have a lot of pent up emotions and therapy feels like it isn’t working. I guess I should give myself some more time. But with the move, it’s been hard to focus on anything. I don’t want Riki to feel like I don’t want him in my life but it’s hard to make room for somebody you didn’t know existed until a few years ago.” 

Jake nods. “Yeah, I get that. It feels a bit weird making space for someone who calls himself your brother, isn’t it?” 

“He has every right to. I mean, he’s my half-brother. But I don’t know…I want to be at a place where I can look at him and not see how much my life has changed for the worst. He’s such a talented kid with a bright future and I hate that I project my feelings onto him.” 

“Baby steps,” Jake reassures. “You’ve been through a lot of shit. Both you and your mom have and you've both handled it really well.” 

“I’m glad it looks that way because I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread.” 

“Well, that’s what it means to be in your early twenties.”   

The two of you decide to head back to the campsite when it starts to get warmer. You throw your trash in garbage bins before trotting back and see that Sunoo and Jay have left to go back hiking on the trail that you were on earlier in the day. Heeseung seems to fare better with his wound, which you see he’s managed to replace (thanks to Jungwon, no doubt). But his mood seems to worsen when he sees you and Jake walking side by side towards the group. 

“How was the lake?” Jungwon asks, sipping on a cola.

“Pretty,” Jake replies. “There weren’t that many people there so it was a little empty.” 

“We should probably discuss what we want to do for the rest of the day and plan some stuff for later this week. It’ll be a little warmer later in the week so I think we should save that. There’s a great spot where Y/N and I go fishing. We could do that later in the morning.”

“Y/N, fishing?” Heeseung laughs. “I’d pay to see that.”

“What, you don’t think I can fish?” 

He shrugs. “I didn’t know you were a fan of the outdoors. You always had a nose in your textbooks so I thought that was it for you.” 

“Well, Heeseung, it’s not like the two of us know each other well enough to know these types of things.” He doesn’t seem to like that answer. 

“Fishing tomorrow it is!” Jake interjects. 

“I haven’t gone fishing in a long time,” Riki laments. “It’ll be nice to have trout for dinner.” 

“I think Jay brought a lot of seasoning and sides,” Jungwon says to the group. “We can always go to the market a few miles down for anything else.” 

You tune out the rest of the conversation, feeling a bit tired from the walk and the heat that’s starting to make you sweat. You’re eternally grateful that your tent is covered in shade and contemplate on taking a nap when Jungwon waves at you.

“You good, Y/N? You seem a little out of it.” You nod at Jungwon and take a seat next to the closest camp chair. You can feel Heeseung watching you and try not to slip as you sink down into the seat, crossing one of your legs over the other. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just have a lot going on in my head. I think I’m a little tired, too”

Heeseung scoffs quietly. “We’re camping. What could you possibly be thinking about that’s making Jungwon worried?” You curl into yourself as Jungwon chides his friend. 

“I’m moving to Japan soon,” you tell him. You’re not even sure that he knows this about you, figuring that one of your friends would tell him to you at some point. Neither of you communicate with one another unless you absolutely have to. You didn’t see the point in telling him. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, I guess.”

An array of emotions seems to wash over him and, as always, you have a hard time trying to figure out what he’s feeling and thinking. “Oh. So you’ll be out of Korea?”

“Yup.” 

“When are you leaving?” 

“Don’t seem too excited,” Sunghoon says underneath a cough.

“In a couple of weeks. I leave a little after we get back home.” Heeseung merely nods. He doesn’t ask you why you’re moving or what part of Japan you’ll be living in and you don’t offer that information, feeling awkward with the tension ever since you and Jake arrived back at the campsite. Riki finishes eating and stands up to throw his trash away, providing something to look at in order to forget that Heeseung keeps trying to look away from you. 

“Y/N’s gonna be an engineer,” Jungwon brags on your behalf. “She’s taking a year off to work before getting her master’s degree.” 

“Damn,” Riki whistles. “You’re so smart.” You try to hide a smile. 

“What are you gonna be working on?” Sunghoon asks. 

“I’ll be assisting other researchers in software development, particularly for space and aeronautics.” You nod once, feeling tense underneath everyone’s stare. “I don’t know what I’ll be doing specifically but that’s why I’m moving to Okayama.” 

“That’s so cool!” Jake exclaims. Heseung rolls his eyes at his excited outburst and tries to avoid your eye. “You’re gonna be amazing.” 

“I hope so. It’s a great opportunity to work in my chosen field before I decide to continue in this career when I go back to school. I have so many interests within mathematics but this seems like the right place to start.”

“Shit,” Sunghoon says as he slowly claps for dramatic effect. “I knew you were smart but you’re a fucking genius.”

“I wouldn’t say genius–”

“You are, though.” Jungwon smiles at you and gives two thumbs up. “You’re the smartest person I know, dude. This company is lucky to have you.”

“So cool,” Jake says again. He bumps Heeseung’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Isn’t that right, Heseung?” 

“Yeah, totally,” he says carelessly, giving you a half-hearted smile. His mouth doesn’t quite reach his eyes and you refrain from audibly sighing. 

“Don’t you think Y/N was always the smartest person in our year?” Heeseung nods. Jake nudges his friend again. 

“Yes,” Heeseung says with a great amount of venom in his tone. He shakes off Jake’s hand from his body abruptly, causing the younger boy to take a step back in shock. He looks at you and musters an insincere smile when he notices the rest of your friends watching. “Y/N is so smart.” 

His sarcasm deafens your ears and makes your blood feel like it could be boiling beneath your skin. The atmosphere around you changes. Riki and Jungwon try to pretend like everything is normal while Jake and Sunghoon give Heeseung wide eyes as if to tell him to knock it off. You look at your lap, uncomfortable with the silence that washes over. 

“Why’s it so quiet?” Sunoo asks from behind you. The group collectively sighs and you’re all thankful that he and Jay returned from their hike to cut the tension. 

“We were just talking about what we wanted to do for the rest of the day,” Jungwon says before anyone can speak. “Let’s take it easy tonight and go fishing tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Jay takes a seat and takes a big gulp of water. “Let’s heat up some kimchi jjigae for dinner because I don't feel like cooking. Jake’s mom made enough for all of us to have seconds.” 

None of you disagree. Feeling yourself grow more tired the more your friends converse with one another, you manage to catch Jungwon’s eye and nod at him before heading inside the tent. 

***

It’s not unusual for you to wake up with what feels like a heavy heart but you’re having a hard time pushing yourself off of the uncomfortable ground to get ready for the day. Jungwon is asleep beside you with his knee digging into your side but even that isn’t enough to motivate you to leave the tent. 

You mourn the loss of your mom and his parents accompanying you  on this trip. As fun as hanging out with your friends are, having Heeseung constantly avoiding eye contact and muttering things underneath your breath has you feeling more on edge than you anticipated. It always feels like he’s waiting for you to mess up so he can get a word in or wait for the perfect moment to drop a subtle insult that only you can catch. Sunghoon and Jake in particular try their best to restrain him but that doesn’t do much. Eating dinner was awkward and you blamed your quiet nature on sleeping too deeply. 

Finally, you sit up in your spot and rub the sleep out of your eyes. It doesn’t seem like any of the other guys are up and you pull a clock out to read the time. It’s still early and the people around you are still waking up as well. Your movements seem to have woken up Jungwon, who yawns when he opens his eyes.

“Morning,” he croaks. “Did you sleep okay?”

“It was fine. Woke up a few times because of people stepping on twigs, though.”

“Yeah, same. I think Jake got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Woke up to him walking by the tent.” Jungwon sits up and brushes the hair out of his eyes. “I’m so hungry thinking about all the trout we’re about to eat tonight.” 

“If you catch any.” He swats your arm. 

“I alway catch more than you.”

“Nuh-uh. Last year I beat you by two fish.”

“Y/N, I’ve caught more fish than you every year before that.” 

“Shut up.” 

You hear Jungwon laughing as you exit the tent to freshen up at the bathhouse. There are a few people milling about when you walk towards the structure. Your mouth feels a bit grimey from your morning breath and the cold water that hits your face wakes you up immediately. When you turn around after you’ve finished your morning routine, you collide right into Heeseung.

“Watch it.” 

“I didn’t see you. Geez.” Your heart continues thumping as you grip your toiletry bag. Heeseung rolls his eyes and slips past you. Anger rises within you but you decide that it’s not worth getting so worked up over at this hour. 

As time ticks by, the rest of your friend group emerge from their tents and gather around the campfire. You all wait for everyone to wake up and prepare themselves for the day, enjoying a nice breakfast with a cool breeze until you’re all ready to go fishing. You secure the bucket hat Jungwon’s dad gave you until it fits snugly over your head and forego a jacket, only packing the necessities while you wait for everybody else to gather their belongings before you’re all walking to the boathouse. 

The instructors are the same from last year. You and Jungwon make small talk and explain that neither of your parents are here on this trip and you tell them about Japan when they ask you about life after college. Each of your friends introduce themselves and after a quick introduction, they’re leading all eight of you out onto the dock. 

There are enough boats for two pairs of three and one for two people. It seems as though you were too preoccupied talking to the employees because you realize the only boat left is one shared with Heeseung and Riki. 

“Oh,” comes your meek voice in realization as you watch the two step onto the boat.

“You should man the engine,” the employee says as the two men get on before you. “You’re more familiar.”

“I can steer,” Heeseung says. “I’ve done it before.” 

“I’ve watched Y/N steer these boats for a decade, son. You’ll definitely want her to do it.” 

Heeseung relents. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless, 

You step onto the boat. Heeseung sits at the far end while Riki sits in the middle, holding onto the seat as you get your bearings. The three of you wave goodbye to the employees at the dock and you start to drive the boat out into the lake to catch up with the rest of your friends.

The open clearing away from the port is more beautiful than you can describe. With open waters and enough room to roam around, there’s an array of directions to catch the most fish. The water is fairly calm with the exception of the ripples your boat makes. Riki and Heeseung don’t say a word as you steer them towards a clear path with minimal boats and see the other guys scattered around the large body of water. 

Neither of them argue with you about where to go, even though Heeseung is holding himself back. Bitter over having you steer, he knows it’s the logical answer since you know this place like the back of your hand. He instead chooses to bask in the sunlight and welcomes the spray of water on his face and body. The cool splashes are a nice contrast to the warm sunlight. 

When you start to slow the boat down, the water around you becomes still as well. You turn the engine off and wait for the contraption to settle beneath you. The sound of water rippling against itself is enough to make you feel more at ease and you don’t mind it when you see Heeseung start to assemble bait on the fishing poles.

“Why’d you pick this place?” Riki asks.

“I caught a lot of fish here last year. I hope we can catch more this year.”

“More than Jungwon?”

You smile. “Yeah. He and I have this unspoken competition.”

“What’s the prize?”

“There’s not really a prize. It’s just something we do.”

“What’s the point of competing if there’s no prize?” Heeseung interjects. You shrug.

“Dunno. It’s fun for us.” He doesn’t say anything after that. 

It’s quiet for a while. The sound of birds chirping and faint chatter in the background fill the atmosphere but the three of you silently agree to refrain from talking once you’ve all casted your reels. Riki, who is a bit excited to catch some fish, anxiously peers at the water below him every few minutes or so. He pulls back with a pout when he doesn’t feel a tug on his line. The awkward tension somewhat dissipates and you’re able to forget that Heeseung is a few feet away from you. He angles his face towards the water and seems to be in his own bubble as you hold your fishing rod. 

Growing up on this campsite means learning the virtue of patience and willing yourself to become more in tune with your surroundings. It was your father that first taught you that the most important rule to fishing was patience. He’d tell you the fishes could sense urgency and impatience from underneath the water, and therefore they knew not to take your bait. It made sense to you at a young age. Every time you’d be on the water with him, you’d force yourself to slow down and calm your thoughts until the silence felt like a welcomed embrace. 

That mantra of practicing patience seeps into your life now that your dad isn’t in it anymore. Jungwon’s father had volunteered to go fishing with you the first year your own chose not to go on the annual camping trip. Everyone could tell how difficult it was for you and your mother to attend, but despite hardship and the change in dynamics, she didn’t want either of you to lose any semblance of normalcy. You’d argue that was the hardest week of your life. Jungwon, who is usually very organized and detail oriented, chose to let you lead the trip activities between the two of you and didn’t complain once.

The two of you were in high school when your father left and Jungwon swears it was like somebody stole the sun from your eyes. Your studies became the sole focus of your life and even Heeseung was barely at the forefront of your mind anymore. He’d watch you become detached from everything that didn’t have to do with academics and extracurriculars. Focusing on college applications was the most important thing for you back then. 

Of course, Jungwon and all of your friends gave you a bit of space to process new feelings and the change in household. Your father moved away and wasn't living in the house anymore. It started to become an empty shell, where neither you nor your mother could stand eating at the dining table because it brought up unwanted memories. Your dad wasn’t here to help you with homework anymore and you could no longer hear your parents talk outside of your door until you fell asleep. The complete silence startled you. It still does sometimes, but you’ve learned that grief is about facing your hardships until it isn’t so scary anymore. 

These trips are bittersweet every year. Fishing is a reminder of everything you’ve lost. But lately, you’re starting to think about it as everything you could gain and then some.  

“The more you look down, the more the fish are gonna be scared,” you say, breaking the quiet atmosphere. Riki looks at you quizzically. 

“Really?”

“No, but you’re not gonna catch anything faster just by looking down.” His shoulders sag. 

“We’ve been here for so long and nothing has tugged on my line.” 

“Fishing is a game of chance. The fish choose to take your bait if it feels enticed enough.” As if on cue, your fishing rod starts to move. Riki watches you latch onto it while Heeseung turns back when he feels the boat rock underneath him and observes you too. You wrestle with it for a short while before reeling the fish above water and proudly hold it beside you. “Patience is the most important part of fishing. The fish finds you when you least expect it.” Heeseung snorts when you put the fish in the bucket. It takes a great deal out of you not to roll your eyes. 

“You’re so wise,” Riki mutters. 

“I don’t think I’m wise, per se. I just think there’s nothing else you can do when you’re in open water with nothing to distract you.” 

“I’m working on my patience. Moving to Korea made that pretty difficult for me.” 

“Well, you’re moving to a new country. It’s something you’ve never done before, you know? I bet packing was stressful.” 

“I hated every second of it,” he says as he rolls his eyes like you’ve brought out an irritating memory. “I triple checked everything before leaving. I hope I didn’t forget anything back home.” 

“Are you scared to start the semester?”

Riki thinks about it for a second. “Kind of. My Korean is okay, but I still have trouble saying certain words. The culture is different, too. I need to get used to that more. I guess I’m a bit sad that I had to leave my friends and family behind but it’s for the best, isn’t it? I wanted this.” 

You find yourself nodding in agreement. “Yeah. It’s hard to leave everything you know behind.” 

“I cried when I said goodbye to my dance teachers,” Riki admits with a laugh. “I think it was the first time I did that in front of them. We kept bowing to each other until I had to go. It’ll be weird finding a new studio in Seoul but I’m excited about it.” 

“You’re an incredible dancer, Riki. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll thrive here.” 

He tries to hide his blush. “Thanks. I’m happy that I know some people already but it’s not the same, you know?” 

“That’s how I feel about moving to Okayama. I know it’ll only be a year, but it feels like I’ll be there for a lifetime.” 

“Do you ever get scared that everything back home will change?” Heeseung, too, is curious about your answer. 

