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theemptyislost · 7 months ago

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Haunt Me

Haunt me Chapter 1 - Because I am bored and I rarely post full chapters here.

Ao3 Link

Pairings: Haarlep/F!Tav/Raphael

Summary:

Haarlep heard Tav's cries echo in the Abyss and Raphael has come to collect her. In the end, Tav is not sure which devil is crueler; but she knows now which devils make her feel safe.

Rating: 18+ | Explicit - Heed the rating and tags

“And when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair – that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door.”

― Raphael, Baldur's Gate 3

Tav lay tucked in decadent sheets. Curled around a perfectly fluffed long pillow. Head cradled at one end while her arms gripped the soft object to her chest like a lifeline.

Awareness trickled through her subconscious. The tender tickle along her outer thigh and hip caused goosebumps to tighten her skin. The repetitive caress of blunt nails and soft fingertips coaxed her from the nightmare that tormented her only moments prior.

The affectionate petting pulled her from the darkness of a despair that had yet to fade. The taste of it lingered like an old wound – scabbed over yet never healing. Her past mistakes were a stain that she would never be rid of. Her choices would haunt her for eternities to come.

As the echoes of her dream faded, Tav became aware of her body.

The heaviness in her limbs, the burn along her eyelids, the phantom feeling of soreness between her thighs – the barely distinguishable trace of sulfur in the air.

She groaned groggily, clutching the pillow tighter to her chest; wanting nothing more than to sink back into the calm that now settled through her mind.

Tav felt so…secure – protected, was the closest word she could think of.

She could not remember the last time she had not woken up to the sticky feeling of blood drying on her neck or the suffocatingly familiar hold of Astarion. The endless turbulent days and nights of his attentions as he sought to reform her to her previous state of complacency – almost destroyed her beyond repair.

Guilt still held firm, tainting the comfort that her newly obtained freedom should bring.

If one could call her arrangement freedom.

“Has our little thief woken from her slumber?” A familiar soft voice – her voice – breathed.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than pet me?” Tav rasped back. Sleep addled mind causing her filter to slip. Her brain pulled itself back to the present away from those past memories and regrets. Her centuries with Astarion warped her concept of time. He was both a distant visage and a vivid experience. However, that could still be the effects of their bond bleeding through whatever potions Raphael was constantly feeding her.

Tav was no longer at Astarion’s Palace; she was hidden away.

Tucked in another realm, safe in the House of Hope – or as safe as one could be surrounded by Devils.

“Naughty mouse.” Haarlep reprimanded, voice still hushed. “You would do best to remember how to address your masters.” Fingers still traced patterns along her side leaving a tingle of magic in their wake. “I can still be cruel if need be.”

Tav realized Haarlep was tracing the scars left by Astarion. She chose to remain silent, let the incubus continue to follow the curving lines and sharp edges of the two spells carved into her skin. The second addition had long since healed over, less visible than the first, but shimmered like tattoos of celestial light when touched.

Tav did not understand Haarlep’s obsession with the old wounds. Raphael had been livid when he saw the damage. His reaction stirred an odd sense of comfort in her. Relieved by the simple fact that Raphael was not the one to plant the seed of complete ownership of her soul in Astarion’s mind.

Haarlep’s form shifted behind her.

The familiar tingle at the tips of her own fingers, phantom sensations that mirrored Haarlep’s, faded. Her own familiar hand grew larger, and the breasts against her back melted away into the hard muscular chest of Raphael.

Tav tensed for a brief moment before her body relaxed.

“There we are.” Haarlep murmured as they felt her lean into them. Then sighed, more a conversation with themselves than her, “We still have work to do. That insolent whelp doesn’t know how to properly take care of his toys.” A large hand tucked a loose wave behind her ear before resting against her waist. “You should have stayed with me.” Their deep voice muffled against her hair.

Tav remembered Haarlep’s offer when she snuck into Raphael’s domain to steal the Orphic Hammer.

She hated the grip her old master held over her, even now – the guilt that came with finally escaping consumed her at times. Her attachments to the Ascendant Vampire still held her in a chokehold. She was now sure it was a combination of the memory of what once was, mixed with the lingering effects of his compulsion. Further solidified by their bond, that prevented the haunting attachment from fading in full.

There was another unsettling suspicion that maybe it was Astarion’s will alone; even after all this time. His obsession potentially running deeper than Tav thought possible. Her new train of thought caused her breasts to hitch in an unnecessary breath.

Maybe he was –

As if sensing her thoughts, Haarlep ran their lips over Tav’s collar. Kissed the twin scars that marred her delicate neck. Horns pressed against her temple as they nuzzled their head against hers – a distraction.

She was with them now. Her two unlikely saviors that appeared when she was at her lowest.

“We will take better care of you, sweet little mouse.” Their – Raphael’s hand – moved from its perch along the dip of her hip, pet across her womb and then up between the valley of her breasts to gently curl around the base of her throat. “I will never let either of them squash that delicious potential.” Their last promise held a possessiveness the curled around Tav like a warm blanket. Secured her away in the mutual understanding that Haarlep ran their dynamic behind the scenes. They would be there to mend her wounds both physical and emotional as they have proven so far.

They taught her that actions spoke more than words ever could.

Haarlep’s embrace danced along the edge of sexual without tipping the scale. Their main focus – as it had been – was familiarity; intimacy and trust.

Haarlep was working to drag her from the depths of the broken house she built around herself. With a practiced hand, soft caresses and meticulous care they carefully lured her from the ocean of her anguish.

Tav sealed her new contract with Raphael in sin when he whisked her away from her prison. Astarion foiled her attempt to summon Bhaal– the ritual ruined, and no Gods came to her rescue; no one responded to her desperate pleas.

Just when Tav was ready to give up – a devil responded instead.

His was the first face other than her master’s that she had seen in – she could not recall. Tav was so starved of everything at that point, pleading constantly for any deity to answer her prayers, that she would have agreed to anything he asked.

Tav had been too desperate, could still not recall the exact stipulations of their current contract; but remembered giving herself over to him without a second thought then and there on the cell floor.

After Raphael secured her contract he vanished the chains from Tav’s raw ankle, slipped his arms under her shoulder and knees and hefted her up against his chest. Tav could only vaguely remember the taste of sulfur and burn of ash against her eyes as Raphael ripped the portal in the dank air and took her away.

Astarion’s prized possession – stolen in the night.

Oh, how he must have raged.

Haarlep’s thumb brushed affectionately over her clavicle. The habit became a subconscious action when they felt her mind wander. The familiar touch acted as a shield intended to keep her anguish at bay.

Tav hummed to let Haarlep know she was fine. Her hand released its clutch on her pillow to rest against the forearm nestled between her breasts. Her fingers still tingled with their previous shared touch; she almost missed the intoxicating duality of Haarlep holding her while wearing her form.

She felt everything Haarlep felt. The sensation brought a selfishly narcissistic sense of comfort and in that moment Tav understood why Raphael transformed and glamoured Haarlep in his image.

Tav allowed the tension in her muscles to bleed away until she was lax in Haarlep’s embrace. Tucked into a cocoon of serenity as her mind wondered.

Later that night, after they thoroughly ravished her, she slipped in and out of conscious. Their coupling had been too much; she had been weaker than she looked. Even so, Tav still recalled their hushed conversation vividly.

“She is too far gone.” Haarlep growled loud enough for Raphael to hear during her first night in their care. “Our lost little dove won’t be any fun if we break what’s left of her.” The incubus’ fingers brushed the damp strands of hair from her temple with careful affection after Raphael set her on his bed. They huffed in false annoyance at her lack of response. Hips swayed with no regards to their nude state as they sauntered over to snag the long robe draped over the chaise lounge. Haarlep turned around, the degrading comment weaponized at the tip of their tongue turned to ash.

Haarlep’s sudden silence drew Raphael’s attention. Eyes falling to his concubine, as he took a sip of mulled wine from his cup.

