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heestruck · 11 days ago

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BAD DESIRE ; Lee Heeseung

synopsis ; It was never meant to be more than a secret. But between late night kisses, and everything they never said, she fell harder than she should have. And he let her. Now they’re both left chasing something that was never built to last.

In which y/n and heeseung's paths probably shouldn't have collided. with his raging addiction, and her undying love for him, they navigate their way through a love that was never meant to last... or was it?

pairing ; student!fem reader x addict!heeseung

genre ; smut, angst

warnings ; drug use, and lots of it, heeseung using, reader smoking/attempting to use, emotional abuse, lying, kinda cheating if you squint, gaslighting, p in v smut, pet names, virgin reader, inexperienced reader, degrading, praise, unprotected sex (be safe pls), oral fem rec, like... kinda breeding kink, heeseungs lowkey possessive, heeseung is lowkey manipulative, reader is really naive, slight drug glorification, heeseung and reader kinda don't like each other at first, arguing, heeseungs a major asshat, they yell at each other sometimes, very will they wont they/back and forth, like I cannot stress how much heeseung is in the wrong here, let me know if i'm missing anything

do not read if any of this makes you uncomfortable. minors do not interact. !!! there is a lot of heavy themes in this fic, so please read the warnings carefully before reading.

I also CANNOT stress enough that this is purely a work of fiction, this story does not reflect against the real Lee Heeseung.

wc ; 22k

read below the cut!

The lecture hall hums with quiet conversation as your professor’s voice fades into the background, the final slide of the presentation still glowing on the screen. You close your notebook with a soft snap, already organizing your mental to-do list for the night: finish your reading for psych, review your flashcards, maybe rewrite your biochem notes.

As always, you're the first to have everything packed and neat, your pens color-coded, your planner tucked under your arm. “God, y/n, you’re like a walking academic weapon,” a voice teases from your right. You glance up to see Nina, your roommate, tossing her long curls over one shoulder as she stuffs her laptop into her bag. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you smile, slinging your tote over your shoulder.

“It is a bad thing,” she says, widening her eyes playfully. “You need to touch grass, or at least touch a vodka cran.” You laugh, shaking your head, but she’s already leaning closer with a mischievous look on her face. “There’s a party tonight off-campus. A few of our friends are going, Kira, Wren, Koda, just a chill thing. Music, drinks, maybe a little dancing.” She nudges your arm. “You in?”

Normally, you’d say no. You’ve turned down more party invites than you can count. But something in Nina’s tone, or maybe the way the late afternoon sun filters through the windows and paints the classroom in gold, makes you pause. You think about the endless cycle of lectures and labs. The four color-coded exam prep calendars on your wall. The silence of your room after everyone else has gone out.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising even yourself. “Why not?” Nina’s mouth drops open in mock shock. “Who are you and what have you done with my roommate? I didn’t even have to get on my knees and beg!” You just laugh again, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m not promising anything wild. I’ll come, I’ll dance, I’ll hydrate. That’s it.”

“Perfect,” she grins, grabbing your arm as you walk toward the exit. “You’re going to look so cute. Don’t worry, I already know exactly what you’re wearing.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The bass hits before you even step inside.

The house is already pulsing with bodies and strobing lights. Smelling like cheap beer, too much cologne, and the unmistakable scent of a college party deep in its prime. Mina’s got a hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you through the crowd like she’s on a mission, her glossy lips already curved in excitement. “You look so good,” she says over her shoulder, practically yelling. “Like, who is she good.”

You tug your jacket tighter with a small smile. It’s not nerves, you’re just not used to feeling like this. Not used to the way the black ripped jeans hug your legs, the way your fitted crop top clings to your frame. Hair down, just enough effort to look like you didn’t try at all. The moment you step into the living room, the lights flashing soft pinks and purples, a voice cuts through the chaos. “Y/N! Oh my god, babe, look at you!” Wren comes flying toward you with open arms, all bright eyes and glittery eyeshadow, wrapping you in a one-armed hug while still balancing a red Solo cup. “You look so hot,” she says, already pulling back to get a full look at you. “Like, I’d kiss you hot.”

“Same,” Kira calls from the couch, where she’s sitting sideways in someone’s lap like she owns the place. “You’re giving mysterious bad bitch and I’m obsessed.” “Seriously,” adds Koda, who’s perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, swinging her legs and sipping some blue drink out of a mason jar. “If I saw you walk into a party and didn’t know you? I’d be too intimidated to talk to you.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re all ridiculous.” “And you’re stunning,” Mina says, giving your waist a quick squeeze. “Now, drinks?” As if on cue, Wren jumps up and heads toward the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen. “We’ve got vodka, tequila, mystery punch… ooh, and something that tastes like peach rings.”

“I’ll just do water,” you say quickly, holding up a hand. “I’m good.”

Four pairs of eyes snap to you in unison. “Y/N,” Kira says, scandalized. “You wore that top and came to this party and think you’re getting away with water?” Koda laughs. “Girl, you agreed to come. That means at least one fun drink.”

Mina reappears with a bottle of something pink and barely fizzy, holding it out to you. “Light. Not even strong. You’ll barely taste it. It’s like a Capri Sun.” You hesitate, but only for a second. The bottle is cold in your hand, the condensation slick on your fingers. One sip won’t hurt. It tastes like candy. Sweet and a little fake. Easy. “There she goes,” Wren says, raising her cup.

“You’re officially fun now,” Kira adds, looping her arm through yours. The music shifts, bass vibrating in your chest. Someone yells something in the next room. Outside, people are already spilling onto the porch, drinks and laughter echoing into the night. You feel it in your skin, that slow buzz of being alive, being here, with the girls who make everything feel lighter.

But you still feel an unsettling feeling creep up the back of your neck. Maybe because you don’t notice the eyes watching you from across the room.

Not yet.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The bathroom reeks of bleach, stale smoke, and whatever cheap cologne the guy before them doused himself in. Heeseung wipes his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing once, slow and deep. The burn is already fading, replaced with the familiar clarity and a weightless buzz under his skin.

Outside the door, the music thrums like a second heartbeat. Sunghoon leans against the wall, arms crossed, a lazy smirk on his lips. “You know one day your brain’s gonna just leak out your nose, right?” Heeseung shrugs, eyes half-lidded. “Better out than rotting in there.” Jay laughs, pulling the door open to let the sound of the party spill in again. “You two sound like you’ve had this conversation before.” There’s a pause as the two exchange a glance. “We have,” Sunghoon says. “Every time he does something dumb.” His words accompanied by an eye-roll that comes to him naturally, “Which is often,” Heeseung adds with a grin, snagging the cigarette tucked behind Sunghoon’s ear and lighting it like it’s his.

They step out, smoke trailing behind them, the heat and noise of the party rushing in all at once. Heeseung’s eyes flick lazily over the crowd, bodies pressed too close, red cups in every hand, neon lights catching on sequins and sweat. Sunghoon elbows him. “You gonna dance tonight, or just brood in the corner like Batman again?” “I’ll dance when hell freezes and you get laid,” Heeseung mutters, exhaling smoke through his nose. “Ouch,” Sunghoon says with a mock wince. “Low blow. Even for you.”

Jay doesn’t laugh.

He’s staring at something, no, someone. Eyes locked across the room, jaw slightly slack, like he forgot how to act. Heeseung catches it immediately. “Dude,” he says flatly. “You good?” Jay doesn’t respond, causing Heeseung to follow his gaze. She’s standing with a group of girls near the kitchen, laughing at something, her drink cradled in one hand. Her hair catches the light, eyes wide and sparkling in that way that’s too fucking pure for this place. Black jeans. Black top. Sweet face, too clean for the party grit.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, stop staring at her like a fucking perv.” Jay finally snaps out of it. “She’s just… I don’t know, man. She’s got-”

“What?” Heeseung cuts in, tone biting. “That good girl trying to be bad energy? The innocent preppy type who probably says ‘sorry’ when she bumps into furniture?” Sunghoon snorts. Jay shrugs, unfazed. “She’s cute.”

“She’s boring,” Heeseung says immediately, taking another drag. “Can already tell. Probably straight-A’s, runs on caffeine and validation, thinks this party is some edgy detour in her perfect little life plan.”

“You got all that from one look?” Sunghoon raises a brow. “I’ve seen that type before,” Heeseung mutters. “They don’t stay.” Jay watches her again. “Still wouldn’t mind finding out.” Heeseung doesn’t reply, but his eyes linger just a little too long this time. Something about her smile makes him twitch. Like she doesn’t belong here, and for some reason, that pisses him off more than anything else.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You’re laughing as Wren spins you around, both of you stumbling through a fit of giggles. The music’s loud, the floor slightly sticky under your shoes, and the lights paint everything in neon. It’s the first party you’ve let yourself really enjoy in... well, ever. Koda hands you another drink, something sugary, and you take a cautious sip before letting yourself be pulled back into the small crowd of dancers.

You move with Kira and Wren, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, swaying to the beat. It’s easy to forget the stress of deadlines and grades here, wrapped in the warmth of your friends and the hazy buzz of the night.

“Dude, you’ve been staring at her for like ten minutes,” Heeseung mutters, leaning against the wall, eyes following the glow of the neon lights. “What, you suddenly into honor roll girls now?” Jay smirks, eyes still fixed on you as you laugh and twirl with your friends. “She’s just… different.” Sunghoon snorts into his drink. “Different how? She’s got two arms and two legs like everyone else.”

“She’s not like the other girls here,” Jay says, straightening a little. “She’s not sloppy, not trying to start drama. She looks like she’s actually having fun.” Heeseung scoffs. “Yeah, because she probably drank half a white claw and hit her sugar quota for the week.” Jay grins. “You’re just mad you have a type and it’s emotionally unavailable.” Sunghoon lets out a wheeze. “He’s not wrong.”

Heeseung glares at both of them. “Nah, I’m just saying, girls like her don’t come to parties like this unless it’s a pity invite. She’s not gonna go for you, Jay. Especially not with that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“The one that says, ‘I’m trying to hit it before the night ends.’” Jay rolls his eyes. “Okay, sure, I wouldn’t mind that. But I’m not an asshole. I just wanna talk to her. She seems cool.” Sunghoon nudges Heeseung. “Translation: he wants to hit it, but he’ll settle for a couple of texts and a chance to pretend he reads books.” Heeseung exhales a laugh, tapping ash off his cigarette. “Alright, lover boy. Go shoot your shot. Just don’t cry when she says you’re not her ‘type.’” Jay ignores them both, already peeling off the wall. “You two can stay here being bitter. I’m gonna go say hi.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Heeseung mutters. “Take the rejection like a man,” Sunghoon calls after him with a grin.

You’re mid-laugh when someone steps into your circle. “Hey,” he says, smiling like he’s known you for years. “Sorry to interrupt, I just had to come over and tell you… you look amazing tonight.” You pause, blinking up at him. He’s tall, casually dressed, but something about his smile is disarming. Genuine. Your friends glance at him, then at you, smirking behind their drinks.

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

“I’m Jay,” he offers, holding out a hand. You shake it. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I hope this doesn’t come off weird, but I’ve kinda been watching you and your friends for a while.” You raise a brow. “Not in a creepy way,” he adds quickly, laughing. “You just look like you’re having the best time.” You laugh, unsure how to respond. “And, you know,” he continues, “you’re kind of the most gorgeous person in this room.”

That gets your cheeks to warm. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” Jay chuckles. “Life’s short.” Then he leans in a little, voice lower. “I’m not gonna lie and pretend I don’t wanna get to know you in every sense. But I also get that it's not everyone’s vibe.” Your expression must shift, because he adds quickly, “No pressure. I just figured I’d shoot my shot.” You lift an eyebrow, but you’re smiling. “I don’t really do the hookup thing.”

Jay’s eyes flicker, disappointment, maybe, but brief. “Totally fair. In that case, I could always use a new hot friend that has killer dance moves.” That earns a soft laugh from you. “You’re smooth.”

“I try,” he says, shrugging. “So... can I still get your number? No expectations.” You nod, handing him your phone. He types quickly and hands it back, slipping his own into his pocket. “You wanna dance with us?” you ask, tipping your head toward your friends. Jay grins, “Thought you’d never ask.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It’s been a couple of weeks since the party, and somehow, Jay has become a fixture in your life.

He fits weirdly well with your friends, easygoing, funny, never tries too hard. Koda teases him constantly, Wren talks music with him like they’re soulmates, and Kira insists he’s basically the sixth member of your group chat. You didn’t expect him to blend in so seamlessly, but you’ve found yourself laughing a little more since he started hanging around.

Tonight, he invited you out to a local concert. You weren’t sure at first, small venue, grungy vibe, loud music wasn’t exactly your typical scene but he promised it would be fun. Said some of his friends were going, too. You agreed, mostly because it sounded like a decent Friday night, and Jay had been nothing but good company.

You arrive with him just as the opening set’s starting, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. Jay gives your hand a brief squeeze as he pulls you through the people, heading toward a cluster of guys by the wall. “That’s them,” he says, nodding. “Heeseung and Sunghoon.”

You spot them immediately. Sunghoon is the first to notice you, his hair dark, pierced lip, leaning casually with a beer in hand. He smiles, straightening up. “Jay’s plus-one, huh?” he says, giving you a once-over, not in a sleazy way, just curious. “Nice to meet you.”

You smile, warm as ever. “You too. I’m Y/N.” Sunghoon tips his beer toward you. “Cool name.” And then your eyes drift left. And time sort of stops.

He’s leaning against the wall, one boot propped against the concrete behind him, arms crossed over his chest. Messy dark hair, sharp jawline, silver rings catching the low light. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t move. Just looks at you.

“Oh,” you say before you can help it. Jay gestures between you. “This is Heeseung.” Heeseung gives a single nod. “Hey.” His voice is low, rough around the edges. You clear your throat, suddenly self-conscious. “Nice to meet you.” He doesn’t say anything else, just holds your gaze for a second longer than necessary before looking away, like he’s already bored of you.

You blink, shaken just enough to feel it. Because he’s gorgeous. Like, unfairly gorgeous. But it’s more than that. There’s something about the way he carries himself, he seems so detached, and unreadable, like nothing really touches him, and for some reason, it sticks with you.

The music picks up and Jay starts chatting with Sunghoon, joking about some old band they saw live. You try to focus on their banter, try to enjoy the show and for the most part, you do.

But every once in a while, your eyes drift sideways. Just quick glances. Just curiosity. You’re subtle about it, at least, you think you are. Heeseung doesn’t look at you, doesn’t smile, doesn’t even move much. Just leans there, stoic and silent like he couldn’t care less about the music or the crowd or you. But he sees it.

He catches every glance. And he doesn’t let it show, but your eyes aren’t the only ones wandering.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The line to the bathroom is long, but thankfully it moves fast. You’re in and out within minutes, winding your way back through the dim hallway toward the venue floor when someone steps out of the crowd and cuts you off.

“Hey, pretty thing,” the guy says, reeking of beer and something sharp underneath. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You here alone?” You freeze. Your first instinct is to be polite, a soft no, a quick smile, excuse yourself and walk away. But when you try to step around him, he blocks your path, one hand brushing your arm. “Don’t be shy,” he adds, voice lowering. “You were lookin’ at me earlier, weren’t you?” Your stomach twists. “I wasn’t.. excuse me.”

You glance back toward the crowd, hoping maybe Jay’s nearby, or anyone, really but it’s too loud, too dark, too many bodies in the way. The guy steps closer, and suddenly your pulse is in your throat. You take a step back, but the hallway feels too narrow now, the music from the concert a distant thump behind you. You don’t know what to say and you don’t even get the chance to think of something because, suddenly, he’s being ripped away from you.

One second, the guy is looming over you. The next, he’s slammed up against the wall with a sharp thud, a hand fisting in his collar. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Heeseung growls, jaw tight with fury. Your eyes widen. The guy holds his hands up, stammering, “I-I didn’t mean anything-” Heeseung shoves him once, hard, then lets him go. “Then walk away before I mean something.” The guy bolts without another word.

And just like that, it’s quiet again aside from the music still thumping from the venue. You and Heeseung stand alone in the dim hallway, the silence heavier than it should be. Finally, he looks at you. “You good?” he asks, but the words are mechanical. No concern in his voice. Just a blunt check-in. He doesn’t soften his expression, if anything it hardens.

