#the boys suggest the name of their attendent from way back when

[inkydelusions]

written in the stars - 2.1k

summary: spencer’s been spending too much time with morgan and now he’s a flirt. reader had an interesting conversation with a fortune teller and now it seems everyone around her is plotting to make her fate come true. c.warning: bau!reader x bold/flirty spencer. reader has their fortune teller on speed dial. tension. lots of it. suggestive content? maybe? nothing too serious and also barely descriptive. everyone knows you about spencer's and reader's mutual crush, and they're trying to give them a little push. a/n: this literally came to me as i was brushing my teeth last night, so enjoy it!! reblogs are appreciated !! <3

part two !!

“You’re kidding.” You huffed a laugh. Morgan, who was resting against your desk with his arms crossed and a cheeky smile on his lips, simply nodded. “That many?”

“Never underestimate the power of these, baby.”

“Ew, Morgan. Put those away.” You jokingly cover your eyes, as if the sight of Morgan's biceps was the scariest thing ever. “Don’t ever do that again. I mean it. It’s inappropriate.”

You hear a snort from the other side of the wall that separates your desk from Spencer's. His light and yours are the only ones still around you.

The rest of the team already headed out a while ago. Emily left the office in a rush; said she was done for the week and needed some alone time. Hotchner didn’t specify, just left with a king and stern goodbye. And Garcia made sure to let everyone know that she was going to spend the weekend with kevin. The way she had said it—plus the way she’d wiggled her eyebrows as she said it—was enough to know you shouldn’t ask any questions.

“Ha, ha. Funny.” He raised from your desk and picked up his stuff from his own. With his jacket hanging from his arm he turned to both you and Spencer, who was still working on some paperwork. “Anyway. If you'll excuse me, I have a date to attend to.”

“With which one of the twelve girls that gave you their numbers last night?” you asked, but he didn’t answer. He leaned down to murmur something to Spencer that sounded a lot like good luck, boy, and clapped his back before he started towards the elevator. Once inside, he winked at you just in time before the doors closed. “How the hell does he do it?”

Spencer raised his head from the stack of papers he’d been reading for the past ten minutes. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he said, “Well, he’s objectively attractive. Athletic. And he knows how to read people, which means that he knows what to do and what to say to appeal to them. I'd say he has the perfect combination of attributes to make him an excellent suitor.”

“Suitor, huh?” He shrugs. “So, what are your plans for tonight?”

You laid back on your chair, playing with the blue pen you were holding in your hands. Spencer watched as the small tube danced between your fingers, twirling clumsily before clattering against your wooden desk.

“I don't have any.”

“Really? You don’t have a never ending list of phone numbers to call when you need a date?”

He stared at you for a second, wondering if you were joking.

“No. No, I don't.”

You pouted. “That’s a shame.”

Why? he wanted to ask. Why would you care if he had dates or if his phone was full with numbers of random girls he met under even more random circumstances. But most importantly, he wanted to ask why you’d seemed so relieved when he’d said no.

“Do you?” he ventured. “Have a collection of phone numbers to hit on Friday nights, that is.”

“Oh, yeah. definitely.” You’d swear you could see him visibly cringe at your answer. “One of them is my favorite pizza place right around the corner from my apartment. The owner and I are already on a first name basis. I'd say that’s promising.” Spencer looked down to his stack of papers to hide a grin. “The other is the number of my personal fortune teller. I call her every three weeks to see what the stars have in store for me.”

Spencer huffed a laugh, feeling a heavy weight lift off his shoulders.

“You don’t actually believe in that, do you?” he asked.

“I'm not sure what I believe.” You shrugged. “I know I have fun talking to her, though.”

Before you could contain it, a laugh slipped past your lips at the thought of your last session with the fortune teller. Her read had been too off, so terribly wrong you’d jokingly threatened to sue her.

“What?” Spencer asked, smiling like a fool. That was the effect your laugh used to have on him. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just remembered something the fortune teller told me some days ago.”

“What? Did she promise you’d be rich by the end of the month?” he joked.

You leaned over your desk, eyes staring straight into Spencer's. He noticed the vibrant spark in your eyes, the one that always let him know what you were about to say was going to crack him up, and he almost wiggled in his chair, all excited.

“Hey guys. What are you still doing here?” JJ came out of her office as she finished buttoning her coat.

“JJ, hey! what are you doing here?” you asked in return, confused. “I thought you’d left hours ago.”

 “Oh, no. I was finishing up some papers for the upcoming week. And I was waiting for Will to come pick me up.” She walked down straight to your desks.

“Will's in town?” Spencer asked.

JJ nodded, smiling broadly. “He came over for the weekend. We were going out for dinner tonight.”

“That's awesome. have fun, you two.”

“Thanks.” She beamed at you and started walking to the elevator. Something made her stop in her tracks, though. “Actually… why don’t you guys come with us?”

That got Spencer's attention.

“Are you sure?” you asked, frowning. “You don’t think it could be weird?”

“Weird? no, no. It'll be fun. like a double date!”

That has you laughing. Not in mockery, but out of nervousness. You’ve never been on a double date. You haven’t even had that much experience with individual ones. You had dreamt about going out on dates to fancy restaurants, to beautiful parks and museums. and most of the time, your companion was a certain BAU agent known for his analytical mind and his tendency to yap in the most inconvenient of moments. But that’s not here nor there.

In your experience, dating has never been that fun. Talking with someone for hours just to realize with every passing minute that the person in front of you was simply not it. They were never the one. Because the one was probably sitting on his couch reading something written by an ancient philosopher or watching star trek—or whatever it was cute nerds like him liked to watch in their free time.

“That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you said, tone faintly wavering.

At the same time, Spencer said “it could be a good idea.”

Your words seemed to surprise him, making him blink several times and readjust his glasses again. Just like his answer made your eyes open wide and look away from him.

“I mean… as we discussed, none of us have other plans for tonight. Besides, this could be a great moment to catch up with Will, right?” He turned to JJ for support. She smiled proudly at him before turning her eyes to you.

“Of course. It’ll be fun.”

She was smiling in a way that had you wondering if maybe your discreet glances towards your teammate hadn’t been all that discreet. She was looking at you like she knew why, all of the sudden, you were blushing and shaking like a teenager.

“Well, then. If it’s okay with you guys…”

JJ waved her hand around. “Oh, Will won’t mind it. Besides, he loves you two. He’ll be happy to see you again. He's actually waiting down in the lobby.”

And so Spencer and you started packing up your stuff. you could feel his gaze on you the whole time, like he was listening to all your tells. You prayed that he didn’t notice the way you almost dropped your bag twice because you were fumbling with the strap. Without needing to look at him, you could feel him standing right next to you, so close you could smell his cologne. You thought he was just walking up to the elevator, but then you heard him say, “JJ, you go ahead. I just remembered, we still have to finish something before we leave. it won’t take long, I promise.”

JJ nodded, a shadow of a mischievous smile on her lips. “Sure. I'll see you guys in a bit.”

You’d have swore your mind was playing tricks because you thought you saw JJ wink at you just like Morgan before as the metalic doors shut before her.

“Do you need help with that?” Spencer asked, seeing you struggle with the folder you’d been trying to fit into your bag.

“No, don’t worry. It's fine. See? done.” The paper is now all crumpled and the corners are folded inwards, but hey, at least it’s inside the bag.

There was a beat of silence and you felt him get closer, just barely. The points of his converse were merely an inch away from the side of your boot. With the back of his fingers and with so, so much care, Spencer lifted your chin up so you both were staring eye to eye. He looked confused, and excited, and maybe a bit hurt. And you wanted to punch yourself because you knew it was your fault, that it had been your words that made him feel like that.

“Can I ask you a question?” His voice was soft, barely a whisper. you could only nod. “Why is the idea of you and me going on a date so ridiculous?”

You bit the inside of your lip, hating that you’d said that. But also extremely surprised at his boldness. Never before had he dared to get so close, to touch you like this, with such care and softness. He took another step, backing you up against your desk. His other hand landed on your hip, helping you keep balance.

you stared right into his eyes, wondering what exactly had happened for him to behave like this with you. He'd always been shy, quiet and reserved. choosing to hide his feelings behind longing stares and awkward smiles as he handed you files and takeaway cups of coffee. So why was he behaving like the lead in a romcom? Not that you were complaining, though. you were pretty much enjoying it, if the bubbly feeling in your belly meant anything.

“You need to stop hanging out with Morgan,” you whispered back. “He's turning you into a flirt, just like him.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes.” You wet your lips, eyes breaking apart from his.

“Why?” His voice was full of genuine confusion, his eyebrows knit in a soft frown.

“Because it makes me want to flirt back. That’s why.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“Oh, definitely.” You grip the edge of your desk to refrain from holding onto him.

“Why’s that?” His thumb was now tracing the line of your jaw, walking a path up and down and getting dangerously close to your lower lip.

“Because you know what flirting leads to.”

“Dates? Double dates?”

You were thinking of way more private activities, the kind that didn’t involve fancy clothing—or any clothing at all—, but sure, his answer was also true.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“And would that be so bad?”

Your eyes drop to his mouth out of their own volition. No, no it wouldn’t.

Suddenly, one of your phones started ringing, completely watering down the tiny spark lighting between you two. Spencer fished his phone out of his pocket and answered. And you take the opportunity to take a deep breath. He didn't move an inch, though. His body still pressed against yours, your legs pressed to the edge of your desk. His stare did not break away from yours while he spoke to JJ.

“Yeah, sorry. We’re heading down right now. Sorry.”

He put his phone back in his pocket and took a step back, offering you his hand. You didn’t consider it for longer than a second before taking it and starting towards the elevator with him right behind you. Once inside, giggling like a pair of teenagers, you rested your head against the metallic walls and looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. He stared at you like he’d never seen you before, or at least not like this: all flushed cheeks, excited giggles and sparkly eyes.

“Do you want to know what the fortune teller told me the last time I spoke to her?” he nodded. “that i had a great dating opportunity coming my way.”

With a lopsided smile that was so uncharacteristic of Spencer—and yet it looked so good on him—he hummed and said, “maybe we should start believing what this lady has to say.”

thanks for reading <3 likes & reblogs are appreciated !!

[leaawrites]

I have so many short & sweet videos on my fyp right now. I can’t stop thinking about singer!reader announcing her f1 bf by arresting him and dedicating Juno to him like Sabrina does at her concerts. The fans would go wild!!! I’m desperate for this fic

Juno (Live from the Shrot n'Sweet Tour)

Lando Norris x fem!singer!reader

Summary: requested as above.

Wordcount: 0.6k

Warnings: (very) suggestive content, smau (a first time for me, i hope it's alright), flirting, fluff

Note: omgg, this is such an good idea! I loved writing it! I chose Lando bc, I just love writing for him, hope that's alright with you. If not, let me know and I'll (gladly) make another version.

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

“If you haven’t already noticed,” Y/n announced, making the crowd go quiet to hear her talk. “We have a special guest tonight in the crowd.”

The moment the words left her lips and the camera panned to the guy in the audience, beaming up at her with the biggest smile one could muster, the crowd went wild. Lando was just laughing at the reaction.

Everyone there knew how big of an f1 fan Y/n was. Having attended some grand prixs already and posting her reactions to every race on her insta story, she didn’t try to make her love for the sport unknown.

The camera went back to the woman on stage, sirens going off and making everyone know what would happen next. It was a common tradition on the tour. But now, it was different when she said, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid you’re under arrest for being too hot.”

The way she winked at him and from how red he got at the mere eye contact with her, made it obvious this wasn’t mindless flirting. This was proper natural behavior for them.

“That hot, formula 1 driver I have absolutely no relation to.” She pointed out at the crowd. “You know who I mean, right? Of course, you do.” She nodded in approval at the crowd as they clapped and shouted in excitement. They were there for the show and boy, were they going to give them one.

“Sorry, what was your name again?” She asked innocently, holding the microphone in his direction.

Instead of one answer, she got thousands. All calling one name: Lando.

“Oh, okay. Okay,” she said after genuinely being surprised by the amounts of answers she received.

“Lando, gosh,” she continued talking, waving her hand in front of her face like she was trying not to faint. “Lando.” She mused his name, making it melt on her tongue like it was the most beautiful thing she heard.

She didn’t need to ask, but a script is a script. “Lando, where are you from?”

“Monaco,” he shouted back this time.

“Monaco? So, you’re rich?” He nodded. “And you came all the way here to see me?”

“Only for you.”

“Only for me? You’re too much. Stop it.” Waving her hand at him, as a blush graced her face and she scrunched up her nose. “You’re doing things to me, boy. I can’t even.”

Before she could keep on rambling, her backup dancer opened the back of her once long skirt making it fall down, revealing a shorter version. She stepped out of it, saying, “Oh my god, my clothes are falling of for you. This is embarrassing.”

She heard his voice again, a flirty comment leaving his lips: “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time?” She repeated, trying to see if she heard him correctly. When he nodded, she could see the confidence building up inside of him more and more. He wasn’t as nervous about this anymore as he was backstage before the show. Overthinking and stressing about how the fans would react to it. “Oh, you’re right about that.”

The crowd went wild again. Screaming louder than ever before.

“So, I guess,” she started talking, taking the fluffy pink handcuffs from another one of her backup dancers. “Could you maybe keep them for the rest of the show? Just so, I don’t loose them for later.” She winked at him again, starting to laugh when she saw him bury his face in his hands out of embarrassment.

She could barely still hear herself over the screams of the fans.

“Anyway, I’d like to dedicate this next song to my boyfriend, Lando Norris.”

And then the song began, the crowd going crazy and she couldn’t stop smiling. Everyone knew, finally. They knew and she made it official in a way only she could.

Lando Norris

Yep, this is my girlfriend. No more of that Lando Norizz bullshit.

yourusername: babe, what the fuck is that last picture?

yourusername: love you though, i guess

-> LandoNorris: you guess? Didn’t seem like that last night, huh?

-> yourusername: omg, shut up. This isn't a public account concersation.

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[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

ROUTE 666

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC

Summary: it’s the year 1984 and Star goes to a roadside bar off of Devil’s Highway that a friend of hers invited her to. What Star doesn’t know is that someone is waiting for her beyond the velvet drapes.

Warnings: SMUT. Lots of pussy licking. 18+ CONTENT. Mentions of blood, Violence.

Part Three

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore entered Vaisseau just before the sun could peek over the horizon. The windows were already covered with thick, blacked–out curtains. At the bar stood a woman named Ivory. She’s a human, Onyx’s personal blood bank and pussy. Once a small town girl living in a lonely world, she was taken in by a vampire biker gang and passed around for feast and sex.

Ivory was busy shining glasses with a cloth. Her chocolate–brown eyes fell upon Elias as he made his was towards the bar. Ivory placed the glass amongst a row of others she dried off. The faint sound of ‘I Love Rock N Roll’ could be heard from a jukebox. Stack took a seat and tapped the bar for Ivory to attend to him.

“Grab me some O negative out of the fridge, baby.”

“No problem.”

Ivory swept her eyes over Stack before walking away to retrieve a blood bag for him. Stack followed the purposeful sway of her ass in a pair of daisy dukes. She styled the denim cut–offs with sheer black stockings that shimmered and a very cropped T-shirt.

Ivory opened a fridge, chilling smoke wafting her face. She thumbed through the many blood bags and came across what Stack needed. Grabbing it, she went to pour it into a glass tumbler. Ivory made her way back over to Stack, sitting the cup on a folded, black napkin in front of him.

“Drink straw?” Ivory offered with a hospitable smile.

“Nah, no need, darling. Onyx sleeping?”

“Not yet. He’s in the back,” Ivory motioned with her finger painted a vibrant red, “You can go on back there.”

Stack gulped down the O negative blood. He licked the rim and glided his blood–covered tongue over his teeth. It tasted decent, Stack preferring bag blood chilled. He stood up, sucking on his lips to clear the rest of the crimson delight away before disappearing behind a black drapery.

Stack made a left, then a right, until he was standing within the doorway of Onyx’s office. It wasn’t the most decorative, but it was useful to handle the business side of things at the bar. Onyx glanced up at Stack and nodded his head in greeting.

“Alright there, brother?”

“Pretty damn good.”

Stack propped his shoulder against the doorway and lit a blunt with a match.

“How was your porn star pussy?”

“Delicious…and no I don’t plan to share.”

Onyx released a deep laugh.

“You’ve had Ivory.” Onyx countered.

“Did. And that still won’t change my mind.” Stack quipped.

“The way she was eyeing me like she wanted this fat cock…I know a hopper when I see one. And she is a hopper…”

Stack pushed himself up and approached Onyx’s desk. He leaned forward against it, propping himself up on his knuckles. Stack’s eyes glowed menacingly. Onyx simply smirked.

“Don’t. Talk. About her. Like that. Onyx. Or I’ll kill ya’.”

“I’m only fuckin’ with you, Stack. What you want anyway?” Onyx brushed off Stack’s threat, continuing with counting his cash.

“Came to sleep. Can’t afford to burn in a bed when that sun come up. Better safe than sorry.”

“Since when do you sleep in a casket?” Onyx joked.

“Since now, nigga. Star still at the motel.”

A sinister smile crept over Onyx’s lips.

“You ain’t turn her like you said you would?”

Stack flicked his gaze away, taking a hit of his blunt.

“Not yet. Soon.”

“You could just keep her around like I do Ivory.” Onyx suggested, placing a stack of Benjamin’s away in a safe deposit box.

“And watch her age? I want another eternal partner, Onyx. You know how long I’ve been searching since me and Mary split?”

“I know, Stack. Just…tread lightly with it, aight? I got lucky with Ivory. From what Cora says, she’s perfect.”

“Ivory ain’t got shit to lose. Star different.”

Onyx dropped his head with frustration, “Which is why I said be careful. Remember…we didn’t have a choice.”

The glow from Stack’s eyes dimmed to brown. Onyx was right. Once again, he was given that painful reminder. Despite being surrounded by so many others like him, lurking in the shadows, there was still loneliness. Stack walked this immortal life with Mary in the midst because she was the last connection he could hold onto that understood.

His cousin, Sammie Moore, went on to have a successful career as a big, bad, Blues man. Stack was proud of him. Mary fought fang and coffin nail to keep Stack for herself, but he’d had enough. Enough of her possessiveness. Enough of her jealousy. Enough of her lack of remorse whenever Stack would reflect on his twin, Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore.

They got us in museums, Smoke. Mobster Museum…Black History Museum…we icons. Just like I knew we’d be…wish ya’ was here to see it all…

But his mortal life was snatched from beneath his feet.

So to snatch Star’s would be just as wrong.

He would need her consent.

“I’m a head down to the basement…”

Stack left and slow strolled down the hall until he found his way at the top of stairs. He was about to descend into a sleeping quarter with coffins until a familiar, condescending, backwoods country accent caught his ears.

“The fuck you doin’ here?!”

Stack’s fangs popped out violently and he turned carefully with a steady gaze on a woman he hoped he didn’t have to run into.

“Raven.”

“Surprised to see you walking around here freely after the shit you pulled last time.”

Stack released a frustrated sigh, “What? Because I killed a Choctaw?”

“You spilled blood on this end of Route 666 and with that comes trouble. Trouble we ain’t had in a long time until you showed up, nigga.”

Raven’s cynical nature irritated Stack to no end. Always confrontational whenever he touched down in Arizona. Things weren’t always bad between them, hell, things were good as far as he knew. As long as his dick was in her wet pussy she didn’t care. But because he forced his fist through the chest cavity of a Choctaw he’s the bad guy?