“Honestly? Yeah. Sometimes it feels like everything’s gonna change completely the second I step on that plane. I feel like everyone will forget me and move on.”

Riki looks back at the water. “I wonder if people back home think of me.” 

“They do.” He looks back at you.

“Everyone here will think about you too.” 

A beat passes between the two of you and you start to see Riki for what he is: a smart, sensitive person who disguises himself as somebody who can mask his feelings. What you learn is that your half-brother wears his heart on his sleeve but is careful about who he gives himself too. It’s something you’ve noticed in the time you’ve known him, but this trip is starting to make you think you two are more alike than not. 

“What about you, Heeseung?” Riki asks, turning to look at the eldest. “What are you gonna be doing now that you graduated?” 

“I, uh, start working at a record label pretty soon.” He clears his throat. Knowing you’re looking at him makes this boat feel smaller all of the sudden. 

“You majored in music production, right?” Heeseung nods. 

“Yeah. I’ve always had an interest in music so I learned how to produce during freshman year and started taking it seriously.”

“I’ll bet your perfect pitch helps you a lot.” Heeseung whips his gaze over to you when you speak and you feel your skin burn. You don’t know if you should’ve contributed to the conversation or not. 

“Sure does,” he says awkwardly, looking at the fishing rod between his legs. Heeseung remains quiet when Riki doesn’t prod him further and looks back at the water in front of him. Even in the forced proximity, you still can’t figure out why he chooses to be avoidant. 

Heeseung, on the other hand, finds that there’s much to contemplate about. His life has barely begun and yet he feels the weight of his future hanging in the balance. He’s just moved into his first apartment and will need to furnish it when he gets back from the camping trip. He’s got a mattress with no bed frame and a single loveseat his parents gave him. Aside from his gaming setup, Heeseung’s one bedroom apartment is completely bare. 

Looking at it makes him worry for his future and being around you. You, someone he’s always assumed had it easy because you were academically gifted, makes Heeseung feel like he’s got to step up his game. He hasn’t liked you ever since high school for reasons he justifies as perfectly valid. But high school was years ago and some of his anger has subsided. All that’s left is a faint annoyance and he'd rather be anywhere than next to you. He only said yes to this trip because of the other people who were going as well. 

He’s kept his feelings simmering beneath the surface and chooses to focus on anything but you when he hears you talk. It’s frustrating enough knowing you share a lot of mutual friends, even worse when some of his best friends are people you consider family. He hates that Jake is comfortable enough to hang out with you without anyone else present and loathes that Sunghoon actively wants to become closer to you after he realized the two of you share the same taste in cinema. He especially despises the fact that Riki looks up to you even though, in Heeseung’s eyes, you’ve done nothing to earn it. 

The young teenager met the eldest of the bunch at a bonfire the third time he came to Korea after your mom had forced you to bring him along. You told him absolutely no alcohol no matter if anyone else was going to be drinking and to say no if your friends offered him a beer. He watched you that night, the way you periodically looked at your half-brother but made a lame attempt to include him in conversation. Riki found fast friends in Sunoo and Jungwon after messing around in the shallow waters of the ocean. Heeseung decided that you didn’t deserve that type of respect from Riki at that moment. 

It’s been years since then and he’s seen the two of you grow, albeit slowly. Even in his blind hatred for your existence, Heeseung has always wondered why Riki vies for your attention. In fact, what is it about you that makes everybody fawn over you? Why do you always seem to be the center of attention? Does nobody care about what you did to him all those years ago?

It keeps him up at night to know that nobody around him understands why he’s so angry at you. Above the root cause, you have everything you could ever want. You were the smartest girl in high school and university, and it was no question about what your future would look like. You’d accepted a job opportunity right after graduating and it seemed as though things were merely handed to you without you working that hard for it. You didn’t have to ask for anything. It always seemed as though people could read your mind and always gave you what you wanted. 

Maybe coming to the camping trip was a mistake. He’s been walking on eggshells around you this entire time and feels like he’s suffocating every time his friends laugh at your jokes. Heeseung bites his tongue when he feels himself getting worked up and finds that nothing can get his mind off of you no matter how hard he tries. 

He wonders if you remember that day all those years ago. He wonders if you know just how hurtful words can be and how awful it is to be on the receiving end of utter despair and desperation. Heeseung has always known you to be somebody who knows exactly what you want, too. Teenage angst never stopped you from pursuing higher education. It seemed like you threw everything you had into academics and everyone rewarding you for it made Heeseung want to crumble. Nobody else thought of you the way he did. 

But this is something he’d rather keep to himself. For as much as he refuses to be your friend, he knows nothing good will ever come out of trying to convince everyone you aren’t someone who they should be friends with. After all, you’ll be working in Okayama and with any luck, you’ll make a permanent residence out of Japan. 

Heeseung is distracted from his thoughts when Riki manages to catch a rather large fish. With your help, he’s able to reel it in and watches the younger boy become awestruck at its sheer size. Heeseung watches you congratulating Riki and celebrates this excitement with him as you put the fish in the bucket for safe keeping. It should warm his heart to see a friend of his so happy, but seeing you smiling next to him makes Heeseung feel all the more irritated. The three of you head back to the dock after another couple of hours and a few more dishes later.

Jungwon catches more fish than you do. All eight of you manage to acquire enough for dinner and breakfast in the morning. Jay and Jake have volunteered to help with cooking while the rest of you prepare side dishes and talk about fishing adventures from your time apart. You smile at the group halfway through the conversation, fondness blooming in your chest when everybody is laughing after having eaten dinner. 

“God, I swear I almost fell into the water trying to wrestle with the trout!” Jake shouts amongst the chaotic laughter. “It felt like I was about to become one with the fish.” 

“I almost pushed his ass into the lake,” Jay snorts. “It was so fucking funny.”

“I’m surprised Sunoo caught the most fish out of all of us.” Jungwon shrugs and bites into his s’more. 

“You’re telling me,” Sunoo replies as he wipes chocolate from his lip. “That’s my quota for this trip, though. Don’t expect me to go fishing again.” 

“I’m not ready for this trip to end,” Riki says with a mixed sigh. “We’ve already been here for a couple of days and it feels like time is going by so fast.” 

“I start that consulting job the Monday we go back and I’m excited for it, but I’m also nervous. It hit me on the way back from the lake.” Jay rubs his face with his hands. “This adult shit is scary, man.”

“Do you guys remember when we were all freshmen and had that awful orientation leader?” Heeseung asks. Those who were in the same year as him nod. “That felt like just yesterday and now we’re about to be real adults.”

“Jay’s going to become a financial consultant, you’re working at a record label, Sunghoon’s going to open up his own cafe someday, and I’m about to start a fellowship at a research lab.” Jake shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “Not to mention Y/N’s moving to Japan for work. If you told me four years ago we would talk about the future like this, I would’ve laughed.” 

“It feels a bit weird knowing we aren’t going back to school.” Sunghoon looks at the younger boys and laughs. “Well, sorry to you guys.” 

Sunoo speaks up with a pout. “It’ll be weird not seeing you guys around campus. I’ll miss running into you on my way to class.” 

“Sometimes I wish we could stay in college forever.” Jay reaches over and picks out another marshmallow to put on his stick. “It sucked ass but it was nice living close to you guys.”

“I’m scared to go out there alone.” You tug at the zipper on your jacket and stare at your hands. “I feel like I’m going to mess everything up and fail. I’ll come home and have nothing to show for myself.” 

“Couldn’t have said it any better.” Sunghoon finishes off his s’more and wipes the crumbs off of his lap. “I wish everything was simple and easy. We really had it good back then, didn’t we?”

“Don’t get too caught up in growing up too fast,” Jake says as he pinches Riki’s cheeks for dramatic effect. The latter tries to dodge his touch but fails. He points to Jungwon and Sunoo. “You guys need to make every minute count.”

Jungwon laughs. “You sound like a Hallmark card.”

“Yeah, but one day you’ll be saying the same thing. You’ll go back to campus and you won’t see us walking around.” Jungwon remains quiet after that. 

“You’ll all be fine.” Sunoo nods once and it feels like he’s smiling at everyone individually through the fire. “Life is scary but there’s a reason why we believe in you.”

Jay nudges Sunoo with his knee. “Since when did you get so wise?”

“You could learn a thing or two from me.”

The tension dissipates. Everyone finishes up their desserts and helps tidy up the campsite. Jake and Sunghoon put out the fire while the rest of you put the chairs away and throw out any leftover trash in the nearby garbage bin. One by one, the eight of you start to grow sleepier as time ticks by. You all let your younger friends wash up first as you stifle yawns and prepare your makeshift bedding while you wait. 

It feels like forever to wait with Heeseung close to you. Everybody else bids you goodnight as you brush your teeth in the wash station and rinse your face of dirt and debris from earlier in the day. Heeseung is standing just a few feet away as he waits for you to finish up but knowing he’s watching you makes your heart rate increase. Your hands tremble as you turn the faucet off and it’s just your luck that you trip over yourself and hold onto Heeseung when you turn around to exit the washroom. 

“Watch where you’re going, Y/N,” Heeseung snaps. He shrugs your hands off of him and pushes you away from his body. 

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” If Heeseung is surprised by your sudden outburst, he doesn’t show it. Your typically calm, non-confrontational demeanor is nowhere to be seen. 

“Why can’t you walk properly?” he mocks. 

“You have been so passive aggressive towards me this entire trip. Hell, you’ve been that way since we were in high school. What the fuck is your deal and why can’t you man up and tell me why you hate me so much?” 

His expression sours. “You have some nerve asking me that.” 

“Why?! You won’t tell me what your deal is and I can’t fix it if you don’t communicate that with me. We have so many mutual friends who want us to get along and it’s fine if we’ll never be friends, but really, Heeseung, you’re acting like a child.” 

Heeseung’s nostrils flare and it feels demeaning the way he has to look you down in order to meet your eyes. The twinge in your heart flares when he makes no effort to talk to you further. The tension in his shoulders rises and falls with every second that passes by and you’re starting to wonder if there’s any way you can leave the trip early. 

He doesn’t say anything, though. Heeseung pulls away from you and enters the washroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the sound of water running. Years of pushing aside your feelings for the greater good of preserving the peace feels like they’re suffocating you with every step you take as you talk back to your tent. The cold chill of the night bristles through your hair and your watery eyes make you stumble before unzipping your makeshift bedroom. 

“Y/N?” Jungwon asks, half-asleep. He sees you wipe your eyes as you turn away from him and put away your dirty clothes and toiletries. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” 

He pushes himself up and hears the clip in your tone. With his eyes softening, Jungwon gently touches your shoulder and realizes that your eyes are red before you shut your flashlight off. “Come here.” 

It’s somewhere between a command and a plea. Jungwon doesn’t force you to speak as he pulls your body into his. He doesn’t care that your tears are falling onto his arm and he doesn’t mind that you’ve settled your weight onto his chest. Your silent hiccups make his heart lurch and the best he can do is let you cling onto him in your time of need. 

You don’t get like this often. The last time he remembers you letting him hold you like this was a few days after your parents’ divorce had been finalized. The tangerine-shaped pillow you had was the only thing keeping Jungwon’s back from aching as you spent what felt like hours sobbing between his arms, dirtying his shirt with your hot tears. His heart broke back then, too. He’s not used to seeing you without a smile on your face and every crack in your demeanor lets him know you’re a dam that’s about to burst. 

It can’t be easy to live knowing your father willingly left and chose to leave you behind. Nearly two decades of saying ‘I love you’ and championing his only daughter to be the best version of herself felt like it was all for naught the night he told you he wouldn’t be living with you anymore. You could barely stand watching him pack his belongings and take everything valuable with him. You were unusually quiet during this period of time, too scared to make a sound and make things worse than they already were. 

Jungwon knows you keep your heart locked away in a cage these days. Your friends know you like the back of their hands but it’s been getting harder and harder to coax you out of your shell. He knows it hasn’t been easy with Heeseung within your main friend group and wishes he could do more to quell your anxieties about spending time with him, even if your other friends are there to shield you from his silent torment. 

Your best friend softens a bit when you cling onto his arm, holding him like he’s your lifeline. He pushes his fingers through your hair the way he’s seen your mom do countless times and rocks your body back and forth until you’ve started to calm down. He hears your shallow breaths and holds onto you for the fear that you’ll think he doesn’t want to comfort you if he lets you go. 

“Sorry.” Your voice is brittle and it makes his heart break. 

“You never have to be sorry, Bug. Are you okay?” You shake your head. “Is it something one of us did?” You nod. “Was it Heeseung?” He hates that you start to tear up again. “I’m sorry, Bug. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand why he doesn’t like me,” you hiccup. “I don’t know what I did. How can I apologize when I don’t know what I’ve done?” 

Jungwon sighs. He’s with you on this one. “You’re right. I don’t know what’s gotten into him recently but I’m fed up with it too.” 

“We don’t need to be friends but I want him to stop pretending like I ruined his life.” Your best friend nods against you and pushes his cheek against the crown of your head. “Sorry that I woke you up. I feel like a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Bug. You’ve been tied together with a smile for so long. It’s only natural that you break down every once in a while.”

“You’re very smart, Wonnie.” 

He laughs. “I know. Do you want to cry some more or go to sleep?” Jungwon’s tone lacks any humor tonight. He’s concerned about you in a way that makes you feel like a porcelain doll and while you appreciate it when he pokes fun at you to show how comfortable he is with you, this feels just as nice. 

“I’m ready to sleep.” 

You pull away from him and settle in your sleeping bag, welcoming the calmness that washes over you. Jungwon chooses to stay up just a smidge longer until he’s certain that you’re asleep before he closes his eyes, wishing for better days ahead of you.

***

The trees always seemed taller when you were younger. They stretched for miles and touched the sky from your point of view, almost as if they  could reach the heavens above. You always wondered what it must be like to have lived as long as nature around you. The leaves and branches see all walks of life, from humans to animals, and keep many secrets hidden underneath its shaded areas. It almost feels like they whisper stories back to you when the wind shakes the weakest branches. You always try to listen. 

When you find yourself hiking on another path around the lake, it becomes easier for you to clear your mind and think about all that lies before you. The sounds of birds chirping amongst the blue sky make the environment around you seem picturesque. In all of your ears camping here, you don’t think you’ve ever appreciated it the way you are at this very moment. 

Your friends are scattered in front and behind you, each of them wrapped up in their own conversations. You can feel Jungwon look at you periodically but you silently let him know that you’re doing alright. He worries about you a lot and he has every reason to. Sometimes, you wonder if any part of you is holding him back because he spends so much time looking after you. It used to be the other way around with you watching after him at playgrounds and on your walk home from school. But with your father leaving as soon as you started trying to figure out who you were, it was like a switch had flipped. 

Your best friend has had a few girlfriends here and there but none of them ever lasted long. He reminds you that he’s young and isn’t looking for a life partner at this stage in his life, but you know he worries about you ever since the news of your dad leaving and Riki entering your life turned your world upside down. You wonder if you’re causing him too much stress. 

He always reminds you that you’re the reason he has so many people that he loves. You introduced him to the majority of your friends on this camping trip. You were the one who introduced him to his first girlfriend and why he finds so much hope in all of the small things. Jungwon admires your resilience and ability to stand on your feet after you’ve been knocked to the ground by an unseen force. Your tenacity pushes him to be a better person towards others and to himself, and he’ll remind you every chance he gets. Jungwon believes that you’re okay for now. You know he’ll be there to pick up the pieces if you need him to.