You nod. “Yeah… I think so. Thank you.” You expect him to walk away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a slow step toward you. You feel the shift in the air like pressure behind your eyes. His eyes rake over you, not with hunger, not exactly. Almost like he’s trying to figure you out, and already doesn’t like the answer. “I don’t get it,” he mutters, almost to himself. You blink. “What?” He steps closer. “Girls like you…” He chuckles once, humorless. “You play dress-up for the night, think you’re bold for showing up to places like this. But it’s all pretend, isn’t it?”

You don’t respond, you can’t. His voice is low and steady, but it cuts like a knife. “You don’t belong here,” he adds. “And you know it.” He moves in just a little more, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, his words brushing your skin.

“You should stick to safe things, princess.” You’re frozen, breath shallow. He’s staring right at you, and for a moment, his eyes drop straight to your lips. The tension swells, thick and unbearable. Then his expression shifts. That edge of something cruel curling at the corner of his mouth. “Before something bites back.”

He brushes past you without another word, his shoulder bumping into yours hard enough to knock you slightly off-balance, and he doesn’t look back.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You knew you shouldn’t have come.

Jay had texted that it wasn’t a party, just a small hangout with “the guys,” whatever that meant. You figured you’d sit on a couch, maybe order some pizza, suffer through video games you didn’t understand. Easy enough. But now you’re standing in Sunghoon’s living room, and the first thing you see is Heeseung perched low on the couch, head ducked, dragging a line of coke off the glass coffee table like it's nothing.

His hair is darker now, richer, nearly black. It hangs messily in his eyes, but you catch the flicker of them through the fringe as he wipes at his nose with the back of his hand and leans back, lazy and unbothered. You freeze in the doorway, a cold shiver crawling down your spine. You hadn’t seen him since the concert. “Yo,” Heeseung says, tossing a small plastic bag across the table to Jay without looking. “You bringing her around now?” Jay catches it with one hand, unfazed. “She wanted to come.”

Heeseung’s gaze lifts slowly, dragging up your legs, your torso, your face. Not like he’s checking you out, more like he’s dissecting you. “You want a line, sweetheart?” he asks, voice dry, already knowing the answer. Your lips part in surprise. “No. I’ve never done that. And I’m not going to.” He snorts, ironically this time and leans forward, elbows on his knees, his grin a slow, sharp cut. “Didn’t think so,” he mutters as he rubs the remaining powder from beneath his nose. “You look like the kind of girl who cries when she gets a parking ticket.”

You stiffen, heart skittering in your chest. “Jesus, Heeseung,” Sunghoon cuts in from the kitchen, cracking open a beer. “Can you chill for like five minutes? You don’t gotta scare off every girl that walks through the door.” Heeseung just shrugs. “I’m not scaring her. I’m educating her.”

“Yeah, well, educate yourself on shutting the fuck up,” Sunghoon fires back, walking over and smacking the back of his head with the flat of his hand. Heeseung swats him away without real force, rolling his eyes. “Touch me again and I’ll break your wrist.”

“You’d cry before you tried,” Sunghoon retorts, falling onto the couch beside him with a grin. You don’t say anything, standing awkwardly at the edge of the room while Jay nudges your shoulder and gives you a small smile, like ‘sorry about them’. “I vote for movie night,” Sunghoon announces, grabbing the remote and flipping through options. “Unless you all want to keep playing who’s got the smallest dick.”

Heeseung slouches further down, arm thrown over the back of the couch, that same unreadable smirk still tugging at his mouth as he watches you take a hesitant seat across from him. You’re quick avoid his gaze, but to your dismay, you feel it anyway.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The movie had been playing for a while, some half-serious thriller that Jay insisted was good, even though Sunghoon kept making snide comments about the plot holes every five minutes. You’d nestled onto the couch between the two of them, a big bowl of popcorn resting in your lap. Mostly, it was Jay and Sunghoon grabbing generous handfuls while you only occasionally picked at the edges.

Now it was empty. Sunghoon let out a dramatic groan, slumping against the cushions like someone had just shot him. “No more popcorn? I’m gonna die.” Jay rolled his eyes. “You’ve had more than half the bowl.”

“Exactly,” Sunghoon huffed. Then his eyes landed on you. “y/n. Sweet. Lovely. Beautiful y/n, would you be an angel and make some more before I shrivel up and perish?” You laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m hungry,” he whined, clutching his stomach. “C’mon, I’ll owe you forever.” You shook your head, grinning. “Fine. Where are the packs?” He answered immediately, a victorious smile already painting his lips, “Kitchen cabinet above the stove.” You stood, smoothing your hands over your jeans, and padded toward the kitchen. The lights in there were dimmer than the living room, quieter, more removed. You found the cabinet, pulled out a pack, unwrapped it, and popped it into the microwave. The hum of it spinning was oddly soothing. You stared at the digital countdown, absently brushing popcorn kernels from the now empty bowl.

A presence, heavy, and close pressed to your back like it belonged there. You immediately froze. Then his voice rang through your ears, low, rough. “I told you to stay away.” Your breath caught in your throat, it was Heeseung. “I’m not afraid of you.” You managed to get the words out, albeit quiet, but still firm. He laughed, his tone quiet and mocking, more like a breath than a sound. “You should be.” You felt the edge of his nose brush against your skin, trailing lazily from the curve of your ear down to your jaw. “I don’t like girls like you,” he said. “So preppy. So perfect. Good grades, straight A’s, praise from mommy and daddy for not being the family embarrassment.” His words weren’t sharp, they were slow, and poisonous, like honey laced with something rotten.

“You’re just a good girl who’s playing pretend. Hanging out with people who’ll ruin you just by standing too close.” You stayed still, your heart pounding. But, you didn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching. “You’re wrong about me,” you said quietly. He didn’t respond right away, instead he spun you so your back hit the counter with a dull thud. His hands barely touched you, but they didn’t need to. The heat of him, and the intensity of his gaze was more than enough. “You think so?” he murmured. “Prove it.”

Your brows pulled in. “What-” He leaned in, just a fraction. His breath ghosted over your lips. “If you’re not who I think you are,” he said, “kiss me.” Your lips parted but no words came out. You blinked up at him, heat rising in your cheeks, flooding your chest. “I can’t,” you breathed. “They’re right there.” He didn’t move, he just let his lips brush yours, soft enough to barely count, cruel enough to make it feel like everything. Then his voice dropped right against your mouth. “That’s what I thought.”

Ding.

The microwave broke the silence with a loud chime. Heeseung stepped back with a lazy smirk, turned, and walked out without looking at you again. You stood there for a second longer, heart thudding in your chest, your palms gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You were curled up on your bed, legs tucked beneath you, a pillow hugged to your chest as Mina filed her nails at the desk and Koda nursed a half-empty iced coffee from the floor, where she sat cross-legged on the rug. The dorm room smelled faintly of vanilla and tteokibokki from earlier, a candle flickering on the windowsill, low music humming from Mina’s speaker. It was one of those quiet nights meant for decompressing after a long day.

Instead, your head was spinning.

“He hates me,” you said flatly, staring at the wall like it held the answers. “I don’t even know what I did. One second he’s saving me, the next he’s saying I don’t belong. He’s just.. ugh! He’s so confusing.” Koda raised a brow. “You mean Heeseung, right?” You nodded, clutching the pillow tighter. “I still don’t understand why you’re hanging around them,” Koda muttered, pulling her sleeves over her hands. “Like… okay, Jay and Sunghoon seem nice enough, barely, but Heeseung? I don’t get the appeal.”

“Oh, come on,” Mina cut in, smirking as she leaned back in the chair, legs propped up on the desk. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it.” Koda blinked. “About what?” Mina arched a brow at you. “Sleeping with him.”

“Mina!” you yelped, your face immediately flushing. “What?” she grinned, unbothered. “You’re clearly into him. And if he’s that hot and that frustrating, that’s probably the kind of hate-sex that ruins lives in the best way.” Shaking her head, Koda muttered, “You’re seriously insane,”

“Maybe,” Mina said cheerfully. “But I’m not wrong.” You buried your face in the pillow for a second. “I just don’t get him. Like, he offered me drugs and then told me I should stay away. He gets in my space like he’s trying to start something, and then leaves like I disgust him.”

“That’s because he’s probably bad news,” Koda said, serious now. “You said it yourself he was high out of his mind. He was rude, cold, and clearly not stable. Why are you still entertaining this? Why are you still hanging around them?” You sat up a little straighter, defensive without meaning to be. “Because Jay and Sunghoon aren’t like that. I like hanging out with them. Jay’s sweet. Sunghoon’s funny. They’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Okay,” Koda said, slow and firm, “but they’re close to Heeseung. Like, really close. Don’t you think that means something?” You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “I’m just saying,” Koda continued, “maybe think about not going to these hangouts anymore. Just until you know what you’re getting into.”

“She’s getting into Heeseung’s pants, hopefully,” Mina said under her breath.

“Koda has a point,” you said softly, ignoring Mina for once. “But… I don’t know. I feel like I want to understand him. He’s not just cold. There’s something else.”

“Trauma,” Koda said flatly. Mina laughed, but you only sighed. Then Mina sat up straighter, snapping her fingers. “Wait. I have an idea.” Koda narrowed her eyes. “Oh no.”

“You should go with her next time,” Mina said, pointing a glossy nail at Koda. “You don’t trust them? Go see for yourself.” Koda made a face. “Absolutely not.”

“No, this is perfect,” Mina said, grinning. “You’re like, the judgment queen. If anyone’s gonna get a read on those guys, it’s you.” Koda looked at you, visibly unimpressed. But you leaned in, hopeful. “Koda… would you? Just once? If you hate it, I won’t ask again.” She groaned, throwing her head back. “God, you’re lucky I love you.” You smiled, warm and relieved. “That’s a yes?”

“One time,” she warned. “And if that Heeseung guy looks at me wrong, I’m lighting him on fire.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It’s Koda who hails the cab, you slide into the backseat beside her, a nervous excitement twisting in your stomach as she scrolls through her phone, totally unfazed. You, however, are still trying to wrap your head around why Sunghoon of all people invited you out tonight, not Jay. Koda raises an eyebrow as she tucks her phone away. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“Nope,” you say, giving her a faint smile. “But we’re already on our way, so…” She just sighs, shaking her head fondly. When the cab pulls up to the restaurant, the evening air greets you with the smoky scent of grilled meat wafting from inside. You spot them immediately, Sunghoon and Heeseung standing by the entrance, dressed down and looking effortlessly cool beneath the soft glow of the signage. “Hey!” you call out, stepping forward with Koda in tow.

Sunghoon waves, flashing that easy grin of his.m as he greets you, “Hey, you made it.” Heeseung meets your gaze for a moment, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey,” he says flatly. At least he acknowledged you. You turn slightly, “This is Koda, my friend. She’s tagging along tonight.” Sunghoon’s eyes flick to her, and it’s immediate. The pause that feels a second too long. “Hey,” he says, suddenly sounding a little different. “I’m Sunghoon.” Heeseung nods at her in silent greeting, but Sunghoon’s already gesturing toward the doors. “Let’s go in. I’m starving.”

Inside, the place is buzzing, smoke curling above tables, the clatter of side dishes, laughter mixing with upbeat K-pop playing from overhead speakers. As you approach the booth, Sunghoon slips into the seat next to Koda without hesitation, sending you a smug little grin. That leaves you standing there with Heeseung.

You slide in beside him, stiffly at first, trying not to focus on the heat radiating off his body, or the way he hasn’t even looked at you since you sat down. Koda and Sunghoon fall into conversation almost immediately, easy banter, shared music tastes, laughing over which side dishes are superior. You watch them with a small smile, heart swelling at how happy Koda looks. It’s peaceful for a while, until it isn’t.

You feel Heeseung lean toward you, his breath warm against your ear. “You really don’t know when to listen, do you?” You tense, eyes flicking to the grill in front of you. You keep your voice low, only for him. “Maybe you should tell your friends to stop enjoying my presence, then.” There’s a beat of silence. Then he exhales a quiet laugh, sharp and dry. “I forgot how much you like being wanted.” You blink at the burn in his words, jaw tightening. You don’t respond. Neither does he. The rest of the meal is a quiet war zone, chopsticks clinking, laughter echoing from Koda and Sunghoon’s side of the table while you and Heeseung sit in a thick, charged silence. But you feel his eyes. The occasional glance, the flicker of attention he tries to make seem accidental. You steal them back.

When the bill’s paid and you’re all stepping outside into the cool night, Sunghoon stretches, keys jingling in his hand. “I’ll take Koda home.” Koda immediately steps forward. “No, it’s fine, I’ll go with-”

“I insist,” Sunghoon cuts in smoothly, shooting her a crooked smile. “Heeseung can take care of Y/N.” Heeseung groans. “Seriously?” Sunghoon leans in, murmuring something only Heeseung can hear, likely a warning, something along the lines of Don’t fuck this up for me. Heeseung exhales through his nose. “Fine.” You turn to Koda, and despite the weird tension curling in your stomach, you offer her a reassuring look. “It’s okay. Go. I’ll be fine.” She hesitates, but Sunghoon’s already opening the door to his car like a gentleman. She gives you a subtle text me later glance before sliding inside.

And then it’s just you and Heeseung, standing outside the restaurant. The street’s quiet, golden lights from the sign above casting a faint glow over him. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks out at the empty street, lips parted like he’s about to sigh.

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Heeseung unlocks his car without a word, the click of the doors breaking the silence between you. You follow, half-expecting him to just drop you off like Sunghoon had asked. Instead, he mutters, “We’re making a stop.” You blink, hesitating before opening the passenger door. “A stop?” Sliding into the driver’s seat, he doesn’t look at you as he answers, “Ran out of weed.” Your brow furrows. “Do you really need me to come with you for that?” He finally glances over, one hand gripping the wheel. “Relax. It’ll be quick.”

You huff but buckle your seatbelt anyway, crossing your arms as he pulls out of the lot. The drive is quiet, streetlights flash across his face, highlighting the soft shadows beneath his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the brown hair falling messily into his lashes. Eventually, he turns into the parking lot of a gas station, the kind that like it shouldn’t be open for business. Heeseung shifts into park and wordlessly gets out, hoodie up, posture casual in a way that’s still somehow threatening.

You watch as he approaches a guy standing by the side of the building, hooded and slouched, hands buried in his coat pockets. They exchange a few words, you can’t hear any of them before Heeseung pulls some crumpled bills from his pocket and the other guy produces a few small plastic bags in return.

Then, the dealer’s eyes shift. He’s noticed you. Even from the car, you see the smirk that curls across his face. He nods toward you, saying something you can’t make out but you see the way Heeseung’s entire demeanor changes. His back straightens, and his hand curls into a fist.

Then his voice raises loud enough for you to hear, “Say another word, and I’ll make you eat your fucking teeth.” The guy just laughs, hands raised like he means no harm, backing off with a mock bow before disappearing into the alley behind the station. Heeseung stomps back to the car and throws himself into the seat, slamming the door shut causing you to flinch at the sound.

“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath. He shoves the little baggies into his jacket pocket, jaw still tight. “I’m closer to my apartment,” he says eventually, as he starts the car again. “Jay can drive you home from there.” You don’t respond, you just watch the city lights flicker by through the window, wondering how the hell this night went so sideways.

When the car finally rolls to a stop in front of an apartment building, Heeseung gets out first. You follow, unsure if you’re supposed to. The elevator ride is short, and when he steps into the hallway, he freezes. A sock hangs from the doorknob of his apartment. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters. You look between him and the door, confused. “What… is that supposed to mean?” He turns, looking at you like you’ve just asked him the dumbest question alive. “It means Jay’s getting laid. And unless I wanna walk in on him butt ass naked, balls deep in some girl, I’m not going in there.”

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out at first. A strange pang of something twists in your chest. Discomfort? Curiosity? You’re not even sure. You shouldn't say anything. You know you shouldn’t. But the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “You can come hang out with me for a bit.”

Heeseung blinks like you’ve just said something crazy. “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady like your heart isn’t currently threatening to crawl up your throat. “It’s better than smoking in your car, right?” He looks at you for a long second. Then his tongue clicks against his teeth, and a crooked, almost disbelieving smirk tugs at his lips. “Sure, princess,” he says finally. “Lead the way.” And with that, you both turn and head back to the car, neither of you saying what you’re thinking.