The incubus took in the ragged state of their eagerly anticipated playmate. The haughty expression faded from their face to one of unfettered disbelief. Glamoured eyes traced over the scene displayed before them.

The velvet comforter clung to the thin material of Tav’s dress, causing it to bunch around her upper thighs.

Tav barely noticed; vision already blackened around the edges from the exertion on her body. A sheen of perspiration glittered on her skin. Limbs numb and tingling from the hellish euphoria of the combined attentions of both Raphael and Haarlep.

“Astarion did this to her?” Haarlep whistled low. All lighthearted sultry banter gone as their gaze fixated on her scars. “And you did not notice?” It was a bold question on Haarlep’s part; given neither thought to peel the erotic dress from her body before they shared her.

The consuming need to indulge clouded their usually high perception.

Raphael’s form turned as rigid as the statues carved in his likeness. Golden gaze flew over the markings; recognized parts of the scars. His features twisted in contempt, and he snarled his response to Haarlep in their shared infernal tongue.

Tav was still unsure if he switched languages for her benefit. For something to cause that type of visceral reaction in the cambion – whatever Astarion had done to her must have truly been blasphemous.

Raphael moved towards her slowly after their discovery; as if she were a caged animal – she was. The mattress dipped under the weight of him. His large hand reached out to touch her.

Tav’s flinch had been out of habit; completely unintentional. A traumatic reaction in response to years of Astarion’s depraved love.

Her immediate reaction was enough for Raphael to pause. His features distorted uncharacteristically with pity before falling stony and cold.

His hand cupped her face anyway. His grip firm and unyielding; meant to secure her attention and ground her through her haze. The unbearable warmth of him seeped through the chill of her skin.

“There was no decorum in these slights against you, little mouse.” His deep timber resonated through Tav’s as he spoke. “This damage is worse than I realized.” He released her chin, took a lingering look at the carvings decorating her side and shifted her dress down to hide them from view. “I will get my contract’s worth from you…and more I am afraid.” His eyes met Haarlep’s. “When we break her, we will not do so with such reckless disregard – Heal her.” Raphael stood from the bed and strode nude to his armoire to dress. “We can show restraint until she is ready – a small gift, in honor of our history.”

“It would be my pleasure, Master.” Haarlep said airily. “After all –“ His voice morphed into the familiar timbre of Tav’s own. “A dove with –“

“ – clipped wings is no fun at all.” Haarlep whispered the familiar words against her; pulling her from her musing. “Come now, pet.” They rolled Tav under them. Settled themselves comfortably between her parted thighs. Hips pressed flush against her core. Their golden gaze locked with her still red ones.

The new position made Tav hyper aware of the warmth pressed against her. Their hardened length brushed against her clit as she bent a knee causing the material of her nightgown to slide down her thigh making more room for the incubus’s hips. She could feel Haarlep’s muscles flex against her as they maintained their affectionate control.

They would never force her hand. Refused to push for anything further unless Tav was the one to initiate.

It was…sweet.

Tav knew their softness would not last forever, could still feel the phantom sensations of Raphael using Haarlep in her image. Remembered the sinful pleasure she endured her first night.

It was a reprieve she would have never been granted under the care of her previous master.

She was grateful.

Tav’s gaze traced down the contours of Haarlep’s glamoured face. Her hand rose up to follow the same trail her eyes took. Fingers brushed over sharp cheek bones and a strong jawline. Shakily traced down their throat. Red eyes fell to the pulse at their jugular – entranced by the gentle flutter of blood beneath their skin.

Her senses started to heighten, eyes dilated, and her throat became parched.

She forewent food for sleep.

Now the hunger was setting in.

Haarlep noticed her gaze; saw a thirst similar to theirs flicker in the depths of her eyes. They understood Tav’s need.

The pull of a vampire’s hunger was similar to that of their kind.

Incubi, succubi and vampires.

Blood and sex.

Kindred in a distant sense of the word.

With a deep chuckle they gripped Tav’s waist and rolled again. This time landing with their back against the pillows. Haarlep rearranged their favored playmate until she straddled their lap while they reclined against the plush headboard. The golden devil’s head cast above them reflected the glow of the fireplace onto Tav’s pale skin.

“Is my little dove hungry?” Haarlep’s voice hit a sultry note. Fed their own sensuality into the question. Sought to tease and pull forth other carnal desires from their pet.

Tav swallowed, head dipped in a small nod, shoved the unusual embarrassment of the admission away. She was no blushing virgin by any means – but this admission held a weight to it.

There was an electric anticipation in the air as Haarlep read her cues.

Slowly, tediously, Haarlep drew forth slivers of her old self. Dredged them from the depths of her agony and forced life back into her piece by piece.

The connection she felt to Haarlep was not one she could have ever anticipated. Their bargained tryst had been pushed to the back of her mind, only coming to light in snippets of bliss or phantom fingers that dug into her flesh during the more painful sessions; when Astarion forgot his strength.

A kindness she did not recognized at the time.

Haarlep’s hand came up to brush over Tav’s shoulders. Fingers hooked under the straps of her sheer nightgown and let the fabric drift down to her waist. Golden eyes darkened as the material slid away to reveal the soft skin below. Breasts now on display, legs parted and straddling their lap. Their tongue dipped out to lick their lips at the scene.

Haarlep moved, seemed to engulf her even though she was the one atop them. They leaned forward, closed the distance and thread their fingers in Tav’s luscious waves.

All Tav knew in that moment was those blazing gold irises, familiar heady scent distinctly belonging to Haarlep and the hellish warmth of their lips; barely grazing her own. The tempting brush of petal soft lips against her own slightly chapped ones acted as a ghost of a kiss intended to tempt – leaving its victim yearning for more.

“You know the rules, pet.” Haarlep purred; pausing until they saw clarity in Tav’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yes.” Tav stated, eyes locked back on the gentle thrum of blood flowing beneath Haarlep’s crimson skin.

“Tut-tut, little thief. Look at me.” Their voice rough with amusement. They got the answer they craved, but they wanted her explicit, enthusiastic, consent.

If not, they would end this now. Have a servant fetch another less enticing vial of their blood for her to drink from. They could not afford any further setbacks.

Tav forced her eyes to lock with gold, momentarily taken aback. Both shocked and relieved by the lack of glowing crimson.

“If we do this – Raphael will know – and he will come.” Haarlep’s fingers cradled her chin as his other hand pressed against her solar plexus. The warmth of a foreign emotion filled her deadened heart. It was love – pure and untainted by sorrow. Their tenderly spun lie of true love filled the empty bits of her soul; a different form of compulsion meant to ease the tension from her body but not cloud her mind. “You have traded one master for two far crueler ones.” Their voice was rough with restrained excitement.

Haarlep closed their eyes as if to collect themselves.

When they opened again there was a look of amity there that shook Tav to her core. Only now did it occur to her that Haarlep was also bound to Raphael as much as she had been bound to Astarion. Both of them enslaved to power hungry masters…and for a moment, she doubted herself.

Was the devil she knew a better choice?

“Little thief.” Haarlep drew her attention back to them. “If you do this – there is no going back.” A red thumb traced her bottom lip. “You will be relinquishing your soul to us.” Another peculiar look of affection passed through Haarlep’s eyes. “You will suffer; beautifully.” Golden eyes shuttered as if savoring the image. Then snapped open with a newfound intensity. “We will break you into pretty little pieces – but we will not leave you for ruin…to rot in a carcass of what once was.” Their nose brushed Tav’s with practiced affection. “We take care of our toys, little dove, and I promise you. You will quiver in pleasure as we ravish you while piecing you back together.”

The depraved visual caused Tav’s thighs to clench against the corded muscle of Haarlep’s. A new wave of needy fire burned through her veins and settled in her core.

“I am ready.” Tav reaffirmed. “I want this.” The twinge in her heart at her betrayal of Astarion did not hold the same sway it once had. She was surprisingly at ease with falling into the incubus’ fiendish embrace.