“Why you really mad, Raven? Tell me that.” Stack argued.

Raven’s left eye flinched with rage.

“You ain’t shit, Elias. First you let Mary come between us. Then you jeopardize everything because you can’t just swallow your pride. They’ve been watching us because of you, nigga!”

“They been watching us since I turned vampire back in 1932, Raven! Don’t make no difference!” Stack shouted.

Onyx appeared from his office. His eyes fell on Raven and his shoulders slouched.

“Raven, I told you Stack was coming here. He’s one of ours. Been one of ours. Blood Riders united,” Onyx folded his arms across his sculpted chest.

“I’m going to sleep,” Stack adjusted his leather moto vest, “Ain’t got time for this shit, Raven. It’s either you miss me or you don’t. Point FUCKING blank.”

“I got somebody! I’m over you!”

“Don’t look like it,” Onyx chimed in.

Raven’s hissed with her fangs poking out to threaten.

“Fuck you, Onyx! Who side you on anyway?!”

“The side where I can have some peace counting this money.”

Raven sneered before storming off. As she breezed past the black drapes, she caught Ivory looking at her and that’s when her icy core melted to that of flirtatious heat. She winked at Ivory and blew her a kiss.

Stack descended the stairs with inhuman speed.

Clearly, she wasn’t over him. And clearly being with someone else didn’t stop her from flirting with Ivory.

He found a spare coffin open and took off his vest, placing it on a hook. A coffin across from him, a brown one with a carved, ornate style popped opened, revealing golden silk. Inside, tangled within each other’s embrace, fully naked, was Legend and Cora.

Cora sat up first, stretching her arms. She locked eyes with Stack before he settled into his coffin.

“Enjoy my friend, Stack?” Cora questioned with a sultry voice.

“I have you to thank for that. Just like a Collector should. ‘Ppreciate ya’, baby.” Stack winked at Cora.

“Anytime,” Cora exhaled, “I’m hungry. Can’t sleep.”

“Got enough blood left upstairs. Better get it before it ain’t no more good.” Stack revealed.

Cora stepped out of the coffin gracefully. She sauntered over to a chair and grabbed a long, billowing, ivory robe with feathered details.

“You get a chance to fuck her? Or did you put her in a coma with your tongue?”

Stack relaxed back against the inside of the coffin, his head cushioned by the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling of the unfinished basement, spiderwebs and other creepy crawlers showing themselves. A faint smile tickled his full lips.

“Number two.” Stack replied smugly.

“Told ya’ she tastes like heaven on earth.”

“Don’t go makin’ me jealous now, Cora.” Stack replied playfully.

Cora made her way towards the stairs. Legend stirred awake, siting up in search of Cora. His monstrous dick sat up high and imposingly girthy. Enough to split you open. But Cora was a vampire so she could handle it any way she liked.

“Cora?” Legend called out.

“I’ll be back. I’m hungry. Unless you wanna go feed elsewhere? You know the strip is still lively.”

“Nah, it’ll be daytime soon.”

“Suit yourself,” Cora climbed up until she was gone.

Stack shut his casket, happy that it was a soundproof one.

He didn’t need to hear Legend and Cora fucking from dusk till dawn.

Only thoughts of Star and her captivating brown eyes, beautiful smile, sweet moans, and how he felt lost until he met her.

Red, sheer curtains billow beyond open windows on both sides of the hall. Moonlight bathed her path as she walked slowly, wearing nothing but the scent of Hypnotic Poison.

Come to me…

Star, caught up in a dream, followed the sound of that voice until she was face to face with her lover. Naked just like her. fog helped to establish the mood and atmosphere, giving off a dark, dramatic, sensual and even slightly mysterious aura.

Stack…

He picked Star up, pulling her in for a kiss as he guided her to the bed. A bed draped in black silk with an upholstered leather headboard. Stack sat down with Star in his lap. Heads swiveling, tongues delving deep, Star moved a hand to Stack’s dick from behind, more than ready to feel him inside her. Stack licked and sucked on her nipples while she stroked him.

He moaned and groaned.

Star…

She guided him to her sweet center, and Stack inched his way inside with both hands on her ass cheeks to keep her positioned. Deep in her juicy walls he thrusted.

Star gasped.

Juices trickled between her legs. Stack kept a steady pace. He watched her. Never took his eyes off of her. Star threw her head back, moaning with his moans.

“Uhnnn…” Star moans.

“Mmmhhhhh…” Stack moans.

He picked up speed, powerful and intense with each pounding stroke, rhythm far from timid. He knew exactly how to please her, he had no problem handling Star. He lifted Star up and down on his dick.

Deeper…Deeper…

His brown eyes unexpectedly changed from that smooth cognac brown to a blazing rouge. Star locked eyes with him, mesmerized by the fire in them. Suddenly, her body stiffened completely and her arms dropped limply to her sides.

Her heart raced…she couldn’t move. She was putty in his hands as he drilled from underneath. Thick fingers reached up to caress the side of her face with his fingertips, turning her head slightly to the right and placing his lips on her neck.

The blood pumped through her veins against his full lips.

What was supposed to be a sensual nibble evolved into something else…something sinister as he pierced her skin—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Star stirred awake in the bed Stack left her in. The thin, stark white sheets were tangled around her body as she rolled over to silence the alarm clock on an end table. She felt hot all over and her pulse quickened.

Not just the pulse against the right side of her neck, but the pulse between her legs.

She had to catch her breath. Sweaty and sore, Star couldn’t begin to understand why that dream felt so real.

Chocolate is…S.CRUNCH.OUS!

Star jumped, blinked her eyes, wiping them to focus. She squinted at the TV, a Nestle Crunch commercial on. It was so loud she had to scramble out of bed to search for the remote.

The arm chair.

Star froze.

“Stack?” She called out.

Silence echoed back at her. Star unwrapped herself, revealing curves and soft brown skin. Her hair was all over her head and the aftershock of a repeated orgasm left her muscles aching. She found the remote, snatching it before aiming it at the TV. She muted it with a hard press of a button before getting rid of the remote.

Her eyes fell upon the alarm clock.

1:32 pm

“Shit–”

Star rushed, pacing back and forth as she got dressed. She went without her stockings, ripped to shreds because of Stack.

Knock knock knock

Star froze.

“Is Star in there?”

Star tip toes to the door. She peered through the peep hole, staring at a beautiful woman that looked like she could be featured in play magazine. Petite, Jerry curl, hot shorts on.

“Who are you?” Star asked.

“I’m Ivory. I work at Vaisseau…came over to see if you were hungry. Stack’s busy handling things at the bar and he won’t be back til’ sun down.” 

Cora.

“Would you happen to know where my friend, Cora is?”

Ivory went quiet for a few seconds.

“Cora is with Legend. Saw them leave last night in his truck.”

Star rolled her eyes.

“Well,” Star threw her hands up, “I guess I’ll grab a bite. Seeing as I can’t leave without my friend.”

“Of course! There’s a diner next door. Food is real tasty! Don’t worry about the bill, Stack’s got it covered.”

“I could use a change of clothes and something to freshen up with while you’re at it,” Star examined her maroon–painted nails, “Please and thank you.” She added for good measure.

“Of course! I’ll have that for you in your room. House keeping will clean up while you’re out.”

Star raised a curious brow.

So, did they also own the motel?

“Great…”

Ivory gave an awkward nod at the door before turning to leave, swaying her hips with each step, perky booty cheeks peeking out from beneath her daisy dukes.

“Fucking, Cora,” Star fussed, “Bitch didn’t even have the decency to let me know.”

Cora eyed the cord phone in the room. She walked over to it, picking it up before slipping a slender finger into the ring of the dial, spinning it to contact the front desk.

It rang three times before it picked up.

“Front desk,” A jaded male voice spoke.

“Hi…was wondering if you knew a Cora Livingston? She’s staying here. Not sure which room…”

“Hold on a sec…”

Star tapped her foot impatiently. Her stomach rumbled.

“Ah! Miss Livingston. She’s staying in 210 but—”

“Thank you!”

Star slammed the phone down on the receiver before zipping up her sexy red boots and grabbing her cheetah printed hand bag. Before she left, she spotted the keys on the table where Stack had left it. Star retrieved them and left the room.

The Arizona heat slapped her in the face the minute she stepped foot outside. Star began walking towards a flight of stairs leading up to the second level. She scanned the parking lot, not recognizing Cora’s black corvette amongst the other vehicles. The corners of her face frowned, Star opened her hand bag to grab a pair of cat eye sunglasses in all black with a rhinestone trim. Grabbing onto the iron railing, Star climbed with a click–clack of her boots.

Room 210 was right before her eyes.

Star walked with a determined strut towards the door, hips switching and ass bouncing beneath her mini, halter dress.

Star raised a fist.

Knock knock knock

No response.

Star raised two fists.

Knock knock knock

“The fuck?”

She bent over to try and peek into the room. She couldn’t see much of anything.

Groaning, Star made her way back to the stairs. As she climbed down, she began to worry about Cora. Sure, she can take care of herself, but Star knows first hand what it’s like to lose friends in a horrific way.

Kidnapping.

Murder.

One of the reasons she left Vegas is because of a serial killer preying on young women, especially street walkers, exotic dancers, and porn stars. They still hadn’t caught the guy.

Star wrung her hands, glancing left and right along Devil’s Highway.

The diner with its welcoming high rise sign and fifty’s retro design was a beacon for her. Star traveled across the parking lot and pushed her way through the revolving doors.

“Hi! Welcome to Suga’s! Just you, honey?”

A black woman a little over sixty years old with short salt and pepper hair greeted her. She held a stack of menus against her thick hip. A pastel pink work dress with buttons in the front hugged her motherly curves and a half apron stretched across her waist, stained with food and condiments.

The diner wasn’t packed, a few patrons here and there. It did smell savory from the grill and sugary from the malt shakes being blended. Star gave the woman—from what it looked like on her name badge goes by Doris—a sweet smile. She took off her sunglasses, the corners of her eyes crinkled from smiling.

“Just me. May I have a booth seat?”

“Absolutely! Follow me.”

Star walked behind Doris to a booth window seat. Star scooted in, accepting her menu with a soft ‘thank you’.

“What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a water with lemon…and…fuck it, a chocolate malt with whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

“I’ll put that in for you.”

Doris walked away humming Cheryl Lynn Encore.

Star tapped her almond–shaped nails against the laminated menu.

A western omelette with home fries and bacon sounded delicious.

After five minutes, Doris returned with her drinks. Star placed her order, and after Doris scribbled everything down on a notepad, Star reached out to stop her with a gentle hand.

“Um, the tab is covered, right? I was told by a woman named Ivory that I didn’t have to worry about paying? I got cash if it’s a problem.”

Doris pondered for about three seconds before recognition dawned her eyes.

“Yes! Oh, yes. Ivory mentioned something like that to the boss. No worries, honey.”

“Thank you.”

Star drank her water down quickly before sampling her shake.

It was delicious.

She twirled her straw around, wondering what type of connections a roadside bar would have with a motel and a diner?

Maybe they run an illegal drug trade?

No other explanation. Hard to believe a bunch of black folk can own anything without it being a fight. That’s when Star’s mind finally drifted to Stack.

Her one night stand.

He’s a good friend and partner. When he likes you, he tends to throw money at you. Flashy brother. Slick talk. But he mean business…

Is Stack the brains of the operation? He rides a motorcycle, and Star caught a glimpse of other motorcycles parked along the side of Vaeisseau.

Outlaw motorcycle gangs (OMGs) are considered dangerous due to their involvement in various criminal activities and violent behavior. And a lot of those gangs frequent the Arizona desert. Route 666 in general. Star didn’t want to get mixed up with a criminal. She came to Arizona to make money off of good pussy, big tits, and an ass that can swallow a g-string.

But…that long thick tongue…

The way that dick fit in her mouth…

Star squirmed in her seat at the booth, the flashbacks causing her to blush into her hand.

“Here’s your meal, honey.”

The steam of freshly cooked food warmed Star’s cheeks. Full portions and all of it looked good.

“Thank you, Miss Doris.”

Star picked up her fork to sample some home fries.

Miss Doris lingered with a hesitant gaze. Star looked up at her, both brows raised and disappearing beyond her Farrah Fawcett bangs.

“Everything okay?” Star asked.

“Just–just wanted to mention,” Miss Doris placed a gentle hand against Star’s, “Be careful around here at night, honey. Too much bad stuff goes on. That bar…ain’t no place for you to be,” Miss Doris whispered that last part.

Star’s stomach dropped.

“Thanks for the advice, Miss Doris…”

Miss Doris nodded her head with a wary expression. She finally left Star alone to her thoughts again.

Stack doesn’t owe her any explanation. She probably will never see him again. He did leave her alone in his Motel room.

But Ivory said he’d be back.

No. Cora was going to drive her back into the city when she gets back. Nice knowing you, Stack.

Cora ate her meal, cleaning her plate completely. She excused herself to the restroom before returning to the motel room. Afterwards she left a tip on the table for Miss Doris, a fifty dollar bill. Star put her sunglasses back on and walked out.

She showed up to the motel and rummaged through her hand bag for the keys. Once back inside, Star noticed straight away that the room had been tidied up and on the bed rested a sexy little number with thigh high boots to match.

And was that…

Star walked over to the left side of the bed where she was sleeping and picked up a quad of cash held together by a ruby and diamond bracelet with a tiny ‘S’. She picked it up with alarming eyes.

All one hundred dollar bills.

Star situated herself in front of the dress.

She picked it up before placing herself in front of the mirror. Star pressed the dress against her torso, spreading it out to fit her curves. It was gorgeous.

A sexy halter mini dress with ruched detailing and backless in a foil gold color. The studded thigh high boots that was paired with it was a perfect match. On a table next to the arm chair was some toiletries and stuff for her hair.

Stack hooked her up. Like Star was his woman.

She’d play along for now. Since he likes to spoil you and give you money for just having a pretty face.

The freaks come out at night

The freaks come out at night

The freaks come out at night

The freaks come out at night

Discos don't open 'till after dark

And it ain't 'till twelve 'till the party really starts

And I always had to be home by ten

Right before the fun was about to begin

Crowds of people lined up inside and out

Just one reason, to rock the house

But in the day time the streets was clear

You couldn't find a good freak anywhere, 'cause…

Star lit a cig while sipping from a bottle of wine in her motel room. She spent the rest of the afternoon exploring where she could, she even found a nail salon to get a fresh mani and pedi. Now, she had her nails and toes painted a metallic gold.

She giggled at the aerobic exercise segment on TV. Whoever this white girl thought she was, she sure wasn’t that. Speaking of, Star had a class to attend herself in a couple of days. She was wearing the dress Stack got her and the thigh high boots with a three–inch heel.

Knock knock knock

Star ashes out her cigarette before placing the bottle of red wine on the end table next to her. She got up and rushed over to the door. Peering out, she spotted Cora with her hands on her hips and staring right at her through the peep hole like she knew she would be there.

She was wearing a skin–tight, black leather dress with a bunch of studs, knee–high, black stockings with a lace trim, and black stilettos. A cropped mink coat covered her arms but left her cleavage on display sitting high and oiled up twinkling like she’d been doused in glitter. Her hair was pinned up in a half–Mohawk style and she wore one dangling earring with the other sporting a black diamond stud.

Star’s brown eyes with lids smoky from her eyeshadow rolled heavenward.

She opened the door and jutted her hip out.

“Where the fuck you been at, Cora?”

Cora smiled wide, “Well hello to you too, Star. Missed me?”

“I outta ring your neck! Not a word from you all day! Had me worried sick!” Star argued.

“So, you did miss me? Well, let me on in girl so I can tell you how my night went with legend.”

Star didn’t make a move to let her in. Cora bat her false lashes with a pout of her bottom lip.

“Okay, I’m sorry, girl. I should’ve called you to check in. Legend had me stuck between a bed and him, you know how that is!”

“…fuck it, come in, bitch.”

Star gleamed, “Thank you, kindly, hoe.”

Star shut the door to the motel room.

“Fuck you.” Star shot a death glare at Cora.

Cora laughed, “Oh, you already did that…wine!”

Cora snatched up the bottle, helping herself to some.

“So, let me tell you about legend—”

“When we leaving, Cora?”

Cora sighed with a roll of her eyes, “Tomorrow, girl! Stack wants to see you again.”

“Stack throwing gifts and money my way but had me waiting around like I’m on his time.” Star complained.

Cora flopped down on the bed next to Star. She stroked her friend’s cheek that was covered in pink blush.

“Stack really likes you, Cora. Said he can’t wait to see you again. He real sorry for leaving the way he did. Duty calls, ya’ know?”

Star cut her eyes at Cora, “I don’t actually. What he do for work?”

“He works in entertainment. Mostly down south. A little in New York. That’s all I know.”

“He a drug dealer?” Star cut to the quick.

Cora laughed blissfully. Star shoved her friend away.

“What makes you think that? Star!”

Cora grabbed onto Star’s wrist firm. Star spun back around, poking her hip out with a fold of her arms.

“He got me feeling all giddy and I don’t get like this over a one time fling. We gotta get back in the city before I lose my fucking mind over a big dick and good head.” Star confessed.

“When was the last time you had good dick and head, Star? And porn ain’t nothing but for show! Them white men with big ol’ porn staches and baby dicks don’t do a damn thing for you! Why you think you came to Arizona for girl on girl work? Listen,” Cora stroked Star’s arms, “I know you wanna go to Malibu…but maybe you should consider Georgia…”

Star studied Cora.

“Better opportunities for black folk in the porn industry. I can hook you up!”

“…for real?”

“Yeah!” Cora exclaimed, “You know I’m gonna hook my girl up!”

Star threw a mini temper tantrum.

“I’ll consider. But I go where the money flows, Cora.”

“I hear that,” Cora tilted her head and gave Star a kiss on the cheek, “Let’s have a look around before we head over to Vaisseau!”

Star grabbed her hand bag quickly before Cora could pull her out of the room. They jogged towards her black corvette and they both hopped in.

Whodini Freaks Come Out At Night played from the radio as they made their way towards pleasure paradise. A high concentration of vices and activities that are considered sinful by some.

Star’s thighs and hips were on fire. She shifted in the passenger seat, a cramp shooting up her left leg. Cora noticed, a teasing smile on her lips. She caught the glimmer of Star’s ruby and diamond bracelet that Stack left for her.

“Your bracelet’s real pretty.” Cora says.

Star admired it.

“This probably cost more than my rent.”

“It’s beautiful, Star. Stack wants you real bad.”

Star twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

“He didn’t fuck me last night…he tucked me in…like a gentleman.”

“He wants to savor you. Clearly.” Cora responded.

“What about you and Legend?”

“We go way back,” Cora beamed, “Deep history. The only man I let touch me. Too bad we can’t be together all the time.”

Star grabbed her palm palette, opening it so she could apply some more of her brown, shimmery lipstick. She popped her lips a few times to make sure it was evenly spread before snapping the palm palette closed.

“Why not?” Star asked.

“I travel a lot. He gotta keep an eye on the bar…”

Cora rolled into a parking lot outside of a sex shop.

Let’s go have a look around. I may want to grab something as a souvenir before we leave.”

Leaving the car, they made their way towards the sex shop and Cora opened the door. Star giggled at a cardboard cut–out of herself in the display window.

The 80s became revolutionary for the history of sex toys. This era brought adult stores, where the public could easily enter in to buy whatever delight tickled their fancy. It was colorful library with aisles and shelves filled with all things sex. Videos, dirty magazines, kink, blow up dolls, sexy toys for him and her, and advertisements for new products like performance enhancers for instance.