It brings you back to your future and how Jungwon won’t be physically present when you move to Japan. You’ve spent so much time with him and it made you happy when he was accepted into his bachelor program at your university. The two of you have always been close, whether it was because neither of you had siblings and found solace in each another or because of forced proximity from being neighbors, you don’t know. It feels like you’ll be saying goodbye to somebody who you’ve always leaned on. It feels like you’re leaving him the way your dad left you. 

Dealing with the overwhelming guilt of moving to Okayama, the city your father moved to when he left you and your mom, digs a hole deep inside of your chest every time you think about it. It’s probably why you push off discussions about moving whenever you can and change the subject when other people bring it up. You try not to get too irritated whenever your mom talks to you about packing and everything else that’s important when settling in a new country, like a work visa or financial burdens. But every conversation with her about your eventual move feels like a million needles are slowly pricking your skin. Every step feels heavier than the next. 

There’s Heeseung, too, who has been plaguing your mind ever since you awoke. It’s not unlike him to be cold towards you. In fact, you’ve dealt with tuning him out and learned to ignore his quiet scoffs, paying attention to anyone who would give you some of their attention. The accumulation of life stress and the inevitable move has made it so your heart rate can’t seem to be still at any time in the day. Heeseung doesn’t make it any better by snapping at you for treading carefully. This feeling reminds you of the time you tiptoed around your father when you found out about his infidelity being the reason why he chose to leave you and your mother for Okayama. It feels like anticipating a bomb going off. It’s never a matter of if, but when. 

You don’t remember when things changed but you remember it was abrupt and unannounced. One day, the two of you were laughing with bologna sandwiches for lunch and the next, Heeseung was ignoring you like the two of you had never been friends. His stare was just as cold as his tone when speaking. You could never catch his eye when you were with your group of friends and he refused to be alone with you. The hurt that came with his actions felt like a punch in the gut with all you were dealing with back home. 

The reason why it was easy to tune out his friendship was purely because of prioritization. Dealing with empty rooms and the house feeling like a ghost was haunting the walls was by far a greater sadness than losing a friend. But even so, seeing Heeseung laugh with your friends and watching him excel in everything you used to support him in made you feel like you were being left behind. It hurt to attend his basketball games because he no longer looked for your eyes in the stands. He didn’t acknowledge you when your group of friends would head to the nearby diner for a celebratory meal, and he didn’t call you to say goodnight and to thank you for coming to his games and open practices anymore. 

The ghost of your friendship lingered over you like an unwanted guest. It followed you into university after you committed to the same one and it seemed like neither of you could escape one another. Seeing him live a life that you weren’t a part of made your reality sink in–the few years he spent distancing himself from you wasn’t merely a fluke or teenage angst. Heeseung wanted nothing to do with you. You had to learn how to be okay with that. 

Still, you wish you were as tall as the trees around you. Maybe then Heeseung would tell you why he didn’t like you anymore. 

“Y/N, watch out!” 

The warning nearly comes too late. You don’t register a hissing sound until you see a reflection of scales and stumble backwards into somebody who seems to be caught off guard as much as you are. Jake’s warning saved you from a nasty bite from a snake that has slithered away back between the trees but your heart stammers in your chest as you curl yourself further deeper into the person behind you. 

You hate snakes. You’re petrified of them 

Heeseung, to his misfortune, is the person you’ve bumped into. He saw the snake just before Jake said his warning and felt his body freeze in the way yours didn’t. He didn’t have time to move aside and let Sunoo, who he was talking to, move to grab your body and pull you out of harm’s way. He feels your beating chest against his and looks down at you. Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever seen you like this before. It makes his stomach fall. 

“Y/N is really scared of snakes,” Jungwon says as he walks up to the two of you, offering a quick explanation before Heeseung could say anything about you clinging onto him. “She got bit by one as a kid and it scared her pretty bad.” Heeseung doesn’t push you away. Instead, he lets Jungwon pry you off of his body until you’re able to blink and come to your senses. 

“Sorry.” You throw an apology his way when Jungwon rubs your back. The rest of your friends, who seem to know about your fear, try to give you some space instead of crowding around you. A part of him wants to scoff. The other part of him feels bad for you. It almost makes him feel guilty for being so short with you last night.

“We’re almost at the end of the trail anyway,” Jungwon says. “Let’s finish it and get some lunch.” 

When you all arrive back at the campsite, Jake pulls your water bottle out of your backpack and stands with you while Jungwon lets you stand right beside him in an attempt to calm yourself down. Jay and Sunghoon, not wanting to impede and make things uncomfortable, decide to go on another short hike and let you rest. The sight is a bit unnerving for Heeseung, who has generally only ever thought of you as this self righteous, confident person, to see you in such a state of shock that you could barely look him in the eye like you did the night before. He’s used to you avoiding and ignoring him but he isn’t accustomed to you scurrying away from anything or anyone. 

He’s a bit confused as to why he feels a little guilty for how he spoke to you last night. You were his friend before he decided you weren’t and that feeling of concern is starting to creep back in. Heeseung watches the way you flinch when Jake tries to rub your shoulder and how Jungwon is the only person who seems to know how to get you to relax after the snake incident. 

“Is she really that scared of snakes?” Heeseung asks Sunoo, who stands away from you to give you space. He pretends to be busy picking at his nails to let you have peace and not make you feel overcrowded with two of your friends already by your side. 

“If I tell you, are you going to use that against her?” Sunoo doesn’t typically question Heeseung like this. It startles him but he shakes his head anyway. 

“No,” says Heeseung. “I’m not. I’ve never seen her act like that.”

Sunoo must think the elder is telling the truth. “When Y/N was very young, a snake bit her ankle when her parents weren’t looking. She got scared and tripped over a rock or something, and her entire leg started to bleed and got a pretty bad gash from it. They rushed her to the emergency room and panicked because her leg was covered in blood.”

“That’s it?”

Sunoo glares at Heeseung. “It might not seem like a big deal to you, but that kind of stuff leaves an impression on you when you’re a kid, Heeseung. She’s been pretty terrified of snakes and blood ever since.” 

“Huh. I never knew that.”

“Don’t go barking up that tree. It’s bad enough that you hate her for no good reason.” 

Heeseung looks at Sunoo quizzically when he hears his friend’s harsh tone. “What’s the matter with you?” 

Sunoo scoffs. “Me? What’s the matter with you? I heard you and Y/N last night. You were an ass to her. She’s right, too. How can she apologize for hurting you if you never talk about what she did? 

“Sunoo–”

“Save it, Heeseung.” He straightens his posture. “You’re my friend and I love you, but you’ve been really harsh on Y/N for the past few years. I thought the two of you drifted apart but you clearly have a vendetta against her.”

“I do not have a vendetta against Y/N.”  

“Sure. Whatever you say. Just remember that Y/N’s the reason why you’re on this trip. One veto from her and Jungwon would’ve kicked your ass to the curb. You’re lucky she doesn’t say this shit to anyone.” 

Heeseung looks at his shoes, feeling the heat in his body creep up his neck. He knows Sunoo’s somewhat right. You’re half the reason why this trip exists at all. Even if Jungwon brought the friend group along, it’s you who this campaign tradition belongs to as well. Heeseung bites his tongue and tries his best not to argue with Sunoo. Deep down, the elder knows that he’s been a bit harsh to you and sometimes finds himself regretting the venom he aims directly at you. But then he remembers that incident from all those years ago and feels his anger bubble up inside of him. He pulls his friend away so that none of you hear him. 

“I have a reason not to like her okay?” Heeseung whispers through his teeth. 

“What reason could you possibly have that justifies how shitty you’ve been?”

Heeseung looks around like he’s afraid someone’s listening in. “Second semester, sophomore year of high school. You and Jake were with me doing homework right outside the front gate. We were waiting for my brother to pick us up from school when Y/N told Kim Chaewon that I would never amount to anything because I didn’t have any talent and had to flirt with girls to get them to listen to my music.”

Sunoo looks at Heeseung like he’s sprouted a second head, who looks at the younger boy like he’s waiting for confirmation or validation of sorts with his eyebrows raised as if expecting a certain outcome. Instead, Sunoo slaps him on the back of his head with his palm and scowls. 

“You are so stupid, Heeseung.”

“What the fuck did I do?!” Heeseung soothes the spot where Sunoo hit him. “It was messed up for her to say that. Why are you calling me stupid?”

“Y/N didn’t say that about you. Chaewon did.” 

Heeseung’s eyes grow comically wide. “I know what I heard.” 

“No, you don’t. I remember the moment you’re talking about. You left so fast and didn’t stop when Jake and I called out for you. Chaewon couldn't get another word out because Y/N tore her a new one. Why do you think they aren’t friends anymore?” 

“Well…Because Y/N said that about me. Chaewon was my friend, too.” 

Sunoo shakes his head. “Chaewon said that about you. Not Y/N.”

“That’s not possible…”

“How would you know? You weren’t there. You left before you could hear the full argument.” 

“Sunoo,” Heeseung says, voice quivering from a mixture of guilt and embarrassment. “Please tell me that’s not true.” 

“Do you know how stupid you look knowing you blew off Y/N, the person who defended you, and still talked to Chaewon?” Sunoo shakes his head at Heeseung. “You ended your longest friendship over a misunderstanding and then got closer with the person who actually said those things about you. Imagine how Y/N must’ve felt.” 

Heeseung’s mind starts to recount the days after your argument with Chaewon and how he’d gone out of his way to ignore you in the aftermath. He never gave you an explanation about his absence and why he pulled away, citing that incident as the reason why you didn’t deserve to know in the first place. He thinks about Chaewon and how he didn’t think twice about it because his mind had already been made up. He was still friends with Chaewon, taking pictures with her at parties and talking to her whenever their friend groups hung out together. Not once did he spare a glance to you. 

As his mind starts to wander into nostalgic territory, Heeseung feels his stomach plummet. The sudden urge to rectify his actions overwhelms him and he’s fighting tooth and nail not to cry on the spot. 

When he looks at you now, quiet and hidden within your shared friends, Heeseung can’t help but feel a bit guilty. He suddenly remembers the few moments where you showed a vulnerable side of yourself and allowed him to see you cry after a bad grade or when your middle school friends were being mean towards you. Heeseung recalls all the times he’s ever thought of you as somebody who puts on a brave face and stands back up after feeling the weight of the world crush you to the ground. He thinks about all of the times he’s ever made you feel insignificant to him and feels pins and needles in his footsteps. Heeseung finds himself walking towards you as he’s contemplating his feelings and Jungwon guards you, pushing you behind him. 

“Hey,” Heeseung says awkwardly. He tries to peek at you but doesn’t like seeing you look so helpless. Pathetically, he offers a meek apology. “Sorry about the snake.” 

“It’s fine. Sorry I grabbed you.” For the first time in a long time, Heeseung doesn’t feel annoyed by the thought of you latching onto him. 

“It’s okay. I, uh…wanted to know if you were fine.” Heeseung clears his throat. “Is there anything I can do?” His unfamiliar kindness confuses you and it confuses Jungwon too.

“You know, maybe it would be a good idea if you left the campsite for a while,” Jake suggests from beside Heeseung. “You’re a bit shaken up and you could probably use a change of scenery.” 

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Jungwon agrees. “You could leave for a few hours and come back once you’ve calmed down, Bug.” 

You pick at your fingernails. “I feel so stupid for being so scared.”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N.” Jake tilts his head and looks at you with a pout. “It’s something you’re scared of and with good reason. I would’ve been scared shitless if it was closer to me.”

“You could go into town and get some ice cream,” says Jungwon. “You should go to the beach by the highway for a little bit and get your mind off of it.” 

“I-I don’t really want to go alone.”

Heeseung speaks before he can even think about what he’s saying.

“I’ll go with you.” Jungwon and Jake whip their head to their friend. 

“Heeseung–”

“I can drive us,” he says, mouth moving faster than his brain. “I won’t say anything, I swear. I’ll take her to the beach and ice cream if she wants to.” 

Jungwon hesitantly looks at Heeseung. “Are…Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” He lies straight through his teeth. He doesn’t know if he can sit with you when his whole life has been turned upside down. But it’s too late to backtrack. “I’ve been feeling a little restless here anyway.” 

“I don’t know…”

“Jay isn’t here and he has his keys.” Jake looks at you and nudges your shoulder. “What do you want to do, Y/N?” 

You look up at Heeseung for the first time and he sucks in a breath. It’s like you’re devoid of yourself, fear and anxiety clouding your eyes like you’re petrified to even speak. He watches you lick your lips slowly as if contemplating carefully. “I want to go.”

“Bug, you don’t have to.”

“I know, Wonnie.” You touch his arm and he relents. “I think I need to leave for a little bit and calm down. I should walk on the beach, or something.”

“I can come with you guys.” Riki, who has been silent during this ordeal, speaks up and appears to the other side of Heeseung. “I saw the beach just before we got here. It looks pretty.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Jake nods, looking at you. He softens his tone. “Would that be alright with you?” 

You hum .”Mhm. Yeah, that’s fine. Let me get my wallet.” 

When you leave for your tent, Jungwon looks at Heeseung and stares at him with an expression he can’t read. The silence is deafening and he awkwardly coughs, looking away from his younger friend. 

“Don’t fuck this up,” says Jungwon with a clipped tone. “You’ve been a dipshit and she’s been putting up with it for the sake of everybody else. The last thing she needs is for you to make fun of her and make her feel even worse than she already does.” 

“I won’t, Jungwon. I swear.” 

“I’m choosing to trust you because you’re my friend too, despite everything you feel towards Y/N.” He nods at Riki. “You, keep an eye out for them.”

“I won’t do or say anything,” Heeseung promises for a second time. You come back a moment later, oblivious to the tension. 

“Be safe, yeah?” Heeseung hears the change in Jungwon’s tone when talking to you. “Call me if you need anything. Your phone’s charged from the portable, right?”

“Yeah.” You hold up your phone to show him. “I’ll let you know when we’re coming back.” 

The beach itself is nestled towards the end of the highway where the sand meets the trees. The small shops around it bring a sense of nostalgia, especially when Heeseung parks in front of a large, tattered orange sign that says “ICE CREAM SOLD HERE.” The three of you walk inside and Heeseung watches you look over the flavors. 

“They change the flavors all the time based on the season,” you say absentmindedly. The three of you are the only customers and he figures the employee must be in the back. 

It’s a bit strange to be spending time with you apart from everybody else. Even though Riki’s accompanying the two of you, he hasn't been alone with you like this in years. You seem to be doing a little better with distance put between you and the campsite. Heeseung hopes the drive wasn’t too terrible. His knuckles turned white with the grip he had on the steering wheel, too afraid to look into the rearview mirror for the fear of catching your eye. He wonders if you’d be able to read his mind in the way you once did. 

You make small talk with the owner of the shop who recognizes you before ordering. Riki and Heeseung follow too, the youngest trying a few flavors before settling on one. You go to pay for your own until Riki pulls out his wallet and pays for the both of you. Heeseung watches the two of you argue before the owner accepts Riki’s card. He’s pulled out of his thoughts before paying for his own cup. 

The beach is right next door and the three of you leave your shoes inside Heeseung’s trunk before stepping onto the warm sand. The sun’s high in the sky and Heeseung’s grateful that he chose to put on extra sunblock before leaving his tent. Riki follows you towards the water. He chooses to stay behind and give you both space even though his heart is telling him not to. 