She was aware of how Raphael was; narcissistic and selfish, always taking and rarely giving. Knew in contrast, Haarlep was ravenous and would give endlessly – thrilled by the pleasurable suffering it brought. Tav had no doubt there would be times when she regretted her choice; but during her stay a House of Hope they had shown her more care than Astarion had in centuries.

“Oh, sweet little dove – I knew you would be a tasty steal when I heard your cries echoing in the Abyss.” Haarlep’s eyes darkened with arousal. Heat curled through Tav in response and her fangs cut into her lip. “Let’s give our beloved Raphael something to rage over.” Haarlep’s hands slid up Tav’s thighs, bunching the sheer material around her waist and dipped below. Fiery fingers grazed her clit and parted her folds to find her ready and wanting.

Haarlep groaned in delight. Horns clanked against the golden buttons sewn into the velvet headboard. They lifted Tav’s hips as if she weighed nothing and settled her over the tip of their – Raphael’s – rigid length.

Tav’s hands fell to their chest to support herself, allowed her weight to assist Haarlep’s entry. She gasped as their thickness parted her folds; the intrusion made easier by how damned wet she was. Her knees slid along the sheets and her core fluttered exquisitely when they bottomed out. The stretch of Raphael’s cock still required getting use to – textured and devilish as it was – his girth was more than she had been accustomed to.

Haarlep’s fingers flexed along Tav’s hips. She could feel their thighs tense and muscles strain from the effort to prevent them from bucking up into her.

A dark thrill curled up her spine at the heady feel of being the cause of such a reaction.

“Go-od, girl.” Haarlep’s head titled back in ecstasy as they groaned. One hand had found its way to fist in her hair while the other held firm on her hip. Tav rocked forward experimentally and jolted as a fresh wave of rapture coursed through her stagnate veins.

Haarlep’s hips thrust against her. They hissed something in infernal before guiding Tav to their neck.

“No need to be gentle, sweetling – we won’t.”

Tav’s fangs pieced Haarlep’s jugular. The heady combination of fiendish blood laced with magic and Haarlep’s thick cock buried in her cunt was an experience she would never forget. The icing on the cake was the knowledge that Raphael would be experiencing every sinful thrust and touch through phantom sensations miles away.

For once, Tav felt powerful.

Haarlep gripped her to them. Arms tightening like bands of steal around her form, sharp devilish teeth nipping at her neck as they started a slow leisurely pace while she fed. They bid their time; taking the care to build her up in preparation for when their master would come storming through the doors.

Raphael choked on his wine.

His fingers gripped the stem of the expensive gold goblet tightly. Golden eyes closed to hide his look of surprise from his host.

He could feel his little drow’s cunt flutter around his cock; had felt the cold pinch of fangs piercing his flesh soothed by the heady roll of arousal that followed a vampiric bite.

The muscles along Raphael’s jaw flexed. He would have to take a firm hand to both his pets when he got home.

Haarlep knew what his errands entailed today; been given an explicit set of rules to follow should anything change.

A wicked excitement coursed through him.

His little mouse had come out of her hibernation. He was only passingly concerned that by sharing her with Haarlep so soon, they had done further damage.

He should have realized when she easily caved to the contract he drew up. The agreement was, after all, entirely in his favor; the poor thing.

At the time, he was too overcome with a heady sense of triumph, knowing that he finally held the little hero trapped in his claws.

It had been centuries since he took another to his bed.

The exoticism and thrill lit his lust aflame only to be squandered by wrath when Haarlep noticed the extent of the damage Astarion dealt to her before he had.

His little mouse had not even made a peep of discomfort or discontent – she let them have their wicked way with her until they had their fill for the moment.

It was a slip in judgement that Raphael would not allow to happen again – and now that his little mouse was finally ready to play – He swallowed down the feral train of thought.

The clearing of a throat broke his reverie.

“Is the wine not to your liking?” The arrogant tone of his host chimed from across the cluttered table.

A wicked smirk played at the corner of Raphael’s lips.

He thrilled at the new turn his meeting had taken.

Raphael tipped his goblet in toast to the vampire across the table. Completely uncaring of the slanted glare Astarion shot in his direction. “I find your tastes to be quite…delicious, Astarion.”

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ugh-yoongi · 2 months ago

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ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol au #scoups angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jewel writes

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hvrtbroken · 1 month ago

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HE FEELS THE LAST SHRED OF HIS RESOLVE ( if you can even call it that ) melt far far away . he doesn't know if he'll ever find it again . he isn't sure he WANTS to . what if i can be more ? she's asking him and god - GOD , more is all he wants . more from her . . he doesn't even know what that looks like , only that'd lap it up greedy and begging for more . " i shouldn't want more . " he says , words struggling to leave his lips . he sighs , to himself , unsure of how else to verbalise it . " you're enough , in any way . " MORE THAN . but does he crave more in terms of being able to be close to her ? to touch her ? to kiss her ? to see her face scrunch up in laughter , mock - disbelief ? to feel her arch under his fingers , or touch her and take his mouth away , glistening wet ? HIS MIND ALMOST ZAPS HIM , like a collared dog . he's spent so long doing the opposite of wanting this .

she turns to face him and he swears his face could break into two . star is looking at him with revere . she's looking at him like she's silently BEGGING for him to touch her . he feels like she's a magnet , and he's being slowly pulled in - closer and closer , his mouth almost almost almost dancing over hers . she breathes out words that wash right over him . tell me . please . he's MORE than aware of her hand still on him , anchoring him ( the only thing at this point ) . he feels her still , feels her wait . his hand is on her thigh and he knows it ENGULFS it entirely . if he looks down , he'll be reminded of how small and fragile she is . how she needs to be protected , how he needs to do the protecting . nico hesitates for a second , unsure if he SHOULD keep going . . . but he's so far gone . his fingers skim up , up , up - to the edges of her shorts . they haven't kissed . they're trading breaths , eyes darkly focused on each other . he can't tell what he wants to do first : everything . all of it .

STAR'S HAND SNAKES TO HIS CHEEK , an imitation of him holding her own face before . that feels like years ago . they're moving so slowly yet so quickly . " please what ? " he exhales , an almost quirk to his mouth before he's closing the gap between them FINALLY .

he's careful about this though . he presses his mouth to hers and tries not to swallow her whole . he tries to remind himself that she is something precious , spun of gold and precious gem and everything else good in this world . his mouth seals over hers , and his hand slides up - to her hip bone , rucking up the edge of her sweatshirt . his mind FRIZZING at the very idea of taking it off . he's kissing her hard , pressing her back slightly , before letting up and reminding himself to be gentle be careful be good , be good , be good . a quiet groan tumbles from his lips , his hand reflexively squeezing her hip as his mouth gently nudges hers open . his tongue swipes against her bottom lip - that bottom lip he's been thinking of for MONTHS . she tastes sweet yet minty . she tastes like he'll thinking about her later .

star wants to whine in protest when he mentions the job part, but wants to forget that right now. stops herself ( barely ) with the shreds of rationality that are clinging onto her brain like birds on a power line, in danger of collapsing at any moment. "what if . . . i can be more." the words are almost whispered, she isn't even sure if he can hear them. doesn't even know if they were even spoken. can't even focus on them, really, when the warmth of contact continues to permeate throughout her. that feral part of her taking and taking and taking, wanting needing more of him. ( just barely stops herself from inching close. ) because outside of her words, she's going purely on instinct, unable to think about anything else except him.

dark eyes find his, and slowly, ever so slowly, lets her arm rest on him more. she doesn't even take his words hard, because she understands the way their worlds divide them, how he's described it so far — like some sort of stupid romeo and juliet narrative. but this isn't a stupid shakespeare story, and she's not a helpless young girl. this is byeol milewski falling for nico, and apparently, it's reciprocated. "you already give me so much. more than enough," she replies, defiance finally finding its way into her words, no matter how small. looks at him with a tilted chin as a sign of it. she doesn't need all the traditional things. she's proud of what she has, what she can give herself, knows her luck and place. but he gives her more than that. a confidence, a safety, a feeling she didn't know could exist; comfort that she never thought could exist for her. "i don't need anything else except you."

when he shifts, star follows suit, looking at him straight on. do you even know HALF the things i wanna do to you right now? the words makes her head spin again, but in a completely new way. the feral bit of her takes over, making her stomach light up white hot. "tell me." her words are whispered, throat hoarse but in a way that's so, so much different from before. her body goes rigid again when his hands slide up her thighs, scared that if she moved, he'd pull back.

letting out a shaky breath, her eyes search his, lips parting. can't even fully digest what's happening except his touch and the way he barely inches forward. wants more . . . needs it. she shakes her head, greedy, refusing. in fact, the hand that had been on his forearm ghosts upwards on his arm, and settles gently on his cheek, cupping it. the heat of him makes where they're connected tingle, and suddenly she remembers how he looked shirtless. needs to see all that skin again and more. star leans closer, but stops far enough that she can only just feel his breath fan her face. needs him to bridge the gap between them, for her own sanity. "please, nico."