That this is a bad idea.

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The drive to your dorm is quiet. Neither of you speaks, and you’re oddly thankful for it. You already know Mina’s gone for the weekend on some family trip she wasn’t thrilled about, so sneaking Heeseung in isn’t necessary. You don’t even hesitate as you unlock the front door and lead him straight to your room.

He steps inside like he owns the place, scanning the space with an expression that borders on smug satisfaction. Your room is exactly what he expected, soft colors, string lights, a clutter of textbooks, and the sweet scent of your perfume in the air.

Without asking, he drops into the chair at your desk, pulling a small bag from his jacket along with a metal grinder and rolling papers. You sit on your bed, wordless. Watching. Careful not to speak too soon, not to ask the wrong thing. He grinds the weed with practiced ease, rolling it all up into a neat joint before lighting it. The smell hits you fast and you wrinkle your nose as he takes a long drag, eyes flickering up to meet yours.

You hold eye contact, steady as you can, even as the smoke curls around his face like a halo of sin. He exhales, lazily. “You want a hit?” You shake your head immediately. “No thanks.”

“It’s just weed,” he says like that’s supposed to reassure you. “Won’t kill you.”

“I’ve never done it before.”

“Exactly why you should.” He shrugs, leaning back as he takes another drag. “You’ll be fine.” You hesitate. He’s not pressuring you, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, the sharpness behind the laziness in his tone, that makes your pride itch. “Fine but only one…” you mutter, reaching for it before you can psych yourself out.

He watches with amusement as you take a cautious inhale and immediately dissolve into a fit of coughing. Heeseung laughs, full-bodied and unbothered, while you wave at the air and curse under your breath. “You’re such an asshole,” you wheeze. “I knew that would be your reaction,” he says, taking the blunt back and drawing from it like a pro. “Weed’s gross, huh?”

“It is.”

“You get over that pretty quickly,” he mumbles through the smoke. You glare at him, still blinking the burn from your eyes. He exhales again, tapping ash into an empty coffee mug on your desk. Then he asks it, just casually enough to sting. “So why’d you invite me over?” You blink. “Because…you couldn’t go back to your place?”

“Bullshit.” He fixes you with a look, sharp and knowing. You open your mouth, then close it. You don’t have a real answer. Heeseung leans forward just a little, the curve of his smirk cruel and charming all at once. “Is it ‘cause you’re stupid and think I’m hot?”

“No,” you snap, instantly. He chuckles, standing from the chair. You stiffen as he crosses the room and drops onto the edge of your bed next to you, close enough to make your heart stutter. “You sure?” he asks, voice low. You say nothing. You can’t say anything. Your skin feels too hot. Your head swims, not from the weed, but from his nearness, the scent of him, the way he’s looking at you like he already knows the answer.

He sees your blush, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. “You’re too easy,” he mutters, shaking his head with mock disappointment. He stands again, this time strolling to the window, opening it halfway before flicking the burning joint outside. The end sizzles somewhere below. When he turns around, he’s already pulling off his jacket and tossing it over your desk chair. Then he drops to his knees.

You gasp as his hands grip your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the bed until you’re practically nose-to-nose. “Tell me you want me,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. “Say the words, and I’ll give you what you want.” You shake your head, heart hammering, “I don’t want you.” He scoffs, one brow raising. “Sure. I’m an asshole. I’m repulsive. You’ve made that very clear.”

Your spine straightens, your jaw tightens. “You are,” you bite. “You’re an asshole, and you’re repulsive.” Something flashes in his eyes. Maybe he expected denial. Maybe he wanted it. Instead, he just laughs under his breath, dark and low. “Yeah?” he says. “Then why are you still sitting here?” You open your mouth, but he cuts you off, his hand reaching up, fingers slipping under your chin and tilting your face up until there’s nowhere else to look but at him.

His gaze is intense. Like he’s peeling you open with nothing but his eyes. “Tell me you want me,” he says again, softer this time. “One last chance.” The silence stretches. And then, barely audible, your voice cracked.

“…I want you.”

It’s all he needs. He surges forward, crashing his mouth onto yours in a kiss that’s messy and impatient, all smoke and heat and tension finally snapping. His lips moved against yours like he owned them, tongue sliding past the seam of your mouth before you could even catch your breath. His hands dug into your waist, pulling you against him as if he needed more. And you kissed him back with a kind of clumsy desperation that had him groaning into your mouth.

“You kiss like you’ve never done this before,” he said between breaths, smirking against your lips. You blinked at him, dazed. “I haven’t.” That made him pause, just for a second. His eyes searched yours, dark with something unreadable. Then came the low, almost pleased laugh. “Of course you haven’t.” His tone was laced with something cruel. Not surprise. Satisfaction. “I knew you were a fucking virgin,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours for a brief second. “You’re so fucking obvious.”

You tried to pull away, but he caught you, dragging you back in with a hand curled around your waist. “And so desperate,” he added, voice velvet-wrapped venom. “You let me touch you like this, let me get in your head, just because I smiled at you for two seconds?”

“I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” he cut you off, his hand sliding up your spine, fingers pressing just beneath your bra clasp. “Didn’t fantasize about me when I cornered you in that kitchen? Didn’t think about what it’d feel like to have me ruin that perfect little image you try so hard to keep?” His mouth ghosted over your neck, not kissing, just breathing, and it made you shiver. “You’re pathetic,” he said against your skin. “And I mean that in the hottest fucking way possible.”

Your whole body was trembling, but not with fear. It was something else. Something that couldn’t be named anything other than desire.

He pulled back suddenly, just far enough to grab your hands and guide them to the hem of his shirt. “Take it off.” You hesitated for a beat. “Be a good fucking girl,” he said, voice rough. “Do what you’re told.” So you did. Fingers shaky, you pulled the shirt over his head, revealing smooth skin, inked ribs, and lean muscle that flexed with every breath. He looked sinful.

“Good girl,” he breathed, and for some reason, your stomach flipped. But just when things were spiraling faster than you could handle, his hands were on your hips, mouth back on yours, it was so overwhelming you couldn’t help but pull back.

“I… I can’t.” He stilled. “I’ve never… I’ve never done this before,” you admitted, voice small, eyes locked on the space between you. There was a beat of silence. And then, to your surprise, he pulled back. Not with annoyance. Not even frustration. He just looked at you, unreadable again. “Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood. “You really are something else.” You waited for him to storm out, to curse, even to make a cruel comment.

Instead, he just leaned down again, brushed a thumb over your flushed cheek, and said, “You’re lucky I’m not a total piece of shit.” And with that, he grabbed the rest of his clothes, tossed on his jacket, and muttered something about needing a smoke before he lost what little self-control he had left. You sat there, breathless and buzzing, completely unsure of whether you’d just made the best or worst decision of your life.

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The music thrums low through the walls, bass pulsing like a heartbeat as laughter drifts in from Sunghoon’s living room. You’re curled up in an oversized armchair with a ginger ale in hand, Kira and Mina arguing over which song to queue next while Jay and Wren are deep in a debate about movies that neither of them can name correctly. Somewhere across the room, Heeseung sits with a drink in one hand and a lazy smirk stretched across his face. His hair’s a little messy, pupils blown wide from whatever he snorted in the hallway earlier, and despite the chaos of the party, you can feel his eyes on you like a brand.

It’s not obvious, no one else seems to notice. But you do. Every glance. Every slow rake of his gaze down your frame. Every time his tongue wets his lips like he’s tasting a memory. And even though you try not to, you glance back, too. Then your phone buzzes in your lap.

heeseung: bathroom. now.

Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t even think, you simply mutter an excuse to Koda about needing to pee and slip down the hallway. The party noise fades behind the door when you step into the bathroom. He’s already there, leaned up against the opposite wall with that same devilish glint in his eyes.

You blink. “Are we gonna talk about-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Heeseung says flatly, pushing off the wall and closing the distance in one stride. His hands cradle your jaw and then his mouth is on yours, hot and aggressive and unforgiving. There’s no hesitation in his kiss, no slow build, just his tongue exploring your mouth, and the taste of liquor as he presses you back against the door. Your fingers fist in his shirt before you even realize it.

You pull back breathless. “Heeseung, what the hell are we doing? We need to talk about the other night-”

“I don’t do relationships,” he says with a scoff like it’s a disgusting word. “So if that’s what you want, you better wait for hell to freeze over.” You blink at him, heart hammering in your chest, anxiety rising in your throat. “But,” he adds, voice lower now, more dangerous, “I do want to ruin you.” You swallow hard at his words. He smirks, brushing his nose against yours. “So here’s the deal, princess. You’re either in or you’re out. No strings. You wanna play with fire, or do you want me to walk away?”

Your brain screams run. But your body’s already betraying you, your anxiety fizzling away as his scent reaches your nose. You grab him by the collar and pull him back into a kiss, just as messy, just as desperate. His hands find your waist like they’ve been there a thousand times before, fingers curling tight. For a moment, you forget how to breathe. Heeseung groans against your mouth, then pulls away, forehead resting against yours as both of you catch your breath.

“We should get back,” he murmurs. You nod, pulse still thundering. He opens the door, peeks out, then gives you a quick nod. “You first.” You slip back into the party, lips still tingling as you slide into your spot on the armchair as if nothing happened.

A few minutes later, Heeseung strolls in, eyes scanning the room until they find you again. You go to look away, but it’s already too late.

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You weren’t supposed to fall into this.

At first, it’s just sneaking around, his hands on your hips in the back of someone’s house party, his lips slanted over yours in the shadows of a hallway, his messages short and demanding: Come over. Now.

It never goes further than making out. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because you always stop it, and for some reason, he listens. But he toys with you. Pushes you to your limits. Tugs at your waistband just to hear you whimper and tell him no. He always listens, barely, but he never makes it easy.

Heeseung has fun with it. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

But then something shifts.

You don’t show up to one of the guys’ get-togethers and he spends the whole night pissed off. You don’t answer his messages during midterms and he fights the urge to call you. And when you finally reply that you’ve been studying, he just stares at the screen for a long moment, jaw clenched, fingers twitching with something he doesn’t want to name.

Because there’s one thing Heeseung promised himself he’d never do… develop feelings. Especially not for someone like you. But somehow, you become his. His little secret. His personal puppy. Always coming when he calls, even if it's just to follow him to meet a plug. You make him food after he gets too high and starts spiraling. You learn what bands he listens to, what kind of ramen he likes, what makes him laugh on those rare days when he lets his walls fall just enough.

And the worst part?

You never ask for anything back.

For months, he keeps choosing you. He stops fucking around with other girls, ignores his late-night calls from the ones who’d been more than willing to drop to their knees. It didn’t matter. The only lips he wanted on him were yours. And he hasn’t even had that in weeks. Heeseung starts to feel like you belong to him and it terrifies him.

So he does what he does best. He pulls away.

You come over to his place one night, unannounced, because he hadn’t answered your texts in two days and it made you worry. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, just annoyed. You barely step inside when his voice cuts sharp and flat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was worried,” you say quietly, trying not to flinch. His laugh is humorless. “Worried? What the hell for?”

“You weren’t answering and-”

“I don’t owe you shit, Y/N. I don’t have to text you back.”

“I know that,” you whisper. “I just… I care, that’s all.”

He sneers. “That’s your first mistake.”

You don’t fight back. You don’t yell. You just stand there, eyes wide, shrinking under the weight of every bitter word. “I never needed you,” he says. “Don’t know what kind of delusion you’ve been living in, but this,” he gestures vaguely between you “was never anything. Just convenient. You were easy.” Your throat burns. Your eyes sting. But still, you stay. “You don’t mean that.”

He steps closer, expression cruel. “I do. Get the fuck out, Y/N.” You’re crying now, but you nod. “Okay… I hope you have a good night.”

You’re halfway to the door when he throws in one last jab. “Keep crying, sweetheart. Shows just how fucking weak you really are.” The door slams behind you before you can blink away the tears. Jay is standing in the hallway. He freezes when he sees you, eyes wide.

“Y/N? What happened?” You don’t answer. You don’t even look at him. You just keep walking, hand trembling as it wraps around the stair railing, the apartment door shutting behind you like punctuation at the end of a sentence you never wanted to write.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A week passes. And it’s miserable. You barely leave your dorm except for class. You come back, bury yourself in textbooks or pretend to scroll your phone, hoping your friends won’t notice how much darker your eyes look now, how much quieter you’ve become. But they do notice. Mina tries to talk to you, but you just keep saying you’re fine. Kira gives you looks full of concern. Wren keeps asking if you’re sick. You’re not. You just feel hollow.

And Heeseung… He’s no better.

Jay’s fed up with him. He’s been smoking and snorting himself stupid. He’s always high, barely coherent, lying around their apartment with bloodshot eyes and a shorter temper than usual. No girls, no snide comments. No joy.

Until tonight.

There’s a knock on your dorm door. Mina opens it, expecting maybe a neighbour or a classmate needing something. Instead, she finds Heeseung. He looks wrecked, eyes red, pupils blown wide, hair messy. Jacket hanging off one shoulder, reeking of weed. “What the hell…” Mina starts, furrowing her brows. “Why are you here?” He doesn’t answer her. Doesn’t care how insane he looks. “Is Y/N here?”

“Uh… yeah?”

He brushes past her before she can stop him. He marches straight to your door and opens it. You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, startled as he walks in and shuts the door behind him like he belongs there. “Heeseung?” you breathe out, eyes wide. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just walks over, dazed, and sits on the edge of your bed. You can instantly tell he’s high, and not just weed this time. His gaze is hazy, his voice low and hoarse when he finally speaks.

“Can I… lay with you?” Your heart twists. You don’t know what to say. You’re confused and hurt, but even so you nod.

He kicks off his shoes, shrugs out of his jacket, and slides onto your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then he curls behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist like it never left. His breath warms the back of your neck. You can feel his heartbeat against your spine. For a long while, neither of you speak. Then somewhere you work up and courage and quietly, you whisper, “Why are you here?” He presses a soft kiss to your neck, another. His voice, when it comes, is slurred but raw. “Be quiet.” You shiver but stay silent.

“I hated it,” he mutters after a beat. “Being without you. Hated knowing you were out there and I’d pushed you away.” Your breath catches. You don’t know how to respond. He nuzzles into your neck, pulling you closer, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. “You belong to me.” And you should argue. You should push him away. But you don’t, you just let him hold you.

“I didn’t mean the shit I said,” he murmurs. “I was scared. Of how I feel about you. I didn’t know what to do with it.” You stay still, soaking in every word, every slow beat of his heart against your back. “I’m not gonna push you away again,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to worry about that.” You don’t say anything. You just reach down and thread your fingers through his, and you hold on.

You don’t know how long you laid there. The silence is full but not uncomfortable. Just soft breaths and the quiet beat of something new blooming between you. Eventually, you shift in his arms and roll over, facing him.

Heeseung looks at you like he doesn’t know whether he’s dreaming or hallucinating. His pupils are still blown wide, but they’re focused on you. You lean in slowly, tentatively, and press the gentlest kiss to his lips. It’s so featherlight it nearly doesn’t land. But it’s enough.

Heeseung moves before you can pull away. His hand cradles the side of your face, and he kisses you back softly at first, almost reverent. But the longer your lips linger, the more the hunger seeps in. It grows, consuming, like it’s been building up inside him for the last week. The kisses get deeper, needier. Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt as he shifts, pressing you down onto the mattress, his body moving to hover over yours. He cages you in without hesitation, kissing you like he’s starving and you’re the first thing that’s ever made him feel full.

His lips bruise yours, but you don’t care. You only kiss him harder. His hand trails down your side, gripping your waist as his body presses flush against yours. The way he moves, the way he kisses, it’s all too much. But you don’t want to stop. You want more. And for once, the fear doesn’t outweigh the ache. You pull away just slightly, your breaths tangled in the tiny space between you.

Your eyes lock, and his gaze is burning, pupils heavy and jaw tight, like he’s trying to hold back. And then, softly you say the words he’d been waiting to hear.

“I’m ready for more.”

His entire body stills above you. Then, slowly, he leans in until your noses touch, his voice rough against your lips. “Say that again.” You swallow. Your chest rises and falls with every shaky inhale, but your eyes don’t leave his. “I’m ready,” you repeat, just as softly. “For more.”