Heeseung has always believed in telling the truth because it’ll always see the light at the end of the day. He’s a fan of honesty and it’s something he values in all of his friends. He thought he’d found that in you ever since the day the two of you started becoming friends and felt his world shatter around him when he thought you were making fun of his aspirations to become a music producer. You’d spent countless hours in his bedroom with him as he learned how to use proper equipment and went so far as to buy him a few things here and there disguised as birthday and Christmas gifts. You spent so much time listening to him grow as a musician in the comfort of his bedroom. The thought that you were pretending to care about him made Heeseung feel sick to his stomach. It wasn't hard for him to cut you off when he thought you betrayed him.

But now, life feels like it’s at a stand still. You stand before him and Heeseung’s throat closes up like he’s lost the ability to breathe. You might not even know that you’re the reason for his inner turmoil. You probably don’t care. Why would you when he’s pushed you so far from arm’s length? Heeseung sighs to himself and replays every single interaction he’s ever had with you after deciding to cut you out of his life. The guilt piles up on him before he can stop it from stacking until it eventually makes his skin feel like it’s been set on fire. He’ll have to sit with the fact that he’s made you out to be a cruel, terrible friend instead of the person who would defend him to hell and back.

What must you think of him now? For a long time, it took Heeseung great strength to push you into the far corners of his mind and stop seeking you out whenever you were near him. He trained himself to look away from you, the weight of your alleged words playing in the back of his mind whenever he felt the urge to talk to you like old times. Heeseung stopped communicating with you altogether, unfollowing you on all of your social media and physically removing you out of his life so he wouldn’t have to see your face when he least expected it. 

But now it feels like the last six years of his life have been a lie. He’s been living in his own world, wrapped up in a delusion that only he was able to clearly see. The memory was too painful to say out loud let alone tell a soul. Heeseung kept his heart guarded and offered a brief explanation whenever your mutual friends asked why the two of you weren’t close anymore and he’d shut you down if you tried to talk to him until your efforts ceased. 

When he looks at you now, all he feels is regret. 

Riki walks back towards Heeseung, who’s perched on a bench right on the sand. His ice cream is discarded in the nearby trash can and Riki eats whatever’s left in his cup before tossing it away. The two of them sit in silence. Riki basks in the salt air and relishes in the sound of birds chirping and waves crashing onto the shore. Heeseung can only hear his heart beating in his ears. 

“She’s doing okay,” Riki says, breaking the silence. “I think her shock and adrenaline are wearing off.” 

“Good,” Heeseung nods. “That’s really good.” 

“I could tell she wanted to be left alone after a little while. I hope she’ll be fine when we go back.” 

“I’m sure she will be.” 

Riki nods and looks back at you. “Have you ever seen her get like that?” 

“Maybe once or twice. We stopped being close in high school.” 

“Oh, yeah. Right.” 

“But she always bounced back,” Heeseung adds quickly. “Like you said, she’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t even know she was scared of snakes.” 

Heeseung laughs. “Me either.” The silence permeates until Heeseung speaks again. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Since when have you ever asked me if you could ask me something?” 

“Fair point.” Heeseung rubs his palms against his thighs. “I don’t really know where to start.”

“The beginning is usually the best place.” 

“You know how I feel about Y/N. How I felt about her. I told you so many times to stop expecting people to treat you the way you want to be treated if they didn’t put in the effort to make you feel welcomed.” Heeseung looks at the younger boy. “Why did you keep defending?” 

“Are you asking me because you’re worried about Y/N or because you have some weird thing with her?” 

“I’m asking because I’m starting to think I was wrong about her.” Riki must think Heeseung is telling the truth because he nods after a moment. 

“How much do you know about Y/N’s family life?”

“I know she has a mom and that Jungwon’s parents are like her own. I also know her parents got divorced and that her dad left just before she graduated high school.” 

“Right.” Riki coughs nervously. “How much do you know about our relationship?” 

“You two are half-siblings.” 

“That’s all?” 

Heeseung shrugs. “I never questioned it.” 

“Okay, yeah. That makes sense.” Riki looks down at his lap like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “I don’t really know if this is my place to say it but I want you to know so you can stop thinking Y/N’s the Devil.” 

“I don’t think she’s the Devil.” 

Riki chuckles. “Sure. To put it simply, she's my half-sister because her dad cheated on her mom with mine. He’d go on business trips to Japan a few times a year and they hit it off after they met. One thing led to another and they started meeting up whenever he was back in town. 

“They had me a year after they first started their affair and I guess he was able to keep his life in Japan a secret until Y/N found pictures on her dad’s laptop. She saw pictures of us on vacations when her dad was supposed to be on work trips. I think she told her mom about it and that’s around the time I found out he had another family too.” 

“What was going through your head back then?” 

“Well, my mom told me my dad had to live in Korea for work. I believed it until I was seven, maybe? I’d always ask her questions as I got older but she either brushed me off or told me things that didn’t add up. He’d come more frequently the older I got. We didn’t talk on the phone much when he was over in Korea, though, so seeing him in person used to be extra special. 

“Then I found out that he had an affair because he came to live with us full time when I was twelve. My mom told me everything when he moved in and I felt like my entire life was a lie. I couldn’t look at either of them the same.” 

“Wow…I can’t imagine going through that.” Heeseung’s words hang in the air. 

“Yeah. It was hard. I hated Y/N for a while. I hated that she got to see my dad more than I did when I found out. My friends used to make fun of me because he wasn’t around for my dance competitions and showcases. I always defended him and said he was working in Korea to make a better life for us. It’s what I believed at the time.” 

“And your mom let you believe all of that?”

Riki shrugs. “I guess so. She hated Y/N and her mom. She always talked down on them when my dad moved in and I felt that my anger was justified too. My mom hated the fact that my dad still wanted to keep Y/N in his life and wouldn’t fully abandon her the way he did hid with his ex-wife. Some of his paycheck would go towards Y/N’s college fund and my mom tried everything in her power to stop him from giving her money but he gave her an ultimatum, so she stopped complaining. 

“He took me to Korea once. I was fourteen, I think. I met my dad’s parents and we stayed with them for a while. I don’t know why he took me there since I could barely speak the language but he said he wanted me to get to know where he grew up and integrate myself in the culture since he was trying to be a present father. That was the first time I met Y/N. I had my mind made up and decided I hated her the first time I saw her. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen. I hated that she looked just like me. 

“When we met for the first time, we didn’t really get along. Both of us didn’t talk and our dad tried so hard to form a bond between us but it didn’t work. I didn’t want anything to do with her because all I could think about was how she got to spend so much time with him while I only got to see him for a week or so a few times a year.” 

“What made you change your mind?” Heeseung asks. 

“When we got back to Japan, my mom kept saying all of these mean things about Y/N and her family,” Riki continues. “I wasn’t her biggest fan but the stuff she was saying was cruel and untrue. I knew it was pure jealousy and realized that my mom helped break up a perfectly good family. I mean, I knew it was my dad’s fault for cheating on his wife and leaving Y/N also, but coming to that realization made me think about how Y/N must’ve felt when she found out.”

“Wow…I didn’t know any of this.”

“As far as I can tell, Jungwon’s the only person she’s told.” Riki sighs and pushes his fingers through his hair. “Anyway, at that point, neither one of us cared to keep the relationship going. I didn’t call her and she didn’t call me. But the more my parents started living their lives like they hadn’t made two people fall apart, the more I started to feel sorry for Y/N. I can’t imagine finding out your dad cheated on your mom and then willingly left you for another family. Our dad brought me back to Korea a few times after that for winter and summer breaks to stay with his parents. He said he wanted me to experience life abroad. He’d bring me to family events and I always felt so out of place.”

“Wait, seriously?” Heeseung asks in disbelief. 

“Yeah, if you can believe it. I felt so guilty coming to these things. It was actually Y/N’s mom who told her to start being more open to me. I can’t explain how awful I felt when I realized she was making an effort to include me even though I was someone from her ex-husband’s affair. When my dad was trying to get back in everyone’s good graces, Y/N’s mom was making sure I had enough food and water.

“I slowly started to realize that Y/N was hurting too. She had everything I wanted but it felt like I was the one who took that away from her. I thought, maybe if my mom wasn’t pregnant with me, her dad would’ve never continued the affair and she would’ve never found out he cheated.”

“That’s why you defend her, isn’t it? Even when I thought she was being unfair?” 

Riki laughs. “Yeah, man. I’ve known about her longer than she’s known me and I’ve known about the affair longer than she has. I’ve had more time to get used to it. I don’t blame her for pushing me away. If I found out I had a half-sibling because my dad cheated on my mom, I think I’d react the same way.” Heeseung’s heart feels much heavier than it did prior to this conversation. “We’ve been getting better. She texts me first every now and then and she keeps up with my dancing stuff. It’s not like we’re total strangers anymore. I mean, she likes me enough to let me be friends with you guys. It’ll just take some time.”

“Do you want her to be in your life? And do you want to be in hers?” 

Heeseung watches Riki nod without a second doubt. “Absolutely. I love Y/N now. She’s my sister even if she only thinks of me as her half-brother. I know we’ve had it rough in the past but she looks out for me. Y/N’s smart and confident in all the ways I wish I could be. I love listening to her talk and I love learning new things about her. I always wished for a sibling and even though this isn’t how I imagined it going, I’m happy.” 

The two of them sit in another round of silence. Heeseung does his best to process everything Riki has just told him but it feels like there’s too much information for him to digest all at once. He never knew any of this about you, too caught up in his own feelings about the misunderstanding. While he was giving you the cold shoulder, you were crumbling apart because your dad left for another family. If he knew any of this back then, Heeseung thinks he would be sympathetic. But he can’t turn back the clock. He watches you stand by the water with your empty ice cream up in your hands and wonders what you’re thinking about. 

“Wait,” Heeseung says, cutting the silence for the umpteenth time. “You’re from Okayama.” Riki nods. “You’ve lived in Okayama until you moved here.” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” 

“And Y/N’s moving to Okayama for work.” Riki nods solemnly. “You’re telling me Y/N’s moving to the city your dad moved to when he left her?” The younger boy nods again. “Shit.”

“With everything going on in her life, I don’t expect her to have it all figured out. Sure, it hurt when she didn’t want to spend time with me but I don’t think I can really be mad at her when this is how her life is. Okayama is a big city but the world is pretty small.”

“That’s fucked up. That’s really, really fucked up.” 

“I’m pretty sure she’s scared about running into our dad. Lord knows I came to study in Korea because I didn’t want to be around him anymore,” Riki scoffs. “I know that I have my own shit to deal with and that I’ll probably need to find a therapist when I start school but for now, I’ll focus on Y/N. I’m happy she let me come on this trip because I know how much camping with Jungwon means to her. I can somewhat empathize with her about moving to a place that didn’t feel like home because of your dad.” 

Heeseung looks at Riki and doesn’t expect him to look as tranquil as he does, but he looks at you like you’re the person giving him this grace and maturity. “Fuck, Riki. I’m really sorry that you had to deal with this. Do the other guys besides Jungwon know?”

“Not as much as you do, they just know something happened with my parents and that’s why I don’t want to go back to Okayama. I don’t think Y/N’s told anybody else, so please don’t tell her you know.”

“I won’t,” Heeseung promises. “I swear on it.” 

“Good. I trust you and you’ve been a good friend to me.” 

“Sorry for giving you a hard time about her too.” 

“It’s fine now. Just…promise me you won’t be so harsh on her. She’s been through a lot and I can tell she’s really not happy about the move even though the job opportunity is really good for her career.” 

“Of course.” 

You walk back towards them and the two boys stand up and pretend as if they weren’t speaking in depth about you. Heeseung, for the first time, smiles at you without restraint and it makes you feel confused as you shake off the sand and head back into his car. 

On the entire drive back to the campsite, Heeseung lets Riki control the music and thinks about their previous conversation. He had no idea this is what you were dealing with and always thought you stopped talking to him because you didn’t think it was worth being friends either. He doesn’t remember much about the last few years of high school, apart from avoiding you when you were around, but now he wishes he would’ve paid more attention. Even though what’s past is past, Heeseung wishes he could turn back time and stop himself from making a false assumption. 

He parks the car sooner than he realizes and Riki hands Heeseung back his phone. You step out of the car and look far better than you did before the impromptu trip. Heeseung can’t help but jog after you. 

“Hey,” he calls out. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear his voice and look at him, perplexed. “Are you feeling better now?” 

“Um, yeah.” You look at Heeseung like you don’t know what he wants from you and he’s starting to hate that he’s made you feel this way for so long. 

“Good. That’s good.” Heeseung clears his throat. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said to you last night. That was out of line. I’m really sorry.” The gears turn in your head and he can see you processing his apology slowly. 

“Yeah, well, if you have a problem with me then you should either tell me why or leave me alone.” Your words lack any venom like they did last night but they’re replaced with something more raw and callous. He almost wishes you would yell at him. 

“I know.” He really does. “But I really am sorry. For everything.” Heeseung can’t find the words to elaborate how he feels, not when he sees your shared friends in front of him. 

You look at him and he feels like you might as well be looking into his soul. Without another word, you leave him with his thoughts and rejoin the rest of the group. 

***

It’s nearing the end of the trip and Heeseung feels like he needs to get you alone to apologize for a million things. Guilt courses through his body when he’s awake and it only ceases when he’s asleep. He does his best to keep a straight face when he’s around everybody else and he’s sure they’re all picking up on the fact that he hasn’t been avoiding you like he did when you all first arrived. 

But it’s hard to get you alone. He knows you likely wouldn’t hear him out if he asked you to talk. Even so, he doesn’t know if he knows everything he wants to say. Heeseung is sure everyone else will want to know why he asked to talk to you and make a big deal out of it too, but he can’t say he blames them when he’s the one who has put so much tension between the two of you. Being nicer towards you with intention is not normal for Heeseung. He wishes that weren’t the case. 

It’s a warm day outside and everybody’s agreed to go kayaking in the lake. The water is calm and there are a few families and groups who’ve decided to do the same thing. Everybody fastens life vests and hops into their own kayak before setting out on the water. 

Heeseung wants to enjoy being out on the water but his mind keeps coming back to you. He wonders deeply about the past he shares with you and what would’ve been if he hadn’t made those assumptions all those years ago. He knows he’s always been a bit too prideful for his own good, putting himself above the opinions of others without thinking twice. He’s got tough skin and likes that he’s developed a sense of confidence and identity, especially because he wants to pursue a career in music, but now he wonders if he’s too confident. 

The reason why your words hurt more than he’d care to admit is because he harbored a pathetic crush on you ever since you wrote him a letter for his thirteenth birthday. He’d just gotten the hang of making music on GarageBand and by the time his birthday rolled around, Heeseung wanted to show some of his friends what he’d been learning after school. October came quickly and he invited his closest friends to his house for some cake and to jump in the large bouncy house his parents rented for him. The warm afternoon is forever etched into his memory because everyone Heeseung cared about in his first year being a teenager was there to support the beginning of his music interest. 

Heeseung remembers the gift he unwrapped from you and your parents. It was a CD of his favorite album and one of those plastic statues with an award title etched into the base. It read “BEST MUSIC PRODUCER” on it and Heeseung thought it was the best gift he received that year. What made that warm afternoon even more special was when you pulled him aside to give him a handwritten note. He remembers your shy voice telling him not to open it until everybody was gone and said you wanted to give the letter to him in private when nobody else was looking because your parents didn’t know you’d done this. He kept that card on his desk until everybody left, promising to read it as soon as he was alone. 