#nico tbd #c: star #why can i write so many paragraphs of just lite smut #am i ok.

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be-my-ally · 1 year ago

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Like Pieces into Place

This is part of my prompt fill for fall/autumn and/or halloween. I started writing and the wordcount spiralled out of control (7k and counting... I intended it on being maybe 2? lol) but I didn't start writing it until today and was desperate to post something tonight, so take this as a sneak peek. The rest - including a trip to the Memphian, my dreams of ‘72 Elvis in a knit, and smut to come later this week.

summary: it's autumn 1972, and Elvis' girl on the side, Laura (from All Revved Up), who is no longer the girl on the side -- has come to stay at Graceland.

wc: sneak peak 1.3k I'll attach the inspo pics when the rest is posted since they don't hugely fit with this opening part.

October 19th 1972 Graceland.

It’s quiet as Laura pads down the stairs, suspicious of the silence in the house - hoping that Elvis hadn’t actually up and left her on her own. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, hoping to find him quickly and work out what she should wear today, and besides, it was early - knowing him they’d end up back in bed soon. But she hadn’t really expected having to go all the way downstairs before she could call to him. She wraps her arm around herself as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s been cold at Graceland, really, she’s only been there a handful of times anyway - and last year in the colder months he’d had her over in Palm Springs. Sure, he kept his room at a frankly ridiculous temperature but under the warmth of his heavy comforter and arm she barely felt it. Now though it feels as though there’s a cool breeze running through the house. The late summer having certainly given way to autumn, bronzed leaves starting to fall off the trees.

Elvis is nowhere to be found as she peeks around doorways and arches, and she wonders if she should give up and just wait for him to show up in the bedroom - but she’s sure he’d have woken her up if he was leaving, so he must be around here somewhere. She’s grateful there’s carpet in the kitchen for her bare toes when she creeps around the corner, the breeze suddenly stronger. The mystery is quickly solved; the door to the hallway flapping from the exterior door being left open. Laura huffs as she slams them shut, but it does at least explain where they’ve all gone (and why it was so breezy in the house). She looks down at herself, considering if she was prepared to venture out, but it’s just this side of too cold, and besides she’s fairly sure Elvis would flip out at her parading outside in just her silk robe. She heads down to the den, intending on just getting a little glimpse before going to get changed.

She quickly spots some of the guys, as she peeks out of the glass, but they’re all just a little too far to the side to see properly. She leans against the windowsill to help her stretch to peer as far as she can out, tiptoes rubbing into the plush green carpet. A football comes flying and Joe comes running past, red-faced and struggling to breathe in an attempt to catch it. She can’t help but giggle watching him as the collection of men come trotting around the corner to join him. Elvis at the end of the group, looking pleased with what had clearly been his throw. Laura leans as close as possible to the window, ducking her head under the little curtain, appreciating the look of him having fun. He’s practically bouncing around outside, dressed casually in a way she hasn’t really seen before - his velour zip-up looking particularly cozy. He’s a little thicker than he was in the height of the summer and in Laura’s opinion it looks good on him; she’s a fan of how he’s styling his hair at the moment too - the slightly longer shaggy length of it that seems to look like he’s either just combed it into a gentle swoop or like he’s been rolling around on it. Both looks make her tummy flip if she looks at them for too long. He’s foregone his tinted glasses, whether because it was overcast and therefore the light manageable to his eyes, or simply from fear of the football being thrown Laura didn’t know. She could, however, just from looking at the set of his shoulders tell that for once he seemed untroubled. As calm as he could ever be, his carefree attitude was evident even from a distance. He spots her at the window after a couple more passes, his face lighting up as he jogged over to the window.

Even though Laura was watching him she still startles when he taps the glass, through the decorative metal, grinning at her. She beams back - thrilled at his happy face.

“How'd’you sleep honey?” He shouts at her, muffled but still audible, she giggles in response - shaking her head at his antics. She’s quite sure she’s somehow alone in the house, but she wasn’t about to start shouting through a window at him. He folds his arms, leaning back to look her up and down, frowning suddenly and insistently tapping the glass again in mock outrage.

“Get dressed!” Laura shakes her head again, teasing him and watches as he signals something to the boys who all jog off to one side. She’s too distracted by all the movement to notice Elvis himself disappearing, until the door slams open. She stumbles, caught in the drape when she tries to whirl herself around - but before she can right herself there’s an arm suddenly wrapping around her middle, holding her tight and close. Despite the plush velour rubbing against her back, she can feel the chill on him; they must have been out there playing for a while already.

“Jesus Elvis! You’re freezing!” He shakes his head, laughing and shoving his cold nose into the crook of her neck, “Elvis!” She tries to dance and wriggle out of his hold, but he has a surprisingly tight grip onto her.

“Not my fault Lor! Y’gotta get dressed, honey, catch yer death runnin’ round like this!” He tugs her away from the window, bundling them towards the middle of the room.

“Didn’t need - didn’t need to before.” His hands brush up her sides and she squirms as he tickles her. “‘Fore someone kept shoving their nose places it didn’t be-” Laura yelps when his nose makes another appearance, now with accompanying snuffle-snorting noises. “-long!”

“Oh yes you do. Can’t have you like this -” Elvis holds her with one arm, the other hand trailing down to brush across her bare thigh, large hand parting her robe and pushing up her nightgown. Laura involuntarily clenches her thighs and immediately feels his huff of laughter as he feels it. His voice lowering as he leans closer to her ear, the gentle vibration sending goose-pimples across her skin. “Not like this.” He flicks at the hem, now high enough to send a gust of air across the crease of her upper thigh, just the threat of exposure enough to make her gasp.

He smooths the fabric back down, mock outrage back in his voice; “Anyone could see you!” As if he wasn’t the one exposing her. He prods his long fingers into her tummy, making her crunch in an attempt to squirm away from his tickling, giggling the whole time.

“No, no!” She shrieks, “No more! I give!” He stills his hands and between gulps of air she tells him, “I’ll get dressed! I give.”

“Y’better!” he growls against her ear, squeezing her tight to his torso for a long second before releasing her with a grunt. A self-satisfied smile on his face when he pulls her around to face him, her own rosy cheeks matching his. He flicks at the hem of her nightgown again, shaking his head at her.

“Go on then.” He turns her to the stairs, slapping her behind as she stumbles calling out to her as she heads up the stairs and back up to his bedroom “Hurry! Want you to be my little cheerleader out there!”

---- taglist -----

@thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @shakerattlescroll @peskybedtime @dkayfixates @lookingforrainbows

#elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #be-my-ally #elvis x oc #writing prompt game #elvis smut lite

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motherismotheringggg · 22 days ago

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SLOW BURN

okay wow my first public fic — i’m terrified so pls be kind but feedback is OF COURSE welcome!!

type: female reader x nicholas chaves x cooper koch

(^this is the greed they talked about in the bible 🤭)

tags/warnings: 18+; nsfw; smut lite; kissing; fingering; groping (i think that’s it!!)

word count: 7317 (i was gonna post it in parts but i changed my mind)

*used AI to help organize structure

pt.2 out now!!!!

⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️

You and your friend Vanessa laughed as you walked into the cafeteria of Camp White Water from a joke that had you both laughing since you both got ready and started heading toward the first day of camp counselor training.

This was your second summer of being a camp counselor at this month-and-a-half long sleep away camp. And you always looked forward to it, the leadership staff was always kind, the campers were actually not too bad and the other counselors were your favorite. All of the returners had become super close and it was super exciting to be reconnected with them when summer rolled around.

This year there were a few new counselors because of the amount of campers that were coming in this summer, particularly in your group. That being said, you were given two new co-counselors.

You and Vanessa were still in stitches about whatever joke had been continuing when you got closer to your assigned table, you noticed your name card with your name between two other name cards, one read “Nicholas Chaves” and the other “Cooper Koch”.

“Whoa..two news guys?” You were surprised, you expected to at least have another returner on your side, “Do they think I’m responsible enough to train two newbies?” you chuckled as you sat on the cafeteria bench.

“Well if they’re dumb and hot, send them over to the young eagles team, I’d love to have fresh meat”, Vanessa gestured to her table with Gene who was the oldest camp counselor and a bit of a gangly man who meant well but wasn’t exactly summer camp eye candy.

You both looked in his direction and giggled, “Hey Gene! You look ripped this summer. I’ll send her over to you in a second” you called out, causing Vanessa to laugh even harder.

As you both continued cackling in a room full of lively conversation, the group of new counselors walked in, it was tradition that the current counselors applaud them as a bit of a harmless hazing ritual.

You clapped and laughed with your friend as the newbies looked around excited but nervously for their name tags. In the middle of your giggling, you noticed two men stopped at your table and started settling in, “this must be them” you thought.

Copper was tall and broad. He had hazel brown eyes and deep brown curly hair. He was wearing a gray zip-up hoodie and tennis shorts and you could tell from his leg muscles that he was in good shape. He had soft features that made you feel immediately calm and at ease - safe almost.

Nicholas was the opposite, he had straight hair and darker eyes. His face was very chiseled, his jawline was impeccable. He had a defined and muscular physique, which stood out even when he’s dressed casually in his shorts and long sleeve college shirt.

He was also tall with broad shoulders but his muscles were more pronounced - a strong chest, and visible arm muscles that give him a commanding presence.

“Hey guys, I’m Y/N”! Cooper went for a handshake, which was too formal for you, without thinking you went in for a hug. You figured you’d get close through the summer like the rest of the counselors.

Cooper was caught off guard but quickly adjusted to the hug, Nicholas was a little reserved but even with just a side hug you felt his biceps take you in completely. They sat on either side of you and you started talking about your experience at the camp the group you’ll have this year.

The camp director gave some opening remarks and then the assistant director had you all start with those cringey ice breakers. He went around and gave out a stack of cards to each group that had random questions on it.

When he got your table, he said “Ah Y/N, happy to see you back again! Boys you’re in good hands, she’s a pro.” You playfully shooed him away to be humble. “I mean it, but you also have some star athletes next to you. Cooper and Nicholas were both finalists in the west end tennis conference and since you’re working on rec fit this year, it should be perfect!”

“Tennis boys huh?” you gestured to your co- counselors, “I knew those builds weren't for nothing” you jokingly nudged both of them in the side. Cooper giggled and you finally got Nick to crack a smile and loosen up.

The ice breakers were stupid but kind of fun and they opened up more conversation; “if you were a fruit, what fruit would you be?” turned into you three talking about your families, “what three things would you need on a deserted island” turned into talking about your favorite vacation spot and “what;s your morning routine” let the guys start to talk about their training which you found…hot. The way they describe conditioning and training completely hypnotized you, like you could understand it but just barely. And watching them interact was a real treat, Cooper was very funny and lighthearted but still very direct and expressive in his words. Nicholas was very sincere in everything and said it with such conviction, even if he was joking it came out so earnestly you thought he was being serious.

Later, for training you all got to wander the camp site as groups. The three of you found yourselves sitting on one of the picnic benches along the trail route, the ice was finally broken so the conversation flowed very casually.

It started to get a little warmer out, too warm for a hoodie so both you and Cooper took yours off. Cooper was wearing a tank top that revealed even more of his physique and you were wearing a stretchy tank top body suit. Realizing this was the first time they've seen your arms, they noticed you had a few tattoos and were both instantly intrigued. "You have tattoos?" Cooper asked, his voice more excited than you expected.

"Yeah, just a few!” You started pointing them out to Cooper while he walked around your body to get a closer look at each one. “I got this one with one of my friends, they are not quite matching but they’re similar” you went on.

Nicholas was also listening to you talk about your tattoos but he wasn’t as outwardly interested as Cooper was. He mostly just nodded in approval after you explained each tattoo. It wasn’t until you bent a certain way to show Cooper a different tattoo that your tennis skirt raised a little, revealing the very bottom of a tattoo on your thigh. "Is that… another one?" Nicholas asked, gesturing to your thigh, catching you off guard.

You blinked. "Oh, yeah," you replied, laughing lightly. "Good eye." You hadn’t expected him to notice that one—it was usually pretty hidden. But it wasn’t awkward and you were happy he actually spoke. “Yeah it’s just my zodiac constellation, I just thought it was cute, maybe a little stupid to get that tatted but I like it”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Nicholas replied, more confidently this time. Cooper nodded in agreement.

“In fact,” Nicholas stood up and took off his bookbag “As long as we’re showing off our sick ink…”. You and Cooper’s eyes widened, you had no idea what this man, who had been fairly silent this whole time, was about to show. He took off his shirt and revealed his perfect abs. They looked like they were chiseled from marble but also soft like flesh. You cleared your throat and gathered yourself. You glanced over at Cooper who was equally entranced by Nicholas’ body.

“What do you think?” Nicholas posed in front of you two and you both looked confused, “I thought we were just showing off tattoos, not seeing who’s built like an adonis” Cooper joked.

You laughed, “yeah, this is a summer camp so the chance to take off your shirt was coming soon enough” you added.

Nicholas laughed back, “no get closer, it’s there!” You and Cooper looked at each other and then got closer to his man’s perfect body and there it was, two small tattoos under both pecs, a smiley face and a frowny face.

‘Totally sick ink right?” Nicholas joked in a surfer voice, you and Cooper threw your heads back in laughter as you jokingly agreed. “It certainly is … ink on your skin,” Cooper added.

“They were stick-and-pokes I did in college just for fun, you can even feel the weird texture of them,” Nicholas said. Without missing a beat, he grabbed Cooper's hand and placed it on the small tattoo. You had to find a way to act normal about this but this was incredibly hot. Two gorgeous men essentially groping each other in the woods felt like something out of a fan fic.

Nicholas looked at you and said, “Don’t be shy, I don’t bite”, in a quiet gravely voice. You felt your shoulders drop and your eyes widened, internally you thought “what is happening right now??”

You used your finger tips to feel the tattoo but followed Cooper’s lead and also felt his chest too. Nicholas would glance down at you two feeling him with his breath hitching just a little. Cooper was into the moment, you were still taken aback. Before this moment could progress, the camp alarm blared calling us all back in for dinner.

For dinner, groups got to mix and mingle so you and Vanessa decided your groups should eat together. Dinner was fine, you were fine. It seemed odd that these two boys who were basically mute at the beginning of the day had this moment earlier with you and were now just so chill about it. But you were going to match their vibe and keep it lowkey.

After dinner, you were all texting and realized you wanted a sweet treat so you went off-site and ended up at this diner a few miles from the camp. You three sat in this round corner booth and just talked about each other.

It was getting progressively later and later in the night and you felt yourself getting tired. Cooper went to the bathroom before you all headed out and you instinctively rested your head on Nicholas’s shoulder. Completely forgetting what happened earlier and just needing a place to rest for a minute.

It took him no time to accommodate your needs and lift his arm up so you could properly get close. He pulled you close to his chest and rubbed your arm as you slightly drifted in his arms.