Star felt right at home. She picked up VHS tapes featuring her, play magazines that she flipped through, posters of her naked body folded between the pages. Cora dragged Star towards the section filled with lingerie. They searched wracks filled with baby dolls, chemise’, thongs, crotchless panties, and lacy bras that made your girls sit up high.

A worker was busy stocking a shelf with Hitachi Magic Wands until he noticed Star. A tall, lanky white male with long, red hair and a freckled face. He wore a Guns and Roses T-shirt with Levi’s jeans. Star gave him a flirty wave and a wink.

He dropped a box on the ground, so infatuated by her being there.

“C–Can I please take a picture?”

“Sure,” Star replied.

He was delighted, pale cheeks rose red from blushing. He pointed towards a Photo Booth and Star followed him inside. He kept his hands planted in his lap. His eyes gawked at her cleavage oiled up like buttery, hot rolls fresh out of the oven. He started the photo booth, placing a dime in the coin slot. Star began posing, pouting her lips or parting them slightly. She gave siren energy with her sleepy eyes and beguiling energy.

The photos dispensed and Star picked them up. She was ready to get out of that booth, the man was breathing hot air towards her direction. Breath smelling like pork skins.

“Got a pen?”

He shoved his hand into his back pocket, a yo–yo, ten dollar bill, and keys resurfacing.

“Shit—sorry, I left it at the front.”

“It’s okay. At least you have proof.”

Star slid out of the Photo Booth and found Cora waiting for her. She had a few things in her hand that she was ready to purchase. Cora held up a hot pink lingerie set that she thought Cora would love.

“Too vibrant. Maybe this one?”

Cora looked it over, tapping her chin. It was the exact same one but an emerald green.

“I love it.”

They made their way towards the front and as they did, Star got the feeling someone was watching her…

And funny enough, Rockwell was playing over the speakers.

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (Oh-oh-oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Tell me, is it just a dream?

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me (Hee-hee-hee)

And I have no privacy (Oh-oh-oh-oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Who's playing tricks on me? (Who's watching?)

Cora gripped Star’s hand firm. She positioned herself protectively in front of Star, staring ahead, eyes sharp.

“What is it?” Star asked with concern.

“Let’s pay for this shit and head over to Vaisseau.” Cora replied abruptly.

Star scanned the front of the store, eyes sweeping across the windows. She didn’t see anything, but she felt it. And for some reason, a voice in her head told her to be careful.

Not Miss Doris’ voice. A chilling voice of a man.

Star…be safe…watch your surroundings…stick close to Cora��

Someone or something was definitely watching her.

And they were coming to kill.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @slut4smokemoore09 @readingaddict1290 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @theethighpriestess @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @girlsneedlovingfanfics @cancerianprincess @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @dashhoney25 @pinkprincessluminary @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams

[uluvjay]

Trip to Boston-W.Smith & M.Celebrini

Will Smith x fem! Reader x Macklin Celebrini

In which Will & Macklin return to Boston to pay a visit to their girl and attend the annual bean pot.

Warnings?: poly! Relationship, kissing, cursing, bets, flirting, pet names, slightly suggestive?, technically underage drinking(even tho Mack’s legal back home), sorry if I missed any errors!

“Can’t believe you’re not supporting Bu” Macklin shook his head from his spot beside you in the passenger seat.

“Baby I go to Bc, I can’t be caught rooting for our biggest rival. My boyfriends school or not.” You laughed.

The brunette shook his head at you dramatically pressing his hand to his chest mocking a broken heart.

“Don’t worry Mack one of your practice shirts is under my Jersey.” Will piped up from the backseat.

Macklin smirked at that knowing Will was taking pride in you still attending Bc and supporting his old school giving them some more support for the bean pot.

“I’m not supporting Bu, but I’ll always support you.” You smiled patting his thigh.

Your relationship with the boys definitely wasn’t normal, you and Will had been dating for three years but had known each other since you were kids. You two had known Macklin for a while however the boys didn’t get close till their season in San Jose started.

When you went to Visit Will for his first game you couldn’t help the way you gravitated towards Macklin, his kind words making you blush as easy as Wills did. You felt ashamed at first that another man made you feel the way your boyfriend did but when you brought it up to Will he opened up about his own feelings.

Leading you three to now, happy and in love. The world didn’t know about your relationship with both of them, you were known as Wills girlfriend and Macklin was one of your closest friends.

“Thanks babe.” He smiled kissing your hand that had been interlocked with his over his lap.

“Of course, besides you guys are about to get destroyed tonight. Gotta make sure you know how much I still love you.”

-

Those were your famous last words as you sat next to Will, sinking further down in your seat watching as Macklin waved a Bu flag outside the suite after their second goal in two minutes.

He was grinning from ear to ear as the crowd around him started chanting his name, Lane right beside him hyping up the student section.

“We’re never gonna hear the end of this.” Wills voice was full of defeat as he spoke.

“I’m ready to give you my jersey and push you out there.” You shook your head.

“If it wasn’t against the rules I would be.” He scoffed eyes running over the number 6 jersey you wore of his.

He was on his feet and cheering a period ago when Gabe scored the opening goal and now he was sulking in his seat watching as his boyfriend had the time of his life watching his old team dominate the ice.

“Time to take that jersey off baby, I got something way better.” Macklin cheesed brightly as he entered the suite, a bright red Boston University jersey in his hands, the back reading “M. Celebrini”.

“Where did you even find that?” Will asked.

“I have my ways.” The Canadian shrugged dropping the material in your lap.

You sighed in despair looking between the blonde sat beside you and the jersey in your lap, you were proud to attend your school but right now there was no way you were walking past an entire section of Bu students in your smith jersey on the way out plus how could you say no to Macklin’s sweet eyes.

“Sorry babe.” You apologized to Will kissing his cheek before standing and stripping off his jersey leaving you in one of Macklin’s old shirts.

You pulled the red jersey over your head feeling like you were breaking every law of being a Boston College student.

“This feels wrong.”

“But you look amazing, reds truly your color baby.” Macklin smirked.

“Thought teal was her color?” Will teased bringing up the boys words from when you sported a sharks jersey a few weeks ago.

“Every color is her color.” Macklin smiled.

You blushed at his words grabbing the younger boy and pulling him to a secluded part of the suite so you could place your lips on his.

He smiled softly into the kiss his large hands wrapping around your waist as he pressed you against him.

You two were interrupted by the roaring cheers of the Bu crowd around you, the bruins goal horn screeching through the arena signaling another goal for the terriers.

“That’s three Smitty.” Macklin was quick with his words as he pulled back from you, shooting the blonde behind you a smirk.

“I said if you won, games not over yet.” Will huffed staying hopeful despite there not being much time left on the clock.

You and Macklin made you ways back to the seats each taking a side of will as you watched the final minutes tick down.

And it didn’t take long before the final buzzer for Bu to score again making it a 4-1 win in the bean pot, you felt awful for your friends watching as the boys skated with their heads down defeat written on their faces.

Macklin did his best to not gloat knowing Will would be upset and feeling for his friends but he had to remind the blonde about their bet before he disappeared down to the ice to celebrate with Lane and their old team.

“My name is going to look beautiful on your back when you put that Canada jersey on smitty.” Macklin grinned throwing an arm over Wills shoulder.

You gasped at the words realized they’d put another bet on this game just like they did when the two schools played each other a few weeks back.

However this one was a bit more then just schools, it was countries and if there was one thing Will prided himself on more than just being a Bc alumni it was getting to play and win gold for his country.

“You didn’t…” you trailed looking between the two boys.

“Oh he did.”

“We swept them! I thought we had this in the bag, that the boys would Win but here we are.” Will groaned throwing his head back dramatically.

You patted his thigh comfortingly knowing he wasn’t gonna take this easily, he wasn’t gonna be happy wearing the jersey once the boys returned to San Jose against the Avalanche following their long road trip.

“Don’t worry I’ll go easy on you it’ll be my personal one, not one I beat you in.” Macklin threw out and you couldn’t help but laugh at that knowing he had been shitty over having to wear Will’s winning jersey.

With a loud sigh Will threw his boyfriend a pleading look using those baby blues the best he could, “Do i really have to?”

“Yes, now I’m going down to see the team. I’ll meet you guys back at the hotel?”

“Yeah I don’t think there’s gonna be much celebrating going on at the campus.” You replied.

Will nodded in agreement both of you bidding Mack a goodbye as he slipped out of the suite, you and Will gathering your belongings and following behind shortly after.

You two stopped in the Bc locker room to share a few words with the boys, ignoring the teasing at the sight of you in a terriers jersey you caught up with some of the other girlfriends before returning to Wills side and heading out.

You gave him your car keys allowing him to drive from Td garden to the hotel he and Macklin had rented a room in for the few days they were in Boston.

You’d be staying with them since they arrived seeing it much easier then having to get in trouble for having both staying in your tiny dorm where they weren’t even allowed to be after 10pm.

The car ride was quiet the two of you making small talk while you scrolled through social media smiling at all the pictures and videos of Macklin with his old team.

It hurt seeing your school lose but your heart was quickly warmed seeing your boy happy and smiling with his friends.

“What’s got you cheesing over there?” Will asked.

“Macklin celebrating.” You answered honestly, waiting for him to pull to a stop light before turning your phone towards him.

Will couldn’t help his own smile that formed as he looked over the tweet, he was hurting to but just like you seeing Macklin happy made up for it.

Once you two made it back to the hotel you were quick to change into pajamas, Wills consisting of shorts and no shirt while you sported one of his practice shirts and sleep shorts.

He was ordering room service when you saw the texts from Macklin come through your phone.

Going out wit the boys, be back as soon as I can.

Don’t let will take all the cuddles, love ya

You giggled softly knowing how much of a cuddle bug he was, Will liked to cuddle too but he liked to hold you where Macklin wanted nothing more but to be tucked into your side with his face in your neck.

I’ll make sure to save you a bunch of cuddles, we love you too.

Have fun & be safe

“Mack’s going out with the team.” You informed Will noticing he had set the room phone down.

“Oh you are gonna have so much fun with drunk Mack” he laughed as he climbed up the bed to lay next to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked curiously.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

His voice was calm but the smirk that sat on his lips had your mind racing at all the possibilities.

-

Two hours later you found yourself on top of will as he kissed down your neck teeth nipping at the bare skin of your throat, your fingers tangled in his soft curls.

You weren’t really sure how you got here but you weren’t complaining especially when his hands snuck under the cotton of his shirt you wore thick fingers trailing against your bare skin.

You reconnected your lips in another hot kiss whimpering against his mouth when he pulled you down to grind against him.

His fingers were seconds from tugging your shirt over your head when three loud knocks pounded against the door.

You jumped back in surprise sliding off Will so he could go open and see who it was.

You made yourself comfortable against the headboard listening to the voices as the heavy door was pulled open.

“This belongs to you now, he’s not wasted but definitely not sober”

It was Aiden and from the sounds of it he was hanging over your other boyfriend to Will.

“Thanks man, I’ll make sure he gets to bed.” Will laughed softly.

It didn’t take long for the slurred voice of Macklin to fill the room, “Honey I’m home” he laughed as he and Will came into sight.

“Looks like you had fun.” You spoke up watching amusingly as he drunkly stripped from his sweater and jeans.

“So much fun, but I missed you guys.” He smiled finally climbing into bed when he was ready now dressed in sweatpants.

You held the blanket open for him as he moved towards the bed however what you weren’t expecting was him to plop down right on top of you.

His head tucked into the crook of your neck while his arms wrapped around your body, his lips kissing your collarbone as he settled in.

You ran your fingers through his soft locks admiring the way his face relaxed and the soft smile that stayed on his lips.

Will climbed into bed beside the two of you leaving enough space in case Macklin would want to move over.

“Night Smitty” you spoke softly towards the blonde giving him a soft peck.

“Hey! Where’s mine?” The Canadian in your lap whined dramatically.

You and Will both laughed at his expression as he picked his head up.

“Sorry baby thought you were sleeping.” You apologized.

“It’s fine-now kiss me” he demanded pulling your face towards his.

The kiss was completely different from his usual ones, this was sloppy and slow as your lips moved in sync. You could taste the peach high noons he no doubt had been downing as his choice of drink.

However when you tried to pull away he was pulling you right back sitting up even more to get a better position to kiss you even harder.

Will laughed at the sight of you two, the first time he’d experienced a drunk Macklin he was tackled to the bed and was forced to play with the boys hair till he fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure what did it and neither was Macklin but whenever the boy had alcohol in his system he couldn’t help the way he needed to be loved on and get attention.

You two went until you physically couldn’t keep kissing him without passing out, Macklin whined when you pushed his face back but he quickly felt the burning in his chest.

His eyes ran over your face admiring your cherry red cheeks and swollen lips, how pretty you looked spent and breathless.

He thankfully felt like the kisses were enough for the night tucking himself back into the crook of your neck and it didn’t take long for soft snores to fill the room.

“How was that?” Will teased.

“Tasted like high noons but I can never say no to him” you shook your head still trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah he knows how to do that to people” will grumbled thinking about the fact he’d be wearing a Canadian jersey in a few weeks.

You nodded in agreement allowing yourself to get comfortable and soon all three of you were sleeping peacefully.

-

My valentines gift to the WillMack community!

[diz-eaze]

GOLDEN BOY. (yandere! childe x female reader)

; childe is freaky here :sweat:... written during 2023, modern au, suggestive content.

; Childe is an annoyance.

YOU KNOW Childe, or at the very least, you're aware of his existence. It's hard not to, with the way your peers spill and sing praises for him, honoring him like an angel sent from the heavens above.

Childe, sometimes referred to as Tartaglia, is the golden boy of your school - the embodiment of boyish charm and a cookie-cutter definition of being a 'Jock'. As far as you know, he plays for your high school basketball team, tall height and all.

Truly, it's hard to not be aware of who he is. Not when your friends' conversations orbit around him, not when the cheers of your school gymnasium are so deafeningly loud with the way they chant his time when he scores, and certainly not when your best friend herself is related to him - his cousin from his mother's side.

She doesn't speak of him much, only dropping his name and information about him when absolutely necessary - but they have a nice relationship if her avid support for his games is enough to tell. Sometimes, she tries to coax you into attending them, but you always refuse.

Sports has never interested you in any way, shape, or form - you don't even know the rules of Basketball, so what makes her think that you'll understand what would happen on the court? You'd rather spend your free time on something you enjoy doing.

And your dear best friend, Mila, is understanding enough. You have no interest in sports, you don't care for your school's basketball team, which by extension means you don't care enough for her cousin. She wishes you well with a tight hug goodbye and you part ways until the next time.

On a few occasions, she'll text you during the game when she's hyped up - a blurry picture of her cousin's shoot, a selfie of her grinning with her ginger hair matted from sweat, a panorama shot of the audience, really, whatever she can capture on her phone is what she sends.

This time, it's a selfie with her cousin after their game. Childe is soaked in sweat and wearing a victorious grin, with Mila cheekily smiling at the camera. A clean victory by your school, you surmise. In response, you reply back with a heart emoji - the orange one, her favorite.

You're not interested in Childe enough to get to know him, as you're sure your tastes in media and music alone are different enough. He just happens to be a cousin to your best friend, but that's where your connection to him draws the line. Despite Mila's subtle efforts to get you to befriend him, it's always turned down.

You prefer your friend group small and tight-knit.

And that's all there is to it.

So when you end up encountering him at your school's local convenience store at 2 AM in the morning, you're unsure of what to make of it.

His back is turned on you, his ginger locks move with his entire body as he scrummages through the freezer section all while humming a familiar pop song that's heard on radios. You think of completely ignoring him until he pays for his stuff and leaves, but the worry of being perceived as a snob and reported back to Mila lingers in the back of your mind.

And unluckily enough, there's no Mila around you to save you from an awkward social encounter.

You mentally groan. You really, really don't want to talk to random dimwits.

So you settle with your second option; hiding in one of the aisles and pray to the Celestia above that he's not familiar with you, hoping that he doesn't even know you. You pretend to busy yourself by comparing potato chip bags with other competitors, even letting out expressions of faux interest and nodding along in approval.

'How interesting, staring at a potato chip's logo for minutes straight,' You think. Vaguely, you note that his scrummaging still hasn't stopped, just what is he looking for in that freezer? Can't he just take one item (or several) and go?

You don't know how long you can endure standing around like some NPC, your patience is wearing incredibly thin. In fact, your sanity is on the brink of collapse - you still haven't finished watching that Netflix TV show back in your dorm room. You only went out to fulfill your cravings, damn it.

A few minutes later, you stop inspecting the potato chips and sigh. You admit defeat. Whatever happens, happens. You truly doubt he knows you, you're probably just one of the million faces that he comes across in his everyday life. With that thought, you grab a drink to accompany your potato chips.

Just take your items to the counter and flee like a raccoon into the night, easy.

You fall into line, just behind a heavily pregnant lady carrying a pack of diapers. Your hands itch to pry open the bag of chips already, but you persist. It's best eaten during a dramatic episode and in the comfort of your mattress.

The sound of muted footsteps approaches your general direction and it's not long before a new voice speaks up.

"Oh! I didn't think I'd see you around here, miss!"

Irritation and dread mix together and pool at the bottom of your stomach, it seems your expression has shifted as the ginger-haired man barks out a jovial laugh.

"What's with that expression, Miss!?" He jests, moving to elbow you but you just move out of the way - not fond of strangers touching you.

Schooling your facial features into one of complete neutrality, you turn to address him. "Didn't expect to see you too." And you mean it.

The pregnant lady finishes paying for her items and it's finally your turn. Unceremoniously, you drop the junk food onto the counter and pretend to busy yourself once more by watching the employee ring up each one.

"Hey," He waves an arm around at your side.

"Hellooo, miss?" He drawls out, tilting his head left and right. It's kind of cute, you'll admit. He looks like a fox or a golden retriever.

But you have no time to entertain him, not when the employee just finished up bagging your times - leaving you to your last course of action; run after paying.

And you do just that, you break out into a sprint with a hurried, "Please keep the change."

You ignore the cries of your name from that dreaded ginger man, and you're surprised to find that he knew who you are - perhaps Mila had talked to him about you and showed a few pictures on occasion.

Still, you continue on running in thought that he may have done the same as soon as he paid for his items. When you return back to your dorm room, you unintentionally shut the door with a loud noise and you wince. You hope that didn't wake up Mila.

You're exhausted now, sweat drips from your unathletic body, and you need a shower badly. Curse you, Childe.

At least Mila will have an interesting story to hear from you when the sun rises.

It seems that the moment you encountered Childe inside that convenience store, your entire life's axis had been turned upside down since then. Now, Childe sticks to Mila and you whenever there's free time.

Mila doesn't mind, of course, she doesn't - he's her relative. But you do, you're bothered by him. Very much so.

You prefer to live life quietly and with no fuss - opting to just listen to music up on the rooftop as you leisurely eat your meal and enjoy the scenery of the light blue skies. Often times you and Mila spend lunchtime separated from each other as she prefers to socialize.

But Childe, basketball player, expert annoyance, the golden boy of your high school. So, so infuriating. So absurdly annoying that he follows you up to the rooftop (as opposed to joining his cousin) with a huge grin and imaginary flowers surrounding him - treating this like a joyous field trip.

You have to hold back the profanities that threaten to tumble from your mouth - you must remain civil, no matter how much he gets under your skin.

Childe is the very antithesis of your being - he's loud, upbeat, friendly, and touchy-feely.