Your words are all he needs. The moment they leave your lips, he closes the gap, kissing you again, but this time, it's slower. More deliberate. Like he’s finally allowing himself to savor something he’s been craving for far too long.

Clothing falls away piece by piece, scattered carelessly to the floor. There’s no rush. Just quiet anticipation, mounting tension, and the weight of something neither of you wants to name. When you’re beneath him, completely bare and he’s left in nothing but his boxers, Heeseung just looks at you.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, the words low and genuine before he leans down, mouth trailing kisses along the curve of your neck. His lips brand you, soft at first, then hungrier as they dip lower. His teeth graze your hip bone, then your inner thigh, dragging a gasp from your lips.

This is the first time you’ve ever let someone see you like this. So vulnerable and exposed. Your hands instinctively rise, trying to shield your face from the heat of his gaze. But Heeseung clicks his tongue and reaches up, fingers gently curling around your wrist. “Let me see that pretty face while I make you feel good. Can you do that for me, baby?” And really, how could you ever say no to him? You drop your hands to your sides, surrendering completely, and he smiles before dipping between your legs like he owns the place.

His tongue is confident, practiced, and devastatingly precise. You feel every deliberate flick against your clit like a jolt of lightning. He kisses you there, hungry and unrelenting, like he’s starving for every sound you make. You moan his name, loud and needy. “Heeseung…”

His groan hums against your core, vibrating through you in the most sinful way. That one moan, the way his name rolls off your tongue, it spurs him on. He pushes your legs further apart, then back, just to hear your sounds more clearly, just to feel how wet and desperate he’s made you.

The pressure builds quickly. It’s not gentle. It’s overwhelming. Your body trembles under the weight of your pleasure, muscles twitching as your moans dissolve into shaky little whimpers. You’re right on the edge and he knows it. His gaze lifts to yours, locking eyes with you just as you begin to come undone. Gone is the cold detachment you’ve come to expect from him. There’s a glimmer of warmth now, mischief dancing in his eyes, his lips curved into a smirk as they press against your pussy again.

That’s all it takes.

You shatter beneath him with a broken cry, back arching, hips lifting off the mattress. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, hot and all-consuming, setting every nerve on fire. It’s bliss and chaos wrapped in one, your chest heaving as you ride it out, moaning his name like a prayer, and Heeseung just watches.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he lifts his head from between your thighs, lips slick with your arousal. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy from the high but they burn into yours with something heavier than lust. Hunger so deep it coils in your stomach and twists your insides.

Then he kisses you hard, desperate, a filthy blend of your taste and his need but the moment is short-lived. You feel it immediately, the thick bulge in his boxers grinding against your soaked core, the friction dizzying despite the barrier. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest, and his lips hover just above yours.

“You sure about this?” he murmurs, voice hoarse with restraint, his breath warm against your mouth. You nod, quick and breathless. “Yes,” you whisper, eyes pleading. “I need you.”

He pulls back with a groan, sitting up on his knees as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. Your gaze drops, your breath catching when he tugs them down and tosses them aside. His cock springs free, long and thick, veins prominent, the flushed tip already glistening with pre-cum. It slaps against his abdomen with a heavy thud, and your thighs instinctively part wider.

Heeseung catches the way your eyes lock on his length, the awe, the need, and it pulls a slow smirk from his lips. “I don’t have a condom,” he says, but there’s no hesitation in his tone. He knows what your answer will be before you give it. “I don’t care,” you breathe, voice trembling with desire. “I just want you.” His smirk deepens, dark and dangerous. He leans forward just enough to press his tip against your entrance, dragging it slowly through your folds, collecting the slick that’s been pooling for him since the moment he walked through your door.

“You keep saying shit like that, pretty girl,” he rasps, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want me to put a baby in you.” The words are low and filthy, and they send a tremor through your body. He holds the base of his cock in one hand, teasing your dripping entrance, circling it, pushing just the tip inside and pulling back again. “Is that what you want?” he taunts, voice all mock-innocence, even as his jaw clenches from the restraint it’s taking not to bury himself inside you. You whimper, back arching slightly as you try to rock your hips forward, but his hand presses down on your thigh, keeping you in place. “Heeseung, please,” you cry, nearly breathless. “I need to feel you.”

That’s all it takes to break him. His eyes flash, the playfulness gone in an instant, replaced by something ravenous. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he sinks into you, stretching you slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every part of him as your walls flutter and tighten around his thick length. A guttural moan rips from his chest. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes squeezing shut. “You feel so fucking good.”

And for a moment time stalls. All that exists is the feeling of him inside you for the very first time, your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs trembling from the stretch, and Heeseung’s hands gripping your hips like he never plans to let go.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as Heeseung pushed deeper, stretching you open in a way you’d never felt before. The pleasure was overwhelming, laced with a faint sting that had your eyes welling with tears. Heeseung saw the tremble in your lips, the way your brows drew together and for the first time, the ever-composed boy above you froze completely.

“Shhh,” he murmured gently, his voice too soft for the boy who usually only knew how to tease and taunt. His thumb brushed at the tears slipping down your cheeks, wiping them away with a reverence that left your heart aching. “I got you, baby. You’re okay.” He leaned down, pressing featherlight kisses across your face. From your cheeks, to your jaw, to the corners of your mouth, almost like he was trying to kiss the pain away. Your eyes met his, and there was something new there, something fragile and raw. You gave him a small nod, and he didn’t need anything more.

The moment you gave him permission, he exhaled a groan like he’d been holding it in for years. The restraint it took him to not completely unravel was evident in the way his arms trembled on either side of your head. He knew it was your first time, and for once, Heeseung wasn’t out to ruin you. He was here to worship you. He started to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and steady, designed not to overwhelm, but to let you feel every inch of him. Every time his hips rolled into yours, you swore he carved a piece of himself into your body. He never looked away from you, not even for a second.

You wrapped your arms around his back, nails digging deeper into his shoulders as the pleasure slowly overtook the pain, and then eclipsed it entirely. Your moans spilled freely now, rising with each thrust, and Heeseung’s breath hitched at the sound of them. “You’re mine,” he whispered, voice breaking against your ear. “You hear me? This pussy is mine.” His lips brushed your throat, but his eyes were starting to flutter closed, head tilting back as the pleasure threatened to undo him. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

He shifted suddenly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pushing them forward, throwing your legs over his shoulders in one fluid motion. The angle had your breath hitching, your back arching up off the mattress as he buried himself even deeper, grinding against the spot that made your entire body tremble. His hands planted on either side of your head, caging you in as he began to fuck you in earnest, hips snapping forward with a brutal rhythm. You were a mess beneath him, moaning, whining, hands grasping at his forearms for something to hold onto. That knot in your stomach tightened fast and hard, your whole body going taut with it.

You could barely speak. “Hee.. Heeseung, I think I’m gonna-” But his pace didn’t falter. “I know,” he grunted. “I can feel you, baby. But you’re not allowed to cum yet.” You sobbed at his words, a desperate cry breaking through your lips. “I can’t.. I can’t hold it.. please!” He growled low in his throat, his pace faltering just for a moment to lean closer, his lips right by your ear. “You do what I say,” he hissed. “You hold it until I tell you. You always do as you’re told, right?”

Your nod was frantic, broken by whimpers, and you could feel his cock twitch inside you as your walls fluttered around him, desperate to release. His own breathing was ragged now, sweat dotting his forehead, jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself back.

Then finally, like a reward he gave in. “Cum for me,” he groaned. “Now.” Your release hit like a wave crashing over your body, your vision going white at the edges, back arching as your orgasm tore through you. The tightness in your abdomen snapped with a force that had you nearly screaming, shaking beneath him as the pleasure ripped you apart. Heeseung’s hands gripped your thighs harder as your pussy clenched around him.

“Fuck.” he cursed, voice shaking, hips stuttering. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

His own orgasm hit seconds later, spilling into you with a guttural groan as his body collapsed slightly over yours, his arms catching his weight just in time. He chanted your name like it was the only word he remembered, praises falling from his lips as he rode out the high with you. The room felt too quiet in the aftermath, filled only with the sound of your shared heavy breathing. Your skin burned, a soft glow spread across your body like you’d been touched by something divine. Heeseung didn’t pull away immediately. He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, your jaw, your temple, anywhere he could easily get his lips on..

Eventually, he pulls out carefully, murmuring soft apologies at your wince. He cleaned you up with surprising tenderness, making sure you were comfortable before crawling back into bed beside you. No words passed between you. They weren’t needed. Not with the way you curled into his chest, and the way his arms wrapped around you like he didn’t plan on letting go.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A few months had passed, and things between you and Heeseung had shifted but not in the way you'd hoped.

Word had spread quickly among your friends that the two of you were something. You were always together, always touching, always tangled up in some form of each other. Heeseung never bothered denying it, and though you weren’t officially dating, he didn’t let anyone so much as look at you the wrong way. You were his, even if you weren’t his.

At first it felt like enough.

The two of you started going on double dates with Sunghoon and Koda, who had become disgustingly official. Public hand-holding, matching lockscreens, soft smiles traded when they thought no one was looking. It made something twist in your stomach every time you saw them together. Because you wanted that with Heeseung. Not just in secret, not just in the dark, not just in bed.

You’d asked him about it more than once, about putting a label on whatever you were. Every time, he gave the same answer. “Labels are overrated.”

And somehow, every time, you let yourself believe him. Let yourself agree. Because what else could you do? Walk away?

Now the entire friend group was gathered at Sunghoon’s place, celebrating the unthinkable. He’d gotten back into college. The same guy who once slept through an exam while tripping balls was suddenly clean, smiling more, standing a little straighter with Koda by his side.

Jay raised his red solo cup. “No way you’re really quitting for good,” he snorted. Heeseung chimed in with a lopsided grin. “Bet you relapse in a week.” Sunghoon only laughed, draping an arm over Koda’s shoulders. “For her? I’d give up anything.” The room buzzed with soft awe, with that sticky sweetness of love that had you glancing at Heeseung out of the corner of your eye.

But he didn’t look back.

Later that night, you were curled up in Heeseung’s bed, the city lights bleeding through the blinds in slanted strips of white and gold. He sat at his desk, rolling a bill between his fingers, lining powder up with mechanical precision. You bit your lip. Waited. Then finally, quietly, “Would you ever quit… for me?”

He paused, just for a second. Then he laughed. “Don’t be stupid.” The words hit like a slap, and your stomach sank. “I’m not being stupid,” you said softly. “I’m asking.” He didn’t even look at you. “I’m too deep in, princess. You knew that from the start.” You sat up, sheet clutched against your chest. “Yeah, but maybe you could want more. Maybe you could try for us.” That made him turn. He swiveled slowly in his chair, coke still untouched, eyes bleary with something unreadable. “Us?” he echoed. “What us, Y/N? We're not married. We're not even actually dating.”

The words landed like stones in your chest. You blinked at him, stunned, your voice breaking as you whispered, “That’s so mean, Heeseung… how could you say that after everything?” He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?” He shrugged, looking away. “I just don’t think about the future. I never have. Shit like that doesn’t work for people like me. Whatever happens, happens.” You were silent for a moment. Then, with a quiet sigh, you turned away from him and laid back down, facing the wall. You didn’t cry, not this time. But something inside you hardened.

Behind you, you heard the faint snort of his line. A few seconds later, the bed dipped under his weight as he slid in behind you. His arm draped around your waist like it always did. But tonight, it felt heavier. He buried his face into the crook of your neck. He smelled like sweat and powder. And though he didn’t say it, you felt the smallest whisper of apology in the way he kissed your shoulder. Still, your eyes stayed open long after his closed. Because no matter how close his body was to yours, you’d never felt farther from him.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The next week, Sunghoon waited at the bottom of the steps, his hoodie half-zipped and a protein shake in hand. “Damn, you look like death.” You rolled your eyes, trying and failing to stifle a yawn as you adjusted your backpack. “Didn’t sleep.” Sunghoon let out a small chuckle as he walked beside you, “Let me guess. Study bender?” You gave a tired half-smile. “Something like that.”

The truth was heavier than you let on. You were burning the candle at both ends. Studying until your vision blurred, then sneaking off to Heeseung’s apartment in the middle of the night because he needed you. He always needed something. A distraction. A fix. A warm body. You never said no. Not once. Not even when your body begged for sleep and your brain screamed for rest. By the time you and Sunghoon reached class, your chest already felt tight. Your skin was clammy, your thoughts muddy and disjointed. You hadn’t even remembered this essay was being handed back today.

The second your professor placed the paper facedown in front of you, your stomach sank. You flipped it over, and there it was, a huge, angry 57% scrawled across the top in unforgiving red ink. For a moment, your world stopped. You blinked at the number, uncomprehending. You’d never seen a grade like that in your life. Never anything under a 93. Not even close. You remembered writing it, or rather trying to.

Heeseung had been pacing his apartment, high and impatient, asking how much longer you were going to be. “Come on, babe,” he’d said, already tugging at your shirt. “You’ll finish it later.” You should’ve said no. You should’ve finished it, you knew better. “y/n…” Sunghoon’s voice was gentle beside you, too gentle, then you realized he’d seen the grade too. “I’m sorry-” You didn’t let him finish.

Before the first slide even hit the projector, you grabbed your paper, shoved it into your bag, and bolted. “y/n?” your professor called out as the door closed behind you, but you didn’t stop. The tears were already falling, hot and silent down your cheeks as your legs carried you on autopilot.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Jay opened the door with a lazy grin. “Hey, look who it is-” His expression dropped instantly when he saw your face. “Whoa, hey. What’s wrong?”

“Is Heeseung here?” you asked, voice hoarse. He shook his head, stepping back to let you in. “He went out. Should be back soon, though.” You turned like you were about to leave, but Jay caught your wrist. “Wait, come inside.” You hesitated, wavering on your feet. But then his arms opened, and your resolve broke. You fell into his chest, sobs wracking your body as he pulled you in close.

Jay guided you to the couch, settling in beside you without a word. His hand rubbed slow, steady circles along your back while you cried until your throat ached. “I’m so tired,” you finally whispered. “I’m tired of loving someone who doesn’t want to love me back. He wants me to be his, but he doesn’t want to be mine.”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He let you speak, let your words settle between the two of you before he finally said, “You know that’s not fair to you, right?” You just stared at your hands, shaking in your lap. “I know. But I keep choosing him anyway.” You reached into your bag, your fingers clumsy, and pulled out the crumpled essay. “And now my life’s falling apart because of it.” You handed it to him, shame rushing up your throat. Jay’s brows knit together as he read the grade. “Jesus. y/n…”

“I was working on it that night and he kept trying to rush me so I could give him my attention. I was almost done, but he didn’t want to wait.”

“And you dropped everything for him.”

“I always do,” you whispered.

He was quiet for a second, then gently nudged your leg with his. “Heeseung actually invited me out tonight. Some new bar opening nearby.” You looked over, startled. “Jay, I can’t.” His voice was calm, “Just hear me out. Come with me and just to talk to him.” You exhaled sharply, your head already shaking. “He doesn’t listen.”

“Then make him listen,” Jay said, more firm this time. “Tell him what you told me. That you’re tired. That you’re drowning trying to hold up both of you. That you’re not asking him to change overnight but you are asking him to care enough to meet you halfway.” You swallowed hard. “What if he doesn’t?” Jay shrugged. “Then you’ll know. And I think deep down knowing is better than dragging this out in the dark.” He rested his hand on yours, “You love him. That’s obvious. But love shouldn’t break you down like this, y/n. Not over and over again.”

Your eyes welled again, but you held back the tears. Instead, you nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll come.” Jay offered you a small, “Good, and hey… no matter what happens, I got you.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The bass thumped through the floor of the bar, pulsing in your chest as you followed Jay inside. The space was crowded but stylish, with low amber lighting and a haze of laughter and smoke hanging in the air. You looked stunning but even with your makeup perfect and your dress hugging you in all the right places, something inside still felt off.

Jay leaned in close, his voice pitched low near your ear. “You good?” You nodded, even if it was a lie. “Let’s just get a drink.” You posted up at the bar, side by side as you sipped your cocktails. You scanned the room absentmindedly, heart thudding against your ribs, wondering if tonight would finally be the night something changed between you and Heeseung.