You all drove in your car there but Nicholas saw how tired you both were so he offered to drive. “Give daddy the keys” he gestured to you to throw them in his direction, “I’ll get us back safe”. You mentally noted that he called himself daddy and tossed him your keys. “You both should ride in the back seat because if you're up here yawning by me that could be dangerous”.

You and Cooper hopped in the back seat and again, you just wanted to lay down, so Cooper sat upright and you laid down with your head in his lap. He also wanted to make you feel comfortable so he started stroking your cheek and did that for the entire ride back to camp.

---

The next morning was Special Classes day, all the counselors would be in various groups to get trained on the specialized activities for the camp this summer. Swimming, archery, arts and crafts, home ec, etc., you were partnered with Nicholas in the swim group while Cooper took the archery class.

The sun beat down on the lake, making the water glisten. You all had been in and out of the water several times for various tests. Every time you glanced at Nick and noticed the way the water drops would sit in between the ridges of his abs you felt something electric in you.

“You all have done a fantastic job today,” the instructor addressed the group, “and we wrapped up earlier than I thought so that’s good. Feel free to go for a free swim or head out until your next activity.”

You and Nicholas non-verbally agreed to head out but not before the instructor asked you both to take some supplies to the first aid shed before you left out. You wrapped a towel around your body and Nicholas wheeled the cart of medical supplies.

When you got the shed, which was more of a small cottage, you held open the door while Nicholas wheeled the items in. He started putting them away while you just stood and watched. Watching the way his back muscles moved with every action, the way he towered next to the shelves and how broad he looked from the back.

He turned to see you checking him out and chuckled to himself, “do you mind helping me out a little?” a smirk brandishing on his face.

You didn’t hear what he asked you when you were in your trance so he chuckled again, a little louder this time, “they’re getting lower in the wagon, could you hand them to me?” he asked again.

“Oh my bad – yeah of course! Sorry, I was just thinking about dinner or something” you tried to cover your tracks in the worst way possible, “or ‘something’ is right” he retorted back, you felt your face get hot.

When you were finished putting the boxes away, you wheeled the cart to where the other storage containers were and joined him back in the main room. The shed was so warm so neither one of you wanted to leave. Nick went to sit down in a chair by the desk in the room. There were papers on top of the chair he went to move but when he picked them up he got a paper cut.

“Shit,” he hissed “oh my god” your eyes widened. It wasn’t a lot of blood but you could yell it hurt because he kept hissing in pain. At one point he even hissed your name asking you to grab him a paper towel and you felt your heart skip a little.

He sat on the chair while you cleaned him up and gave him a bandaid. Once you got him squared away and you put the kit back on the shelf, you just kind of stood in front of him. There was nowhere else to go and not much to say.

He grabbed your hand, closing the distance between you two, pulling you toward him “the old ‘nurse me back to health’ trope huh? What a classic” he joked in a low gravely voice

“You’re so annoying”, you whined jokingly pushing away, as his one hand placed your arm on his shoulder and the other wrapped around your waist.

You caressed the side of his face with one hand, contemplating if this was really about to happen. You just met this guy yesterday - but you have already felt his pecs, cuddled with him in public and let him call himself daddy.

You leaned down and hovered in front of his mouth, “don’t make me beg” he whispered as he moved closer to plant his lips on yours. It started slow but very deliberate, he was soft but sturdy, your knees felt weak and you could feel him holding you up with the strength of his arm alone.

He took more initiative in the kiss and started taking control, his tongue now fighting for dominance in your mouth and he pulled you down into a straddling position on to his lap, never breaking apart. The more intense he got the more inhaled and exhaled sharply, the breathing made it all so much hotter. He started kissing down your neck, using his hands to guide which way you leaned your head to receive him.

He got to your ear and whispered , “I wanted you the second I saw you”, and started kissing and licking your collarbone, “you’re so perfect” he said into your neck before biting and sucking at various spots. While he worked on a particular part of your neck – biting and sucking, making you moan his name. He started to lower your bathing suit strap to reveal your soft wet breasts.

He looked at you as he kissed down your chest and gently placed it in his mouth, sucking and licking at the nipple making you thrash in excitement. You moaned his name out loud again, he switched to the other breast with the same licking and sucking motion while using his hand to play with the nipple of the other. You felt a rush when he moaned, it sent a vibration through your body that you felt it below.

He was so attuned with your body, he knew you could feel the excitement pooling down there and went to feel you over the bathing suit down there. Your back arched the second he touched you, your breath shaky. You locked lips again as he continued to graze it.

Just as you went to reach down to feel him hard through his trunks, the camp alarm sounded, calling everyone back to the main area. The rudeness of the alarm made you two separate and understand what you were really doing.

When you both come down from the euphoric feeling of being wrapped up in another stranger, you pulled your straps back up to cover yourself and he helped you off him. He pushed the chair back, you grabbed the towels both of you came in with and left, not saying a word.

When you joined the group again, you had to sit with your team. You and Nicholas found Cooper and sat on either side of him, typically you had been in the middle of them two but you needed a little distance from Nicholas at the moment.

“You guys are still in your swim stuff? I saw you guys wrapped up earlier than us” Cooper genuinely asked

There was a pause that needed to be filled, you went to speak but Nicholas also started, you both stopped and almost started again and then stopped fully and there was another long pause

“Oh no that's fine, that’s totally how normal people answer a question” Cooper said sarcastically.

---

The next day of training, returners and new counselors had separate schedules. This was perfect because after yesterday, it’s not that you were avoiding Nicholas but you certainly needed a break and time to process how this all progressed so quickly.

That night, in the cafeteria certain counselors signed up for different kitchen shifts, you and Cooper got put on clean up duty. When dinner was wrapping up Nicholas hung around for as long as possible. It wasn’t weird, there was an energy between you two but mostly he just hung around to talk to Cooper. You kept a distance and participated in the conversation from afar.

Cooper went to the back to handle the trashtrash and you were clearing off tables. Nicholas stood up to leave and called you over. You didn't know what he was going to say, was he going to ask you why haven't we talked? Does he want to have sex? Does he have a girlfriend? Every thought ran through your mind as you walked over to him from a few tables over.

You got to him and asked “what’s up?” he paused, stood up and looked down at you. He used his fingers to lift your face in his direction and planted another kiss on you right then and there, without a care in the world. His lips were soft and plush, you felt yourself melt into him from how smooth it was.

“Let me know if we’re doing another sweet treat run tonight” he said just a few inches from your mouth and walked out.

You were floored, who is this man? That kiss was so comfortable, as if you were his and he was yours. It felt natural and right to him.

You wiped down the counters while Cooper stocked and organized supplies for the next day’s meals, the silence between them was oddly comfortable. From the second you met them both Nicholas was a little harder to read and you felt like you had to do a little more to get his attention. Not that you necessarily wanted his attention but with Cooper, he immediately opened up. He was warm, comforting and quiet. He just felt safe.

When everything was done, you and Cooper sat on top of a table while the floors dried and ate ice cream. You couldn’t help but smile at him as he sat across from you criss-cross apple sauce style, him being easily over 6 ft and sitting to make himself look small was so endearing.

The more you talked the smaller the distance grew between you two. Your knees were touching and he was stroking your leg as you both continued talking, doting into each other’s eyes.

He glanced at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “You know, you’re probably the most beautiful person I’ve met.”

You raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Where’s this coming from?”

He finished his cone just in time to place both hands on your legs while he answered. His hands were large and strong, with veins subtly tracing the surface, hinting at a quiet power beneath his skin. The rough texture of his palms contrasted with the smoothness of his long fingers, which moved with a practiced, almost careful grace. There was something magnetic about the way they flexed, confident and capable, as if they knew exactly how to hold the world—firm, yet gentle.

“Just being honest. You’ve been, like… really good to me since day one. Everyone here is nice but you and Nick have made me feel comfortable here”, he said through a smile.

His words made your heart skip, but you tried to play it cool. “I mean, I hope you gave Nicholas thanks like this too, don’t want him feeling left out.” you let out a laugh and so did he.