You wrote to his yearning heart, the side of him that wanted to make music so badly that he’d sit in his room until the late hour with a lamp shining over his desk to write songs until his hand hurt from holding his pen. Heeseung would hunch over his desk during school and scribble down lyrics in the margins of his assignments. It always felt like he was the only person who felt this way most times and felt like his peers couldn’t understand why he loved making music so much. Reading your letter made Heeseung feel less alone, as if you were always watching over him and seeing his passion when he thought nobody else could. 

That note alone solidified his blooming crush and suddenly, every love song he wrote was dedicated to you. Details about you were weaved into his songs–the sound you made when you laughed, the stickers you used to collect, and the number on your childhood home–it all became important to him. It was almost like Heeseung could talk to you through his music without saying a single word. He could let his songs do the talking for him. 

Of course, thinking you were the one who said he didn’t have any real talent made his hopes and dreams shatter into a million pieces. He always felt like your champion and that pursuing his passion wasn’t so scary if he had you by his side. The world felt like it was crashing all around him to the point where he considered giving up on making music altogether. For that, he would never forgive you. But it’s different now. Heeseung knows you’re not to blame. The culpability doesn’t lie on your shoulders, even if that’s what Heeseung thought for all these years. 

Heeseung roams around the lake in silence, letting the birds chirp uninterrupted. The sound of his boat sailing against the water beneath him does something to soothe his aching heart for the time being. He sees you not too far ahead with Sunghoon a bit behind you when he sees you reach for the paddle that fell from your grip. His heart stops when your kayak tips over when you've reached too far. 

He wastes no time and rows his boat with all his might after hearing your yelp. His arms burn as he pushes through the water but before he can get any closer to you, Sunghoon has jumped out of his kayak to help you back to the surface. He’s able to drag you to the shore nearby and takes off your life jacket when the two of you are sitting on the edge of dry land. Heeseung manages to haul your kayak and paddle while Jay, who also saw the incident, grabs Sunghoon’s. The two of them wordlessly make their way to you and Sunghoon.

Heeseung sees and hears you coughing but he’s also aware of the fact that you’re situated between Sunghoon’s arms. He’s got you securely wrapped between him as you regain your breath. It’s selfish to even consider the idea that he might be jealous but he can’t help it, especially since you’re gripping onto his arms like he’s your lifeline. 

“Shit, Y/N,” Jay says as he takes his life jacket off. Heeseung does the same and parks his boat to get out of the water. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you mutter, catching your breath from the water that’s still lodged in your throat. “Jesus, I didn’t think that would happen.”

“You gave me a heart attack.” Sunhoon laughs from behind you but doesn’t push you away just yet. Heeseung watches you.

“I got your boat and paddle,” he says pathetically, feeling awkward when the three of you look at him. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“Thanks.” You cough when you speak and Sunghoon rubs your back gently. “Why does this shit keep happening to me?” 

“Maybe Heeseung’s bad luck,” Sunghoon snickers. There’s no real animosity in his tone but Heeseung feels upset nonetheless. 

“Sorry,” he finds himself apologizing. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” you tell him, leaning back against Sunghoon as you catch your breath. “I think that’s enough kayaking for today, though.”

Jay laughs. “Yeah, you can say that again. I’m getting hungry anyway. Sunoo and Riki are probably complaining about that too.” 

At dinner, the eight of you sit around the fire as Jay, with the help of Riki and Sunoo, prepare and serve the food. The warm food satisfies everyone and everybody takes turns swapping stories about kayaking, and everybody laughs when Sunghoon recounts the story of you tipping over your boat. Riki keeps your plate full and tries to give you more meat but you shake your head. He pouts and you eventually relent, and that makes Heeseung smile.

He can feel Jungwon looking at him. The younger boy sits next to Heeseung and looks at him every so often, especially when you start talking or when the topic of discussion falls onto you. He ignores it to the best of his ability because he’s sure his friend has picked up on the fact that he’s not acting like he’s not interested anymore. When Jungwon pulls him aside when everybody leaves to get ready for bed, he isn’t surprised. 

“What’s up with you?” Jungwon asks quizzically. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean either, Heeseung. You were acting weird at dinner.” 

“To make a long story short, the reason why I didn’t like Y/N all this time was because I thought she was the one who said I would never make it in music. Sunoo told me it was Chaewon, not Y/N.” 

Jungwon’s eyes open comically. “That’s the reason you didn’t like Y/N?!” Heeseung smacks his shoulder and shushes him. “You know if you just, like, told any of us why you were so mad at her, we could’ve solved this and you wouldn’t have lost a friend.” Ouch. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung replies, looking at the ground below him, “I know. I feel like an idiot and I feel guilty. I want to make it right with her but I’ve acted like such an ass. I told myself it was for the better.”

“You really were an ass,” Jungwon agrees. “Did you know she almost pulled out of this trip when she found out you were going?”

Heeseung’s shoulders slump. “I fucked up, Won. You’re her best friend and I put you in an uncomfortable position too. I’m sorry. I want to make things right but we haven’t had a real conversation in years.” 

“You’re going to have to do a lot more than apologize.” Jungwon sighs and beckons Heeseung to sit down on a log next to him. “She doesn’t hate you, Heeseung. Y/N’s sensitive, you know? She’s sensitive in the way that she feels things pretty deeply and doesn’t push things aside anymore. Back in high school, she went through something pretty life changing that forced her to shut down and all she wanted was to reach out to you but you iced her out.” 

“I feel awful. She has every right to hate me.”

“That’s the thing, Heeseung. Y/N doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t understand what she did that made you pull away and she’s hurt that you won’t talk to her about it. She’s done all she can trying to get through to you but she’s given up because that didn’t seem like it was going anywhere.”

“Can I ask you something?” Jungwon nods. “If…If I talked to her, apologized and tried to tell her what was going on at the time, do you think she’d forgive me?” 

Heeseung waits for his friend to answer. “I think she would appreciate that you put in the effort to be there for her. She still cares about you even if she says she doesn’t.”

“I don’t know about that.” 

“I do. I’m her best friend, Heeseung.” The elder nods. “What I’m saying is this: All Y/N has ever wanted was for you to make an effort for her. When you stopped being her friend, she wondered for months if she was a bad person because you didn’t talk to her about why you pulled away so suddenly. Apologizing doesn’t mean the two of you will go back to the way you used to, but she’ll appreciate that over distancing yourself because you feel guilty.” 

That last part hurts to hear but he understands. “Do you think Y/N and I could ever be friends?” 

Jungown nods. “Yeah, actually. I can tell that you’re being upfront with me right now. You know how she is. She values honesty and loyalty. Of everyone in our friend group, Y/N is the one who’s really good at communicating and giving advice about that kind of stuff. She doesn’t need you to go above and beyond for her. It might take time but I know she’d appreciate it if you at least made an effort to talk to her and clear up some stuff.” 

Heeseung is lost in thought and barely hears Jungwon tell him he’ll try his best to let the two of you talk tomorrow night after dinner. He doesn’t know how to thank him other than to pull him into a tight embrace and cling onto the younger boy like he’s got something to lose. Jungwon seems to understand where Heeseung is coming from–he, too, has had his fair share of arguments with you–so he hugs him back as if to say everything will be alright. 

When you wake up the next morning, a weird feeling settles in your chest. Jungwon is fast asleep when you leave the tent to get ready for the day after failing to fall asleep. The sun is already up and you don’t know what time it is, but the morning is cold and the sweater you have on protects you from the chill nicely. 

You see Heeseung at the wash station and grip your toiletry bag when he spots you. Awkwardly, you step into the bath house and turn the faucet on as he brushes his teeth, motioning yourself to do the same thing. He watches you from the mirror as you keep your eyeline straight in front of you. He wants to say something to you, perhaps “good morning” or “how did you sleep?” but nothing seems good enough. You, on the other hand, feel like Heeseung may as well put you under a microscope. 

“Can I help you?” 

He looks at you as if he’s been caught with his hand down the cookie jar. “N-No. Sorry.” You sigh and resume brushing your teeth when he spits and rinses his mouth of the toothpaste. “I mean what I said I was sorry. I really am.”

“For which part? Cussing me out or avoiding me since high school?” You sound tired. 

“All of it,” he says quietly. You keep your head straight while he looks at you. “I have no excuse. I’ve been acting like a dick towards you and I feel awful.” You don’t say anything. “I…I thought you were the one who said I wouldn’t make it as a producer. I didn’t know it was Chaewon who said it and that you were the one who defended me. I was stupid and angry, and I took it out on you without knowing the whole truth. 

“I didn’t find out until Sunoo told me yesterday. I didn’t talk about that with anyone since we were friends, you know? I was so hurt but I didn’t know that it was my fault for making myself feel like that…And in turn, I made you feel like you didn’t have a place in my life. I’m so, so sorry that I treated you like you didn’t mean anything to me when you did.” 

You don’t look at him as you finish your morning routine. He stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to say something. 

“I went through a lot of shit back then,” you say, turning to face him. “My dad left just after you stopped talking to me and all I wanted to do was talk to you about it. You always knew what to say to make me feel better but then you started ignoring me like I never mattered to you. Do you know how badly that hurt to have one of my best friends stop giving a shit about me? 

“I watched you hang out with our mutual friends. I watched you do really cool things with music but I did all of that on the sidelines because you never included me, even though I was the only person who really supported you., I don’t think you really get that there were so many people back then who just wanted to be your friend because a few of your songs blew up on the internet. I watched you keep them close while you pushed me aside without giving me the chance to make up for whatever I did to make you upset. 

“I’ve spent the last few years trying to be okay with the fact that you didn’t want to be friends anymore. I tried so hard to accept that you and I would only be people who saw each other in passing. But that hurt. It hurt so much to think you didn’t care about me for one second and didn’t care that I was upset too.” 

Your confession hangs in the air and Heeseung feels like crying when he sees that you’ve started to tear up. You wipe them away aggressively, too embarrassed to be seen weeping in front of him. 

“I’m sorry.” Heeseung’s voice cracks. “I am, Y/N. You were so good to me and I took that for granted.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” 

“I can’t make excuses for myself back then but I want you to know I own up to everything. I’m sorry that I let you feel like that and wasn’t mature enough to talk to you. I know I’m too late, but you deserve an apology. You deserve more than that.” 

Heeseung thinks you’re going to storm past him like he did a few nights prior. He thinks you might spit in his face and tell him to go to hell. But all you do is stare at him in silence. 

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that for a long time,” you tell him. “So thanks for that. I feel beyond hurt by everything you did and everything you’ve ever said since we stopped being friends. All I have ever wanted was to be in the same room and not worry about if you wanted me there or not. This entire trip has felt like walking on eggshells around you.” He lets you step around him and out of the bath house. 

“I don’t hate you either, Heeseung. I know you probably think that I do but I don't.” 

***

The rest of your friends can tell something’s going on between the two of you but choose not to comment on it. Everybody is off doing their own thing, as today is the last day of camping, and nobody wants to accidentally spoil it. You and Jungwon decide to head over to your “secret spot,” just the two of you, for old time’s sake.

“I’ll miss you when I leave Korea,” you say as the two of you sit on the ground. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do any of this without you, Wonnie.”

“I know you’re scared of the future and about your dad asking to see you, but you’ve got to know that you’re stronger than any of us. You’re like, a superhero, or something.” 

“Now you’re just being corny.” 

Jungwon laughs. “Yeah, maybe I am. But seriously, Y/N, I’ve always liked that you were able to find some of your optimism again. You make me feel like things will get better for me too. I can’t sit here and pretend I know what you’re going through, but I’ll always be here for you. My parents will too.”

“I still remember the look on their faces when my mom broke the news,” you snort. “They looked like they were ready to go to prison for murder.” 

“I’ve never seen them so angry. I felt like castrating your dad.” 

“Didn’t we all?” 

“But at least we got Riki out of it.” You smile fondly. Jungwon wants to tell you he’s proud of how far you’ve come, but decides to keep that to himself for now.

“I love him, you know. Even if I don’t really say it. I think it was hard for me to be able to say I loved him without feeling guilty. I thought I was betraying my mom if I gave Riki a chance and seeing her step up to be a parental figure when my dad was too busy mingling with our side of the family was hard. We’ve never talked about it but I know she doesn’t hate Riki. She wouldn’t have forced me to spend time with him if she did.

“He’s such a bright kid and he’s so talented. It makes me happy when people recognize that too. He taught me a lot about prioritizing my feelings. Learning to re-evaluate my life when Riki showed up made me feel, I don’t know, more mature? Like, I can be upset and still care about people because we all make mistakes and none of us asked to be here.” 

Jungwon lets a beat of silence pass before speaking. “Did Heeseung talk to you?”

“This morning. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I saw him acting a bit different at the bonfire last night and asked him if anything happened. He told me why he was so mad at you for so long and said he wanted to apologize.”

“Men are so fucking stupid,” you sigh, bringing your knees to your chest. “I don’t understand why he didn’t talk to me in the first place.”

“Me either, honestly. But at least he’s making an effort. Isn’t that what you said you wanted?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Feelings are complicated. I’ve been angry for so long. I always thought I’d yell at him and give him a piece of my mind, or something. I thought I would hate him and tell him to forget about me. But when he apologized, he said it in a way that made me believe he meant it. It didn’t feel like he was bullshitting me. I felt stuck.” 

“What did you end up saying?” 

“I told him how hurt I was during that time and said I wished he was there for me like I was for him when I was dealing with my dad. I told him how I wished we could’ve talked it out.” 

“That’s a good start.” 

“I don’t think we’ll ever go back to the way we were but I also know Heeseung. I know it took a lot out of him to set aside his pride and put somebody else first. I don’t really know what I’m gonna do now. All I know is I’m tired of being upset and I want to feel okay.”

Jungwon nudges your shoulder with his. “You’ll be just fine. The universe moves for you, Y/N. There’s no way you won’t have a happy ending.” He watches you hide a smile. 

“You are such a sap.” 

“It’s what you love about me.” 

“Unfortunately.” You’ll really miss him. “I gotta take it one day at a time, right? Heeseung is going to be in my life for a long time since we share so many friends. Riki loves him too, and I guess I can’t hate Heeseung too much for looking out for him. I don’t think I have any room to think about it when I get back because I’ll be doing some last minute packing and getting ready to move.” 

“It’ll be over before you know it. But even then, you’re going to have the best time in Okayama. Fuck your dad and all of the bad shit.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Fuck my dad.” 

The end of the trip is bittersweet. You start to tear up when you see the campsite completely empty and move slowly to pack everything in the cars. Heeseung notices but doesn’t say anything, offering to grab whatever’s in your hands when he sees you looking out into the clearing for extended periods of time. He doesn’t pretend to know what you’re feeling but he knows he doesn’t like it when you cry.

He watches you get into Jay’s car and wishes that you could be comfortable sitting alone with him. While Jake mans the aux, Heeseung thinks about what might happen when you move away. Will the two of you remain how you are or will you grow apart? Is there any room for him in your life now that you’re off to explore a different part of the world? Will he ever be able to push past the gnawing feeling of pushing his pathetic crush on you down until he no longer thinks of you like that?

He’s never admitted it, but those feelings he had towards you all those years ago never really went away. Heeseung doubled down on his irritation because doing otherwise would allow all of those romantic feelings to overwhelm him. He kept his head down around you because he knew one look at you would be enough to throw his inhibitions away and he was afraid he would risk everything he’s ever wanted just for you to tell him you love him too. Now that he knows everything was a misunderstanding, the grave loss weighs on him. He’s got a million thoughts running through his mind and none of them seem to make any sense. These romantic feelings didn’t lie dormant for all of these years, right? 