Then Jay spotted him. “He’s over there.” You turned as Jay nodded toward the far corner, where a group of guys lounged around a table with half-drunk beers and a few girls clinging to their arms. Heeseung sat relaxed and smirking until your eyes locked on the girl on his lap. She was curled against him like she belonged there, her lips attached to his neck, one hand teasing the hem of his shirt.

You froze. Jay’s jaw clenched. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Heeseung noticed Jay first, and he waved lazily, like nothing was wrong. It wasn’t until you approached that his face dropped, and you didn’t say a word.

“y/n..”

The girl was shoved off his lap without ceremony, confusion written all over her face. But you weren’t looking at her. You were looking at him like you’d never seen him before. Like something inside you had finally snapped. You let out the smallest, most broken sigh, then turned to leave. Jay moved as if to follow you, but Heeseung reached for his arm and shook his head. “I got it.” Jay just stared him down like he might hit him, but he stepped back, lips pressed into a thin, hard line.

The air outside the bar was sharp and cool, biting at your skin as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to breathe. The muffled thump of bass inside faded behind you, but it couldn’t drown out the sound of your heartbeat, loud and aching in your ears. You stood on the curb, phone pressed to your cheek.

“Yeah… can you come get me?” Your voice cracked on the last word, barely above a whisper as you got Kira to come pick you up. The moment you hung up, you heard the door swing open behind you. “y/n.” You didn’t turn, you couldn’t. You kept your eyes on the street, watching headlights blur behind the film of tears already clouding your vision. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” Heeseung said, his voice a little breathless. “She meant nothing. I didn’t even say two words to her before she climbed on top of me.”

You didn’t respond, but your shoulders tensed. He noticed. “She wasn’t you,” he added. “She never could be.” That got you to turn, enough to glance over your shoulder. Enough to let him see how wrecked you were, even beneath your makeup and perfect dress. “Do you even hear yourself?” you asked, your voice low and raw. “Why was anyone on you in the first place?” He looked like he wanted to argue. Like he had excuses lined up. But instead, he stepped closer, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “I was drunk. I was bored. I’ve been losing my fucking mind.”

You blinked, a tear slipping down your cheek before you could stop it. “I’m not good at this, Y/N. I’m shit at it. But I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” His eyes searched yours, his voice a little quieter now. “If I’d known you were coming with Jay… I wouldn’t have even looked at anyone else.” Your throat tightened. You hated how easily your heart twisted at his words. How even now, even like this, part of you still wanted to believe him.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” you murmured. “Then don’t,” he said, taking another step closer. “Come back inside, or come home with me. Let me fix this.” You turned to face him fully now, biting your cheek to stop the sob sitting at the base of your throat. “Heeseung…” you started, but your voice faltered.

He saw it, the softening in your eyes, the hesitation in your stance. The way your hands twitched like you didn’t know whether to shove him or hold him. He saw it all, and his mouth curved into the smallest smirk, hopeful and cocky all at once. “I knew you wouldn’t walk away that easy,” he said under his breath, stepping forward again, close enough now that you could smell him. Close enough to pull you back in. But before he could reach you, headlights flashed across both your faces.

Kira’s car.

You wiped your cheek fast, hoping she didn’t notice. As she pulled up to the curb, you turned back to Heeseung, taking one shaky breath. “I’m not done with this conversation,” you admitted. “But I can’t do this right now.”

He opened his mouth again, ready to talk you down, smooth things over, maybe even kiss his way out of the wreckage but the door to Kira’s car swung open with a quiet click, and the moment slipped through his fingers like smoke. You slid into the passenger seat without another word, not even looking back as Kira pulled away. Heeseung stood on the sidewalk, watching the car disappear, jaw tight and eyes glinting with the ghost of a grin. Because for better or worse, he knew it wasn’t over.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The morning was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy rather than peaceful. You stood outside Heeseung and Jay’s apartment, your arms crossed against the early chill, uncertainty churning in your stomach like a storm on the brink. You didn’t even remember the walk here. Your legs had carried you on instinct, like some pathetic magnetic pull that wouldn’t let you stay away.

You raised your hand and knocked softly on the door, almost like part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer, but he did.

Heeseung opened the door looking like he hadn’t slept, eyes red, hair a mess, the fabric of his hoodie wrinkled and worn. For a second, he just blinked at you, as if unsure you were real. Then he stepped back silently, letting you in. You didn’t speak as you made your way to his room, the familiar scent of his cologne and faint smoke clinging to everything around you. You sat on the edge of his bed while he shut the door behind him. The air felt thick, like it could snap under the weight of whatever you were about to say.

He sat beside you, a little too close. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” you said quietly, hands resting in your lap, fingers digging into your own skin. “I’m tired, Heeseung. Everything in my life is falling apart, and I don’t even recognize myself anymore. And it’s not fair. I shouldn’t feel this… pathetic.” He didn’t say anything at first. Just let your words hang in the air between you. Then, finally he whispered, “I know.” You turned to look at him. “Do you?”

Heeseung’s jaw tensed. “I know I’ve hurt you. I’ve been selfish, and I’ve dragged you into my mess. But I meant what I said last night. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Y/N. I just…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m not good at this. I’m scared of needing someone like I need you.” You stayed quiet, heart hammering in your chest, desperate for something real from him. “I’m not ready,” he admitted, voice low. “Not for the kind of love you deserve. Not yet. But I swear to God, I’m trying. And I don’t want you to leave me before I figure it out.” Your throat tightened. You hated him a little for saying the right things. For always knowing just how much honesty to give to keep you hanging on.

“I can’t keep putting my life on hold for someone who won’t choose me,” you whispered. “I am choosing you,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Just not in the way you want. Not yet. But I will.” You looked down at your joined hands. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles, slow and reverent, like maybe he knew how close you were to walking away. “I need time,” he said again. “But I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t make me lose you.”

Your heart ached with how badly you wanted to believe him. And then, he leaned in and placed a genuine kiss on your lips. Not rushed, not greedy. Just a kiss. Sweet and gentle, which was rare for Heeseung. It didn’t burn like normal, you completely melted into him, and that was the problem. When he pulled back, your eyes were still closed. You breathed in slowly, “Okay,” you whispered. “But I can’t keep waiting forever.”

“I know,” he said. “I won’t make you.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It had been months since that night at the bar. Somehow, Heeseung had surprised you. After that, he showed up. Not in grand, sweeping gestures, but in smaller ways. Less disappearing, fewer girls, and a real effort to be present. He still got high more often than you liked, but he wasn’t the same careless version of himself. There were even days he stayed sober just for you. He still refused to label what the two of you had, but there was no denying it anymore, you were his. And despite everything, he was still yours.

Finals came and went in a blur. You buried yourself in your notes, slept less, ate less, and practically lived in the library. Heeseung didn’t love it. He was pissy about the time you spent away, complained under his breath, picked little fights but when you reminded him how important this was to you, he’d try to pull it back. You knew he didn’t mean to be cold. It was just that being second to anything, including your future, never sat well with him.

So when your final marks came in, high scores across the board, including a ninety-six on the rewritten essay that had nearly broken you, you practically floated to his apartment. You didn’t knock anymore, you hadn’t for months. Jay barely looked up from the couch when you breezed in. “Heeseung’s in his room,” he mumbled through a mouthful of chips.

Your heart pounded with something close to glee as you padded down the hallway. For once, it felt like things were right again. The pressure was off your shoulders, and all you wanted was to share this victory with the person who made you feel like magic even on your worst days. You pushed open the door, and he was on the edge of his bed, hunched over, dollar bill between his fingers, a thin white line in front of him on the desk. He didn’t flinch when you walked in. Just looked up, red-eyed and lazy-smiled. "You’re here," he said, voice low and drowsy. You didn’t hesitate. You were in his lap before he could blink, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. "I did it," you whispered between kisses. "I killed those exams, and got the makeup essay back too, your girl got a ninety-six."

His hands landed on your waist. "Of course you did. You’re brilliant." You kissed him harder, and he returned it, sloppier than usual but still full of heat. Then, somewhere between his hands gripping your hips and his lips trailing up your jaw, he murmured, “You deserve better than me.” You froze. Just for a moment. “What?”

He pulled back, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re up here,” he said, motioning vaguely upward, “and I’m down here, snorting lines off my goddamn desk.” You gave a breathless laugh, like he’d just told a bad joke. “Stop. Don’t ruin this.”

“I’m not trying to,” he said. “I’m just being real.” The air in the room shifted. He kissed you again, slower, deeper, more tender, and when he pulled back, his voice was barely a whisper. “You can do better than me.”

“No,” you said immediately, pulling yourself off of his lap, “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it.” He breathed out, lips pink from the kiss you two had just shared. “Heeseung..”

“You’re the kind of girl who makes it. Full ride, top of your class. Everyone sees it but you. And I’m the guy who drags you out of study sessions to fuck, who gets high instead of helping you write your essays.” The tears start to form in your eyes, the feeling of whats about to come claws at your throat and shakes your entire body. “I don’t care. None of that matters to me. I don’t want any of it without you.”

And that’s when he breaks. It’s not loud. Not dramatic. It’s subtle in the way his jaw tightens, the way he blinks a few times too fast, the way his breath hitches and his eyes gloss over, but you see it. He doesn’t cry, not fully, but the tears are threatening to fall. “You don’t want this life,” he says, voice low and brittle. “You think you do now, but you don’t know what it’s like to drown in it. You’d ruin yourself trying to save me.”

“I want to ruin myself for you!” you scream, throat sore from the truth of it. “I would do anything just to keep you. I don’t care what it costs me.” And it’s like a switch flips in him. His expression twists, darkens. He stands suddenly, turning away from you like he can’t bear to look. “That’s the problem,” he snaps, voice sharp now. “You’d throw everything away. Your future, your mind, your fucking soul for me? What kind of person lets someone do that for them?” He spins back toward you, breathing heavily. “You say I don’t hold you back, but I do. I already have. Look at you.”

You flinch like he’s slapped you. His chest heaves, while yours trembles. The room feels too small for the storm you’re both creating. “You think I want you to end up like me?” he says, quieter now, but with just as much heat. “Snorting lines in the dark because it’s the only way I know how to function? You’re not built for this, y/n.” You take a step forward, desperate. “Then help me understand it, let me in, Hee…”

“No!” he shouts, eyes wide now. “I can’t let you in. You don’t belong here with me.” Your voice cracks as you plead, “Then let me love you, please, you’re my life.” Heeseung stares at you like you’re breaking his heart just by standing there. And maybe you are. Then, something in his eyes shifts. The fight drains out of him all at once. His shoulders fall. His brows pinch like he’s physically in pain. He steps forward slowly, and he presses the softest, most painful kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there longer than they should. As if trying to memorize the way your skin feels before he forgets what warmth is.

“I’ll probably never love anyone the way I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. You shut your eyes tight. “Then don’t let me go.” He pulls back, and this time when he looks at you, it’s like he’s already saying goodbye. “I have to.” Your hands fall limp at your sides, you don’t protest again. There’s no grand door slam. No final dramatic words. Just the sound of your footsteps as you walk out of his room and down the hall.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It had been a month. A month since Heeseung kissed your forehead and told you to leave. You hadn’t left your bed much since it happened. Your sheets still smelled like him, and you refused to wash them. The air in your room was stale, but you didn’t open a window. You just laid there, still, like a corpse.

Every single one of your friends had tried. Mina was the first. She’d climbed into bed with you in the early days, stroking your hair while you stared at the wall. She ordered in your favourite food, but you hadn’t touched a bite. Kira had shown up next, with a playlist titled “Healing Shit (or at least trying)” and a bag full of overpriced face masks. But your face stayed buried in your pillow, unmoving, no matter how gently she whispered your name. Koda and Wren came as a pair. They took turns talking to you like it was a script they rehearsed, one soft and hopeful, the other blunt and real. But even they couldn’t pull you from the hollow place you’d sunk into. Not even Koda’s dumb jokes could summon a smile.

And now it was Jay and Sunghoon. You heard the front door creak open from your spot in bed. You knew it was them before they even reached your room. Something about the heaviness of their footsteps. The way their voices dropped in the hallway like they were already mourning what they were about to see. “y/n?” Jay said your name softly, like he wasn’t sure you’d still respond to it, but you didn’t. Sunghoon stepped in behind him, his brows creased with concern. “Hey. Can we talk?”

Your body curled deeper into the mattress, a feeble attempt at self-preservation. You didn’t look at them, didn’t blink, just stared at the nothingness in front of you. Jay approached first. “Come on,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed. “We miss you. Just... say something.” When you didn’t, he laid beside you, hesitantly at first. One arm slid around your trembling frame as he tucked you into his chest, like maybe he could hold your pieces together before they shattered again. That’s when it hit. The sob tore out of you like it had been clawing up your throat for days. A horrible, guttural sound, ugly and loud and drenched in everything you hadn’t said. Jay just held you tighter, his jaw clenched as he buried his chin in your hair.

Sunghoon sat down on the floor beside the bed, leaning against the frame. His voice was low, soothing. “You’re not alone, y/n. We’re here. We all are. And we’re not going anywhere.” You still didn’t speak. Couldn’t. You just cried until your chest ached and your tears soaked through Jay’s shirt. You didn’t know how to live without Heeseung, and you weren’t even sure you wanted to. You cried until your mind shut off and you drifted into a tear induced slumber, you didn’t notice when they finally left.

Back at the apartment, Jay shut the front door behind them with a sigh, tossing his keys into their key bowl. Sunghoon didn’t say anything until they reached the kitchen, and when he did, it wasn’t lighthearted. “She’s not okay,” he said quietly, grabbing two glasses out of the cupboard. “Like, not at all.” Heeseung was sitting on the couch, slumped low, eyes glassy. The remnants of a high clung to his skin with a thin sheen of sweat, and faint tremble in his hands. He didn’t look up or didn’t speak up. He just listened.

Jay leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his voice laced with worry. “I don’t even recognize her anymore, Hoon. She used to be the brightest one out of all of us. Now she won’t even look at me. Just lies there like she’s waiting to disappear.” Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “She’s not eating. Mina said she hasn’t left her room in almost a week. I saw like five unopened water bottles on her nightstand. She’s not okay, man.”

“She's not even y/n anymore,” Jay added. Heeseung’s throat went dry. He stared blankly at the coffee table, at the rolled-up bill and the near-empty bag of coke. His chest caved in around the weight of their words. His stomach churned. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth, trying to breathe. They were talking about her. He destroyed her, and now she was unraveling exactly the way he thought she would if he stayed with her. He stood up slowly, barely steady on his feet, and disappeared down the hallway. The door to his bedroom shut quietly behind him. And for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, he didn’t reach for the coke. He just sat there on the edge of his bed, face in his hands, and tried to figure out how to live with the ruin he’d made of the only person who ever loved him like he was worth saving.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It took everything you had just to lift your body out of bed. You moved like you’d been underwater for weeks, every motion slow, unsteady, and heavy. Your legs shook beneath you as you shuffled toward the bathroom. You didn’t even register the mirror hanging on the wall, you didn’t want to see yourself. You just turned on the shower, stripped out of clothes that smelled like you hadn’t changed out of them in days, and stepped under the scalding stream.

You stood there longer than you needed to. By the time you emerged, your skin was red and raw, your eyes already puffy again. You dried off in silence, tugged on your hoodie, well his hoodie, and slipped your wallet into the front pocket. When you walked into the living room, Mina and Kira were curled up on the couch. They looked up at you like they were seeing a ghost slowly reassemble itself. “I’m going for a walk,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. Kira straightened. “Want us to come?” You shook your head in response. “Just need some air. I’ll be back in a week.” They blinked. “What?” You forced a faint, brittle smile. “Kidding.” But your tone was unconvincing, you just walked out before they could press further.

The late afternoon wind cut at your cheeks as you walked aimlessly, hood up, headphones in, playlist on loop. The same seven songs you’d been playing for the last twenty-eight days. Lyrics you could mouth with your eyes closed, melodies that buried themselves in your bones.

You didn’t know how long you wandered before you reached your destination. One of the countless places he used to drag you to. A forgotten street, somewhere between two buildings that always looked like they were on the verge of collapse. You hung back near a busted fence, pretending to scroll on your phone while keeping an eye out. Eventually, you saw him. Heeseungs dealer. You made your way over slowly. He looked up as you approached, and recognition flickered in his eyes. “Heeseung’s girl,” he smirked, and you didn’t respond.