He is everything that you are not - he takes your world for a spin and you don't like it. You hate the peace in your routine being disrupted, you hate seeing change in your life - you loathe meeting new people.

"What's your lunch today, Miss (Y/N)?" Childe calls out from behind you. He's wearing his jersey jacket and his orange hair is all tussled from the wind of the rooftop.

"...Dunno." You dully respond and shrug, sitting down near the edge. He follows you without hesitation, even sitting right next to you with a questionable amount of distance.

"And stop calling me miss." You add on as an afterthought, digging into your meal, ignoring his awed expression at the neat arrangement.

"huh, why not?" He questions you, opening up his lunchbox that reveals neatly packed sandwiches - reminding you that he's a foreigner, not a native to your country.

You pause your chewing to answer, "Because it's unnecessary."

"Why?" He whines out, dramatically falling to the ground as he clutches his sandwich.

"We're the same age." You deadpan, completely fed-up, and drained of his energy. You were not built to handle his hyperactive behavior.

"Am I not allowed to show respect now?" He pouts, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"Respect for what?" You ask, reaching out for your water bottle.

He smirks as if he caught you in his trap. He sits back up, getting close to you (you grimace). "Respect for a pretty girl, 'f course."

"...Yuck."

Not a month into his presence in your life, and you already feel like lashing out.

You hate him, you truly do. You want to take him by the throat and choke him until he can't breathe so you don't have to listen to his integrating voice ever again. You want to hinder his career as some uprising basketball player. You want to drag his reputation into the mud - you want to see him suffer and humiliate for all the annoyance he's brought into your life.

Stupid, irate jock who thinks he's hot shit. Some loser who deems it to be appropriate to act buddy-buddy with a schoolmate who he just saw at the convenience store. A petty boy thinking he owns the school - so, so annoying. It makes your blood boil.

How can Mila be related to someone like him?

Your grip on your water bottle tightens, and you struggle to keep your composure.

It's fine, you suppose.

It's not like he'll stick around for much longer.

Next month, surely, he'll be gone by then - too swarmed by academics and sports to remember to bother you.

Surely.

You never thought of yourself to become a criminal, it's just pointless and a hassle to get behind bars. But, as you stare blankly into the eyes of the sheepish ginger man rubbing the nape of his neck, you feel like this might be your best chance at becoming a murderer.

Vaguely, you register your hands shaking from sheer rage. It feels like there's cotton in your ears, you're struggling to hear what Childe - rather, Ajax - is trying to say. You think he's apologizing with the way his lips are moving, but you can't be sure.

Your tired eyes scan the surroundings, ignoring him completely.

From the mess on the ground, somewhere there, you know there's a pair of scissors - sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to stab, and sharp enough to wound. It's sharp.

You remember that same pair of scissors being used for that damned art project - the same one that Ajax just ruined. You spent days, weeks, and months perfecting and enduring the art project with him as your partner. Yet, it seems it's all for naught as it all comes tumbling down to the ground just a week before the deadline.

You know there isn't enough time to recreate it, and now, your grades are at stake. You're torn between laughing or crying at the sheer frustration of it all.

Taking a step closer, you continue to stare intently at the scissors. You take another step forward, and another. Then another. You bend down, still not registering the words Ajax is currently spewing out, and you pick up the scissors.

Inspecting it, you notice there's tape residue left on the blades, along with the smallest bits of paper stuck to it - just another reminder of your hard work that amounted to nothing.

Days staying up until late at night just to tweak some parts, the amount of lunch times skipped just so you can work on your joining project, the willpower it took just to be cordial with golden boy Childe.

You glance down at the pile of mess, Ajax had hastily entered your room - completely missing your warnings and exclamations of caution - and ended up tripping on the entire project. Now, all that's left are mangled pieces that can never be glued back together.

A mess that can't be submitted.

You stare back down at the pair of scissors in your possession.

You slowly blink.

Scissors are good, but you prefer a box cutter more.

You haphazardly let go of the scissors, letting them hit the ground with a dull thud.

Almost robotically, you maneuver toward one of the drawers in your room - one where you know the box cutter is stored. You walk past Ajax who's still spewing out utter nonsense and you hold back the urge to just choke him to death.

Patience is key.

You rummage through each drawer until your hands grasp the familiar handle of your box cutter - a pretty shade of yellow with the blade just recently replaced. You slide the handle until most of the blade is peeking out, glinting against the light in your room.

A minuscule smile carves itself into your face.

It's showtime, might as well enjoy your first act of crime before you're caught.

You turn around, hiding the box cutter behind your back and you start walking toward Ajax. His words are finally starting to make sense, as if the cotton in your ears earlier has been removed and instead replaced with the foreboding feeling of euphoria that's yet to come.

"...-ey? (Y/N)? Look, I'm really sorry, okay? I'll make it up to you! I swe-!"

Ajax doesn't get to finish his sentence before you lunge at him and straddle him to the ground, pressing the blade of the box cutter right up against his neck. Your thighs wrap around his waist and your other hand harshly tugs at his orange hair.

"Shut up," You sneer, pressing the blade deeper. You stare into his blue eyes, noting that his pupils are enlarged with a red flush tinting his cheeks.

"Shutupshutupshutupshutup- you're so annoying. I've endured you for months now and that's all you have to say? I had to deal with your bullshit and this is what I get?"

Unexpectedly, he moans.

Drawn out and filled with pleasure, it caught you off guard and you lean back to scrutinize him. Just then, you feel a hardness pressing up against your ass and the way his face is contorted into a state of utter bliss. He's acting like this is heaven on earth - to be threatened and pinned down to the floor of your bedroom.

You know you should stop, especially if this does nothing but arouse him - but you're too far angry to let this chance go by - you've been yearning for payback. You lean back down, closer to his ear this time to whisper,

"...Are you seriously getting off to this? What the actual fuck?" He frantically nods, bopping his head up and down. You press the blade in deeper, close to marking his skin and it gets him going even more.

He's insane, you realize. You breathlessly laugh, not expecting him to be this deranged.

"You're such a pervert Childe, did you plan this? Did you want me to kill you on my bedroom floor? Do you get off on the thought of me slicing your neck open right now? Does it get your dick hard that bad?"

He's panting now, desperately grinding his erection against the curve of your ass - desperate to get any friction. "Ajax, it's Ajax," He corrects, moaning even more when you shove two of your fingers into his mouth to shut him up. But he's undeterred. "Mm, planned this from 'ta start, wanted you 'so badly since forever."

"Really?" You prod, creating a shallow cut across his neck, letting beads of blood scatter the surface of his skin. He moans harder, groaning and panting as you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth. Wanting a response, you briefly retrieve your fingers to let him formulate a response.

Drool spills from the corner of his mouth, occasionally mingling with the blood on his neck. It's messy. He pants harshly, gathering his bearings. "Yeah," He breathes out, grinding harder. "I bribed 'ta professors into being your, ah, partner. Purposely walked into your room to ruin the project so we-" He groans, letting his head thump against the floor as you drag the blade to his chest. "-we can spend more time together. I wanted to steal your panties and bra today when you're out of your room. Wanted you since forever, want you 'so bad 'm going insane."

"Wanted you since I saw you in Mila's tagged posts."

"...Huh." You huff out, amused. "That far back, wow."

You gently slice through his clothes, exposing his toned but scarred chest. Lightly, you trace along his muscles using the blade.

He nods, "Yeah, wanna be your dog. I wanna be your pet. Want you to attach me to a leash and call me a good boy,"

You hum, undeterred by his furious humping - you don't care if he cums or not. "I don't know, maybe come up with our art project before the deadline and I'll think about it."

"Please, I'll do anything." He whimpers, groaning when you grip his face.

"Deal?"

"Deal."

You hate him, you truly do.

[zephyrchama]

(Based on that one scene from B99)

“Lucifer, your wrist looks kind of funny.”

All eyes turned to the Avatar of Pride when Leviathan pointed this out. They were supposed to be organizing the house library, but it was a long and boring task. One that everyone wanted to finish quickly, yet nobody could find the motivation to make any real progress.

“Oh no! What happened?” Asmodeus leaned over a table to try and steal a peek. Lucifer’s wrist was, indeed, bent in an odd manner. He used his non-dominant hand to shuffle some papers in order.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, Asmo!” Mammon jeered. “Back off, leave the guy alone.”

Lucifer ignored his brothers, icy gaze focused on the documents in hand. They were papers that had been misfiled and did not belong in the library. He reminded everyone in the room to “behave yourselves” before disappearing into his office.

Curious eyes followed him until he was truly out of sight. Then, the brothers exchanged fascinated looks. It’s not every day that Lucifer get injured.

“Alright, everybody bring it in. Huddle up.” Mammon ushered everyone to come close with a sweep of his hand. The boys reluctantly formed a loose circle.

“What are you up to now?” Belphegor asked with a sigh. “I want to finish this already.”

Mammon pretended not to hear as he whisper-shouted, “so, he wouldn’t say what happened, which can only mean one thing.”

”He’s in a fight club,” Beelzebub suggested.

“No. He did it doing something he’s embarrassed by.” Satan was quick to catch on to the truth.

Beelzebub followed up with, “oh. Could be a sports injury. I sprained my wrist playing fangol last year.”

“Really? I don’t remember that,” Belphegor said.

Leviathan asked, “you think Lucifer was playing fangol?”

A deep growl suddenly came from the doorway. There was no warning or indication that Lucifer would be back so quickly. Yet, the man in question had returned. His menacing quickly caused the group to shut up.

“I can hear you speculating about the nature and origin of my injury from my office, but I don’t think it’s relevant to your jobs. The jobs you should all be doing right now. Get to work.”

The brothers scattered like roaches back to their respective corners of the library. All except for Satan, who Lucifer beckoned over with his finger. Satan hesitated at first, but it was better to go along with Lucifer when his mood was sour. The two stepped out for a minute, far enough away that no one else would overhear.

“What?” Satan was fed up with this conversation and it hadn’t even started.

“Do you want to know how I actually hurt my wrist?

Satan’s eyebrows flew up and he took several seconds to think about the question. What an odd offer. There was nothing for Lucifer to gain by telling him this, was there? Though, if he spent too long thinking Lucifer might change his mind and leave his little brother wondering what happened forever. With an oddly docile tone of voice, Satan responded, “...Yes.”

While Satan was busy wondering how to respond, Lucifer had taken out his DDD. He was scrolling through a menu in search of something. “I was hula hooping. Diavolo and I attend a class for fitness and for fun.”

“No way.” Satan's true thoughts leaked out. It was so dumb, it couldn’t be true.

Lucifer raised his phone to Satan’s eye level. The proof was there. ”I’ve mastered all the moves. The pizza toss. The tornado. The scorpion, the oopsie doodle.”

With each and every silly name, Lucifer swiped to a new photo on his phone. There he was, doing the pizza toss. Showing Diavolo how to do the scorpion. Performing a flawless oopsie doodle. Satan was stupefied, his mouth ajar.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because no one…” Lucifer selected all of the images. He tapped on a trash can in the corner of the screen. The images, every last one, disappeared. “…will ever believe you.”

“No!” Satan lunged for the phone in vain. “You sick, twisted, son of a-”

“You got your answer," Lucifer told him. "Get back to work."

[binmeister]

Office worker AU

Saja Boys x Office worker! Reader

Taking over the world via, checks notes, corporate slavery.

Summary - Modern, human AU - no demons, just office romance with sprinkles of pre-established dynamics & relationships - OOC / entirely self indulgent - Fem! Reader

A/N: I don’t actually know what to classify this as, eventually may post scenarios from this AU on top of this but hey. Self indulgence for me to enjoy. This is mostly for me to read but eventually I’ll share my headcanons and notes maybe but otherwise it's entirely just something I want to work on outside of the other current ficlets I have.

CW: not perfectly proofread, fem! reader, OOC obviously - may eventually contain suggestive / NSFW content intended for (18+) readers

Wordcount: 8.8k

Note: Baby (Byeol), Mystery (Minseok) and Romance (Roman / Ro) have been given AU head-canoned names in this and Abs has just been set as Abby but if you prefer to read them as non head-canoned names please feel free to do so!

Feel free to comment, reblog or even create your own AU based off of this - just don't claim my work as your own please.

The mundane routine of an office job hadn't sounded appealing to you back in high school, but as you go through the tediously simple steps each day now you had to admit that there were some perks amidst all the major cons. Firstly there was routine, even amidst abrupt tight deadlines. Secondly was the promise of a paycheque, consistent income in the form of an annual salary had been the biggest reason you’d stayed loyal the last few years to Saja LLC. Though to be fair the other reason you may have enjoyed working there was because of the short commute time, realistically a half hour subway ride was way better than a 2 to 3 hour commute one way.

The only gripe you had now was that it still required you to wake up at 6:00am to get ready for the day, giving yourself a half hour to process the weight of being awake and the reality of being a corporate pawn before you drag yourself out of bed at 6:30 to get ready and prepped for the day. At 7:15 you’re fully dressed and refreshed from your morning routine, white blouse tucked neatly into a stretchy pencil skirt and some plain dark stockings layered underneath that. You manage to grab a quick snack as breakfast as you slip on your short pumps and pick up your handbag, slinging it over your left shoulder and grabbing your apartment keys. At 7:25 you’ve made it down to the subway in time to catch the 7:30 train and get onto the women’s passenger car, then at 7:45 you’re packed up tight with a multitude of other commuting women - ranging from students to business women to mothers on their way to attend appointments.

By the time you reached your stop and be free of the stuffy car you felt relieved that you had managed to get off the packed subway in one piece, hating how sweaty and sticky it felt being trapped amongst the other women on the train ride but at least there were no creeps that had tried to worm their way onto the women only car. You lifted your arm to glance at your wrist watch, a sigh of relief when you confirmed you’d been right on time and didn’t need to rush yourself as you paced up the stairs to exit the subway - heels clicking against the concrete stairs and echoing slightly amidst all the bustling business folk going about their day as well. By the time you’d reached the top of the stairs your calves ached a little, and you couldn’t help internally curse at yourself for not packing your spare shoes so walking could be a bit more comfortable.

“[Name]!” A familiar male voice calls out and you stop for a moment, head turning around as you tried to locate where the call originated from and then soon enough you feels his hands before you can see his face. Jinu, in all his magnificent glory like he wasn’t an 9-6 office worker not including commute time. You seriously couldn’t believe that he’s still a morning person after all the years of knowing him, thinking back about how you thought your time together in university would’ve changed him but nope. Still an early bird even when he had little to no sleep. He’d over-explain and say something about ‘waking up early just lets him think better’, yeah sure buddy.

“Morning.” Came your greeting as your eyes caught sight of his face finally, he shifted to walk on your right and you began to match your strides with him - or rather he matched his longer strides with your smaller heel cladded ones. He was dressed in a plain light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tucked and pressed neatly into black suit pants and had a laptop bag slung over his shoulder with the strap crossing over his torso. It was comforting as he blabbered on about what he did last night, how when he called up Minseok to come hang out the guy had the audacity to agree only to stand him up which you proceed to poke fun at him over it. ‘Maybe if you were prettier, he’d actually show up’ was what you said and Jinu had looked back towards you as if you called him an ugly unlovable animal. 

“I’m just saying.. you’d look great with some dangly earrings, you’ve still got the piercing holes anyway.” Was what you pointed out to him, your right hand had reached out to brush against his visible pierced ear lobe only to be met with a swift swat of his hand - an attempt to hide his reddening ear tips as well but you simply laughed at him more because of it. From the subway station was about a 10 minute walk to the office, any longer and you’d be questioning god on why you decided not packing a pair of flats was a good idea and not at all detrimental to your poor feet.

“I think I’d look better in big hoops than those flimsy dangly ones.” Jinu had retorted, straightening himself up and doing an exaggerated flip of his hand as he tossed his invisible flowing locks over his shoulder like he was some kind of actress in a show. You rolled your eyes at him and had taken a few steps side ways to get some distance from him, pretending to be embarrassed to be seen with him, which only made him complain as he reached out to grab you by your right arm and tug you back closer whilst he sang out a complaint of, “Wow, you’re so unsupportive of me. Not very girls girl of you I thought you were better than that.” 

It continued on like that for the remainder of the walk, his hand hadn’t let go of your arm and when the pair of you had made it to the revolving doors of your shared office he finally realised and let you go. Honestly you hadn’t realised he’d still been touching you until the warmth of his hand disappeared but mentally shrugged it off as you stepped forward to the doors first since he gave a mocking bow and a grand gesture with his hands ‘You first, m’lady’. Once the two of you had stepped into the main lobby you’d both began to rummage in your respective bags for your work passes, needing them to get through the gates that blocked off the building elevators as you continued to match your steps together.

“Did you remember your pass today?” He asked as he gave you a knowing look, given your history of repeatedly forgetting to bring it to work the next day and you simply pouted up at him for a moment before victoriously showing him a simple black lanyard - a plastic covered work ID attached securely. Jinu opened his mouth slightly, feigning surprise and gave a small little applause before he moved to scan his ID at the gates first then stepped through and to the side to wait for you to come on through. As you did you instinctively threw your pass back in your bag as he simply stuffed his into his right pant pocket, the lanyard hanging loosely out of it.

When you’d stepped through he fell back into step alongside you as you made your way over to stand in front of the elevator doors, Jinu taking a brief step forward to press the button for the lift to descend before shifting back and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Your guys’ conversation had lulled now and you both seemed content with just waiting in silence for a little while, it was still early in the morning so not too many people were spotted in the lobby yet. A soft ding resounded and he removed his right hand from his pant pocket for you to step in first, stepping in right after you and stuffing that hand back into his pocket after he clicked the 11th button to get to your shared destination.

The two of you stood side by side, a small gap between you both as the doors closed and the lift began it’s ascent to the next floor. The doors slid open and a few people stepped in, causing the pair of you to step toward the back of the space to be polite as the new tenants clicked buttons for levels lower than the floor either of you needed to get to. The doors slid closed again, followed by another smooth ascent to the third floor now and the same song and dance happened where more bodies entered and once again you’d both been forced to shift further into the lift and toward the back corner - your smaller body slotting between his and the railing connected to the wall but still enough space for now to be comfortable. Then it happened again at the next floor where even more bodies piled on in and Jinu had bumped into you, his hands no longer in his pockets as he tried to limit the space he was taking so he wouldn’t crush you. As if you  were in some twisted comedy it happened again on the next floor and Jinu had turned his body when he realised he was about to be forcibly shoved into you and he raised an arm up and braced his forearm against the metal wall as he let out a grunt trying his best not to squish you against the elevator wall but to no avail as someone bumped against him and now you were pressed against each other.

He felt heat rising to his face and didn’t want to look down at your face so he had looked up at the ceiling, praying to anything holy that his body didn’t have an unfortunate reaction to the proximity, ‘think about wrinkly naked old guys’  he told himself mentally. You were admittedly a little stun locked in this moment as your hands had reflexively gone up to brace for the expected impact of Jinu slamming into you but it never came so now your hands were stuck pressed against his chest and the rest of your body was flush against his as the elevator shifted and groaned slightly at the weight of so many people inside. The lift was definitely overly crowded, probably getting close to full capacity as you waited for the next ding for the potential relief of people exiting but you couldn’t see the panel to see what floors people were getting off on and some of the people inside the lift were busy chatting over something that happened on the weekend. You didn’t crane your neck to look up at Jinu, opting to keep your head down now that you realised there was no chance of you being able to see anything through the dense mass of bodies that had trapped the two of you in the back corner of the metal cell.