The next week and a half feels like it passes by too quickly for the both of you. You finish packing the morning of your going away party that everyone helped set up and plan. Your mom, along with Jungwon’s parents, all of your friends and their parents, and Maeumi, presentes you with the kind of happiness you never want to forget. Even Heeseung, who shows up and gives you a letter when no one else is looking, makes you feel like you would be dearly missed. You’re not sure that you enjoy being the center of attention, but everybody’s kindness makes you feel like you deserve to be. 

It’s late when they leave and socializing makes you feel far more exhausted than you anticipated. Your flight is midday tomorrow but you try not to think about that. Heeseung’s letter sits on the edge of your bed and the green envelope–your favorite color–stares at you like it’s begging you to open it. And open it you do. 

Y/N–

I don’t know where to start. I’m sorry, first of all, for treating you the way I did. I was a sorry excuse for a friend. I should’ve talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions and it doesn’t matter that we were both young. Friends annoy each other but they don’t disrespect one another. I’m so sorry that I made you doubt yourself. 

I’ll miss you a lot when you’re in Japan. We didn’t get the chance to talk it out and I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me after you leave. You deserve people who will be there for you. But please know I’ll always be rooting for you. 

Lastly…I don’t know if this is my place to say this but here goes nothing. Back when we were close, the one thing I loved about you was how passionate you were about life. You loved to learn and explore new things, and you always made me feel like I could feel that way too. I know you’re scared about Okayama for a number of reasons but you’re the strongest person I know. You’ll be just fine, even if you don’t feel like you will be. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. I mean it.

- Heeseung

For the first time in a while, you allow yourself to cry over Lee Heeseung and surprise yourself when you realize that you want him back. 

***

At the airport, your mom helps you check in your luggage and asks if you’ve got everything you need and makes you double check everything. It’s reminiscent of the way you did with Riki before the camping trip. You’re happy despite feeling a bit annoyed that she’s making you take off your backpack. You don’t totally mind it, though. She gives you a hug that feels like it could last a lifetime and letting her go is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. 

Everybody else gives you love, too. Sunoo is the first to hug you and makes you promise to bring him back some skincare and souvenirs the next time you’re able to get back to Korea. Jake embraces you next and gives you some words of encouragement while Jay does his best to pretend like he isn’t sad by complaining about how there will be one less cook in the kitchen. You throw your arms around him anyway and pretend not to hear him sniffle. Sunghoon traps you in a bear hug and makes you promise to take as many photos as possible and says he’ll look forward to seeing them. He, too, pretends like he’s not about to cry. You push your head onto his shoulder and give his hand a squeeze before he lets a few teardrops fall. 

Jungwon is the most emotional of them all. He wipes away his free falling tears and crushes you in a hug, burying his head in your neck. “You better come back, asshole. I can’t believe you’re gonna leave me to chase your dreams. That’s so selfish of you.” You think you might cry too but laugh anyway. 

“I love you so much, Wonnie.” He squeezes you like he’s afraid he’ll forget what it feels like to be in your embrace until Jake pries him off of your body. 

Riki stands awkwardly with his eyes to the floor and his hands in front of him. The taller boy feels as though his shoes are glued down but you see the way his gaze flickers as if he’s trying to figure out what to do next. It doesn’t take much out of you to throw your arms around him and push yourself into his chest. 

“I’m going to miss you a lot, Riki,” you tell him.

“Really?” You nod. 

“I know I haven’t been the best towards you but you need to know that I’m so proud of you, okay? I loved getting to know you. I loved that you came on the trip and I’m so fucking happy that you’re my brother. Out of everybody who could’ve popped into my life, I’m so glad it was you.” 

Everybody watches Riki melt in front of them as he envelopes you right into him. You feel the weight of his shoulders relax and for the first time, you feel like you’re starting to wonder if this is what it feels like to have everything figured out. 

“I’ll come visit you,” he promises. “I’ll come home for winter break.”

“Stay with me. We can do all of the corny shit siblings do. I’ll even pay for everything.” 

Riki laughs but doesn’t let you go. “You’re the best, you know that? Even though it took you some time, I always thought of you like my sister. I’m really happy to be around you.” 

The waterworks begin and Riki does his best to comfort you when he feels tears on his shirt. He feels somewhere in between empty and fulfilled knowing the two of you have made amends, but knowing you want to work towards the future is enough to make him confident that everything will be alright. He lets you go when he feels your arms loosen around him and aggressively wipes his own tears away. 

When you look at Heeseung, the last thing he expects you to do is acknowledge him. He came to the airport because he wants you to know he meant everything in the letter he wrote. He stayed up all night to check for your texts but you hadn’t said anything, and while he knew it was an emotional day for you because of all you were dealing with, a selfish part of him wanted to know what you thought about it. 

You surprise Heeseung and yourself by engulfing him in a hug. The familiarity of his embrace makes you feel nostalgic and you can’t help but cry right into his chest. Heeseung doesn’t hesitate and brings his arms to wrap around your fragile body as you silently weep against him. He holds you tight and gently rocks your body like he used to all those years ago. You don’t fight back either. Instead, you push your head deeper into him and hold him until your tears have stopped. 

“I read your letter,” you say quietly. “We have a lot to talk about but I appreciate everything you said, Heeseung. I tried to hate you but I could never bring myself to feel that way about you.”

“I’m really going to miss you. Can I be selfish?” Heeseung asks with a sob in his throat. “I wish I apologized sooner and I wish we had more time. But please, promise me that you’re going to try to have fun in Japan, okay? You’re the best person I know, even if I didn’t make you feel like it. I’ll always live with that regret but knowing you’ll forget about me and make a life for yourself is enough.”

“I could never truly forget about you, Hee.” That nickname you used to call him makes Heeseung’s heart beat faster. “I don’t want you out of my life. All these years I felt like that’s what I wanted but I don’t want that now. Be happy without me too, okay? Forget about me and follow that dream of yours.” 

Heeseung laughs sadly. “I don’t think I could ever forget about you.” You step away from him and wipe your eyes for the umteenth time. 

“Write a song for me, then. And don’t be a stranger, okay?” 

“Okay.” Heeseung swears on it. “I won’t.” 

A beat of silence passes before all seven of your friends push you into the middle of their group hug. It brings another round of tears to your eyes and Jungwon’s the one who lets you cry into him until your mom tells you it’s time to start boarding. Everybody gets one final goodbye before you disappear into the plane. 

You smile at your phone when you settle into your seat. 

lee heeseung: I miss you already 

You miss him too.

***

Okayama is a dream until it isn’t. You settled into your apartment and had one month before you started your job and went to all the places Riki recommended. You started to understand him a little better after moving and both of you find it hilarious that you two ended up living in each others’ hometowns. You can’t choose your siblings but you’d choose Riki in every lifetime. 

You call your mom every so often and update her on life. Your friends keep you in the loop and FaceTime you when they’re out together. It makes you feel like you’re back in Korea and while it isn’t the same, you appreciate the effort anyway. You’ve made friends with your neighbors and a few girls you met when you went out drinking with your cousin the week you moved and it made braving a whole new country feel less daunting. Jungwon calls you everyday and you tease him for being such a clingy friend, but you both know you love it. You inform him about everything from the boring details to juicy work drama, and it feels like you’re sitting in his bedroom wearing face masks and eating junk food. 

Heeseung has been a constant fixture in your life, too. You texted him the moment you landed and he kept the conversation going. You talk about everything, the past especially, and start to feel like things might be okay. Those butterflies that you had for him in high school made an appearance after three months in Japan and part of you wondered if you were a fool for bringing him back into your life after everything. All of your friends back in Korea tell you Heeseung is miserable without you and when they tease him in the big group chat, he doesn’t deny it.

The friends you made seemed divided–one half thought you should leave him in the dark while the other half swooned over his dedication to making things right. You don’t really know what to think or how to feel, but you know you’re happy. Between phone calls and late night texts, you were always left with a smile on your face before bed.

Riki came back to Okayama for winter break and spent two weeks in your apartment. When the two of you weren’t bickering as siblings do, you both stayed up way too late watching anime and watched him dance at his home studio. Riki even got you to attend a few classes (he tried not to laugh at your poor coordination skills but appreciated the effort anyway). You prefer to be in the audience. 

Life seemed great until your dad made an appearance just before Christmas. He knew you were here from a single text message he never responded to before you moved to Okayama. The weight of his silence prepared you to be in Japan without him but his sudden appearance made you feel like everything changed for the worse. Riki went back to his childhood home to see his family and asked you to come with him after your dad had forced him. Your brother knows the intricate dynamic and you don’t blame him for anything. Seeing your dad with his new family after sparse texts since he left felt like a punch in the gut. It soured your holidays and Riki spent the rest of his trip apologizing even though you told him there was no reason for him to be sorry. You dropped him off at the airport and told him you’d see him in the summertime. 

The holidays came and went but the feelings you’ve carried since then haven’t disappeared, which brings you to the present. Heeseung is standing in the doorway of your apartment in Okayama, looking at you with those big, round doe eyes you always loved. 

“Hi,” he says breathlessly. 

“Heeseung…What are you doing here?” He scratches the back of his neck. 

“You’ve been going through a lot, you know? Every time we talked on the phone, you sounded like you were a thousand miles away and it killed me to know I couldn’t do anything to make you feel better after the holidays with your dad. Jungwon and I have been talking about how much of an ass he is and how much we wish we could be here for you and the next thing I knew, he was encouraging me to buy the next flight out to see you,” Heeseung says in a single breath. “But honestly? I just really, really fucking missed you.”

“You flew all this way here? For me?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung says it like it’s a no-brainer. “Although, now I feel kinda stupid. I realize I’m putting you in a tough spot. But you know what? I think it’s worth it to know that you’re okay.” 

He looks at you but you don’t say anything. Heeseung can see the gears turning inside of your head while you process his arrival. You look so cute in your sleep shorts and oversized shirt. He loves it when you call him via FaceTime because he gets to see all parts of you–getting ready for work and winding down as you are now. It makes him feel like you’re pulling him right back into you. 

You don’t really need to say anything. You lurch yourself onto him and press your lips against his like it’s something you’ve been waiting to do for the longest time. You probably have. Heeseung wraps his arms around you and lets his mouth melt against yours and doesn’t complain about your boldness either. He welcomes it, even. 

“You’re so stupid,” you mutter against him, pulling him into your apartment and locking the door behind you. You kiss him repeatedly and he puts his hands on your waist as if to let you know he’s right there with you. 

“Why am I stupid, baby?” Heeseung’s voice paired with that nickname makes your knees buckle.  

“You can stay with me.” He feels you smile against your lips. “Please just…stay here and don’t go.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

Heeseung drops his backpack onto the floor and lets you capture his mouth again. You taste so fresh with your cherry lip balm. He moans right into your mouth when you push him against your countertop and the feeling of his hands on your body makes you grow hotter as the seconds pass by. The ache between your legs starts to overwhelm you as his plump lips kiss you over and over again before he pushes them against your neck. It’s too much in all of the right ways and you’re too aroused to even think straight. You start to pull yourself away from Heeseung and he’s about to ask if he’s going too fast when you grab your hand and lead him to your bedroom. 

“Y/N, wait,” Heeseung tries to say in between kisses. He loves the feeling of your warm mouth against him and feels himself starting to get worked up but he doesn’t know if you’re thinking straight. Even though the two of you have talked nearly everyday, Heeseung doesn’t know if this is moving too fast. 

“I’m done waiting.” You pull away from him and reach for his hand, pushing his lengthy fingers past your shorts and underwear until he feels the wet slick starting to pool at your folds. Your hand moves his back and forth as he looks at you like you’ve stunned him with a laser gun. Heeseung’s dick jumps in his pants and it takes him a second to move his fingers on his own accord. “I want you, Heeseung. Don’t you want me too?”

His resolve crumbles. Heeseung nods with his mouth parted as he pushes his fingers inside you, your wetness allowing him to reach your depths immediately. You push yourself on your toes and put your hands on his chest, clinging onto him like you’re afraid he’d let you go if you don’t. He thrusts his fingers with intention and hears your quiet whimpers when he leans his head down next to your mouth.

“Yeah,” Heeseung says, lips touching the shell of your ear as his voice ripples through your body. “I want you.”

He pulls his hand away from you and smiles at the short whine from the loss of his touch. Heeseung loves how much you need him and he’s sure you can see how much he needs you too. A surge of confidence jolts within you as Heeseung looks down at your body like he’s ready to eat you alive. You peel off your shirt and shorts, leaving you in your underwear as Heeseung pulls his shirt over his head with a single hand. 

“Lie down,” Heeseung beckons. You do as he says and he sinks down to his knees and pries your legs apart, looking directly at you as he speaks. “Good girl.” He pulls your garments down your legs and the cool air hits your center as Heeseung looks down at you. 

You don’t have time to think about anything when he peppers soft kisses on your skin. His lips journey from the inside of your knee and he presses one small kiss to your slit before repeating the process on your other leg. Heeseung allows himself to get lost in the way your body reacts to his feather-like touches before descending down onto your folds. 

Heeseung’s tongue feels like the closest thing to magic. He takes his time when licking you with his warm and wet muscle, canvassing every ridge with expert movements. You rake your fingers through his hair and tug gently at his soft roots, pulling a moan out of him that delivers a delicious shock up your spine. He puts your feet on his shoulders and plunges his tongue inside of you and grips your flesh with his fingertips until you’re coming undone on his mouth. 

“So fucking good,” he mutters to himself more than he does to you. He laps up your release and you find yourself a bit embarrassed that you were able to come so quickly, but the way he touches you makes it seem as though he already knew how to push your buttons. “You’re so sweet, Y/N. I could eat you all day if you’d let me.” 

Heeseung trails his lips up your stomach and kisses you so tenderly that you feel as though your body must be made out of soft cotton. His lips find your left nipple and lets his tongue swirl over the bud before sucking on it with a gentle motion. He repeats the process on the other nub and flicks it, enjoying the soft sounds that come from you. Heeseung buries himself right into your neck but he doesn’t kiss the skin like you think he will. Instead, he kisses you twice on your open neck before moving his body so that he can look down at you. 

He bites his lip. It makes you feel exposed but somehow, it makes you feel all that more confident. It’s like Heeseung is looking right through you with all of your worries and faults laid out for him to reject. But he doesn’t. Likewise, Heeseung allows you to see him in his vulnerability and he’s ready to pack up his things and leave if you tell him you don’t want this anymore. But you don’t. 

He descends on you once again, this time his lips pushing against you in a slow and sensual kiss. You feel the way he moves against you and savor the sounds your mouths make together. Heeseung brings his hand to brush strands of your hair away from your face as he kisses you and the gentle touch of his fingertips feels like it was always meant to be there. 

“I need you.” Your back arches right into his chest as you speak. “Don’t make me wait, Heeseung. Please, I just…I need you.” 

“I’ll never make you wait. Never again,” he promises. Heeseung manages to rid himself of his pants and boxers and pushes himself between your legs until his dick is situated between your folds. Your arousal, paired with the precum oozing from his slit, provides the perfect balance of wetness that coats the entirety of his cock as he glides himself against you. 