“No, but it’s different with you,” he said, and this time, he didn’t look away. “I was nervous as hell coming here, and I wasn’t expecting anyone to make it easier, but you did. I didn’t feel out of place with you around. You’re, like, ridiculously sweet and also…” He trailed off, eyes scanning your face like he was debating how much to say. “You’re also, like, the most attractive person here.”

Suddenly you were in the same position you were in with Nicohlas in the shed, a moment of silence where nothing needed to be said, only action needed to be taken.

Copper leaned forward and quietly said, “I’m gonna kiss you now”

He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your lips as he hesitated for a moment, savoring the closeness. His kiss started soft, tentative, like he was afraid to rush it, each movement deliberate and tender. His lips were gentle against yours, almost shy, and you could feel the slightest tremble in his touch. But as you pressed closer, he exhaled, letting go of his nerves, and the kiss deepened naturally. He found his rhythm, and what began as slow and cautious soon turned into something warmer, more fluid, their lips moving together with a sweet, unhurried certainty.

You felt his one hand on your thigh and the other slipped under your shirt, warm and steady against your skin. His fingers curled against your side, massaging gently as he explored the curve of your waist. Slowly, he moved his hand upward, caressing your breasts with a careful touch, his thumb tracing soft, deliberate circles until your body relaxed into his hands.

'Is this okay?' Cooper pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting lightly against yours as he searched your eyes, his voice soft and filled with concern. The tenderness in his question only made you want him more."

You nodded, your breath hitching as his lips found yours again, this time with more confidence. His hand slipped back under your shirt, his movements unhurried but more intentional now, as though he wanted to savor every second of the moment. His thumb brushed across your skin, sending little sparks through your body, and you leaned into his touch, your hands finding their way to his hair. You tugged gently, and he let out a low, quiet groan that only made you pull him closer.

Cooper’s kisses grew deeper, more fluid as he relaxed into it, his earlier nervousness melting away. His hand continued to explore, fingertips dancing across your body as if he was learning every inch of you. There was something almost reverent in the way he touched you—gentle but filled with intent, as though he couldn’t believe this moment was real. He pulled you closer, his lips moving from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath warm and steady against your skin as he took his time, each kiss slower than the last.

'You’re incredible,' he whispered against your neck, his voice rough with affection. The way he said it, so soft and unassuming, made your heart swell, and in that moment, you knew that every touch, every kiss, was laced with more than just desire.

You felt wrap his hands around you and he shifted his position to lay you down gently on the table. He continued kissing you on your neck, whispering praises softly in your ear while his hands smoothly roamed your body, “you’re so perfect”, “I need you”, “you’re a goddess”.

You felt his hand go lower and lower on your body until he got to your waistband. He pulled from the passionate kiss to look at you, he thought you were so beautiful in this moment. Frazzled from his passion, your eyes begging him to keep going. His fingers slipped into your shorts, but stopped, “are you sure?” Cooper asked you again, wanting to make sure you felt safe.

You pulled him down on top of you to kiss again and pushed his hand down so his fingers just grazed over the clit. His fingers continued to massage your area, with each pass you moaned into his mouth. Your kisses became deeper and frantic as you struggled to keep from completely unraveling from him.

“Let go for me baby”, he said with his forehead resting on yours. Before you could catch your breath his hand went lower and he angled his fingers at your entrance, your back arched in anticipation.

He pulled back completely so he could see your reaction to his fingers slipping inside if you. He traced around your entrance a little before slipping in his middle finger. You gasped and shuttered as his finger moved in and out, your moans turned to whimpers as he slipped in another finger.

You moaned out his name as his fingers curled inside of you hitting your spot. You had no control of your body, your body spasming from his touch which was getting deeper and faster by the minute, you were moaning so loud you didn’t care who heard you and your hands searched for some part of him to touch to return the favor. You reached out for his waistband, his hard member was pressed against his pants. You wanted to make him feel as good as he made you.

Just as you were about to return the favor, the camp alarm went off for a final roll call for bed. You and Cooper froze, reality settling back in as you both quickly gathered yourselves, adjusting clothes and catching your breath.

Cooper sat back with a sheepish grin, running a hand through his hair. 'I guess I got a little carried away,' he admitted, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he glanced at you, clearly still processing everything.

You smiled back, your heart still racing but now more from the situation than the moment before. 'It’s fine,' you said with a light shrug, your voice playful. 'It was fun... and now I think the favor's officially been returned for being so sweet.'

He let out a low chuckle, his eyes soft and warm as he looked at you.

---

A few days had passed, and while you hadn't been actively avoiding Cooper or Nicholas, you also hadn’t been seeking them out either. You needed a moment to clear your head after everything, to let the tension simmer down before the campers arrived. Still, you didn’t want things to feel awkward, so you invited them over to your cabin to help put together goodie bags for the kids. Your cabin mate was out for the night, so you even suggested they sleep over since their cabins were farther away. It was a subtle effort to show them you were cool, if they were cool. Even though every time one of them shifted closer, the heat between your legs was impossible to ignore.

You all worked in a comfortable rhythm, talking and laughing as you assembled the bags, until a song came on that sent Nicholas into nostalgic mode. His eyes lit up, and with a grin, he said, "This song always reminds me of my first kiss." You laughed.

Nicholas leaned back, his eyes dreamy with the memory. "Middle school. At a dance. I was so nervous I almost missed her lips entirely."

The three of you burst into laughter, and soon the conversation flowed into everyone sharing their stories, one kiss memory after another. Cooper shared about his first kiss behind the bleachers at a football game, and you talked about a spontaneous kiss under the basement steps of your friends’ house with her hot older brother. The mood was light and fun, each of you enjoying the trip down memory lane.

But then Cooper, ever the curious one, leaned forward, his tone more playful than usual. "So... has anyone here fooled around at camp before?" The question hung in the air for a moment, and you could feel the tension shift. You knew exactly why you were feeling awkward, but you noticed Nicholas’s smirk almost instantly. His eyes flicked between you and Cooper, as though daring one of you to speak first.

You opened your mouth, not entirely sure what you were going to say, when Nicholas took the chance. "Actually," he began, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I’ve done it twice already. And both of them are in this room."

Your eyes shot open, heart hammering in your chest as you whipped your gaze to Nicholas. Cooper let out a surprised laugh, and for a moment, you were too stunned to speak. Wait—Cooper already knew? Your mind raced to piece it all together, the realization dawning on you like a light bulb flicking on. You’d hooked up with Nicholas. Cooper knew. And they had hooked up too?

"Hold up," you finally managed to say, your voice a mix of shock and curiosity. "You two—?"

Nicholas nodded, leaning back with an easy confidence, clearly enjoying your reaction. "After arts and crafts clean-up a few days ago," he said, glancing at Cooper with a smirk. "We were the only ones left in the room, and we ended up in that tiny back closet putting away supplies…”

Cooper chimed in, chuckling. "It was kind of inevitable. I mean, we were basically on top of each other. And then... one thing led to another. I pulled his shirt off and started kissing chest. He kissed down my neck. Mouths went places, hands went places and rest is a fogged up window.”

Your mind spun, trying to wrap around the image of Nicholas and Cooper together. You could practically picture it—the tension, the closeness, the heat of the moment in the small, confined space.

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise between the three of you again, but this time it was different. This wasn’t about embarrassment anymore—it was curiosity, excitement, a shared secret now out in the open.

Cooper and Nicholas exchanged a glance before bursting out into laughter. Cooper was the first to speak. "Oh, it was obvious," he said, still chuckling. "When you came to the camp meeting that day after special classes, the hickies already started forming on your neck. You weren’t exactly subtle."

Nicholas leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "And I tried to come back to the dining hall after I left that night you two had clean up duty and I heard you two making out in the distance, so I turned right back around."

The three of you erupted into laughter, the kind that shakes your whole body and makes your cheeks hurt. It was funny now, how you’d all tiptoed around it, trying to keep it secret when in reality, none of you had been fooling anyone.