“I want a bag,” you said plainly. “Whatever you’ve got.” The man looked you over. “You ever done this before?” You didn’t answer, causing him to chuckle to himself like it was all a joke. But he still handed you the small plastic bag. You passed him two crumpled twenties from your hoodie pocket. He pocketed the cash and gave you a lazy nod.

“Don’t take the whole thing at once,” he muttered. “It’s strong.” You didn’t care. You walked until your feet hurt. Until you found a lonely curb near some graffiti covered alley, and you sat down. Your hands trembled as you opened the bag. You watched the powder shift. It looked like nothing and everything at once. Just like him. You shook a little onto the back of your hand, like you’d seen him do a hundred times. Tilted your wrist. Bent forward. But the second the powder neared your face, something inside you cracked. The tears came hard, you couldn’t stop them if you tried.

You pulled your hand away, the powder falling across the asphalt. You clutched the bag with shaking fingers, stuffed it back into your pocket, and stood up like your legs were no longer yours. You didn’t even realize where you were walking until you were standing in front of his apartment. The air felt thinner there. You knocked once, and the door swung open quicker than you expected. Jay stood there, mouth parting as soon as he saw your face. You knew what you looked like. Your cheeks were blotchy, and your eyes glassy. You didn’t even try to hide it. “y/n,” he said quietly. “Please don’t do this.”

“I need to see him,” you whispered. Jay glanced over his shoulder into the apartment like he was searching for an excuse. “You’re stronger than this. You’ve made it this far.” You shook your head, a small sob catching in your throat. “I can’t.. I just can’t.” He looked at you again, really looked. His expression softened, falling into something helpless and hollow. You didn’t need to say anything else, Jay stepped aside.

You don’t even knock on his door, you simply turn the doorknob and step inside, the air heavy and quiet, thick with the scent of old smoke and something sharper, something chemical that instantly floods your chest with memories. Heeseung is on his bed, a half-empty glass in one hand, his phone in the other. But the moment the door creaks open and he looks up and he freezes like he’s seen a ghost.

His entire face drops as your eyes meet his. The weight of everything you’ve been holding in for the last month finally collapses. You burst into tears. “y/n?” He’s already standing, his voice strained with disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

But you don’t speak. You just walk toward him, your legs barely steady, and reach into the pocket of your hoodie. You pull out the small bag of white powder, trembling fingers clenched around it like it burns to hold, and you drop it into his palm like it’s evidence. His expression shatters instantly. “No… no, baby, what the fuck is this?” he says, panic rising in his voice. He grips your wrist, gently but firm, and steps closer, cupping your face in both hands. “Did you… did you take this?”

You shake your head, eyes wide and streaming. “I couldn’t.” His thumbs brush over your tear-soaked cheeks as he tilts your head up, examining your nose like it holds the answer. When he sees it’s clean, he exhales in relief and closes his eyes, forehead falling against yours. Neither of you speaks for a long moment. The silence is filled with your sniffles, his staggered breath, the steady beat of time holding its breath, then he pulls you into him.

You crumble against his chest, sobbing so violently your knees nearly give out. His arms wrap around you like he’s afraid of letting you go again. “I love you,” you cry into his hoodie, fists clutching the fabric at his back. “I love you and I can’t live without you, Heeseung. This past month… I wasn’t living, it was torture. It still is.”

“I love you too,” he breathes against your hair, his voice cracking like something inside him is breaking open. “But I’m not good. I’m not safe. I’m a monster, and you’re… fuck, you’re pure light. You’re everything good and I don’t want to take that from you.”

“My light doesn’t exist without you,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look at him. Your eyes are glassy and red-rimmed, your face flushed from the storm that still hasn’t passed. He just stares at you, jaw tight, guilt swimming in every line of his expression. “You’re my worst desire,” you murmur. “Heaven would be hell without you. And even if we’re doomed to it, I’d still choose hell as long as you’re there.”

His brows knit together, like he’s trying to process your words and stop himself from falling into them all at once. “I don’t want to live without you,” you say again, firmer this time. “My love isn’t conditional. I don’t care about what you’ve done or where you are or what you think you’re becoming. The only place anything feels right is with you.” His chest rises and falls, slow and heavy. “I’m torn, Y/N. Between you and this deeper desire I keep giving into. This path I’m on… it’s dark and it’s fucked and I know it’s going to destroy me. And I don’t want it to take you too.”

You reach up, fingers touching his jaw, gentle and warm. “But I want you. Even through the dark times.” He swallows hard. “I want you. I want to be with you. I want to love you… but I never wanted to destroy you.”

“You won’t,” you whisper, “unless you keep pushing me away.” The war behind his eyes rages on but then, slowly, it softens. His hand lifts to cradle your cheek again, thumb brushing just below your eye. “I don’t know how to stop loving you,” he murmurs. “Then don’t.” You don’t know who moves first. Maybe you both do. But the second your mouths meet, it’s like something primal takes over. He kisses you like he’s been drowning and you’re the first breath of air he’s had in weeks. There’s nothing careful about it now, his hands in your hair, your arms around his neck, bodies crashing together like gravity had finally snapped.

It’s a kiss born from heartbreak, from survival, from all the pieces of your souls trying to find home in each other again. His mouth is hot and desperate against yours, tasting of longing and regret, of everything you’ve both wanted and tried to deny. When he finally pulls back, your lips are swollen, your chest heaving, your heart pounding so loud you’re surprised he can’t hear it.

Heeseung doesn’t let you go, his lips hover above yours, breath warm and shallow, and for a moment neither of you speaks. You just stay pressed together, hands curled in his shirt, his fingers brushing along your jaw like he’s trying to memorize the curve of your face all over again. Then he kisses you again, slower this time.

His hands cup your cheeks, and your fingers tangle in his hair as he pours every unsaid word into your mouth. It’s messy and a little frantic, but softer than before. Softer because this time, there’s no desperation behind it, just clarity. “I love you,” he breathes against your lips, barely pulling away. “Fuck, I love you so much.” You nod, tears still slipping down your cheeks. “I love you too.” He rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut like he’s trying not to fall apart again. “I’ll try to quit. I swear to you, I’ll try. I don’t want to keep losing myself and I can’t live without you. Not again.” Your hands tighten around him. “I want to be yours,” he says. “Like really yours. Your boyfriend. I want to be better, for you. I want to try.”

Your breath catches in your throat, then you’re nodding, over and over, and your arms wrap tighter around his neck as you pull him into another kiss, this one slower, and sweeter, like the kind of kiss you’d always hoped he’d give you when it finally felt right. Heeseung’s hands slide beneath your thighs, and with no effort at all, he lifts you off the ground and carried you towards his bed. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

He lays you down carefully on the bed, then slides in beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he blinks. You don’t speak for a while, you just lie there, tangled up together in the dark, wrapped in sheets that still faintly smell like him. His hand strokes your hair, your back, the curve of your hip. You feel his lips press gently to your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between kisses. “For everything. For leaving you. For making you feel like I didn’t care. I was scared. I still am.” You reach up and trace his jaw with your thumb, your heart aching at how sincere his eyes look in the dim room. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “You’re here now. We’re here now.” He leans in, brushes your lips with his. “I’ll be better for you.”

“You already are.” You press your face into his chest and he holds you tighter. His heartbeat is loud beneath your ear, and for the first time in what feels like forever, it doesn’t feel like your body is made of hollow spaces and shattered glass. It feels like safety.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You wake up to the sound of his breathing. It was slow, steady, almost peaceful. For a moment, you let yourself believe that last night wasn’t a dream. That the pain is over, the ache behind you, and this is the start of something real. His arm is slung around your waist, warm and heavy, anchoring you to the mattress. You barely slept, too afraid he’d disappear again. But now, in the soft haze of morning, wrapped in his arms, you let your eyes close just for a second.

Until he stirs behind you. You feel the subtle shift in his body. The way his breath catches in his throat. His arm retracts like your skin burned him. “Wait…” his voice rasps, still thick with sleep, “what the fuck…” Your stomach drops, as you turn slowly, blinking at him like maybe you’re the one who’s confused. “What?”

His eyes are wide and bloodshot. There’s dried powder crusted faintly under one nostril and a tiny streak still smeared across the back of his hand. “What are you doing here?” he asks, genuine confusion etched across his face. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. You’re too stunned, too disoriented by the sharp contrast to the boy who held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth just hours ago.

“I came over last night… You said you loved me,” you finally whisper. “You said you wanted to try. That you didn’t want to lose me.” He stares, the silence between you gnaws at your chest like something alive. “I don’t…” he swallows. “Fuck, I don’t remember that.” The words hit you harder than a slap. You sit up too fast, the sheets falling away from your body as you shake your head. “You don’t remember anything?” His eyes flicker. Guilt creeps in slowly. “I was coming down. I’d done a lot before you showed up. I didn’t know-”

“So it didn’t matter?” you cut him off, voice barely above a whisper. “None of it was real?”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps, defensive now. “Don’t twist my words.”

“I’m not twisting anything. You don’t even remember me being here.” Your voice trembles. “You don’t remember kissing me. You said you’d try to quit. You asked me to stay.” He runs both hands through his hair like he wants to rip it out. “I meant it, okay? I meant it in the moment.”

“But the moment’s gone,” you say bitterly, standing from the bed. “And now we’re here.” Heeseung gets up too, anger simmering under his skin. “What, you want me to magically fix everything overnight? You think it’s that simple?”

“I never said that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N? You want me to turn into someone I’m not?”

“I want you to have not been high last night!” you yell, the words coming out strangled. “I want you to care! I want you to stop making me feel like I’m the only one who’s trying!” He’s pacing now, barefoot on the floor, frantic and twitchy. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like in my head. I’m not built for this shit.”

“I know you’re not,” you say, voice cracking. “But I thought maybe you’d try. For me.” He freezes. His back is to you, shoulders tense. “I want to. I just… I don’t think I can.” You feel it again, that collapse inside your chest. The same one you’ve been patching together with hope and denial for months. “Then say it,” you whisper. “Say you don’t want this. Say you don’t want me.” He turns slowly, and something in his face softens. It almost breaks you. “I do want you,” he admits. “But I want this too.” He gestures vaguely to the room, the remnants of his high, the destruction he clings to like a security blanket. “And that makes me a monster.”

You step back like the words physically hurt. “You said I was your angel.”

“You are.” His voice cracks. “Which is why I need you to go.” You shake your head. “You told me you loved me.”

“I do,” he breathes. “God, I do. But I’ll ruin you.”

“You already did. I just got you back, Heeseung…”

The silence stretches thick between you. Then he takes a step forward, like he might try to hold you, but you back away. You can’t do this again, not when he couldn’t even remember the night before. He swallows hard, eyes glassy. “Please,” he says, voice barely audible. “Don’t make me watch you walk away.” You blink back tears, throat tight. “Then give me a reason to stay.”

But he doesn’t. So you do the one thing you swore you never would.

You leave.

And like always, he lets you go.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

four months later

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Four months pass in the blink of an eye. The day is warm, the sun soft and golden overhead as you stand with Mina, Kira, Koda, and Wren, all dressed in your black gowns and sashes, your caps still held in your hands. The air around you buzzes with excitement, laughter, and the kind of bittersweet energy that only comes with the closing of a chapter. The moment your names are called, one by one, a flood of emotions washes over you. Pride, relief, even a sense of sadness.

And then you’re all standing in a circle, diplomas in hand, faces flushed with joy, and on the count of three, you throw your caps into the air, the five of you screaming and laughing as they soar above your heads and fall like confetti. It should feel like the beginning of everything. And in a way, it does. But for you, it’s also the end.

After the ceremony, you spot Sunghoon weaving through the crowd, his smile blinding, a massive bouquet of deep red roses tucked under his arm. He beelines straight for Koda, scooping her up into a tight hug, lifting her right off the ground as she squeals in surprise. “Proud of you, babe,” he grins, pressing a kiss to her temple. Then he turns to the rest of you, handing off flowers and congratulations like they’re going out of style. He hugs you next, warm and genuine and it makes your eyes sting just a little.

Before you can blink, someone else wraps their arms around you from behind. “Graduated and still short,” Jay teases into your ear. You laugh despite yourself and lean into the embrace. “I missed you too, asshole,” you say, wiping your cheek quickly as if that’ll hide how emotional you are. He holds you for a second longer, then pulls back, flashing you that crooked grin. “Proud of you. You did it.” You force a smile at his words, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Later that night, you all cram into a booth at your favorite Korean BBQ spot, the table stacked with plates of sizzling meat, clinking glasses, and side dishes passed back and forth. Everyone’s talking over each other, laughing too loud, singing along to whatever songs are playing overhead. Kira leans into you, whispering about how Wren made eyes at the waiter. Mina’s halfway into her second soju bottle. Koda is pressed into Sunghoon’s side like a missing piece finally clicked into place.

It’s familiar, and yet you feel like you’re watching it from behind glass. When Jay offers to drive you home, you don’t hesitate.

The apartment feels quieter than usual. Like the walls know something is ending. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of your suitcase, folding your last hoodie with shaking hands. The corners don’t line up properly, but you can’t bring yourself to refold it again. Your fingers are trembling too hard. Jay stands by your desk, watching you in silence. He’s been quiet since you let him in. He hasn’t touched his drink. He hasn’t touched anything.

You try to lighten the mood, forcing a soft chuckle as you zip your suitcase closed. “Guess that’s everything.” Jay doesn’t smile. “Doesn’t feel like everything.” You glance up at him. He’s staring at your suitcase like it just punched him in the gut. You swallow hard, “Jay…”

“Are you sure about this?” You turn away, pretending to check the zipper again even though it’s fine. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t.” He takes a few steps closer. The floor creaks beneath his feet. “You don’t have to go, Y/N. You really don’t. You could stay. Start over. We could help you.” Your chest tightens. You press your palm flat against the suitcase like it’ll keep you grounded. “I can’t stay here,” you whisper. “Everything here reminds me of him.” Jay exhales sharply, and it’s the closest thing to a crack in his composure you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N…” He drags a hand through his hair and sits down beside you on the floor. He doesn’t touch you, but you can feel the warmth of him beside you, like a question. “I thought leaving would make it easier,” you admit, voice trembling. “But all I feel is like I’m abandoning him.” Jay finally meets your eyes, and your resolve breaks.

The tears come without warning, hot and relentless, blurring your vision as you lean into him and bury your face in his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, holding you like he’s been waiting months to do it, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, he can keep you from slipping away. You sob into his hoodie, shaking like a leaf. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to leave him behind.”

Jay’s hand finds the back of your head, gentle, grounding. “You don’t have to leave him behind forever,” he murmurs. “Just long enough to find yourself again.” You pull back slowly, your cheeks soaked, your throat raw. “Promise me something?” He nods without hesitation. “Look after him. Please. I know he’s not easy. I know he’s… a lot. But I’m terrified he’ll destroy himself without someone watching.” Jay’s jaw tenses. “You really love him, huh?” You nod. “With everything. Even when I shouldn’t.”

He reaches for your hand, squeezes it tightly. “I’ll watch over him. I promise. But you have to promise me something too.” You look at him through watery eyes. “Don’t disappear. Call sometimes. Text. Hell, send a postcard.” You let out a wet laugh and nod, then fall forward into his arms again, hugging him like it’s the last piece of safety you’ll get to hold onto. “Let me take you to the airport tomorrow?” he says against your hair.

You nod into his chest. “Yeah. Please.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The blinds in Heeseung’s room are drawn, bathing everything in a murky shade of grey. His ashtray is full. The rolled-up twenty on his desk is crooked and frayed at the edge from too many nights like this. He’s flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling like it holds answers. His jaw ticks, fingers drumming against his stomach. There’s a weight in his chest that won’t budge, no matter how many hits he takes.

The door creaks open without a knock. It’s Jay. Heeseung doesn’t look. Doesn’t move. Just closes his eyes and lets out a long breath through his nose.

“She’s leaving.” The words land like a punch to the ribs, causing Heeseung to blink his eyes open. “Huh?”