When his tip catches your hole, the sounds of your moans overpowers his refrain. He pushes inside of you slowly inch by inch, savoring the way you feel for the fear that he might never be able to do this again. You look so beautiful underneath him with his dick completely sheathed inside of you and when your legs wrap around his body to encourage him to move, Heeseung doesn’t deny you of your pleasure. 

Neither of you have ever had sex like this–the feeling of pure rawness echoes throughout the room between your breathy moans and the sound of skin pushing against one another. Your body is warm in the way he always imagined and his hands touch every inch of you as if to commit your silhouette to memory. In this moment, Heeseung feels as though the two of you are kindred spirits who found each other.

“You’re so good for me,” Heeseung whispers into your neck as he thrusts into you. “So fucking tight and wet.” He feels your arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him trapped between you but he can’t say he minds all that much. 

“I-I’m so close,” you say in a broken moan. 

“Already, baby?” Heeseung says to tease you as he brings his head up to look down at you again. He pushes his hips against you faster and that surprised gasp you let out makes his balls clench. 

“S-Shut up.” 

Your arms fall to the mattress as you claw at your sheets. Heeseung plans his elbows on either side of your head as he focuses all of his willpower towards fucking you with fast deep strokes, loving the way your mouth parts slightly and how your eyes are closed shut. His muscles flex as he pushes himself until you’re coming with a loud moan, and finds himself releasing inside of you the moment he feels you gushing around him. 

You feel Heeseung press his tender lips against your forehead as you come down from your high while he continues to rock you through your release. Your cheeks are hot from the pleasure and the room is suddenly too warm with Heeseung on top of you. When you open your eyes, he’s looking at you like he’s seen a halo above your head. He can’t really help it. Heeseung leans down to press a soft, gentle kiss against your lips to convey a job well down. 

“I came so fast,” you whisper bashfully. You bite your lip but Heeseung tugs it away from your teeth to kiss you again. 

“Me too.” Heeseung kisses your nose and relishes in the way you scrunch your face. “But it’s okay. You deserve to feel good. I don’t care how long or short it takes.” He places his hand on your face and rubs the apple of your cheek with his thumb. 

“I really missed you.” 

“I missed you too, dummy,” Heeseung says before flicking your nose. He holds your jaw in place before kissing you again. 

“We’re gonna have to do a lot of making up, you know,” you mumble against his lips with a smile. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mhm.” You push against his lips. Heeseung pushes his half-hard dick inside of you as your back arches right into him. He’s there to catch you this time, his arm supporting your spine underneath you. “Fuck!” 

“My baby,” he whispers into you. “Let me make it up to you.” 

You let him.

***

EPILOGUE: THE FOLLOWING SPRING

“For fuck’s sake, get your big ass head out of the way.”

Jay smacks Jake’s shoulder. “You can see just fine, stupid.” Sunghoon hits both of their shoulders. 

“Both of you, stop moving so much. You guys almost knocked my camera.” They mumble a quick apology before finding another thing to discuss. 

“I feel like I’m surrounded by children.” You sigh as Heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and lets his chin sit atop the crown of your head. He feels your body relax against him and smiles. 

“Well you are, technically. Riki just stopped wearing diapers.” 

“I hate you so much, Heeseung,” the younger boy whines without any true malice. You laugh and squeeze Riki’s hand. He can’t find it in himself to be too mad at either of you. 

“Do you guys see Jungwon and Sunoo?” Sunghoon asks with his camera at the ready. “I want to make sure I take as many pictures as possible.” 

“I don’t think they’re coming out yet,” says Jay. 

“Duh.” Jake provokes him in a way you missed while you were in Okayama. It brings warmth to your heart when you see them bicker. 

Jay turns to you. “Y/N, have you given a second thought about moving in with Jake when you come back? I think you’d be better off if you kicked him to the streets.”

“Hey!” Jake tackles Jay until he’s got his older friend’s neck between his arms. None of you pay too much attention and choose to wait for Jungwon and Sunoo. 

“Our friends are another breed,” Heeseung mumbles against you as he kisses your cheek. “Are you sure you want to move back and be roommates with Jake and Jungwon?” 

“Mhm. I miss you guys so much.” 

“But you miss me the most, right?” 

“Yes, baby.” You bring his hand up to your lips and kiss the back of it. “I missed you the most.” 

“There they are!” Riki shouts. 

Jungwon and Sunoo, clad in their caps and gowns, saunter their way out of the stadium before spotting your group. They make a run for it and push past the onlookers who search for their loved ones as well. Sunoo clings onto Jake while Jungwon finds his perch in Riki’s arms as Sunghoon captures the beautiful moment on his digital camera. 

“We fucking did it!” Jungwon shouts as he pulls away. “Sunoo, we did it!” 

“About damn time,” Sunoo replies as he rolls his eyes with a smile. “I felt like I’d be there forever.” 

“We’re so proud of you both.” Jay smiles and moves to hug each of them. “You guys are amazing, seriously.” 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” Riki bumps hips with Sunoo. “That seems unfair.” 

“Life is unfair.” There’s no real bite to his tone, just a bittersweet future. Sunoo hugs the taller boy. 

“Oh my God,” Jungwon says with his hand pressed to his mouth. “Y/N is crying.” 

“No I’m not,” you say, even though you definitely are. Heeseung squeezes you tighter against him. “Shut up, Jungwon. I’m not crying.” 

“You so are!” Riki shouts. 

“I’m not crying. Seeing my best friends graduate college is not a good reason to cry, okay?!” 

Jungwon and Sunoo sport shit-eating grins. Heeseung lets you go as they engulf you in a hug while the younger of the two feels your hot tears on his cheek. He laughs and this moment starts to feel a bit nostalgic to him, as he acted the same way you did upon seeing you in your cap and gown. 

“Hey,” he says in a softer tone, pulling away from the two of you. “Thanks for being here. I know taking time off was a little hard but we’re so happy you could come.”

“Yeah,” Sunoo agrees. “Talking to you over the phone isn’t enough. We missed you, you know?” 

You tear up again and wipe your nose before falling into them again. “I missed you too.”

“Oh God,” Sunghoon laughs. “If Y/N’s crying then I know we’re in for it.” 

“Hey!” Heeseung jokes, nudging his friend with his shoulder. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” Although, he can’t really disagree with Sunghoon. 

“You’re all so stupid for making me cry in public,” you say as you wipe your tears from your eyes. “I’m gonna look back at these pictures and my eyes will be all red and puffy.” 

“I feel like you and Heeseung might as well be our parents,” Sunoo says as Heeseung pulls him into a hug.

“Wait, you guys should totally take a family photo.” Jake steps forward to arrange the four of you like a family portrait with Jungwon and Sunoo between you and Heeseung. “There. Sunghoon, take a picture. This is so going on the fridge when we move in together.” 

Heeseung moves back next to you as the rest of your friends look at the photos on Sunghoon’s camera and take turns taking pictures of him with the graduates. He kisses your cheek and pulls you back into him. 

“You ready to come back to all this chaos?”

“More than ready,” you affirm. “I loved Okayama, even though I had to deal with my dad and all of that stuff. But I missed my life here and the masters program over in Seoul is a good fit for me, you know? Plus, your apartment isn’t too far from mine.” 

“I can’t wait for you to move back.” Heeseung kisses your cheek again. “Your mom and I talked logistics about helping you move into the new apartment. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll have another suitcase coming back with you.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You know I’m right.” 

You blush and mumble. “Yeah…You’re right.” 

“Your mom and Jungwon’s parents talked about renting a bigger camp space this year, too. I think they’re planning on having one huge trip this year now that most of us have graduated.” 

“I can’t believe our last trip was almost a year ago. That’s insane because it feels like I moved to Japan just yesterday.” 

“I solemnly swear I will never be as stupid or dense as I was back then.” When you turn around to look at Heeseung, you know he’s telling the truth. You don’t answer him verbally and choose to silence him with a pretty kiss. It’s enough for the two of you. 

“Oi, love birds,” Jake calls, looking at you. “We should find their parents. Your mom called me and I think she was crying.” 

You frown. “Why didn’t she call me?”  

“She said you were probably crying too,” Jake snickers. 

“Is it too late to back out of being roommates?” 

“Nope. You’re stuck with me.” 

Heeseung squeezes your hand. 

“And me.” 

As you look around, you can’t help but feel as though this was always how it was meant to be.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, ��you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[dreaminguponlilypads]

PUNISHMENT.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

pt. 2

happy birthday to me lol, you guys have starved for a fic long enough so i shall feed you. tell me if you want pt.2

You had never thought someone like Ghost would ever look twice at you.

You were quiet. A recruit who blended into the background, more comfortable observing than being in the spotlight. You had your own demons—self-doubt, anxiety, the constant nagging thought that you weren’t enough. That you’d never be enough.

But then he came along.

He had seen you when no one else did. Not just as a soldier, but as a person. His patience, his quiet reassurances, the way his hand would linger at the small of your back or how he’d pull you into his warmth after a rough day—it had all been real. Or so you thought.

Until you saw the messages.

Soap: Congrats, ya big muppet. Can’t believe yer actually gonna do it.

Gaz: Who would’ve thought a lost bet would end up here?

Price: Never seen you so whipped, mate. From bet to buying a ring—hell of a journey.

Soap: Aye, remember when he was grumbling about even asking em out? Now look at him.

Your stomach twisted as you read and reread the words.

A bet.

It had all started as a joke.

The relationship that had saved you, that had made you feel wanted, seen, loved—had started as nothing more than a game to him.

You wanted to be angry. Wanted to storm up to him, demand an explanation, throw the damn phone at his chest. But you couldn’t.

Because how could you be mad at something you had already feared deep down?

Of course, it had been too good to be true.

You had spent so long convincing yourself that Simon really wanted you, that he really saw something in you. But now? The gnawing insecurity that he had helped you fight off came roaring back with a vengeance.

Your hands were shaking when you set his phone back on the table.

You needed to get out of here.

-

Simon knew something was wrong the second he walked into your shared quarters.

He found you standing there, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes red-rimmed like you had been holding back tears. His stomach dropped.

“Love?” His voice was low, cautious. “What’s wrong?”

You forced out a shaky breath. “Was it all a bet?”

Silence.

Your heart clenched as you watched his expression flicker—confusion, realization, then something that almost looked like fear.

“Where’d you hear that?” His voice had taken on that measured tone he used in the field. Like he was calculating his next move.

You let out a hollow laugh. “Does it matter?” You lifted his phone slightly before setting it back down. “Your team’s got quite the sense of humor.”

He cursed under his breath. “It’s not what you think.”

You swallowed hard. “Then tell me what it is, Simon. Tell me why the man who made me believe I was worth something only asked me out because he lost.”

His eyes darkened. “It was a stupid bet. A joke between the lads. I didn’t think—I didn’t know—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “I never expected to fall for you.”

You flinched at the choice of words. “But you still lied.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“You didn’t tell me,” you shot back. “That’s the same thing.”

His lips pressed into a tight line. “I was ashamed.” His voice was quieter now. “Didn’t want you to think—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching before he forced himself to look at you. “Didn’t want you to think this wasn’t real.”

Your breath hitched. “But it wasn’t real. Not at first.”

His silence was all the confirmation you needed.

You had spent so long fighting off the belief that you weren’t good enough. That you weren’t worthy of someone like him. And now, every whispered fear, every creeping doubt, had been proven right.

You felt yourself withdrawing, curling inward, that familiar weight of insecurity pressing down on your chest. The walls you had let him tear down were rebuilding themselves brick by brick.

“I need to go,” you choked out, turning towards the door.

His hand caught your wrist, firm but careful. “Baby, please,” he murmured. “Don’t shut me out.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing ragged. You wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that everything he had done for you, every loving caress, every whispered reassurance, hadn’t just been out of guilt or obligation.

But how could you?

You pulled your wrist free, ignoring the way his fingers lingered, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“I can’t do this right now,” you whispered.

And then you walked away, leaving Simon standing there with his hands clenched at his sides, the weight of a ring box in his pocket feeling heavier than ever.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on. 

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend. 

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned. 

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast. 

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up. 

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek. 

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand. 

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway. 

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that. 

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake. 

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.” 

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit. 

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself. 

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness. 

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench. 

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him. 

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.” 

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself. 

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with? 

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him. 

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded. 

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings. 

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too. 

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well. 

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend. 

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings. 

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted. 

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself. 

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on. 

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole. 

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands. 

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know. 

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn. 

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff. 

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away. 

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here. 

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him. 

“why did you leave me?” he asks. 

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists. 

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love. 

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days. 

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly. 

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out. 

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead. 

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head. 

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying. 

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight. 

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper. 

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.  

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray. 

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion. 

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could. 

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt. 

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you. 

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating. 

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known. 

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him. 

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

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summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the t.v, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the screen.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

[afterglowsainz]

is it over now? | carlos sainz

pairing: singer!reader x carlos sainz

summary: you decide to release a breakup song on your ex boyfriend’s birthday, one year after the break up

fc: riley keough

warning: some grammatical errors in the tweets that i was too lazy to fix sorryyy

a/n: me??? writing a carlos fic??? the stars must’ve aligned

—

liked by ynupdates, f1wags and others

f1gossip it’s been officially one year since carlos sainz and y/n y/l/n broke up

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username it’s been a year already?? 🤯

username nooo don’t bring the memories back 😭

username i’m never getting over this breakup :( they were so meant for each other

username i have no perception of time why did i thought they broke up like a month ago?

username and not one single breakup song from y/n…

username no i’m waiting for the album

username we really are delusional huh

liked by landonorris, taylorswift and others

yourusername my favorite type of night 🖤🥁🎤

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username MOTHER

username best concert eveeeer

username and you know the one about releasing the album ???

username what a WOMAN ugh

username i don’t understand you carlos sainz

username how did he fumbled so hard 😭

username the aesthetic is everything

username so beautiful so gorgeous so ethereal

liked by f1wags and others

f1gossip carlos sainz was spotted with a new date at the monte-carlo opens

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username uhhh ….

username i wish i could say “that quick?” but to be fair it’s been a year

username bestie weren’t you there after they broke up?

username he literally went on a date five minutes after they ended things 😭

username and he told you that personally?

username so it’s really over with y/n huh

username i mean … yeah!

username noooo lord please bring back the family as we know it (carlos and y/n)

username this is the worst type of news i could’ve got

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and others

yourusername i hope you’re in the mood for new music … because my new single “is it over now?” drops today at midnight 🕊 thank you to my amazing girlfriends for writing this song with me and having the most fun at the studio

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username now that’s what i’m talking about

username new music at last omg i could cry

username okay but THAT COAT !!!!

username i need her whole wardrobe actually

username girl not on you ex’s BIRTHDAY 🤣

username dare i say … carlos song?

username crossing my fingers

username ohhh she knew what she was doing with this release date

username not only during carlos’s birthday but also right after he was seen on a date with a new girl

username i aspire to be THIS level of petty one day

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and others

carlossainz55 really great weekend! thanks for the birthday wishes❤️

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username pookie how are we feeling after y/n’s song?

charles_leclerc happy birthday! wanna get three thousand takeout coffees? (liked by carlossainz55)

username i didn’t wanna get mad cause it’s his birthday but like …. i’m gonna need you to pay for your crimes mate

username no cause the song was crazyyyy

username “you search in every model’s bed for something greater” ma’am ???

username it was the “your new girl is my clone” for me

username “if she’s got blue eyes i will surmise that you’ll probably date her” ….