Jinu made the mistake of looking down finally, his neck hurting from craning to look up and he let his head fall to look down at you and he had to actively think to keep his breathing steady as he processed what was happening. Your hands were flat on his chest and you’d absentmindedly started to drum your fingers against the fabric of his shirt, your head was tilted down and he was glad for that because if you looked up at him now he was sure he’d do something stupid. He let out a grunt when he felt someone behind him elbow him in the back and he would’ve turned around to check who it was but even that was a little difficult to do given the amount of room available. It occurred to him that he wasn’t too opposed to this proximity lasting longer but soon enough at the next floor a herd of people had walked out, finally allowing him the space to take a step back as he mumbled an apology to you.

By the 8th floor there were only maybe two other people in the lift besides you then by the 9th it had gone back to just being the two of you. You couldn’t help the laugh that started to echo out of you as your shoulders shook, trying your best to suppress it but failing miserably as you couldn’t help but think back to the last 8 or so minutes of your life. As you finally spoke again, letting out a small “Rom-com drama much.” comment as you looked at Jinu. His expression made you want to laugh harder as he visibly looked like he was processing what you just said and then a smile breaks out on his face and he lets out a chuckle.

“Hah.. yeah you’re right.” He finally agreed as he hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his suit pants, looking forward for a moment before tilting his head slightly to side eye you and letting a sly comment slip out, “For the record, I’m totally the pretty female lead that everyone’s fighting over.”

You feigned hurt as you dramatically placed a hand over your heart, offended at what he could be insinuating about your dynamic. “Are you saying that I’m just male love interest #4? The unlucky co-worker that’s never going to win?” Then he hummed a small maybe and looked away from you, then the both of you let out another laugh as you both looked over to the panel that counted the floor levels - watching it flash 10 ^ for a brief second before it flashed to 11 and the elevator came to a halt. Before he could gesture for you to go first, it was your turn to give a dramatic gesture and urge him to go out the door first.

“You first my sweet lady.” You’d teased, attempting to lower your voice as you did so and it was his turn to roll his eyes at you now as he stepped off, pitching up his voice as he replied to you - attempting a very poor attempt at a feminine voice. “Ohh.. you’re such a gentleman oh my gosh.”

When you’d straightened yourself up and stepped out of the lift after him the expression on his face was sly, eye lids lowered a little as he stared down at you and then you both did your best to stop your shaking shoulders as the laughs leaked out of you. You’d parted ways after that, Jinu needing to check in with his supervisor so you gave a small wave as he saluted to you and walked in the opposite direction you were heading. As you walked to the right of the reasonably spacious area you saw a familiar mop of lavender hair over the series of cubicle walls and your pace quickened a little as you walked over towards it.

Minseok was settling down at his desk, just arrived a few minutes before you and Jinu had and was minding his business as he dropped his bag by his feet and pulled out a few essentials. Water bottle, phone, notebook, as he placed the items on his desk he shifted again to lean back down and check if he needed to grab anything else and he noticed your shoes. But his non-functioning brain was trying to process why he had apparently brought women’s heels to work and then it hits him that you’re standing there.

“Good morning.” You chirped happily at him and he straightened himself up, murmuring a greeting in return as you moved out of his vision briefly before appearing again on his left side. You’d plopped your handbag on your desk and took out the lanyard you’d thrown back in there earlier back out, hooking it around your neck and grabbing your own water bottle out as well as your phone before carefully sliding your bag to the back left corner of your desk.

You finally sat down before turning in your chair to look at him now, his appearance the same as always - a little unkempt but you’d be terrified if he walked in one day pristine and tidy. His hair was still the same familiar awkwardly long length that just barely kept his eyes covered but short enough that people couldn’t complain that he didn’t look well maintained, he was wearing a regular long sleeved light grey dress shirt, dark grey suit pants and just some regular leather dress shoes - the top button of his shirt was undone and he was currently in the process of unbuttoning the cuffs on his sleeves so he could roll them up a little.

“Jinu was complaining that you stood him up.” You said as you watched him go through the familiar motion of messily pushing the sleeves up until you reached a hand out to shoo his own away from it, wheeling yourself closer so you could neatly fold the cuffs up to his desired length before carefully tucking the sleeve securely so it wouldn’t sag back down his forearm. “You’ll wrinkle it if you just shove it up like that..” You’d huffed as you motioned for him to give you his other arm so you could repeat the same neat folds.

“In my defence, he messaged me at like 11pm on a work night.” He hummed before saying a soft thank you when you’d finished folding up his other sleeve, he’d turned his chair slightly so it was easier for you and when you were finished he fully turned in your direction now. “I’m not being his late night booty call.”

Your expression said it all, eyebrow quirked as you couldn’t help the sly smile that slipped onto your face as you gave him a look that just screamed ‘you’re kidding’ before you spoke again. “We both know that man has never gotten any ass in his life. C’mon we’ve known him since high school.“ He hummed in agreement and relaxed back into the back rest of his chair as he let you continue on.

“We’ve talked about it before mystery man, you’ve gotten laid more than Jinu’s fumbled a date. Which is an impressive number at that.” You teased the ‘mystery man’ in front of you as he shrugged you off, trying to hide his embarrassment at you bringing up his past actions and going on the defence as he retorted that ‘university was a different life time’ and you backed off after that. Both of you repositioning yourselves at your desk to get started with work for the day, occasionally making small talk before you both had quietened down to focus on whatever document either of you had to read through.

Maybe an hour or two had passed when you heard the familiar ‘ehem’ of your supervisor which caused you and Minseok to look up and away from your monitors, both turning in your chairs a little towards the right where she stood with a younger looking man with teal hair. He was dressed in a plain white dress shirt and light grey dress pants, a backpack slung on one shoulder and his resting expression seemed a little bored. She’d given you a quick run down on the new face and mentioned that the young man had recently been hired and that she expected both yourself and Minseok to train him as well as that the new hire would be seated at the spare desk beside you, she was about to introduce your new co-worker when her phone blared and she apologetically bowed at you all before having to rush off to handle whatever matters had come up.

“Uhm.. My name’s Byeol, I was hired on as a junior assistant, uh, please take care of me.” He awkwardly introduced himself, voice surprisingly low in contrast to his appearance as he bowed at you and Minseok with stiff arms by his side. Clearly uncomfortable at just being thrown into the deep end with no warning, his eyes shifted from you then to Minseok and then to the floor as he looked like he’d rather be absolutely anywhere except for here. Minseok tilted his head to catch your eye and you nodded at him like ‘you go first’ to which he did, as the both of you stood from your chairs now to bow a little to show respect.

“I’m Minseok, I’m a financial analyst so we may not be working together too frequently.” He spoke, voice still low and soft before he gestured for you to introduce yourself next. “I’m [Name], it seems like you’ll probably working with me more - I’m a finance officer.” 

After your introduction you awkwardly gestured to the desk beside you on your left, clean and tidy like no one has ever worked there which is partly true from what you knew and Byeol nodded at that as he stepped over and got himself situated in the space. He seemed a little nervous yet radiated a cool unbothered aura that made you feel like you didn’t really need to keep an eye on him too much which was a relief to you, you were not paid to be someone’s emotional support at this office. He piped up suddenly as he settled in on the slightly creaky office chair and pulled out a notebook from his bag.

“Is this floor always so empty?” He’d asked you, or rather the pair of you as he let his eyes make a quick sweep around the area. You froze for a moment as you tried to process his question and then regurgitate what information you had available. 

“Ah, yeah it is. It’s just our little group in finance and the legal guys on this floor.” When you mentioned the legal team, you pointed at the few cubicles behind you, the walls were facing the three of you so you never really had to worry on if anyone would be seated behind you. “There’s a couple more members in finance but Mimi’s on maternity leave and Jiyoung is taking an extended vacation at the moment.”

Byeol had made a soft ‘mm’ of acknowledgement at the information you gave him, seeming to relax a little knowing that there wouldn’t be too many annoyances in the work space then which was a huge relief for him. He didn’t say much else as he booted up the computer and input the login information your supervisor seemingly gave him before she had to leave, he turned his head slightly to talk to you directly now and listed off the information she had told him. Mentioning that today was just getting familiar with the systems, the workflow and for you or Minseok to assist him in getting the necessary privileges to get access to certain documents and databases. The usual corporate on-boarding. 

“Gooooood morning.” A voice boomed out suddenly which made you jump and Byeol stared blankly at you, Minseok cursed under his breath as a familiar mess of violet hair appeared above the aforementioned legal department cubicles. A muscular figure arrived, a man a good inch or two taller than Jinu had appeared after he threw his bag onto his desk - coming up to stand over Minseok’s cubicle and leant on the wall of it much to the latter’s dismay.

“Oh hey, an extra body.” He commented as he noticed the presence of a third body in the usually empty desk beside you. He squinted for a second and then his eyes lit up as he rushed over and trapped Byeol in an overly familiar headlock. “Aye! It’s my baby boy.”

“Abby hyung- let me go.” Byeol had managed to grunt out as he desperately tried to flee Abby’s grasp and failed miserably. Begrudgingly accepting his fate as you and Minseok shared a confused look and you had instinctively rolled your chair away from what was going on in front of you. Sorry new guy, you were way too weak to help in this situation.

Abby finally released him and stood up, his button up shirt was well fitted today and surprisingly wasn’t bursting at the seams despite his figure. He rested his hands on his hips as he started to badger the younger man about how he’s been, why hasn’t ‘Baby’ come along for a drinking night, when will the next game night be and you can see the way Byeol is contemplating submitting his resignation already. But you had a feeling he won’t because the pay is just way too good at Saja LLC to leave.

“Why’s Abby hazing the new guy?” You heard Jinu’s voice from behind you and both yourself and Minseok had turned your heads around at that, Jinu had his hands in his pockets and his lanyard around his neck now as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. It wasn’t an unfamiliar scene that Abby would be chatting with people in the office in general, a bit of an out-going guy that just liked to get to know people but he usually wasn’t touchy feely with people at work since he never wanted to cross that line.

“Apparently that’s his baby boy.” Minseok commented, he had leaned back in his chair and lazily crossed his legs as he rested his right arm on his desk but Jinu simply said a small ‘uh huh..’ with extreme uncertainty and disbelief. A few minutes had gone by at this rate with the three of you staring at Abby babbling on at Byeol, the younger man looked drained and no longer the same awkward guy you’d seen earlier as he answers selectively to whatever he was questioned with. Then it’s like someone finally turned the light on in Abby’s head and he looks up and over to you guys like you’d just appeared out of thin air and he lets out a sharp ‘aha!’.

“My bad! Sorry, it’s lil baby man back from uni - do you guys remember? That freshman buddy program I signed up for as a credit thing.” That was it, that was his explanation and that made everything click into place for the three of you. Memories of when Abby had shown up to gush about his ‘baby’ when the four of you would hang out at Jinu and Minseok’s shared dorm, he had never actually shown pictures of the freshman’s face but you feel like you would’ve recognised the teal hair now that you really try to focus on your recounting of the events.

“Ohhh. Oh my god you were the unlucky kid that got stuck with Abby, I remember you now!” You clapped your hands, straightening up in your seat while you celebrated your little victory over your failing memory. It came together in a much clearer picture now when Abby had shown up to the guys’ dorm with a disgruntled looking student, way too tired to function and he looked like all he wanted to do was leave as he was literally forced to hang out with the lot of you who were a few years older than him and definitely had no idea how to talk to him. Byeol’s brows furrowed as he tried to remember who you were, because he swears he would’ve remembered your face if he did know you then it hits him and he briskly stands up and excuses himself to go to the restroom. He remembers distinctly now. 

The four of you were left dumbfounded at his sudden departure but Jinu and Minseok are both quick to jump on Abby’s case about it, saying that it was his fault and he probably scared the kid off now. Abby had looked at you with pleading eyes like you would save him from the other two giving him shit but you avoid eye contact as you recall how frequently the taller man used to force all of you introverts into going out to party and ‘explore your horizons’ despite everyone’s objections and complaints. Then he throws you under the bus.

“Hey, he was taking my affection - he ran off when lil missy over here talked to him.” Then suddenly all of the attention is on you and you’re complaining that the guys always bully you just because you’re a girl, but they rebuttal with how they don’t do this to any of the other women on your floor but then you’re staring at them with big eyes and they shut up for a moment. After talking in circles you had shut yourself up, grumbling a little as you tuned them out and shifted back to your desk to get some work done since it was going no where. 

It had quietened down shortly after as Jinu and Abby headed back to their respective desks, deciding finally to get to work now that they were done messing with you and Minseok had buried his head back in some new financial audit that had been sent his way. Byeol had eventually returned and was a little thrown off by the peaceful environment, the only sound really being the clacking of keys or the clicking of mice, maybe the low voices of Jinu and Abby as they discussed something in regards to work. He’d quietly sat back down in his chair, trying to hide the mild shame of what he’d done as he opened up excel and the company’s intranet to see what steps he could take to get his access sorted for the day. A minute went by and he sees you move out of the corner of his eye, you clear your throat to get his attention so he turns his head ever so slightly to your direction to let you know that he’s listening even as his eyes are scanning the information on the screen in front of him.

“Hey, did chief tell you what level of access you needed at all? Or is there a note or anything that she left?” You’d asked, voice a little soft and low and it made a tingle ripple through his body and he shifts in his chair to reorient himself. He nodded dumbly as he opened the thin manila folder HR had handed off to him earlier in the morning, looking down at them before grabbing out a couple of papers and handing them over to you which you accepted graciously. “Just some low level stuff for now, but apparently they really want me to have a look at the previous year’s finances to understand what’s going on or something.”

You’d nodded at his answer and looked at the couple of sheets he’d given you, mentally taking note of which folders and files he needed access to and turning to your own computer to start raising the ticket requests so the IT team could handle it from there. You hummed as you submitted the last request then turned back to Byeol, offering him the papers he’d given you and he’d grabbed them without turning to look while he continued to click through the currently accessible files and software that he had been approved for.

“You’ll probably be able to access stuff after lunch, if not tomorrow.” You alerted him and he gave a small nod at that. Your eyes lingered on him a little longer as you realised that he’s definitely shaped up a bit since the time you saw him at university, still relatively baby faced but there’s this mature cool vibe from him now instead of the irritable teen you remember. 

“Lunch?” Abby called out and Minseok groaned, both of you well aware that the guy definitely just stood up at his desk with golden retriever levels of excitement which means now you definitely have to go get lunch otherwise he’ll complain for whoever knows how long about how he just wants to spend time with you guys and don’t you guys feel lucky that you all ended up in the same company after university. The usual spiel he always pulled on you guys when you were giving him shit when you’d gone for company drinks and ended up staying out later just hanging out as a group. 

“You too my sweet baby boy.” Came his voice again and it was Byeol’s turn to groan, muttering complaints under his breath that you managed to catch. “Thought I’d never have to see that fucker again after he graduated but nooo.. course he’s at my first big boy job.”

Byeol shuts up when he hears you snort and then he’s smirking a little to himself. You lock your computer, using your mouse to do so and you hear Minseok doing the same thing and then you hear Byeol just clack a few keys on his keyboard and his computer is locked too so the three of you lean back in your chairs and just wait for the legal boys to get themselves sorted. It didn’t take long as you hear Jinu’s iconic chair creak as he stretched and stood up, the tell tale sign that he’s getting up from his desk which let you and Minseok know to get up as well. You stretched your arms up, as you got to your feet before patting down your skirt to make sure it hadn’t ridden up your thighs too much before grabbing your company phone.

“Are you gonna join us, Byeol?” Minseok was the one to ask as you got yourself sorted, pushing your chair under your desk  as you waited for either of the men in your vicinity to move as well. Byeol nodded, getting up himself and tucking his chair under his desk as well - grabbing his phone of the table top in the process and slipping it into his pocket. You’d walked over to the wall blocking off the two legal department desks and peered your head over to check if they had actually gotten up or not to go get lunch, you’d tippy toed a little but it wasn’t worth it as the two men were standing and looking at you like you were a kid trying to peek at them.

“Hi.” You offered up weakly as you lowered your heels back to the ground, Jinu looked like he was ready to poke fun at you when Abby speaks first. “Ro’s already there, he sent me a message complaining that he’s lonely without us.” Ping!

“And he has tea to spill.” He commented as he pulled out his personal phone to check what Mr. Gossip had to say. Like a shepherd with his sheep, the extrovert of your group ushered his herd of introverts away and into the elevator to get down to the office cafeteria. It arrives quickly, allowing the five of you to get on and hit the 3rd button and settle in as it smoothly dropped with no stops on the way down for once. Jinu and you had briefly made eye contact and had to stifle your laughs as if your connected braincell shared the same memory of this morning.

When you arrive at your desired floor - Abby leads the way and slings an arm around Byeol despite his protests, leaving you, Minseok and Jinu to follow after them as you idly chattered about what today’s food options might be. Minseok and Jinu spoke a little quieter to each other as they tried to recount any memories they had of Byeol and then Minseok admits that he had completely forgotten his name because Abby only ever referred to him as baby, baby boy, baby man, lil baby, any iteration that involved the word baby.

“I remember that. Guy had to deal with the three of us awkwardly calling him baby man or lil guy because Abby managed to cut him off every damn time he tried to tell us his name.” Jinu replied, recollections of memories from that period of time in university finally unlocking for him as well and you hummed in agreement before chiming in as well. “I think I avoided calling out to him because it was awkward to say ‘hey lil dude’ or ‘hey baby’.”

You hadn’t noticed the way your two companions freeze as you casually call out ‘hey baby’, both needing to either swallow down whatever they were about to say or clear their throat by coughing into a closed fist. Soon enough the familiar cafeteria doors are in front of you and you fall into line with the other staff members still trailing through and getting their trays filled up with food. You end up behind Minseok who handed you two trays, keeping one for youself you pass one to Jinu behind you and Abby had taken Byeol ahead of you guys already so you guys grabbed bits and pieces of food before heading over to your usual table tucked away at the far back. You’d all agreed it was for the better of everyone else if you were hidden away because lord did your last friend like to gossip about what goes on in the marketing department.

Minseok had waited for you where as Jinu had headed off to your groups’ table first so he could avoid any unwanted attention ladies from the other departments would pester him with, a fun little thing you teased him about pretty frequently. By the time you’d arrived at your corner table tucked away in the back you saw Byeol look like he was ready to murder the next unsuspecting bystander as a familiar head of pink and Abby were poking fun at him. Jinu was sat across from them, two seats available beside him and was munching on some rice as he watched his free entertainment. Minseok sits on the chair by the window which leaves you to take the middle seat between him and Jinu, placing your tray neatly and picking up your chop sticks as you tried to piece together what the three men were doing. Byeol was stuck in between them across from you, ‘Ro’ on the window seat across from Minseok, Abby across from Jinu and the two were coo-ing at Byeol like he was.. a baby.

“Oh little baby man.” Abby sang out as he prodded at Byeol’s cheeks, Ro mimicking the same thing on the opposing side until he was swatted away by flailing limbs and Byeol looked like he was trying so hard not to explode. Your eyes locked for a moment and he silently pleaded that you or either of the guys on either side of you would save him.

“So.. how’s your first day been lil baby?” Minseok was the one to ask it, your head whipped to him and Byeol had a look of utter betrayal on his face like seriously? His own department now against him. Jinu choked on his rice from the sudden laugh that he let out and your jaw had gone slack at the fact that Minseok joined in on the bullying.