Jay steps further inside. “Y/N. She’s moving. Tomorrow. “I’m taking her to the airport.” Heeseung sits up too fast, his heart dropping into his gut. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” A long pause followed. Heeseung scoffs, running a hand through his already mussed hair, the tension rippling through his limbs like a pulled wire. “So let her go.” Jay’s expression flattens. “Are you serious right now?” Heeseung shrugs, but his eyes don’t match the indifference in his voice. “She wants to leave. Let her.”

“She doesn’t want to leave, Heeseung. She’s hurting. Because of you.”

“Well, maybe she should’ve thought about that before falling for a fucking loser.” Jay’s voice goes sharp. “You’re not a loser. You’re just a fucking coward.” Heeseung’s head snaps toward him. “You think I don’t know what I am?!” His voice cracks. “You think I haven’t been dying every fucking day since I told her to go?!”

“Then why didn’t you stop her?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!” Heeseung roars, pushing up to his feet with such force the chair beside his desk shakes. His chest heaves, eyes wild and glassy. Jay doesn’t back down. “Then fight for her.”

“I did!” Heeseung yells again, slamming a hand against the wall hard enough to make a picture frame rattle. “I fought by letting her go. She was dying here! Dying because of me. She had everything in front of her and I kept dragging her back into my mess-”

“So clean up the fucking mess!”

Heeseung’s fists ball at his sides. Jay’s breathing hard now, too. “You sit here pretending you’re some tragic antihero who saved her by breaking her heart. But that’s not love, Heeseung. That’s fear.”

The words hang heavy, and Heeseung doesn’t respond. Jay stares at him a moment longer, jaw clenched, eyes filled with something halfway between rage and heartbreak. “You still have time to fix this. But if you don’t even try… then maybe you never really loved her in the first place.” Jay turned and storms out. The door slams so hard the walls shake. Heeseung doesn’t move, barely breathes.

He lowers himself back onto his bed, collapsing like his body has nothing left to give. He stares at the ceiling again, but this time, his eyes burn. His thoughts race, every image of you, every soft whisper, every tear you’d shed, every moment he threw away playing like a reel behind his eyes.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The airport smells like burnt coffee and fresh paper. You stand beside Jay at your gate, your suitcase at your feet, ticket clutched loosely in one hand, passport in the other. Your hoodie sleeves are pulled over your knuckles, and your headphones hang useless around your neck, silent for once. Jay is quiet next to you, his arm brushing yours every so often in silent solidarity. He knows better than to fill the silence with small talk.

Then, the presence of your friend group livens up the airport. You hear them before you see them, but you couldn’t mistake Koda’s excited voice carrying over the low hum of travel noise. You turn and see her weaving through the crowd, pulling Sunghoon behind her with one hand, the other waving high above her head. Behind them are Kira, Mina, and Wren, all bundled in mismatched layers, like they’d rushed out the door without checking the weather.

The sight makes your throat tighten.

They all reach you at once, surrounding you in hugs and laughter that feels too bright for how heavy your chest feels. Kira grabs your hands in hers and squeezes, her smile watery. Mina wipes her eyes before the tears even fall. Wren just hugs you so tightly your back cracks. “I’m proud of you,” Koda says, pressing her forehead against yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually going,” Sunghoon mutters, voice quiet but sincere. You try to smile. “Me either.”

But as they all talk over each other, asking about your flight, telling you to text them when you land, suggesting a ridiculous group chat name, your eyes can’t help but drift toward the crowd behind them, like you’re searching. Jay catches the glance. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches you for a long moment before gently tugging on your sleeve. “He’s not coming.”

You blink, startled by how calmly he says it. “I talked to him,” Jay continues, keeping his voice low so the others won’t overhear. “But… I don’t think he’ll show.” You nod, eyes dropping to the floor. You expected it, you told yourself not to hope. But hope is cruel. Hope has a sharp edge.

“I know,” you whisper. “It’s okay.” Jay doesn’t say anything. He knows it’s not okay. But he nods like it is, and you’re grateful for it. The loudspeaker crackles overhead, boarding group numbers being called. You glance down at your ticket. That’s you. “Well,” you say, forcing a bright smile, “that’s me.” You start hugging everyone again, slower this time. There’s something about knowing it’s going to be the last one for a while that makes your arms ache to hold onto them longer.

“You’ll call, right?” Kira whispers into your shoulder. “Every day,” you promise. Jay is the last one you face. His arms wrap around you with a familiarity that makes your heart ache in a different way. “Thank you,” you murmur. “For what?” He asks with a small chuckle to his voice. “For everything.” He squeezes you a little tighter. “I got you. Always.” And still, your eyes flick one more time to the crowd, searching for dark eyes, messy hair, broad shoulders. One more time for the boy who made and broke your heart all at once, but he’s not there. So you pick up your bag, and you walk away, waving goodbye to your friends as you approached your gate..

And you don’t look back.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The moment the plane touched down, a strange stillness settled in your chest. You were exhausted, emotionally rung out, and yet the moment the pilot announced your arrival in Sydney, Australia, your body moved on autopilot. New country. New air. New version of you.

You weave through the crowd in the airport, dodging people with overstuffed carry-ons and neck pillows clinging to their shoulders. Your headphones are around your neck now, but they’re quiet. The music that once drowned everything out is replaced by the hum of unfamiliar accents and baggage claim announcements. Your heart is thudding a little too loud as you make your way toward the carousel, scanning for your suitcase. It’s a sea of black and navy bags, all tumbling past with urgency, like they know where they’re going.

Someone steps in front of you just as your bag slides into view, and you don’t see them in time. The collision is instant and forceful, your shoulder hits theirs, your foot catches something, and the next thing you know, you’re both on the ground, bags and limbs tangled in a graceless heap of chaos.

“Oh my god… I’m so sorry, are you okay?” you gasp, sitting up and scrambling to gather your bearings. “No, no, that was me, I wasn’t watching, shit are you alright?” a voice responds, rushed and sincere. Your hand brushes his arm as you both reach for the same fallen backpack. And then your eyes meet. Warm brown eyes. Tousled blond hair. Sun-kissed skin. A dimple threatening the corner of his cheek as he smiles sheepishly. There’s a pause. A stillness. The universe, just for a moment, seems to exhale.

You blink, and then he extends a hand to help you up, fingers curling gently around yours with a touch that doesn’t feel like a beginning, but like something inevitable.

“I’m Jake.”

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a/n ; omg guys I can't believe bad desire is finally here. I've been working on this fanfic for LITERALLY months, and then when bad desire came out I knew I had to find someway to incorporate it. but anyways, thank you so much for the love you gave the teaser and I hope you all like the full story! maybe there's room for a part two?

tag list ; @lostgirlysstuff @hoonprksung @nithxhoon @rayofsunshineeee @wooyugta @fancypeacepersona

#enhypen smut #heeseung #heeseung smut #heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enha smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #enhypen sunghoon #jay enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #heeseung angst

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skeltnwrites · 10 months ago

Text

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist

part one - you find out your work crush is a dad and offer to watch his mischievous little girl so he can get some work done 5.2k

a/n - penelope is a little shit and i love her dearly, general warnings/tags here

── .✦

“Hey, sorry to bother you, Steve. I just had a quick question– but before I forget, there’s this little girl in the lobby knocking stuff over. Do you know if her parents are here?”

“Fuck– sorry. One sec.”

He brushes past you with an urgency that is typical of Steve. As the community outreach coordinator, he’s naturally a busy man. You haven’t known him long– just the couple of months since you became a volunteer for the local rec center– but it’s clear he’s dedicated to his work. Always zipping from one end of the building to the other, juggling class setups, organizing meetings, or hunting down the next thing that needs fixing. He tends to add more to his plate than he can carry, at least according to another staff member, which is why you’ve been assigned to help him.

You strain to match his long strides and nearly take out a trash can when he turns a corner unexpectedly. But you can’t lose him now– someone is always nearby to steal him for paperwork or performance reviews and all you have is a quick question.

The lobby unfortunately looks like a tornado blew through the front doors. Cabinets are thrown open, papers are scattered like leaves across the floor, and a chair has been toppled over. And said tornado has her cheek pressed to the vending machine glass, an arm twisted inside the dispenser box to reach for a loose pack of Skittles. The scene is almost amusing until you remember you’ll likely be the one to clean it up.

“Penelope!” Steve scolds, not loud but stern enough to surprise you. He’s consistently an embodiment of gentleness– always accommodating and rarely assertive. And while he’s still gentle with her, his tone carries a weight and firmness that’s a stark departure from his usual demeanor.

The girl, Penelope, retracts her arm and spins around to face Steve. And if it wasn’t for the shit-eating grin pinned to her face, you might’ve felt bad for getting her in trouble.

Steve’s hands snap to his hips. “I asked you to wait in my office.”

She shrugs, “Need a snack.”

Steve huffs and rakes a hand through his hair– a habit when he’s stressed, which is most of the time it seems. By the end of the day, his hairspray will have been combed out and Steve will argue with the strands that curl over his forehead.

“You can have one after you clean this up and if you stay in my office.”

“Candy?”

“No, no candy. There’s snacks in your lunchbox.” He bends to scoop up a few pamphlets to hand to her. “Or I have pretzels. Do you want that?”

She pinches a page between her nails, weighing her options.

Steve pries tiny fingers off, “Don’t rip those. Put ‘em away please.”

And she listens for maybe the first time ever, it seems, cramming a stack of them back on the shelf.

You gather your own stack of handouts and press them into Steve’s sleeve. He recoils a step, his eyes widening before rapidly shutting in a moment of realization. “Sorry! You had a question- I’m sorry.”

Penelope abandons her organizing to plant herself at Steve’s left like a sidekick– anything to get out of cleaning up. She gazes at you with a familiar pair of almond eyes and then it clicks. Her hair is the same shade of brown and her jaw, though softer, is square shaped like Steve’s. The resemblance is indisputable.

You redirect your stare to answer Steve. “Um, yeah– I just needed to borrow the storage closet key to grab some more chairs.”

“Oh, of course.” He pats the front pocket of his jeans. “Keys are in my office– I hope.”

Steve marches past you once again, a new mission in mind, tugging Penelope by the wrist and toeing a cabinet shut on the way out. Penelope’s poor little legs must be tired if he always walks this fast.

“I don’t want pretzels,” she eventually decides.

“Then you can have what’s in your lunchbox.” He glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re in tow, “This is my daughter, Penelope, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Penelope.” You wave, not that she sees.

A braid sits high on her head, swinging like a horse's tail with each hurried step. Her faded denim overalls ride up slightly, exposing just enough ankle to show off the bubblegum pink Converse on her feet. She’s a cute little thing, button-eyed and puffy-cheeked like a cabbage patch kid.

Steve nudges her with his hip, “Say hi.”

She throws you an impartial glance. “Hi.”

When Steve’s office is in sight, Penelope wriggles away from his hold to sprint down the hall. On her tip-toes, she flicks on the light, letting the door slam in Steve’s face. You catch him rolling his eyes as he stops the door with his foot for you. Penelope is clambering onto his chair like it’s a race and pushing off the desk to spin as soon as she’s seated. Steve steers her out of the way to search the drawers, passing you a set of keys when he finds them.

“Just bring ‘em back, please. Dottie found them in lost and found last week.”

“Thanks, I will,” you promise, eyes falling over Penelope again.

It’s your cue to leave, but your feet remain anchored to the floor. Your mind is buzzing with questions that neither of you have the time to discuss. The rational part of you knows you should exit before you let your curiosity win. Yet, you find yourself lingering in the doorway, stalling just long enough for Steve to lift an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

And before you can rule whether or not it's a good idea, you blurt out, “I can keep an eye on her if you want?”

Penelope peaks over the back of the chair, perched on her knees so she can see.

Steve shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. You’ve got stuff to do. And Penelope is going to be a better listener for the rest of the day, right?” He ruffles her hair, earning him a glare.

You bite back a smile. It’s a funny thing, seeing that frown and furrowed brows that resemble Steve’s so clearly because you can’t imagine him making that face at anyone ever. It’s cute, even if it’s meant to be mean, but you would never tell her as much.

“I really don’t mind. She could help me tape the flyers up– If she wants something to do?” You direct the last part at Penelope. To a kid, being trapped in their dad’s dusty old office is probably boredom purgatory.

Penelope blinks at you and then Steve for permission.

“You want to?” He asks.

She nods, then adds, “Snack too?”

“Yes, honey.” He sighs, faint but deflated, burdened by the guilt of not feeding her sooner. Steve fishes her backpack out from under his desk. A vivid shade of pink with a Barbie patch sewn to the front. Her tin lunchbox is similarly themed and only harbors a bag of fruit snacks.

“Fruit snacks or pretzels?”

Penelope’s features pinch in a way that says neither but she snatches the fruit snacks anyway. Decidedly dismissed or over the conversation, she hops off the chair and sees herself out.

You can’t help the smile that finds your lips as you turn back to Steve.

He chuckles, “It’s been a day. Bring her back if she doesn’t listen. Good luck.”

Penelope leans against the wall outside, popping a gummy in her mouth lazily.

“We’re gonna make a pitstop at the supply closet and then you can help me with the flyers.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she follows as you start walking, and that’s all you need from her. She’s strangely silent for a kid, especially Steve’s kid. Conversation seems to come easy to him, he likes to talk, which is one of the reasons you still can’t believe you didn’t know he had a child. On your first day as a volunteer, he’d crammed that he was on the swim team in high school, that he's from Indiana, and that he prefers the warmer months all in one conversation– the guy is an open book.

And you’re quiet too because you’re focused on recalling where they put that damned supply closet. The rec center halls all sort of look the same still, bleeding into one jumbled image of wood paneling and old carpet in your mind. The building is practically a maze; constructed in the fifties, it still carries its historic charm—stubborn doors, leaky faucets, and all—issues the city claims they 'can’t afford' to fix.

Penelope must get tired of going in circles because eventually she tugs on your sleeve and points down the opposite hall you were planning on going. When she leads you right up to the door you beam at her. For a second, she forgets to be brooding and smiles back.

“You’re a smart little cookie, Penelope. How’d you know it was here?” You ask, unlocking the door.

She shrugs nonchalantly, “I just know things.”

You laugh loud enough to draw eyes from a nearby meeting and determine Penelope is the funniest kid you’ve ever met.

She holds the door open at your request, munching on her fruit snacks as you maneuver a stack of chairs into the hall. You make it back to the classroom without her directions, not to toot your own horn. She tosses her empty wrapper in the trash as you unstack the chairs.

“Here,” you pass her a roll of tape. “Rip some pieces off for me?”

She nods, ambling over to the wall with you.

“So, Penelope, how old are you?” You ask, pressing a flyer against the wallpaper.

She debates, flipping fingers up and down on her free hand before concluding, “Four.”

“Ohh, very cool. You’re almost ready to go to school with the big kids, huh?”

“Yes, at the big school. I’m in pre-school.”

“Mhmm. Do you like preschool?”

She hums no and strains to tear off a piece.

“Here, like this,” you demonstrate, pulling in the proper direction. She copies you, ripping a neat line. The corners of her lips raise as she views her handiwork.

“You don’t like school?” You ask, peering down.

She hands you the slice of tape. “Only sometimes.”

“Why only sometimes?”

She shrugs and heaves a hefty sigh for such little lungs. She’s too small to be sighing like that, you think, and she definitely acquired it from Steve.

“I only like work sometimes too,” you admit.

Her eyes chase yours– all innocently wide and filled with disbelief. She rips off another square of tape, “Are your friends not nice?”

You consider her question, answering truthfully, “Well, maybe sometimes, I guess.”

“Meg was not a kind friend today.” Her tone is hilariously chastizing for a child. Kids are just like mini adults sometimes– collecting random phrases and mannerisms like trading cards.

“No? Why’s that?”

“She wouldn’t share. Daddy always says sharing is caring.”

“That’s true. Did you tell your teacher?”

Penelope shakes her head, tilting on her heels.

“Why not?”

“Meg told the teacher on me because I wasn’t being a kind friend either.”

“Oh. Why weren’t you being a kind friend?”

“Because I wanted to play with the dolls too,” she mumbles, upset wavering in her voice. To a child, these seemingly trivial matters really do feel like the end of the world, so you can’t help but empathize, even as you wish your worries were confined to sharing toys.

You crouch in front of Penelope, “We still should be kind, hmm? Even when our friends don’t want to share?”

Penelope’s unconvinced, picking at her nail like the dirt underneath is a more important issue. But you’re at the end of your stack of cardstock and it maybe isn’t your place to have this conversation anyway.