When the laughter finally died down, Nicholas’s curiosity took over. "Okay, so... real talk. Who do you prefer more?" His eyes sparkled with playful competitiveness, and he leaned back with a smirk, clearly ready for whatever answer you had.

Cooper grinned, nudging your shoulder. "Yeah, no pressure, but... we’re all dying to know."

You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it was—being asked to choose between them like it was some kind of game. You paused for a moment, then gave a mock-serious look as you made a reference only you could deliver. "You know, it feels like Tyra Banks standing here with two contestants in front of her, and only one can stay."

Cooper burst out laughing, recognizing the reference immediately. "No way, you’re not about to do an America’s Next Top Model elimination on us right now!"

You grinned, savoring the dramatic moment. "But if I had to choose..." you began, your eyes darting between them, building suspense. Finally, you pointed to Cooper. "It’s you."

Cooper jumped up from the floor, arms raised in victory. "Yes! I knew it!" he shouted, dancing around the room like he’d just won a championship. Nicholas, meanwhile, was in mock shock, his mouth hanging open as he smiled at the absurdity of it all.

"You’ve got to be kidding me!" Nicholas exclaimed, shaking his head with a grin. "I thought I had this in the bag!"

You laughed, trying to calm the chaos around you. "Hooking up with you, Nick, was fun and spontaneous. But Cooper..." you turned to Cooper, who was still grinning like an idiot, "...was gentle, tender, and made me feel really special."

Cooper shrugged nonchalantly, though the satisfaction was clear on his face. "What can I say? I just know how to make a woman feel special."

Nicholas rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, leaning closer to you. "Okay, fine. But..." he gave you that familiar smirk, "...if you let me have another shot, I can be gentle too."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "Oh, yeah? You think so?"

He nodded, the playful tone in his voice now edged with something more serious. "Absolutely. If you’ll let me."

You smiled and nodded, your body buzzing with excitement. "Okay, I’m down."

With that, Nicholas took your hand and guided you to the bed. He sat down next to you and this time, there was no rush, no quick or hurried movements. He was slow, deliberate, his hands softer as they found your waist and pulled you gently toward him. He kissed you with a tenderness you hadn’t felt from him before, each movement careful, as though he was savoring the moment.

The heat between you built gradually, the tension thick in the air but controlled. Nicholas was taking his time, just like he promised. His lips moved against yours with a softness that surprised you, his hand sliding up your side in a slow caress that made your breath hitch. Compared to your first time hooking up, this was different—more intentional, more intimate.

You felt Cooper watching from the other side of the room, clearly entertained but also intrigued. Nicholas’s kiss deepened, but the pace stayed slow, methodical, as he explored every part of you with a newfound gentleness.

"Not bad," Cooper teased from the sidelines, his voice light but clearly enjoying the view. Nicholas smirked against your lips, but didn’t break the kiss, his focus entirely on you. He put his hand on his thigh and started messaging, working his way further and further up.

Nicholas parted from your lips to make his way down your neck. When you first hooked up, he would’ve started biting and sucking but this time he placed soft kisses on your neck, while lightly squeezing your thighs. He whispered in your ear “see, I can be anything you want me to be baby” he nearly whimpered in your ear.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your body quivered in response. You were melting into the moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling, when suddenly, Nicholas pulled away. Your eyes shot open in confusion, the warmth of his body leaving yours too soon.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked, breathless, your lips tingling from his touch.

Nicholas smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Just wanted to show you I could be gentle,” he said with a wink, clearly enjoying how worked up he’d gotten you.

You let out a soft laugh, though you couldn’t help but still want more. “Well, you’ve definitely proven that,” you teased back, a smile tugging at your lips.

Cooper stepped in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, if we’re all trying new things, maybe it’s time I take a shot at being more... aggressive."

You smiled wide as you agreed, Cooper crossed the room in a few long strides and came to sit next to you on the bed. He gently but firmly grabbed your face, pulling you to his direction. His lips met yours with a fiery intensity, pulling you on top of him and kissing you harder, deeper than before. His hands gripped your hips with a sense of urgency, and he moved faster, more aggressively, his kisses more forceful as he claimed your mouth. The energy was completely different from the gentle, careful approach Nicholas had just taken, but it was equally intoxicating.

You gasped against Cooper’s mouth as he pressed into you, his lips trailing down your neck with no hesitation this time. He kissed you with raw hunger, teeth grazing your skin, his hands roaming your body with confident, demanding touches that sent heat pooling low in your belly. Every move he made was firm, and you could feel the shift in energy—this was Cooper letting go, leaning into the moment with full force.

But out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Nicholas watching from where he stood, his eyes dark with anticipation. His gaze was hungry, eager, as if he didn’t care who he joined in on, just that he wanted to be wrapped between you and Cooper.

Cooper noticed it too, pausing briefly to glance over at Nicholas. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes flashed with a knowing look, as if he was silently inviting Nicholas to join. Then, in one smooth motion, Cooper gently but firmly placed you back on the bed, your body sinking into the softness of the blankets beneath you.

Nicholas didn’t need any further invitation.

He crossed the room and joined you both, sliding onto the bed with that same eager smirk he always wore. Without missing a beat, he moved in close, taking his place on one side of you while Cooper positioned himself on the other. You could feel Nicholas’s breath warm against your skin before his lips pressed to the side of your neck, the same spot Cooper had just claimed moments ago.

The sensation of both of them on either side of you was overwhelming, in the best way possible. Nicholas’s kisses were slow but deliberate, each one more lingering than the last, while Cooper’s lips moved more urgently, as though he couldn’t get enough. You were surrounded by them, their hands tracing up and down your body as their mouths explored your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive spots just below your ear.

Nicholas’s fingers skimmed across your waist, his touch light but teasing, while Cooper’s hand slid down your thigh, squeezing gently. The contrast between the two of them made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft, involuntary moan as you sank deeper into the sensation.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Nicholas murmured against your neck, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “Both of us... all over you?”

Before you could answer, Cooper’s lips moved to your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “Tell us what you like.”

You felt completely overwhelmed, your senses flooded by the way both Cooper and Nicholas were hitting every spot that made your body hum with pleasure. Nicholas's lips left soft, teasing kisses along your collarbone while Cooper’s hands roamed your body, his grip firm and sure. The contrast between their touches, one gentle, one rough, had your heart racing, and you were utterly lost in the sensation.

Needing more, you reached up, grabbing Cooper’s face and pulling him into a heated kiss. You matched his intensity, your lips moving hungrily against his, both of you completely giving in to the moment. His hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer, as if he wanted to devour you whole.

Meanwhile, Nicholas’s kisses continued to trail down your shoulder, slow and deliberate, each one sending shivers down your spine. His hands were patient, exploring every inch of your body with a calm but insistent touch, as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt beneath his fingers.

Cooper pulled away just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, and before you could even process it, Nicholas unhooked your bra with expert precision, leaving you bare in front of them. For a second, the weight of their gaze made you feel vulnerable—but the way they looked at you, eyes full of hunger and admiration, made the tension crackle in the air.

Without missing a beat, Nicholas’s lips found their way to your breast, his tongue tracing soft circles before he took your nipple into his mouth. The sensation sent a wave of heat through your body, and you gasped, arching into his touch. His mouth was gentle, but the pressure was enough to make your body ache for more.

At the same time, Cooper’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, biting down just enough to leave a lingering sting that made you squirm in his grasp. His hands explored your back, pulling you flush against him, and every bite, every nip, felt like it was setting your skin on fire.

The combination of Nicholas’s slow, teasing kisses and Cooper’s rough, hungry bites made your mind spin. You could barely keep up with the sensations washing over you, your body reacting to every touch, every kiss, every movement. It was almost too much, but you couldn’t get enough.

“You’re perfect,” Nicholas whispered against your skin, his lips still trailing over your chest. “I could keep doing this all night.”

Cooper smirked against your neck, his hand sliding down your waist. “We might just have to.”.

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