“If I wasn’t on probation I’d kill every single one of you, except for her.” Byeol said threateningly, voice almost dangerously low and that made all of the men at the table freeze. Jinu had managed to clear his throat of the lodged rice and then pointed at himself with his chopsticks with an over the top ‘wait me as well?’ only to be met with a deadpan stare. “I remember you from uni.”

Jinu was about to open his mouth and argue but then he thought it over a little more, nodding in agreement with what was said and digging back into his lunch without another word. You let out a nervous chuckle finally as you looked at Ro. “...uh.. so what tea do you have Roman?”

The tension left him immediately as his eyes lit up, finally you could take in his appearance properly now as he started to lay out the details of whatever marketing team scandalous office drama was going on this time. He wore a warm yellow cardigan, a pastel blue dress shirt peaking out from underneath it but for some reason it worked relatively well together.  The top few buttons of his shirt were undone revealing a simple necklace and his hands had a few rings decorating his fingers, of course his hair was styled in that familiar heart shaped mullet that you’ve grown accustomed to as well.

“You guys remember Jia right, the one that kept hitting on Jinu?” The four of you that were familiar with the people in the office shook your head no at this information, because that did nothing to narrow down the list of people. “She tried to hit on Abby next.” Another shake of your heads. “Tried to hit on our mystery boy over here.” Nope still no bells ringing.

“She poured coffee on [Name] then called her a stupid slut?” Ah. That one yes. The three men who had been shaking their heads no at the information prior scrunched their faces in disgust suddenly, remembering that incident clearly and Byeol had looked at you in surprise at that information. Roman caught his gaze and patted the younger man on the shoulder, reassuring him that you’ll all catch him up on that office drama another day.

“Anyway that one yeah,” He started up again and started to talk with his hands as you began to pick away at your food bit by bit, being careful not to take too big of a bite in case you started choking on it because of whatever next he was due to reveal. “Turns out she got caught sexting one of the team leads in the business department on her company phone.”

Okay relatively juicy information, but pretty standard- “The one who’s wife beat cancer.” Oh god.

“Also,” Jinu, Minseok and you all shared a look with each other like ‘there’s more?’ and Abby had just raised a flared brow at all this information. He didn’t expect much from Jia after she called you a derogatory insult unprompted so he was curious what else she could’ve been trying to do. “Allegedly, repeat with me allegedly,” You rolled your eyes at him before listening to what he said next. “She may have been trying to get it on with that same team lead’s son and his nephew as well. All adults for clarification.”

“HUH?” You let out finally because damn Jia was getting busy apparently when she wasn’t trying to get it on with your friends. Jinu had stopped mid chew as he processed the information, Minseok had put the spoon he was using to drink up his soup back on his tray, Byeol looked mildly disgusted because why was he hearing about this shit on his first day of the job and Abby just looked a little bored now.

“Wow. Didn’t know she was going for a family completionist run.” He’d joked as he picked up his paper cup filled with water and took a small sip from it. It seemed like he was the only one that wasn’t too thrown off by the news but then again out of all of you at the table aside from Roman, he had a relatively good read on people and had known she was bad news since the first time he conversed with her at an office drinking party. 

“How did you guys even get this information?” You asked, your hand had instinctively gone to pick up a cup of water before you realised you hadn’t actually grabbed one. Abby noticed and simply handed you his to sip from and you mouthed a ‘thanks’ to him as you took a careful sip from the small paper cup before handing it back to him. Roman looked at you, smile on his face as he did a little rainbow gesture with his hands and whispered. “Marketing..!” As if that answered your question but you let him off with it, starting to dig back into your food since all the other guys had started to do the same.

“Well they both are on probation until HR figures out how to get rid of them without fucking up our public image.” Roman finished off finally with his tale, his tray had been emptied long before you sat down since he’d seemingly come down first and he sighed dramatically. “Can’t wait to be called at midnight about needing to sort out an emergency PR stunt to cover it up.”

You gave him a pitying look as the other guys gave their own insight on things, mostly analytical from all of them rather than derogatory since they were just curious how it even got this bad. You’d gotten more details here and there, surprised by how much stuff had happened just from this situation alone and then Byeol had asked if he was due to get a company phone at some point to which Abby responded he should be soon. The five of you had all picked up your company phones to show him what he could expect and he looked annoyed that he’ll soon have to start carrying two phones around, but at least he wouldn’t be getting contacted on his personal device for it.

“It’s okay baby, you can expect me to be contacting you twice as much once you get it.” Abby coo-ed at the smaller man before leaning away from him to narrowly avoid a fist that had gone flying in his direction and laughing it off. By the time you’d finished half of your tray of food, everyone had been long done and you felt bad you were holding them up but Minseok hushed you and told you to eat up otherwise you’ll never grow big and strong like them. You gave him the stank eye before continuing to pick at your food, Jinu had nudged you with his elbow to remind you that you shouldn’t have gotten the veggie mix if you weren’t going to eat it and you couldn’t help the small pout you sent his way. “..don’t be mean to me, I thought I was hungry.”

The rest of the guys were quick to start bagging on Jinu after that, even Byeol throwing in a few jabs as well as he seemed to loosen up steadily through out your lunch session as a group. The ravenette had raised his hands up in a mock surrender, defending himself as a simple caring friend that was concerned for his dear friend about whether or not said friend was eating well and making good choices. The topic switched after that and you finished up most of what you could, a few different things still left on your tray and wordlessly Jinu picks it up and slides it between his and Abby’s trays for the two of them to finish up your leftovers for you because they already know you’ll feel bad for leaving waste behind. At some point Minseok had gone and refilled his and Abby’s water cups so he had handed you his one so you could wash down your meal properly and Byeol’s just watching all of these interactions with Roman like a free domestic romance flick.

“It never gets boring.” Roman commented and Byeol nodded in agreement, he could get used to this dynamic again. It’s matured since the last time he witnessed it in university and honestly it’s a little fascinating to now be a part of it, not necessarily just an outsider looking in anymore. Soon enough you’d all gotten up from the table, before you could try to pick up your tray to help clean away things Abby has already stacked it on top of his and Jinu’s and gone ahead first to dispose of the food so you trailed behind Jinu as you walked towards the elevator first whilst the others busied themselves with cleaning up too.

Once again you’d lucked out on your timing, being undisturbed on your elevator lift and Roman was the first to get off at the 7th floor with a sad wave as he left you all to go back up to the 11th floor. You felt your phone vibrate in your hand and you checked to see what email you’d received, mostly approvals and the tickets you had raised for Byeol earlier had all been changed to ‘action’ states whilst a couple had been marked as ‘pending server’ which meant that he wouldn’t be getting much more done until tomorrow. You voiced that to him as he hovered beside you on your left, Abby was leant against the right wall of the lift in front of the panel, Minseok behind him and Jinu on your right and sandwiched a little between the other guys.

At least he gets an easy first day then? The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur, you’d walked Byeol through some of your company’s oddly specific reporting processes and services as Minseok gave a general breakdown on the software that you’d be dealing with frequently as well as explained how the payroll system is handled as he’d most likely be asked questions about that from people that didn’t understand that payroll and finance were not the same department - something that still happens frequently enough despite many company wide emails being sent out to discourage people from going to bother the finance department for this reason. At some point your supervisor as well as the legal departments’ supervisors had bid you all good bye for the day and had left already, which meant that you guys could mess around a little and just chatter about whatever you felt like.

Which leads to the instance here where Jinu and Abby had wheeled themselves from their desk over into the finance space, both now eager to talk about the earlier office drama with you three now that they’ve been told that it’ll become a legal, HR and marketing department problem to deal with. Abby was complaining about how annoying the legalities will be because defamation or unfair termination clauses could apply whilst Jinu pointed out that abuse of company properties was applicable to this case as well. Minseok occasionally threw out a comment as his back was turned to them, still skimming the audit from earlier in the day whilst Byeol had simply logged out for the day and was listening intently despite playing some game on his phone.

“Contract was pretty clear that misuse of company assets was prohibited.” He commented, fingers tapping rapidly at the horizontal screen as he was slouched in his chair, his legs were spread a little and he’d turned to face the group of you as well so his voice projected better than when he’d been facing away. Then Abby responded by pointing out, “But it’ll depend on the contract she signed when she joined.”

“I thought she was only our senior by a year?” You said as you finished up your last email for the day, closing and saving out documents and any final checks before locking your PC for the day. After you sure you were logged out safely you turned in your chair to better join the discussion as well now. The chatter kept going on like that until you’d all finally decided it’s time to leave for the day when Minseok threw the towel in as well on his work, all grabbing your bags and essentials. By the time you were on the main lobby and out the front door of the building you felt exhaustion work it’s way into your shoulders, a small groan escaping you as you rubbed at the shoulder that was holding your bag.

Shortly after you feel someone pull your bag and you instinctively grab it tighter only for the voice of Abby to be by your ear as he asks you to let him carry it, then you finally let him take it as you loiter around the front of your office. Small talk and banter was exchanged, then the guys started being guys and making dirty innuendoes at each other that made you question them on whether or not they’d hooked up with one another yet before Byeol decides he wants to head home and bids you all farewell as he heads off to catch the next bus to his place. The remaining four of you decide that today will be the night you all invade Minseok’s place, even if it was only a Tuesday and you guys had work the next day surely he could be kind enough in his heart to allow some tired office workers to take refuge in his nearby apartment? He was against it until he noticed that you’d started to shift your weight from foot to foot, occasionally leaning down slightly to rub at your sore ankles and he changes his mind and leads the way back to his place which was only a short 5 minute walk thankfully. Jinu and Abby cheers in victory, obnoxious wooping for a bit until you smacked them both upside the head for causing a scene.

A slightly mundane routine that brought comfort to you as you deal with all the losers that are your friends.

[dedeinthewild]

lando norris x reader, early stages

-“Come on, Mr. McLaren. No Mrs., but definitely a sports car,”

summary : he bought the tickets "for her." she wore his shirt. tate sang sports car. he knew all the words. but no, he definitely doesn’t stream her on spotify.

As soon as they got in the car, she had connected her phone and, while Lando drove toward the arena, she sang along to every song on her playlist, wearing that rugby shirt she’d stolen from him and flashing the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

Even if he would never admit it, the idea of going to that concert had been his. After talking to other drivers and some friends, he found out about the tour of the singer she always talked about—and he hadn’t hesitated to go back to Monaco, set his laptop on the table, and buy two tickets.

Lando had always pretended—with his usual smug arrogance—that the trending pop music of the moment was way beneath his musical tastes, never missing a chance to remind her of that.

“That’s lame white girl music,” he’d tease her while she slid on her blue light glasses and sat next to him, peeking at everything he was doing on screen.

But deep down, he liked it.

Just like he liked when his team texted him after the release of her new album, so full of imagery about a boy so handsome he was almost dangerous, driving a sports car that seemed just a little too much like him.

Then would come a cheeky comment, a few lyrics whistled intentionally in the paddock, but he’d never really considered going to one of her concerts—mostly to avoid worsening his groupie situation. They’d probably sell their souls to see him in the crowd at something like that.

But she had been enough.

She had chosen to wear one of the old merch t-shirts she found in his apartment in Monaco and had left all the decisions to him, barely hiding her excitement at the idea of flashing those tickets at the entrance of The O2 Arena.

“Tate McRae,” he let the singer’s name roll off his lips as they queued for the parking spot he’d reserved, his right hand on the lower part of the steering wheel, elbow resting out the window, soaking in the early summer breeze of London.

“Yes,” she replied, unable to hold back a smile as she looked out at the arena, nervously running a hand through her soft, fragrant hair.

“Maybe I should’ve brought tissues,” he said, giving her one of his signature infuriating smirks, while the car engine rumbled in idle, waiting to finally be parked.

“No,” she shot back, “but you should’ve brought a mirror.” Teasing him, knowing full well how he secretly loved those songs like they’d been written just for him—in every lyric and chorus, like they were soaked in the same scent he sprayed on himself just to watch her wrinkle her nose.

“What?” he feigned innocence, following the car ahead.

She shook her head playfully, already feeling the adrenaline of what she knew would be a special night—the kind of thrill that comes from seeing the artist you listen to every morning in the car, every afternoon walk, every evening while cooking.

Lando was good at pretending he didn’t care, like he’d done all this just to make her happy. As if he didn’t know their photos would be all over the internet in two hours, and a night that felt like a dream for them would become one for thousands of fans too.

Once inside, they realized how massive the arena was—it had even hosted the F1 pre-season gala earlier that year, where he’d been one of twenty stars, standing on the very stage where Tate would soon perform. The standing area was already packed, while some sections of seats were still waiting for people to arrive, stuck in London’s nightly traffic.

Thanks to one of his contacts, Lando had bought some of the priciest tickets, in a separate section that gave them the thrill of the crowd but with seats and a near front-row view—just as Charles had suggested after attending another popstar’s tour.

“Still time to leave,” he whispered in her ear, standing behind her with his hands in the pockets of the jeans he’d chosen, his shoulders straight in a black shirt that clung to his torso in a way that could easily be considered illegal.

“Still time to admit you secretly stream her on your Spotify,” she grinned, turning to him, catching the way he couldn’t wipe off that teasing little smirk he reserved for when he was winding her up—or realizing how easily he could charm whoever stood in front of him.

“Only ‘cause you made me a playlist,” he shot back, thinking of the long summer drives in his Audi, aimless, with the playlist he made almost blowing the speakers.

“Because I knew you’d relate.”

“To what? Being emotionally damaged and hot?” he laughed, adjusting the mullet he’d grown back after months of clean fades—on her gentle request, the same girl who had dragged him to the place where everyone wanted him to be.

“Exactly,” she said, grinning, as the tech crew finished setting the stage. The lighting matched the album colors—orange and soft neon—which lit up her face as she wore that same color.

He was curious, cautious, already tapping a rhythm on his thigh.

It was one of those moments girls dream about—sending outfit pics to friends, burning every second of a moment into memory instead of a phone video. Some were already sitting, phones in hand, while others kept their hands on their girlfriends’ shoulders, softly singing along to the pre-show songs. And some—like Lando—just stole the scene.

But that was the last thing he wanted. Because even if he loved attention, tonight was for her—even if he wouldn’t admit it. She had told him many times she’d never been to a concert before, or that she’d missed out on tickets. So this one—it was her concert.

“She’s not even out yet—”

The entire arena erupted into a scream that made her wrinkle her nose, tilting her head slightly toward Lando, who had rested his chin on her shoulder, scanning the crowd—spotting a few actors and footballers, but not caring much.

“That’s the point,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Pre-scream.”

“You dragged me here for this?” he complained, grinning wider than she’d ever seen.

“You’re going to love it,” she laughed, shooting him a sideways glance, “even if it’s just lame white girl music.”

As the lights dimmed, he stood straight, his arm brushing hers as they looked at the wave of teens and girls with glittered cheeks and hairdos that had clearly taken hours.

It was hot, but the frenzy felt like cold air breathing down their necks, a thrill buzzing with anticipation.

Tate’s first songs rang out, met with the crowd’s loud approval. Lando vibed to the bass, hands in pockets, his wristband contrasting against his tan forearm, opposite his Richard Mille watch. He watched her sing every word, wearing his shirt tucked into her pants, with that wide smile showing she was having the time of her life—likely something she’d talk about for months.

And it made him smile too. Until the tension crept in—the weight of their undefined situation.

They’d been “something” for months now—joking like old friends, then flirting with an undertone they never named. Their “friendly” outings had him wearing his nicest shirts and asking for as many paddock passes as possible just to have her travel with him.

When Sports Car came on, his chest was lightly pressed against her back, hands high enough to graze her waist but not touch, his eyes fixed on the stage from above, savoring every word sung by the crowd.

It was his song now. Everyone said so.

"I think you know what this is I think you wanna uh No, you ain't got no Mrs. Oh, but you got a sports car"

He smiled—that smug, charming grin that somehow never made him unlikeable—as he stood there, muscles peeking through his shirt, those piercing green eyes glowing even more under the lights.

As the show went on, she realized the joy of being there was now sharing space with the awareness that she was there with Lando Norris—and with every word Tate sang, he claimed a little more of her space without ever feeling intrusive.

“Oh, don’t start,” he said as the beat dropped, chin slightly lifted.

“Come on, Mr. McLaren. No Mrs., but definitely a sports car,” she teased, biting her lip to hide a grin full of tension and butterflies. Lando was so close—to her, and no one else. And he never missed a chance to tease her.

“Okay, I’ll admit it. She’s good.”

She turned, savoring those five minutes that marked the last third of the concert—time had flown between lights and confetti.

His chain lay against his collarbones, creating a crease in his shirt that highlighted his chest and arms—always growing stronger from the effort he poured into reaching the top of his career.

He looked down at her, eyes locked, the kind of smile she wanted to steal right off his face. His skin smooth from the shave he remembered to do that morning—when she woke him up with the smell of pancakes.

“Maybe it’s the company,” he added, finally making her melt.

"I just want your two hands on me at all times, baby If you let go (I want your two hands) Better put 'em right back, fast Want your two hands on me like my life needs savin' Let 'em all know (I want your two hands) Can you do it like that? Yeah"

Lando had embraced the vibe—singing with her, helping a few girls take pictures with the venue behind them, showing that sweet, kind side of him she adored so much.

He looked fully in his element—hands up, taking photos for people, handing phones back gently, then leaning against the barricades and moving with the beat. Watching her like she wasn’t just some beautiful girl, but his.

“Think you can handle that?” he teased again, quoting the lyrics as she leaned closer, their elbows touching, trading warmth and that faint London humidity that kissed their skin.

“That’s a challenge?” she replied, her usual blush hidden by the pink lights.

Lando looked at his hands, licking his lips.

"Dear God, take his kiss right out of my brain Take the pleasure out of my pain Take the way he'd used to say I love you Dear God, get his imprint out of my bed Take away the way I still might want to"

She pulled out her phone and started a new note, jotting down all the songs that caught Lando’s attention the most. He watched her, amused—and in a way, thankful he came with her, doing one of his press-friendly fashion moves and giving her a perfect night.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you a playlist with a horrible title,” she smiled, like the song they’d just heard hadn’t been full of innuendos.

“You’re horrible,” he laughed, taking her hand, still leaning on the barricade.

“And yet you love me.”

Lando paused, looked into her eyes, then slightly down at her lips, still a little damp from singing—but instead of thinking about kissing them, he focused on that happy smile.

“I might,” he said softly. “You make it really hard not to.”

He didn’t let go of her hand. Not when the concert ended, as they took a few photos and joined in chanting for the singer before she left the stage. Not even as people started filing out, chasing a bit of fresh air after the heat of the night.

When she was ready to go and turn the night into a memory, he started walking toward the exit, her smaller hand still in his large driver’s hand—the one she’d always wanted to hold but never dared to, afraid it would ruin things.

Her eyes were locked on him, on how confidently he walked, the black shirt hugging his back and hinting at the return of that mullet that made him look even more stylish than he already was. How he’d turn and glance at her, pointing out small details they’d missed, keeping her close in the gentlest, most genuine way.

He stroked her palm. He knew she was behind him. That everyone knew he was there. That the gorgeous, seemingly unattainable Formula 1 driver—the one everyone said Tate McRae’s songs were about—had come to her concert. And he’d come with a girl.

“You’re kind of the hot boyfriend everyone wants right now,” she said once outside, as he sat on a concrete cylinder, arms resting on his knees with that post-concert calm she’d always dreamed of. Some girls walked past, still singing, snapping their final photos.

“Kind of?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Well, I’m still deciding,” she smirked, as he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer, locking eyes with her again.