You get her set up at a table with printer paper and a box of crayons from the closet. She dumps them out immediately, spraying rainbow across her paper so she can find the “bestest” colors.

“I can share,” she declares, sliding her extra sheet over to your end of the table.

“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.” You catch a crayon before it rolls onto the floor. “What should I draw?”

“I’m coloring my family.”

“That’s nice. I think I’ll draw a dinosaur.”

“A dinosaur?” She cocks her head and giggles, bubbly and pure in the way that kids laugh. Your heart aches with happiness. “That’s silly!”

“What? Why’s that silly?”

She cackles like this is the funniest idea anyone’s ever had. “They just are!”

“Hmm. Should I draw a serious dinosaur then?”

“All dinosaurs are silly– Trevor says so.”

“What! Why does he think that?”

Her words fuse into one smear of a sound as she shrugs, “I dunno.”

“Well, my dinosaur is very serious. See?”

She presses into your arm to examine your quick sketch. “That’s not a dinosaur!”

“It is! You can’t tell?”

She nibbles on her lip, smile growing as she shakes her head.

You pull the paper closer, as if a better angle might somehow improve it. “Hmm, I guess it does look a bit like an alien, doesn’t it?”

Penelope giggles and nods enthusiastically before returning to her work. Her crayon moves methodically across the paper, lips pressed together in concentration. After a long spell of silence, she kindly requests, “Can you draw a house?”

“Of course,” you reply, “On my paper or yours?”

“Mine,” she says, her pointer finger tapping the corner of her sheet with emphasis.

The drawing is a riot of color, blending bold strokes of crayon to create two people and an animal. The taller, presumably Steve, is painted with orange and yellow hues– true to the the warmth he represents. Penelope, doused in cooler tones, carries their floppy-eared pet– a bunny or a dog, maybe?

“Wow, Penelope! This is amazing!” You genuinely mean it; despite her young age, her talent shines through in little details like eyelashes and a set of heart-shaped earrings. “Is this you and Daddy?”

“Yes, and Cinderella!” she adds proudly.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you say, admiring her work. “Is Cinderella your pet?”

She bobs her head animatedly.

“Wow, she looks like a very pretty… animal in your drawing.”

“She is a very pretty cat,” Penelope affirms and you are relieved not to have guessed incorrectly. She stares at you for a long moment. “Is Cinderella family?”

“Well, does she live with you?”

Penelope scrunches her nose and tips her head, “Sort of?”

“She sort of lives with you?”

“Yeah. She lives outside mostly but sometimes I let her inside.” Her pitch fluctuates as she talks, the words lilting in a strange, almost sing-song cadence that kids do.

“Ohh,” you smile. “Do you feed Cinderella?”

“Yes, Daddy buys her food in a can and it’s really stinky!”

Penelope joins you when you laugh. Not because you are but because stinky things are just funny at her age.

“Do you love Cinderella?” You ask.

“Yes– except when she bites me.” She sobers quickly, forehead wrinkling.

“Oh,” you chuckle, “Well, I think she’s family then.”

“I think so too,” she states seriously, swapping a blue crayon for a green.

“What color should the house be?” You claw through the rainbow spread.

“White!”

“Well, the paper’s already white but how ‘bout I outline the house in black so you know where it is?”

“I guess so. There’s two windows and the door is red– Oh, and there are lots of flowers outside.”

You nod, sketching her vision into existence. “Is this your house?”

“Yes, and Daddy’s. And sometimes Cinderella’s.”

“Just you three? Is that your whole family?” Admittedly, it’s a self-indulgent question. You’re curious about Penelope’s mom. And you noticed Steve doesn’t wear a ring, checked multiple times in the last few weeks even. But that doesn’t refute the possibility he might be seeing someone.

“Yes, Daddy and Cinderella is my family. Daddy says families come in all shapes and sizes.”

You’re glowing with a fondness that’s impossible to hide– because everything about her is adorable– her chubby cheeks, her tinkling little laugh, even her attitude, though Steve would probably disagree with the latter. She’s different than Steve in a lot of ways: grumpier and more aloof, but, at her age, it’s cute. And still, she feels like his carbon copy. An echo of everything you’ve come to like about him.

Him being a dad makes perfect sense in retrospect. To have overlooked such an important part of his life seems silly. A tenderness radiates from Steve, the kind only a parent could possess. He’s full of love– too much not to share. He pours lots into his work: late nights at the center, taking on more than he can chew, always with a smile. And the rest? It must go to Penelope.

“Your dad is very right about that.”

She smirks confidently, holding up her artwork, “I’m going to give this to him.”

“I bet he’ll love it so much, Penelope!”

And his dad senses must be tingling at the mention of his name because his face appears in the door’s slim window not even a minute later. His lips curve into a grin as he realizes he’s been caught spying.

The door clicks and Penelope turns. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, baby,” Steve strolls over to the opposite side of the table, “Are you being a good listener?” His attention flicks around the room, searching for any signs of misbehavior.

Penelope shimmies up tall in her seat and nods until he meets her pleased gaze.

Steve must believe the girl because he doesn’t press further, but you praise her anyway, “Very good. Penelope’s been an amazing helper this afternoon.”

“Is that right?” He orbits the table to stand behind her. “What are you drawing, Nell?”

She flips over her paper, clapping the front against the table. “It’s a surprise!”

“Oh, sorry!” He paces back, redirecting his attention to you. “I didn’t see it.”

Penelope twists around to confirm his eyes are elsewhere before proceeding to squeeze in a final set of details– grass blades and sun rays. “Here,” she thrusts the page into his hands. “For you.”

“For me?” His face lights up like a Christmas tree before he’s even seen it. She could hand him a pebble, and he’d treasure it like a gem. And when his eyes do fan across the drawing, he melts.

“This is so lovely!” He coos. “Where did you get all this talent from? This belongs in a museum, Nell!” He keeps his heart from bursting with a steady palm to his chest. And with his free hand, he flashes it at you just long enough to catch a glimpse before he reels it in to study some more. “And you got Cinderella’s stripes too. Wow.”

He squats behind Penelope’s chair, throwing an arm around her middle, “Thank you for this. And thank you for being a good listener. That makes my heart very happy.”

She slumps into his chest, peering up at the reflection of her own features. “Is it time to go?”

His eyes leap to the clock hung on the opposite wall. “Couple more hours, babe.”

Penelope huffs.

“I’m gonna hang this in my office. I love it so so much!” He sows a couple of kisses on her temple, straining to stand with achy knees. “You wanna come hang out with me or stay here?”

She looks at you like you might object. “Here.”

If Steve’s offended, he doesn’t show it. He’s still grinning like the Cheshire cat, high on the parenting win that is receiving willing affection from your child. “That okay?” He asks you.

“Of course. I’ll put her to work,” you reassure.

“Good, keep her busy. It keeps her out of trouble.” He raises the drawing for another look. “I’ll be in my office, doing paperwork, yay.”

You snicker, as he retraces the path he came. “Have fun with that boss!”

Just before the door slams shut, he yells back, equally playful, “I told you to stop calling me that!”

Penelope doodles some more, gifting you a vibrant rendition of the night sky– a collection of stars and circles and swirls. You’re so grateful you tell her it’ll go on your fridge, and it does as soon as you’re home. She sorts through toys and equipment in the gym closet and even holds your dustpan when you sweep. Her role as your helper is taken very seriously.

The two hours pass faster than you expect. Time flies when you're having fun, as Steve would say. All his little phrases and cheesy jokes suddenly make sense in the context of him being a dad.

She takes your hand on the way to Steve’s office, escorting you when you pretend not to know which direction it’s in. It’s as comforting as it is validating; winning the kindness and attention of four-year-olds, especially this one, is difficult. You knock on the wood frame even though the door’s propped open.

Steve peaks up through a rare pair of reading glasses. Round, wireframes that match the golden shade his hair assumes when it catches the light. They highlight his eyes—warm and gentle as a summer breeze. But he swipes them off his nose, folding them with practiced care.

A smile mends his frown as Penelope climbs into his lap. “Hi, sweetheart.”

She wiggles into a comfortable position, nudging his chest until he reclines further to make space. “Hi.”

“Are you having fun?” Steve cradles her shin to keep her from slipping. “What have you been up to?”

“Cleaning.” Her tone is casual, dismissive even, like it’s nothing to fuss over; but her eyes are fixed on him, waiting for a reaction.

Steve gasps, “No way! You were cleaning? I don’t know if I believe it.”

“I was!” Penelope whines, tickled with glee.

“Hmm, is this true?” He arches an eyebrow at you.

You nod, delighted to play along. “It is. Penelope here is excellent at handling a dustpan. She even organized the dodgeballs by color.”

“Really? Because you never-ever want to clean at home.”

“I do!” She squeals, bending backward over the arm of his chair.

“Yeah right.” He blows a raspberry on her belly where her shirt has pinched up.

She shrieks, squirming and kicking her heels into his thigh. Steve’s dad reflexes must clock in because he blocks her knee just before it drives into his cheek. And he takes it as a sign to ease up before someone gets hurt– craning back up and scooping Penelope into a baby cradle against his chest. Her legs are long and lanky, dangling over his arms like uncooked spaghetti.

“Do we need to invite them over every time you make a mess in your room? Will that solve the problem?” He teases, squishing her arms against his shirt so she can’t escape and peppering kisses from temple to temple.

Eventually, Penelope comes to terms that no amount of writhing will succeed against his strength. She slackens in his embrace, surrendering to the terrible thing that is unconditional love.

“Oh, here are your keys!” They rattle against the desk where you drop them.

Steve nods into Penelope's crown, poking her side. “Can you say ‘thank you for hanging out with me?’”

Anticipating another round of tickles, she grins before parroting, “Thank you for hanging out with me.”

“Thank you for helping me clean!”

Her eyes sweep back over to Steve, “Can we go home yet?”

His fingers tap rhythmically on the desk, a small sigh escaping as he glances at the paperwork drowning his workspace. “We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished.” He pecks the top of her head. “Promise.”

She rolls her eyes, moaning, “Daddy, come on it’s taking, like, a million years!”

“A million? Surely not.”

“It is!” She elongates the sound until it’s less word and more noise.

His shoulders droop, tension slipping from his frame as he agrees, “Okay. I’m ready to go too.”

You don’t blame him for giving in so easily, Penelope’s puppy eyes are powerful. Her chunky little hands smoosh his cheeks– molding and kneading like it’s play-doh, “Is that why your face looks so sleepy?”

A hearty laugh bursts from his throat, “Yes, that’s why my face looks so sleepy.” He pats her arms, “Come on. Up.”

Penelope scoots off his knees, gripping his wrist for balance. Steve ducks under the desk for his backpack and shoves the stack of paperwork inside.

“Hey, I meant to ask you, is the new schedule working okay for you?” He asks you, always so thoughtful.

You nod earnestly. “Yeah, actually, I like doing Fridays better I think.”

“Yeah, Fridays are fun. Fitness Friday has been a big hit with the high school's soccer team.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and lifts Penelope’s by the strap.

“Oh, good! Did the new jump ropes come in?” Conversations like this, as mundane as they are, are fleeting– the next interruption always around the corner– so you savor it while you have him.

“Mmmm, not yet. I think they’re coming next week– shipping delays or something.”

You turn to leave but stop in your tracks, attention stolen by Penelope’s drawing. As promised, it’s hung up– a few pieces of scotch tape secure it to the wall across from his desk.

“I’m gonna get a frame for it,” Steve passes you with a toothy smile, flicking off the light.

Penelope chimes in before you can respond, “Can I play jump rope?”

“I don't know if you know how, babe. I can teach you.”

“I can! I did at school!”

“You did? I didn’t know that.” Steve waves to a passing coworker. “Maybe we’ll buy one for home too then.”

Penelope nods, hopping the last stretch to the front door.

“Any fun plans this weekend?” Steve asks you outside, bumping the back of Penelope’s hand until she takes his. The parking lot is almost empty at this time of day, but a few stragglers remain inside after hours.

“If you think laundry is fun, then sure.”

“Oh, I know all about that, trust me.” He nods at Penelope, “This one goes through more clothes in a week than I do in a month.”

Steve approaches a BMW, only a few spots over from your car. An older model, but well taken care of. It’s a nice shade of burgundy with a stick-figure family on the back windshield. It feels so him.

You hum a happy sound. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Besides laundry? Well, we’re actually going kayaking at Red Fleet tomorrow,” he unlocks the passenger door, tucking the backpacks in the footwell.

“Oh, fun! Are you excited?” You ask Penelope.

“I’m gonna look for frogs.”

She wrenches the handle a few times before her door flies open. Steve intercepts mid-swing to prevent her from denting the neighboring truck at the expense of his fingers.

“Ow– shit,” he grimaces, shaking his wrist. He visibly swallows any other swears when he sees Penelope gawking, “Nell, I’ve told you to be gentle with the door.”

“You said we can’t say that word,” she points out, climbing into her car seat.

You scrub your mouth, not so inconspicuously erasing your smile.

“I– yes,” he nods, “You’re right. We shouldn’t say that word. I just–”

“Even when we’re frustrated; that’s what you said!”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, choking down his several feelings. She’s right, he did say that, to hopefully stop her from swearing at preschool, but the profanity policing is comical coming from a four-year-old. And he can’t be laughing right now– he has parenting to do– but he’s on the verge of breaking when he catches sight of your face.

Steve collects himself as he buckles her in. “Yes, Penelope. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

She pats his head, “It’s okay. We all do mistakes.”

Steve softens. The irritation evaporates instantly, replaced by a surge of satisfaction. This is one of those rare moments where he can so clearly recognize the lessons he’s instilled taking shape.

He lets himself chuckle then, “We do. We all make mistakes and that’s okay.”

She nods as he tightens her straps, “Like when I spilled my juice this morning.”

“Exactly.” He triple-checks that all her limbs are safely out of the door’s reach before shutting it.

He faces you, scratching his cheek– rosy and round with joy. “How much you wanna bet she swears at me tomorrow?”

“Hey, I don’t doubt it!” Your elation mirrors his.

“If she can’t find any frogs at the park I can almost guarantee it.”

“Better help her look then.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d invite you but it’s reservation-based. And I’d be surprised if there’s any spots open still… But we can sneak you in if you really want to go.” It’s meant to be a joke, but something in the way he holds your gaze suggests a level of seriousness.

“No, that’s okay,” you grin. “The pile of laundry on my bed awaits.”

“Well, maybe next time.”

You try not to read into it. Steve’s a friendly guy, he probably invites his coworkers out to things all the time.

You nod, idling at the hood of his beamer.

“I really appreciate you watching her today. You’re a lifesaver, truly,” he shakes his head, peeking at Penelope through the window. “She’s been a handful lately– I mean, I had to pick her up early today because she bit another kid, can you believe that?”

“She’s a kid,” you shrug, “All kids do that at some point.”

“I don’t know,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m honestly at my witts end. This is her third warning and if she gets kicked out of school— I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“From what I saw today, she’s a really good kid, Steve. I can’t imagine they’d do that.”

“I’ve just been so busy, you know, sometimes I wonder if she acts out because of that– and it’s just me so I can’t–” he pauses, wiping his face, “God– I’m sorry, you’re… I’m just dumping all of this on you when you’re trying to leave.”

“No! It’s okay, I don’t mind, really.”

“It’s– Well, it’s a lot and I,” he’s cut short by Penelope knocking on the glass, impatience strewn across her features.

He throws up his pointer finger to tell her one second. “We can talk next week. You’ll be here Friday?”

“Yep. I will see you then,” you nod, backing up a step so he can cross over to the driver’s side.

“Okay, thanks again,” he says, opening his door.

You wave goodbye, “Of course. Have fun kayaking!”

“You too!” He yells, then mumbles, “Shit.”

“Dad!” Penelope’s voice scolds.

A warmth simmers in your chest as you walk away– a fizzy feeling that had been bottled up and crammed into a forgotten corner of your body. But as soon as you’re settling into the privacy of your car, it boils over into this rush of giddy exhilaration, electrifying every inch of your skin. Giggles cut through the silence as your smile stretches wider, completely untamable. There’s no stopping this, not when you’re already fantasizing about a next time with Steve.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things #dad steve harrington #coworker steve harrington

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