username carlos just answer the question

liked by reyesvdec, fernandoalo_official and others

yourusername forever in love with this city <3

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username MADRID 🤍

username my city my city !!!

username reyes liking this 🥹

username that’s her girl fr!

username sooo excited for tonight’s concert

username ahhh can’t wait to see her

username if she sings is it over now? tonight i might actually faint

username imagine her singing this at the city of the guy she wrote it for 😭

username poetic

liked by f1gossip, f1wags and others

ynupdates carlos sainz was in attendance at y/n’s concert tonight in madrid

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username say again?

username he has two moods only: happy and confused

username what the hell is he doing there 😭😭

username does this means what i think it means ???

username ahhh the second picture is mine! it was so random to see him there haha

username girl if you don’t start talking right now !!!

username was he with his new girlfriend?

username nooo he was with his family only

username you really can’t make this up 😭

username he listened to that song and was ready to risk it all

username who wouldn’t!

liked by carlossainz55, georgerusell63 and others

yourusername one of my favorite cities with one of my favorite crowds 🇪🇸 madrid you never disappoint 🤍

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username y/n if you’re trying to make me fall in love with you it’s working

username name a more iconic concert quick!

username literally the gold dust woman

username THE OUTFITS THE SETLIST THE LOOKS UGHHH

carmenmmundt 🤍🤍🤍 (liked by yourusername)

username forever obsessed with her aesthetic

username not to start anything but carlos liking this… 👀

username i meaaan the guy was at the concert …

username this night will go down in history

liked by f1wags, ynupdates and others

f1gossip carlos sainz and ex girlfriend y/n y/l/n have been seen together recently in numerous occasions

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username of course they are going on dates OF COURSE THEY ARE

username and all it took was one year and a single song from y/n

username no bc i’m sure if she released that a year ago they would’ve been together by now

username so it was NOT over gotcha

username are we witnessing the comeback of y/n and carlos in real time?

username god i never ask you much but i’m asking you this one thing

username when ynupdates likes this so you know it’s serious

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and others

carlossainz55 some people have asked me recently if it’s over now? the answer is of course not 😊

view all comments

username “some people” you mean your literal ex-girlfriend ???

username GIRLFRIEND NOW ***

username i can’t with the 😊 he thinks he’s so funny

username idk why they broke up in the first place but if all it took for them to get back together was y/n releasing a song and carlos going to her concert let me tell you …

username i think what really did it for him was the fact that she released it on his birthday 😭

username they’re just obsessed with each other i guess 🤷🏽‍♀️

yourusername oh i knew it wasn’t! just wanted to know what you thought 😁

carlossainz55 i love you let’s never do that again ❤️

username she’s so real 😭😭

username MY PARENTS BACK TOGETHER AT LAST💖

[vaaaaaiolet]

Anxiety left you sleepless all night. Leon figures his favorite dream of you might help.

mdni CIAO CHILDREN!! f / m smut w established relationship. put bluntly, leon fucks the worry out of you 😭 he talks you through sex by retelling a dream, tiny bit of character study, PRAISE!! TONS of fingering, 0.5 sec of cockwarming, light angst, p in v w/ a happy ending iykwim, aftercare and i love you's awww. also strawberries 🍓

a / n: req fic from my event!! i took the premise from isle of strawberries by edwin raphael and you can find a playlist for this fic here. motivational smut is a first for me LMFAO but i hope this works w your vision, anon <3 also PEE AFTER SEX YOU GUYS

word count: 2.5k // read on ao3

The 5 AM sun shines rays through the cracks in your plan. You thought you’d been convincing enough with your face pancake-flat against the pillow and your left arm thrown out of the blanket just so. You’d even made sure you had a foot poking into Leon’s side the way he always grumps about, but somehow, your boyfriend always seems to see right through you.

Just like now. 

A busybody poke on your shoulder. “Sweetheart,” follows a drowsy whisper, “what’re you doing?”

Sleeping since last night, thank you very much.

“No use playing possum. You haven’t moved an inch since we went to bed and you, ma’am, can’t sleep still to save your life. C’mere,” and you’re tugged to Leon’s side of the bed, the top of your head peppered with slow, sleepy kisses as he hugs an arm around your middle. “Did you sleep at all tonight?”

You clutch his forearm like a safety bar on a rollercoaster. “A little.”

“Enough?”

“Um…” 

Leon kisses his teeth. He’s usually the one on the receiving end of these questions, but he’s picked up a couple things from you. “Too hot? Too cold? Anything I can get you?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just can’t fall asleep.”

A quiet sigh from you, a hum of understanding from him.

“Because you’ve been thinking again.” He asks if you want to talk about it.

“It’s just a bad night,” you mumble, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “Overwhelmed. Been getting into my head about everything I should be doing but don’t. I feel like I’m letting everyone down all the time.” 

In the champagne pink of the early morning light pouring through the bedroom window, your eyes trace the corded muscle of Leon’s arm around you – a testament to the strength it takes to do his job every day. There’s scars here, burn marks there, a plum-hued bruise.

Your words stumble to a halt. Embarrassed color rises to your cheeks. 

The matter is that scars from his missions to the ends of the earth litter the chest cradling your back right now. Leon must be sore and aching, listening to you whine like a child with too much food on your plate. What could be keeping you up at night when he shoulders your worst nightmares for a living? All while you lay cuddled and coddled? You don’t know the first thing about worry, the paralysis in his bones that must pale to yours.

Guilt creeps up your spine, and Leon frowns at your sudden silence. You’re retreating into a shell he’s called home too many times. He won’t have any of that with you. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he soothes, smoothing back your hair. “I’m still here. You don’t wanna talk right now?” 

You let go of his arm and burrow into your pillow, mumble about how you like sleeping late on weekends anyway.

A scoff sounds behind you. “Sleep late, my ass.” 

Leon’s arm comes circling back over your ribs in an instant. He squeezes you so tight to his chest that you feel his heart thump behind your back, and you can’t help the unexpected laugh that bubbles up your throat when he lets go. It’s his favorite reflex of yours.

“If you won’t talk, I will.” Leon presses a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna distract you for a bit, sweetheart. Humor me?”

“Hm?”

“I wanna tell you about my favorite dream. You’re in it.”

You can’t pretend that doesn’t catch your attention like lightning to a rod. Leon doesn’t dream much, not besides the nightmares that have him scrambling to throw off the covers in the middle of the night. 1998 hangs thick in the air of your bedroom some days, but for him to have a dream where you don’t die for a change? That’s new. 

So is his hand starting to creep under your sleep shirt, playful circles tracing on the soft skin below your navel. Part of his distraction strategy. A successful one, if the skip in your heart rate has anything to do with it.

“This okay?” he rasps.

More than. 

You reach behind, cradling his cheek to kiss him a proper hello; allow yourself an anticipatory inhale when Leon’s hand dives under the waistband of your shorts. It takes exactly three seconds for his middle finger to pinpoint the pearl of your clit, and he circles it twice, maddeningly slow, before sliding right under to trace along the seam of your entrance. 

Leon keeps the pressure light. He needs your head clear so you listen. 

“It always starts the same.” He shifts his hips so yours widen for him. “I’m standing in the middle of a huge field, a strawberry farm. There’s nothing around for miles, just rows of bushes full of berries and storm clouds in the distance. I find an empty basket in my hand.”

You imagine your mountain of a boyfriend holding a basket like Strawberry Shortcake. Adorable. “You dream about picking strawberries?” you giggle, arching your back to fit more comfortably against him, and your consideration earns you a searing dip of his finger into your pooling arousal. 

“That,” Leon chuckles, “and a nagging, sinking feeling that I should be doing something but I can’t.”

Oh. 

“Mhm. It hits me that I have to pick as many strawberries as I can before the storm rolls in, and I can’t even move, sweetheart.”

You swallow the returning lump in your throat. Push down a sigh that was building at the upward roll of his fingertip inside you. Leon tuts at your effort, coaxing the sound out anyway with a press of the spongy spot he knows is tucked at the back of your walls. You crumple at the delicious nudge; it leaves you open to welcome another finger into your warmth.

“But this is a good dream because,” Leon smiles at your next gasp, “then I see you at the edge of the field standing next to a little house, waving at me.” 

He scissors you open like he’s got all the time in the world. You clutch the corner of your pillow when you hear it through the comforter: the soft, rhythmic squelch of his fingers curling into your cunt.

Pretending he can’t hear your whimpered little curses as he coos in your ear, “There you go, listen to that,” Leon continues. “That’s when I start thinking. There’s no way I can save all these strawberries in time. You’re standing there, smiling at me without a clue there’s a storm brewing, and suddenly all I can think about is getting you into the house before you get hurt.”

His lesson becomes one of endurance the more he talks. The fingers pumping into your pussy melt your brain into mush that’s chanting, more, more! Exactly the root of your problem.

“So then I- oh, poor baby. This isn’t enough?” 

Shit. You forgot you talk in your sleep. And apparently when you get fingered too. 

“Guess I can’t blame you. I get distracted in the dream too, fuck.” There’s a pause, a sputtering stop to the lovely fullness when Leon pulls his fingers out and promptly sucks them off. 

Even a worm will turn; you certainly do. You whine Leon’s name when he makes a show of it, gazing at you with half-moon eyes and a boyish grin pulling at his lips. “What, it’s my fault you taste better than the strawberries did?” 

No, for leaving you hanging. You were paying attention — maybe a bit too much.

“It was you, by the way,” Leon chuckles, lifting the comforter so his knees can bracket your thighs. 

“I distracted you in the dream?” you gasp, sliding your hands up his shirt.

“In the best way, angel. You helped me get moving again.”

The peachy light of dawn caramelizes gold as Leon climbs on top of you. It doesn’t warm the bedroom quite yet; Leon makes sure the comforter is tucked over your bare skin after he finishes kicking off his pajama pants. He’s back to murmuring sweet nothings, gently tugging your shirt over your shoulders so he can kiss down the swell of your breasts. You’re so toasty under the covers that the goosebumps now speckling your chest are entirely his fault. 

“I remember you picking a few berries off a bush,” Leon looks fondly up at you under golden lashes, pressing a gentle kiss over your heart, “and you just looked so content eating them. I was fretting over saving the whole field and you were fine with a handful.”

You’re itching to ask: but the storm’s still coming, isn’t it? Thunder, rain, your aching cunt dripping onto the sheets right under him. 

Leon is all too happy to answer. 

One hand cradles the back of your head so he can drop his mouth onto yours, leaving the other free to slip under the blankets, rub consolation over the hood of your clit, and finally, finally, notch the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. You cry out, clutching at Leon’s hair when he sheaths himself in a buttery-smooth stroke – as if it could be any other way with how you’ve melted like chocolate in his hands. You both gasp at the stretch.

Leon’s jaw works as he kisses you, savoring you. Spit bridges your mouths in between split-second gulps of air. Your heart thumps against your ribcage like you’re hanging off a precipice, no difference in the dizzying drop that waits ahead. His length sits adjusting inside the squeeze of your plush walls. 

Leon’s sentences come out chopped and desperate as he alternates sucking berry-toned love bites between your breasts, and he admits, “I don’t save the all the strawberries.”

You wheeze as if you’ve dashed across the field yourself. “No?”

“Just enough to last us the storm. Fuck the rest, figure it’ll grow back. Only need to focus on what matters – getting enough for you – so I pick a couple,” the thick of his cock is suffocating when it’s this still, “run,” Leon pants at the first snap of his hips against yours, outrunning the storm all over again, “and pull you inside the house before lightning strikes.”

Electric pleasure curls up from the base of your spine, spreads to your head and flickers down to your toes as Leon starts pounding into your pussy. No room in your chest for anxiety to linger when your eyes are rolling skyward. The edges of your vision melt into vignette as your lover sinks into you again and again. 

Tunnel vision. 

“Keep those pretty eyes open. Focus on what matters,” he repeats in a frenzied whisper, and the tunnel closes in.

All you see are Leon’s eyes. Smack dab in the middle of his blown out pupils is your reflection.

That’s it.

Coherency goes flying out the window with all your brainpower used up to connect the dots. “Leon, you-!”

“Tell me what you see, sweetheart,” he breathes sharply. “I know you can.”

You beg for mercy at each dig of his blunt cockhead. “Me, I get it, fuck! Please- just let me come!”

Course he can, he just has to drill something else into you first. 

“Need to hear you say it,” Leon grits. Nips at the base of your neck as your nails claw stinging holds on his shoulders. “Shit, I’ll make you see stars, don’t worry, I just need to – oh, you’re so fucking tight! – get it in your head. You can’t shut down on me.”

You thrash under him, make more space for bruising kisses to bloom up your neck. “But you’ve had it worse,” you sob out, overwhelmed. 

“How else do you think I know?”

He’s not letting you head off into your own storm alone. Not when you’ve saved him from his.

“Tell me you’ll let me in next time you get in your head, and I’ll make you come. I’ll make you come so fucking good, baby,” Leon hisses, stealing one last kiss from your panting lips. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“I will.”

And you ought to thank your lucky stars your levees don’t hold. 

It starts with spiraling cracks. Leon reaching down to press his thumb over your swollen clit. One shaky thrust away from dislodging the last brick holding you together. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flutter of your cunt, choked breaths torn from his throat when the silken clutch of your walls sends him into that final crescendo. 

Leon’s fraying at the edges, obsessive in how rolls his thumb at the bundle of nerves that make you shriek his name, and you, hand in hand with him, finally let the swelling tsunami in the pit of your stomach topple your walls. 

Turns out he’s right. Stars explode across the night sky when your eyes squeeze shut. 

You can’t pay attention to much except the rolling tide of pleasure. Leon’s soon spilling into you, his brow pinched as he blindly works his spend into your cunt under the covers. His forehead glistens with sweat, hell, your baby hairs are a dripping mess, but strangely, you think you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing this warmth again. 

Your heart’s never felt more weightless. 

Glowing seconds sail by. Leon’s shaking arms eventually give way and he collapses onto your chest. You let out an “oof!” at the drop. 

“And then the dream ends,” you hear him sigh, eyelids fluttering shut.

About time, you think, smiling as you brush a thumb over his cheekbone. “Then you wake up?”

“No.” Leon cracks open a sapphire eye and grins. “Sometimes we do this.”

In the little hou- Oh. “Fuck you,” you laugh.

“It’s my favorite for a lot of reasons!” 

He sits up, keeping his touch featherlight when he pulls himself out from between your candied thighs. Tiny aftershocks jerk your thighs once, twice, and Leon takes the time to whisper soft apologies when he reaches for a tissue on the bedside table. 

“I meant it back there, y’know?” he hums, gently wiping off the mess between your legs. “I hate seeing you so hard on yourself.”

“It just feels like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Especially when you’ve been through worse,” you mumble, picking at the covers.  

The tissue gets tossed into the trash, and Leon shoots you a small smile. “Worse to you, maybe. To me, the worst thing I’ve seen is watching you lose your spark and not being able to help.”

“You really think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I love you.”

So you remember your promise. 

You tell him you love him too, no more secrets to keep in your head. The bedroom blooms warmer than you remember it ever being, a little slice of summer straight out of both your dreams.

You remember the strawberries from the farmer’s market in the kitchen, and that Leon makes killer Sunday pancakes.

You remember how much you love afternoon catnaps with your limbs tangled between his. Infinite possibilities pile high like the papers on your work desk. So much to get started.

Focus on what matters. The rest will grow back.

You turn the other cheek, and kiss your lover on the mouth.

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