“Decide now,” he said, wetting his lips. “You dragged me here just to roast me with pop music. And now you’re getting soft on me?”

“You liked the pop music.”

“I loved it.”

“And the lyrics?” she asked, burying her hands in his hair, still stunned that someone so impossibly handsome could be so impossibly hers.

“Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been a country concert.”

She rolled her eyes.

Knowing it was just the first of many concerts. And the start of a beautiful, messy, perfect unfolding.

guess whose birthday is it? if your lucky guess was me, then yeah, I'll gift you this little lando x reader 'cause you were right! I have been pondering for days if I should get tickets to tate or not, and the obvious answer is that I should but I've spent way too much lately...

[reidmarieprentiss]

Finding Home Again: Part One

Summary: Y/N meets Spencer Reid when she is 11-years-old, her older brother, Adam, is his classmate and friend. They reconnect at Adam's wedding.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, one bed trope

Warnings/Includes: mild bullying, name calling, bisexual spencer reid (it's canon to me), wedding activities, swimming in underwear, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress, suggestive content (16+), commitment issues, emotionally unavailable parents, bad relationship with parents, confrontation

Word count: 12.4k

a/n: part two is here!!

main masterlist

Spencer Reid was a terrified 8-year-old freshman in high school. As he navigated the crowded hallways, his small frame was easily overlooked, but his presence still drew strange looks and whispered comments. He felt extremely uncomfortable and out of place, his heart pounding with every step. By the end of the day, he still hadn't had a single student offer any help or kindness to him. 

His last class of the day was Algebra 2, and he felt a flicker of hope. Math had always been his sanctuary, a place where numbers and equations made sense when nothing else did. When he walked into the classroom, he noticed that there was assigned seating. Relief washed over him; at least he wouldn't have to struggle to find somewhere to sit.

As everyone got settled in, Spencer found his assigned seat next to a tall, friendly-looking boy. Before he had a chance to take out his notebook, the boy turned to him and smiled warmly.

"I'm Adam," he said, extending his hand for a handshake.

Spencer looked at the hand and then back up at Adam, feeling a wave of anxiety. "Hi, I'm Spencer, and I don't shake hands," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Adam laughed, not in a mean way, but with genuine amusement. "Hi, Spencer who doesn't shake hands. It's nice to meet you."

Spencer felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. For the first time that day, he felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, high school wouldn't be so bad after all.

— 

Y/N had spent the past few years immersed in the bustling streets and rich culture of Paris, attending a prestigious boarding school that promised to refine her language skills and broaden her horizons. Yet, despite the allure of the City of Light, she often felt the sting of loneliness, her parents' distance echoing even across the ocean. Now, at age 11, she was returning home a month earlier than the American school year ended, her heart a mix of exhaustion and anticipation.

As the chauffeur-driven car pulled up to the grand but cold mansion in the suburbs of Las Vegas, Y/N's heart sank. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that her parents would be there to greet her. Instead, the familiar figure of their chauffeur, Robert, was the one to open the car door.

"Welcome home, Miss Y/N," he said with a polite smile.

She forced a smile in return, hiding her disappointment. "Thank you, Robert."

Dragging her feet along the paved path, she entered the house, its opulence doing little to warm the cold emptiness she felt. She made her way to the living room, hoping to find solace in the familiarity of home, but instead, she was met with the unexpected sight of her brother, Adam, and a group of his friends, hunched over textbooks and notebooks.

"Hey, Y/N!" Adam greeted her with a grin, looking up from his textbook. "Welcome back!"

"Hi," she replied, her voice flat. She was too tired and too upset to muster any enthusiasm. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing the familiar faces of her brother's friends that she’d seen in pictures he’d sent. When her eyes finally landed on a boy who was clearly much younger than the rest, with tousled brown hair and a slightly awkward demeanor. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a mixture of curiosity and shyness.

“Who are you?” Y/N hadn’t meant to be rude, she was just slightly shocked to see someone her own age among the older boys.

"This is Spencer," Adam introduced, gesturing to the boy. "Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She just got back from Paris."

"Hi," Spencer said softly, offering a small, tentative smile.

"Hi," Y/N replied, her frustration momentarily forgotten as she took in the boy who seemed as out of place in their luxurious home as she felt. "Nice to meet you."

"Sorry we're invading the living room," Adam said, noticing her weariness. "We're just cramming for finals. Spencer here is a genius when it comes to math and science, so he's been helping us out."

Y/N nodded, her exhaustion catching up with her. "It's fine. I just need to rest, so please, no screaming about fractions."

She turned to head upstairs, her feet thudding against each step as she climbed. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy towards the study group, wishing she had that kind of camaraderie during her time in Paris. They didn’t take well to American’s, no matter how long she was there nor how fluent she spoke. But more than anything, she wished her parents had cared enough to be there when she came home.

—

The summer before his senior year stretched out long and hot, with the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the hum of cicadas. Adam, now balancing a job cleaning pools and the pressures of preparing for SATs, ACTs, and college applications, found his days filled to the brim. He wasn't working for the money; his parents' wealth ensured he never had to worry about that. But he wanted to break free from the golden cage, to carve out a future where he wasn’t reliant on his parents.

Y/N watched from the sidelines as her brother’s schedule became increasingly packed. She missed the days when they would goof around together, but understood that Adam had his own life to lead. Meanwhile, Spencer Reid found himself spending more and more time with Adam. Spencer wasn't old enough to work yet, but his days were equally busy with preparations for the same academic hurdles.

One hot afternoon, Adam and Spencer were sitting on the back porch, textbooks and notes spread out between them. Adam was explaining a particularly tricky math problem, his hair falling into his eyes as he spoke. Spencer listened intently, his eyes occasionally flicking up to Adam's face, a subtle admiration in his gaze.

"Got it?" Adam asked, looking over at Spencer with a friendly smile.

Spencer nodded, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, thanks. You're really good at explaining things."

Adam laughed lightly, clapping Spencer on the back. "No problem, buddy. We make a good team, huh?"

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the casual touch, his mind racing with unspoken feelings. "Yeah, we do."

Their interactions were always like this—simple, friendly, but with an undercurrent of something more for Spencer. He couldn't help the crush that had developed, even though he knew it was impossible. Adam was older, focused on his future, and saw Spencer as a friend, maybe even a little brother.

One day, as they were packing up their study materials, Adam glanced over at Spencer. "Hey, thanks for helping me stay on track this summer. I know I’ve been busy, but it’s been cool hanging out with you."

Spencer smiled, the words warming his heart. "It's been cool for me too. I’ve learned a lot."

"You're gonna ace those tests, no doubt," Adam said with a confident grin. "And who knows, maybe we'll end up at the same college."

Spencer's eyes lit up at the thought, but he quickly tempered his excitement, not wanting to seem too eager. "Yeah, that would be great."

As Adam slung his bag over his shoulder and headed inside, Spencer lingered on the porch for a moment, watching him go. He knew his feelings for Adam would likely never be reciprocated, but he cherished these moments of closeness, however fleeting they might be.

Y/N observed all this from her bedroom window, a quiet observer to the crush Spencer clearly had on her older brother. She felt the green monster of jealousy coil up inside of her. Why doesn’t Spencer look at her like that? Is she not as smart as Adam? Not as funny? Maybe he only likes older people.

One particularly warm day, Spencer was over to help Adam revise an application essay. They were hanging out by the pool, both to Spencer's excitement and frustration. He didn't want to take his shirt off in front of Adam; he was so scrawny compared to the man Adam was becoming. He didn't even have hair under his arms yet! Spencer found himself getting worked up over the muscle Adam had put on while cleaning pools, feeling increasingly self-conscious.

"Hey, I'm going to grab some lemonade," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice steady as he got up from his lounge chair.

Adam looked up from his notes and nodded. "Sure thing, grab some for me too, will ya?"

Spencer nodded and walked briskly into the house, his thoughts a whirl of admiration and insecurity. As he poured himself a glass of lemonade, having kindly turned down the offer from one of the kitchen staff to do it for him, Y/N walked into the kitchen in a swimsuit. She knew what she was doing; she wanted to see if Spencer would look at her like he did her brother.

"Hi, Spencer," she greeted, her voice casual but her eyes searching.

Spencer almost dropped the pitcher, startled by her sudden appearance. "H-hi, Y/N..."

"How’s it going? Is it hot out there?" she asked, leaning against the counter with an air of nonchalance.

"Mhm, it's hot and, uh, yeah, good. You?" Spencer stammered, trying to keep his eyes on her face and not let them wander. Stupid hormones.

"I'm good, bored. Think I'm gonna go for a swim," Y/N replied, giving him a pointed look.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up. "Oh, cool. Swimming sounds nice."

Y/N nodded. "You should join me sometime. It’s a good way to cool off, especially on days like this."

"I, uh, maybe," Spencer managed, his voice cracking slightly.

She smiled at him. "Well, I'll be out there if you change your mind."

With that, she turned and walked out towards the pool, leaving Spencer standing there, his heart racing. He couldn't help but feel a confusing mix of emotions. He liked Y/N; she was kind and funny in her own way. But his feelings for Adam were something different, something he couldn't quite understand or control.

As he walked back outside with the lemonade, he caught sight of Y/N cannonballing into the pool. Adam looked up and waved Spencer over, oblivious to the tension Spencer was feeling.

"Thanks, man," Adam said, taking the glass from Spencer. "You should take a dip too. Y/N's got the right idea; it's a great way to beat the heat."

Spencer nodded, trying to smile. "Maybe later."

He sat back down, trying to focus on the essay in front of him, but his mind kept wandering. He glanced over at Y/N, who was swimming leisurely, and then at Adam, who was scribbling notes in the margin of his paper. Spencer felt like he was caught in the middle of something he didn't quite understand, struggling to find his place in the dynamics of this family that had become so important to him.

—

The day of Adam's graduation was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Adam, ever the unexpected, had committed to Florida State, a decision that had shocked and horrified many. Spencer could hardly believe it when he heard the news. Florida State, a school notorious for its party culture, seemed an odd choice for someone who had always been so focused on academics. But Adam was a party boy through and through, and now, with the immense college fund his parents had set up for him, he had the freedom to choose his own path.

That night, Adam's family mansion was abuzz with a grand celebration party. The opulent rooms were filled with friends, family, and well-wishers, all toasting to Adam's future. Spencer, though trying to be happy for his friend, felt a gnawing sense of sadness and anxiety. Graduating at only 12-years-old and moving away to college meant leaving behind the only family that had ever felt like his.

As the party continued, Spencer found himself feeling more and more overwhelmed. Seeking solace, he looked around for Y/N. He found her standing by the grand staircase, looking as though she was taking a brief respite from the festivities.

"Y/N," he called softly, and she turned to him, her eyes filled with concern at his slightly panicked appearance.

"Hey, Spencer," she said gently, sensing his turmoil. "Do you want to go outside?"

Spencer nodded, grateful for her intuition. She led him out of the mansion and into the expansive garden. The night air was cool and soothing, and the garden was a haven of tranquility away from the noise of the party. They walked in silence for a while, the stars twinkling above them like scattered diamonds.

Y/N finally stopped at a secluded spot, a bench under a large oak tree. She sat down and patted the space next to her. Spencer joined her, taking a deep breath as he looked up at the sky.

"I can't believe he's going to Florida State," Spencer said, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of sadness.

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, it's a surprise, but it's his choice. He’s an adult now."

Spencer sighed. "I know. It's just... I'm going to miss him. And you. This place feels like home, and now I'm leaving."

Y/N placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll miss you too, Spencer. But you'll do amazing things, I know it. You've always been great."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "It's just... scary, you know? Moving away, being on my own. What if I don't fit in?"

Y/N smiled warmly. "You will. You always do."

They sat in comfortable silence, gazing up at the stars. The night was calm, the garden a peaceful contrast to the lively celebration inside. Spencer felt a sense of peace wash over him, comforted by Y/N's presence and her words.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking over at her. "For being here. For understanding."

Y/N squeezed his shoulder gently. "I’ll always be here for you, Spencer."

As they sat together, the weight of the impending changes felt a little lighter. The stars above seemed to shine a bit brighter, and for the first time that night, Spencer felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

—

24 years old now, Spencer Reid hadn't thought about Adam in years, but when the invitation arrived in the mail, it brought back a flood of memories. He held the ornate envelope in his hands, his heart pounding with a mix of nostalgia and nerves. The invitation was to Adam's wedding, an event that promised to reunite old friends and acquaintances. Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of obligation to attend. Adam had always been kind to him during those tumultuous high school years.

Despite his apprehension, Spencer decided to go. He meticulously planned his trip, ensuring he had everything he needed to make a good impression. The journey to the wedding venue in Napa Valley, California was a blur of anxious thoughts and memories of the past. As he arrived at the grand hotel where the event was being held, he felt a knot of nerves tightening in his stomach.

Meanwhile, Y/N was also preparing for the wedding. She couldn't help but feel excitement and trepidation at the thought of seeing Spencer again, Adam informed her that he had RSVP’d yes. She had always harbored a silly little crush on him, one that had persisted through the years despite their long separation. The idea of seeing him again, older and perhaps changed, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The wedding weekend began with a flurry of activities. The hotel was abuzz with guests arriving, mingling, and catching up. Spencer found himself lost in the crowd, his nerves making it difficult to relax. As he checked in at the front desk, the receptionist handed him a key card with a polite smile.

"Here you go, Dr. Reid. Room 212," she said.

Spencer thanked her and made his way to the elevator, his mind racing with thoughts of what the weekend could entail. He arrived at the door to his room and swiped the key card. As he pushed the door open, he was met with an unexpected sight.

Y/N was standing in the middle of the room, her back to him as she attempted to pull up the zipper of her dress. Upon hearing the door open, she spun around with a scream, holding the dress to her chest.

“What the fuck!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.

“I’m so sorry!” Spencer stammered, equally startled.

“Spencer?” she said, her expression shifting from surprise to recognition.

“Y/N?” he replied, still trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, still clutching the dress to her chest.

“I don’t know, this is the room I was told I'm staying in. My key opened the door…” he explained, holding up the key card as if it could somehow explain everything.

“Shit. Okay. Something must have gotten messed up. I'll check it out as soon as I'm dressed,” Y/N said, her tone calming slightly.

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll just leave you be,” Spencer said, starting to back out of the room.

“Actually… Spencer, could you help me with the zipper?” Y/N asked, her voice softer and a bit embarrassed.

Spencer paused, his face flushing. “Uh, sure. Of course.”

He stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him. Y/N turned around, holding her hair up to give him access to the zipper. His hands trembled slightly as he grasped the zipper, carefully pulling it up the back of her dress.

“Thank you,” she said softly once he had finished.

“No problem,” Spencer replied, stepping back and trying to keep his eyes respectfully averted.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Well, let’s go sort this out. Maybe the front desk can figure out what happened.”

As they left the room together, Spencer couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of awkwardness and nostalgia. Despite the initial shock, there was something oddly comforting about being in Y/N’s presence again. 

—

"So you're saying every single room in the entire hotel is booked? How is that even possible?” Y/N asked, her frustration evident.

“Well, miss, your wedding party is not the only group staying here. It is a very popular vineyard, especially at this time of year,” the receptionist explained calmly.

“So what you’re saying is we have to share this room?” Y/N pressed, trying to find a solution.

“You could stay with someone else, but yes, there are no more rooms available,” the receptionist confirmed.

Y/N sighed deeply, rubbing between her brows. “Okay. Thank you.”

Spencer and Y/N walked away from the desk, both trying to process the situation. Spencer broke the silence with a lighthearted joke. “Hopefully this is the worst thing that will happen this weekend.”

Y/N looked at him, a mix of apology and stress in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t mean to make you think I’d hate to share a room with you… it’s just, this weekend is already going to be stressful.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry for teasing. It’s okay. It will be like the sleepovers we had as kids,” Spencer said, trying to reassure her.

“You mean where you and Adam slept in the game room and I stayed as far away as possible?” Y/N responded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“Exactly,” Spencer bubbled with laughter, the tension between them easing a bit.

They made their way back to their shared room, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic, thinking back to those simpler times. Y/N, too, found herself feeling a bit more at ease, her initial worries about the weekend beginning to fade. 

—

Once they were back in the room, Y/N looked over at Spencer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I was going to pretend to be courteous and ask what side of the bed you prefer… but I have to sleep next to the window,” she announced, a playful smile on her lips.

“Oh, well, thank you for almost considering my feelings!” Spencer laughed, his tension easing. “I don’t mind either way, but if you snore half as bad as your brother, I’m putting a pillow over your face.”

“Oh my god, that man could cut down trees with that chainsaw he keeps in his mouth!” Y/N exclaimed, her laughter filling the room.

They shared some giggles, the awkwardness between them dissolving into familiarity and warmth.

“It’s really nice to see you, Spencer,” Y/N said sincerely, her eyes softening as she looked at him.

“You too, Y/N. You look so grown up,” Spencer replied, noting the elegance and maturity in her appearance.

“Well, 12 years will do that to someone,” she said with a chuckle, her gaze lingering on him.

“Not me, I still look the same,” Spencer said, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“Yeah,” Y/N tilted her head to the side, studying his face. “You really haven’t changed at all.”

“Okay, easy now,” Spencer protested lightly, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Did you ever grow armpit hair?” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Hey!” Spencer exclaimed, trying to defend his dignity.

“Oh, come on, Spencer! Show me!” Y/N teased further, taking a playful step towards him.

“No, Y/N. Hey, get away from me!” Spencer laughed as Y/N chased him around the room, her determination to see his armpits turning into a playful game.

With a burst of energy, Y/N ended up tackling him to the bed, sitting successfully on his stomach. “Give it up, Spencer, I win.”

“Nope!” he yelled triumphantly before using all his strength to flip her, pinning her down and tickling her.

Y/N cackled and shouted, “Uncle! Uncle!” between fits of laughter.

When Spencer finally pulled back, they both noticed the precarious position they were in. Spencer was between Y/N’s thighs with his hands by her head, both of them panting in each other’s mouths. The laughter faded as they locked eyes, the weight of the years apart and the sudden closeness creating a charged moment.

“I need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner,” Y/N whispered.

Spencer took the cue and got off of Y/N and the bed. “Mhm, yup. Me too.”

“Um, I showered when I got here. So, uh, I’ll just go get ready in the bridal suite. You can have the room,” Y/N said as she gathered the things she would need to get ready.

“Y/N… you don’t have to leave, I’m sorry.”

“What? Nothing to be sorry about. Just giving you your privacy. See you later, Spencer.”

“Yeah, see—” but she had already shut the door behind her. 

Spencer ran his hands over his face, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion. What had he been thinking? The sudden intimacy had caught him off guard, and now he felt a pang of regret for how awkward things had become. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and began preparing for the rehearsal dinner, hoping the rest of the evening would go more smoothly.

— 

Y/N was not a bridesmaid, but she was fine with that. She wasn't all that interested in the responsibilities and duties that came with it anyway. She was still very close with her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Elizabeth, and it was no problem for her to get ready in the bridal suite. Once she explained the mix-up with the rooms, Elizabeth was extremely apologetic and understanding.

At the rehearsal dinner, Y/N’s seat was, of course, next to Spencer’s. He had arrived before her, which meant she spotted the back of his head before she sat down, giving her time to make a run for the open bar before making her way to the table.

As she sat down, Spencer looked over and his breath caught at the sight of her. Y/N looked absolutely radiant in her rehearsal dinner attire. The outfit suited her perfectly, complementing all of her assets and making her eyes shine. Maybe he had been silly to waste all those years alongside her chasing after her brother when she was right there. Although, he figured it probably would have been difficult to maintain a long-distance relationship at 12 while he was in university.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted him, her smile warm and genuine.

“Hi,” Spencer replied, still a bit breathless. “You look... amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling more at ease. “Thanks. It’s nice to be here. I mean, it’s been so long.”

“Yeah, it has,” Y/N agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s crazy how time flies.”

As they settled into conversation, the initial awkwardness from earlier seemed to dissipate. They talked about their lives, their work, and the memories from their youth, finding common ground and shared experiences. The laughter and joyfulness that had once defined their friendship began to resurface, making the evening feel less like a reunion of strangers and more like a gathering of old friends.

Throughout the dinner, Spencer couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, marveling at how she had grown into such a beautiful and confident woman. The realization that he might have missed something special by focusing so much on Adam gnawed at him, but he tried to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the present moment.

After all the speeches were given and the eating was rehearsed, the youngest and oldest of the crowd turned into their rooms for the night. The bridal party and groomsmen left as well, all needing to be up very early. This left the young to middle-aged adults to the complimentary after-dinner party. There were free drinks, a dance floor, karaoke, and dimmed lighting.

Y/N looked over at Spencer, not knowing if this was his cup of tea or not. “Do you want to stay for a bit?”

The idea of cutting the night short didn't sit well with him, especially not with how Y/N was looking at him. “No, no, I'd like to stay if you do.”

“Sure,” she smiled. “I’ll stay.”

The two walked over to the bar to get a drink. Spencer had very rarely indulged in alcohol. Gideon had tried to introduce him to scotch, which he hated. Hotch had shown him whiskey, which wasn’t as bad but still too strong. Derek ordered him a Sex on the Beach that he really liked but was too embarrassed to order on his own. So he didn't know what he was going to do when the bartender looked at him.

“What will you have, miss?” the bartender asked Y/N.

“Just an appletini, please,” she replied. The bartender nodded and turned his attention to Spencer.

Spencer could feel his palms sweat as he ran over every drink he knew of. Y/N leaned over and asked, “Do you want me to order for you?”

Spencer nodded gratefully and whispered his order in her ear. Y/N pulled away, absolutely delighted. She told the bartender his drink before looking back to Spencer and saying, “At least ask me on a date first, you men are all the same,” teasing the poor red man.

Spencer blushed furiously but couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you,” he said, his embarrassment mingling with amusement.

The bartender soon returned with their drinks—Y/N’s appletini and Spencer’s Sex on the Beach. Y/N handed Spencer his drink, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Here you go, pervert. Enjoy.”

Spencer blushed even more, laughing despite himself. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip and feeling the sweet, fruity flavors calm his nerves.

They moved to a small table near the dance floor, the music a pleasant background to their conversation. Y/N sipped her drink and looked around, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

“So, Dr. Reid,” she began, her tone playful, “what’s your favorite part about weddings?”

Spencer thought for a moment, a small smile forming on his lips. “Honestly, I’ve never been to a wedding before. Have you?”

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah. I think my favorite part is the dancing. I’ve always wanted someone to swing me around the dance floor at a wedding, it looks so romantic.”

Spencer took note of what Y/N was saying, thinking that maybe he could be the one to dance her around tomorrow at the reception. “You know, I never said thank you,” Spencer said.

“For what?” Y/N tilted her head.

“For being nice to me, you and Adam both. You never laughed at me or made me feel weird for being so young and advanced.”

“Spencer…” Y/N said with a hint of questioning in her voice. “Why would we make fun of you for being smart? Oh ha ha, look at this guy, he knows way more than us.”

Spencer chuckled. “I know, but still, thank you.”

Y/N smiled warmly, reaching across the table to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re welcome, Spencer. You’ve always been special to us.”

Spencer felt his heart grow ten sizes at her words, 'us,' and the fact that Y/N remembered his aversion for touching hands. Screw Adam and Elizabeth, he’d marry Y/N tomorrow. Now, that might be a little dramatic, but whatever.

As Spencer and Y/N continued to catch up and enjoy each other's company, they also consumed more drinks. The alcohol birthed an idea in Y/N’s pretty head, quite a good one if she says so.

“Spencer,” she leaned in, her voice playful.

“Yes, ma'am,” he responded, also leaning in until their foreheads pressed together.

Y/N giggled before sharing her idea, “We should go swimming.”

“What? Where?” Spencer asked, bewildered.

“The hotel has a pool!” she exclaimed, her excitement infectious.

“Isn’t it closed by now?” Spencer asked, skeptical but intrigued.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head against his, her movement causing his glasses to brush against her eyebrows. “It’s open 24/7.”

Spencer was nervous; he knew Y/N liked to swim, but he wasn’t very good at it, not having done much swimming since his last summer with Adam. But he couldn’t say no to her, it would appear.

“Okay, let’s go,” he agreed, the decision making his heart race.

Y/N squealed in delight, grabbing Spencer by his bicep and dragging him behind her. She squeezed the muscle in her hand before wiggling her eyebrows at him and saying, “Wow, doctor, did you put on some muscle?”

Spencer blushed something fierce. “I had to, I’m in the FBI.”

“Ohh good, I’m gonna need a big strong man in case we get into danger,” Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt like he already was in danger, but a kind he was willing to face.

—

Once at the pool, they were both relieved to find no one else there; it was pretty late after all. As they approached the water, Spencer suddenly realized a flaw in Y/N's plan.

“Y/N, wait,” he grabbed her arm. “What about swimsuits?”

She smirked at him and pulled her arm away before grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling it off. Spencer's eyes were as wide as saucers, hilariously magnified by his frames.

“Close your mouth, doctor. Wouldn't want you to catch flies,” she teased, and with that, she jumped into the pool.

As Y/N resurfaced, Spencer noticed her makeup was impressively intact, probably some of that new waterproof stuff they make. She swam over to the edge in front of Spencer before looking up at him with a gaze not unlike a siren luring in prey.

“Come on in, Spence. The water feels amazing,” she coaxed, her voice soft and inviting.

Spencer, under the influence of something much stronger than alcohol, started shedding his clothes down to his briefs. Y/N wolf-whistled once he had his shirt off, causing a full-body flush to take over him. As soon as he was down to his last article, he jumped into the water to avoid her staring any longer.

The cool water enveloped him, a refreshing contrast to the heat he felt under Y/N's gaze. He surfaced, pushing his hair back and adjusting his glasses, which had miraculously stayed on.

“There you are,” Y/N said, swimming over to him. “Isn’t this nice?”

“Yeah,” Spencer admitted, feeling a bit more at ease now that he was in the water. “It’s actually really nice.”

“Are you ready?” Y/N asked, her voice low and taunting, getting very close to Spencer in the water, their bodies almost touching.

Spencer felt like he was going to pass out. “Re–ready for what?”

“Race ya!” she exclaimed, and with that, she was off, swimming away with powerful strokes.

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden challenge. Then, with a determined look, he launched himself after her, his competitive spirit kicking in despite his nerves. The cool water rushed past him as he swam, his strokes becoming more confident as he pushed himself to keep up with Y/N.

She reached the far end of the pool first, touching the wall and turning to see Spencer still making his way towards her. She laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night air.

“You’re slow, Dr. Reid!” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer reached the wall, panting but smiling. “Not all of us are part fish, Y/N.”

“Hey, I’m not that fast,” she said with a playful pout. “You did pretty well for someone who has never won a swimming race, ever.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, catching his breath. “But next time, I’ll beat you.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he said, feeling bolder. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I like when you get cocky, it suits you,” Y/N said, her voice dropping to a flirtatious purr as she swam closer to him, their bodies almost touching again.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. “Oh really? I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“There’s a lot you have in you, Spencer,” she replied, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. “Maybe you just need the right person to bring it out.”

“And who, um–who do you think that person is?” he asked, his voice trembling and nervous.

“Someone who,” she whispered, her lips just inches from his. “Would have se–”

“Hey! What are you two doing in here?” a security guard called out.

“Nothing!” Spencer yelped.

“Just leaving!” Y/N added quickly.

They scrambled out of the pool, grabbing their clothes and running down a hallway towards the elevators. Once they were safely inside one, they looked at each other and started laughing.

“I thought you said it was open all night!” Spencer exclaimed between breaths.

“I may have told a fib to get you to come swimming with me,” Y/N admitted, giving her best puppy dog eyes. “Are you mad at me, Spence?”

Spencer could see her hard nipples poking through the soaking wet, thin material of her bra and couldn’t find himself to be anything but aroused. “Uh, no, no. Not mad, that was fun.”

Y/N caught him looking but didn’t say anything. What man wouldn’t look at wet breasts right in his face?

“Yeah, it was,” she agreed, smiling. “Thanks for going with me.”

As Spencer looked up at the ceiling to avoid staring at Y/N’s half-naked body, she took her opportunity to glance down at his scantily concealed half hard bulge. She could see the entire outline through his wet, hot pink briefs.

“Never took you as a pink guy, doctor,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer blushed fiercely, trying to cover himself with his clothes. “They were a gift,” he mumbled, embarrassed but unable to keep from smiling.

“Well, I think they suit you,” she said with a wink.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped out, making their way back to their room, still dripping wet and grinning from ear to ear. Once inside, they both burst out laughing again, the adrenaline from their escapade still coursing through them.

“Here,” Y/N said, grabbing a couple of towels from the bathroom and tossing one to Spencer. “Dry off before you catch a cold.”

“Thanks,” he replied, wrapping the towel around himself. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, toweling off her hair. “But it was worth it.”

Spencer nodded, his heart still racing. “Yeah, it was.”

They both stood there for a moment, wrapped in towels and basking in the afterglow of their impromptu adventure. The tension between them was palpable, but so was the camaraderie and affection.

“Well,” Y/N said finally, breaking the silence. “I guess we should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed reluctantly, not wanting the evening to end. “Uh, do you want to shower first?”

“Thanks, Spencer,” Y/N nodded her head and grabbed her things.

The next 10 minutes were the hardest, literally, of Spencer's entire life. Knowing Y/N was naked and wet on the other side of the door was pure torture. He could hear the water running, imagine the steam filling the room, and envision her silhouette behind the shower curtain. When Y/N cracked open the bathroom door and peeked her head out, Spencer sat up faster than ever before, super not obvious at all.

“Sorry… I kind of forgot to bring any clothes in, so I need to come out in my towel. Is that okay?” she asked, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“Ye–yeah. Mhm,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s totally fine, no big deal. Why would I care?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Y/N looked at him skeptically, a playful glint in her eye. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Spencer nodded and waited until Y/N was facing her suitcase to make a break for it, sprinting to the bathroom so she didn't see his very prominent boner tenting his pants. Y/N turned around quickly at the sound of the bathroom door slamming, finding his behavior odd.

In the shower, Spencer turned the water to cold and willed his erection away. The icy water was a shock to his system, but he needed it to calm down. He had not indulged much in self-pleasure and had certainly never seen as much of a woman as he saw today, let alone been touched by one. Eventually, it did go down, and he got out, only to realize he hadn't brought a towel. Of fucking course.

Spencer was now the one sticking his head out of the crack he made in the doorway, “Y/N…?”

“Yeah, Spencer, what’s up?” she called back, now sitting in the bed.

“I, um, forgot a towel,” he admitted, feeling his face heat up again.

“Oh shit, let me grab yours,” Y/N replied, getting up and walking over to his bag to retrieve the towel.

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to make himself as small as possible behind the door.

When Y/N walked over to hand the towel to Spencer, she couldn’t help but immediately break into giggles.

“Oh, that’s what every guy wants to hear. What is it?” Spencer asked, mortified, his head barely poking out from behind the door.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between laughs, “it’s just that I can see your butt in the mirror.”

Completely horrified, Spencer slammed the door shut and banged his head on it. “Can we please forget about this?” he groaned, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Absolutely not! You have the cutest ass I’ve ever seen!” Y/N called out, her laughter echoing through the room.

Spencer felt his face burn even more as he dried off and quickly dressed. When he emerged from the bathroom, he avoided eye contact with Y/N, who was still chuckling softly, a wide grin on her face.

“Ready for bed?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye, clearly still amused by the situation.

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment as he climbed into his side of the bed.

They settled into their respective sides, the awkwardness from the bathroom incident lingering but slowly giving way to a more comfortable silence.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” Y/N said softly, turning off the bedside lamp and snuggling under the covers.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, settling into his pillow and trying to calm his racing thoughts.

As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, Spencer couldn’t help but smile. Despite the awkward moments and his own nervousness, he felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt since that last summer. This weekend, for all its surprises, was turning out to be something special. And as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

— 

When the room’s phone began ringing with a wake-up call in the morning, both Y/N and Spencer groaned at being woken up. Y/N stuck her arm out, grabbed the phone, and hung it up to stop the sound rattling in her head. Much to her surprise and gratitude, she was not hungover, just very tired. She went to roll over to go back to sleep when she noticed her body was being restricted by multiple different body parts, none of which belonged to her.

Spencer had one arm around her waist, his other beneath his head, one leg on her hip, and the other between both of her legs. The man had wrapped himself around her like a human octopus. He was also awake, not having slept through the wake-up call, but was paralyzed out of fear or embarrassment, maybe both.

Y/N felt him tense up and his breathing grow rapid, signaling that he was awake. “Well, good morning to you too, Dr. Reid. Or is it Doc Ock?” she teased, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Spencer mumbled, his face burning with embarrassment.

“I know I am, thank you,” Y/N said, a smirk playing on her lips.

They lay in silence for a few more moments, both of them thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the other's body pressed against their own.

“So, not that I'm complaining, but were you planning on letting me go anytime soon?” Y/N asked, amusement evident in her tone.

“Oh god, yes. I'm so sorry,” Spencer said, hurriedly trying to disentangle himself. In his haste, he managed to rub his morning wood against Y/N’s ass.

“Jesus, Reid! Any of your other body parts you want to touch me with?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, nope. Actually, I think I'm just going to open the window and jump out. I think the 15 floors will kill me,” he said, his voice muffled from behind his hands that were hiding his extremely red face.

Y/N laughed softly, reaching out to gently pull his hands away from his face. “Hey, it’s okay. It happens,” she said, her tone reassuring. “No need to jump out the window.”

Spencer looked at her, still blushing but grateful for her understanding. “Thanks, Y/N. I’m really sorry about that.”

She shrugged, giving him a playful smile. “It’s all part of the fun, right? Besides, I’d miss having you around.”

Spencer managed a small smile, feeling a bit better. “I’d miss you too.”

They lay there for a moment longer, the initial awkwardness giving way to a comfortable silence. Until Y/N, unable to resist tormenting Spencer, said, “Did you want a hand with that?”

“What??” he half-squeaked, half-screamed.

Y/N threw her head back, laughing hard in the early morning light shining in.

“You’re so mean,” Spencer muttered, his face a deep shade of red.

“Aww, did you really want me to?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m not answering that,” he replied, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

“All in good time, young grasshopper,” Y/N said, patting his arm playfully.

Spencer, rolling his eyes and unable to stand Y/N’s antics any longer, got out of bed to get ready for the day. He needed coffee, and maybe 50,000 shots of alcohol. What he failed to consider was that he was still hard, in loose gray sweats, and that he was sharing a room with Y/N, the worst person, ever.

“Whoa baby! I didn’t realize you were holding out on me! Get back here!” Y/N called out, patting the bed and laughing even harder.

Spencer, mortified, ran to the bathroom, his face burning with embarrassment. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to calm his racing heart. The cold shower earlier had been nothing compared to the icy plunge he felt now, thanks to Y/N’s relentless teasing.

Inside the bathroom, he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. He couldn’t deny that a part of him enjoyed the playful banter, but another part of him was utterly overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings. He needed to collect himself and face the day, starting with a much-needed cup of coffee.

Back in the room, Y/N was still chuckling to herself, thoroughly amused by Spencer's reactions. She began getting ready, her thoughts drifting to the upcoming events of the day and the unexpected pleasure of Spencer’s company. Despite her teasing, she was genuinely glad he was there.

As Spencer emerged from the bathroom, now somewhat composed, he glanced at Y/N, who was busy with her morning routine. “Truce?” he offered, a tentative smile on his lips.

“Truce,” Y/N agreed, smiling back at him. “For now.”

They both laughed, the tension easing as they continued preparing for the day ahead. The morning light filled the room, promising a day full of possibilities and perhaps, a few more moments of unexpected connection.

—

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the vineyard as Y/N and Spencer wandered through the charming village, the scent of grapes and fresh earth filling the air. They didn’t have much to do in preparation for the wedding, so they decided to venture out in search of coffee. The village was picturesque, with cobblestone streets, quaint shops, and inviting cafés.

As they strolled, chatting about old memories and catching up, they suddenly found themselves face-to-face with a woman Y/N recognized all too well. Christa, one of the girls who used to bully Spencer in high school, stood before them. Adam had warned Y/N about all the mean girls and boys, just in case they had any younger siblings at the school.

“Oh my god! No way! It’s the baby freak and boarding school!” Christa exclaimed, her voice dripping with mock surprise and disdain.

Spencer immediately tensed, the old nickname hitting him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been called that in years. Y/N, feeling a surge of protectiveness, stepped forward.

“Christa!” Y/N exclaimed with a bright, exaggerated smile, moving in for an overly enthusiastic hug that left Christa visibly uncomfortable. Christa awkwardly patted Y/N’s back, clearly thrown off by the unexpected embrace.

“Uh, hi,” Christa muttered, her confidence wavering.

“How are you? What has it been, 15 years? You don’t look a day over 40,” Y/N said cheerfully.

“I’m 30,” Christa replied, her tone icy.

“Oh… well, sunscreen is your best friend!” Y/N said, her voice dripping with false innocence.

Christa’s face twisted in offense, while Spencer struggled to hide his laughter behind a cough.

“Baby freak… you look exactly the same. Still scaring everyone away with your freaky genius powers?” Christa sneered, her eyes narrowing at Spencer.

“I–uh, no, I–” Spencer stammered, the old insecurities rushing back.

“Spencer, here,” Y/N said, emphasizing his name, “is not a baby, maybe compared to the looks of you. And he is not a freak, unless you want to talk about more private matters, but judging by the turn of your nose and the stick up your ass, I’m going to go ahead and assume you have no idea what I’m talking about. How long has it been since a real human touched you?”

Christa was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to come up with a retort. Finally, she sneered, “I bet Spencer’s never been touched by a human ever.”

Spencer looked down, his face turning red with embarrassment, feeling like the insecure 12-year-old all over again.

“Really? Like this?” Y/N said, pulling Spencer down into a kiss before Christa could say another word.

The kiss was brief but intense, and when Y/N pulled back, Spencer’s eyes were wide with surprise, his cheeks flushed. Christa stood there, stunned and utterly speechless, unable to come up with a reply.

Y/N turned back to Christa with a triumphant smile. “Awe, Christa, you look like a fish. Never speak to me or my boyfriend ever again, okay? Okay, sweetie. So good to see you!”

With that, Y/N took Spencer’s arm and led him away, leaving Christa standing in the middle of the street, fuming and defeated.

As they walked away, Spencer glanced over at Y/N, his heart still racing from the unexpected kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Y/N squeezed his arm gently, a warm smile on her face. “Anytime, Spencer. You deserve better than people like her.”

They continued their walk, the tension from the encounter melting away as they enjoyed each other’s company, feeling closer than ever before. The weekend had taken another unexpected turn, but this time, it was for the better.

—

After grabbing their coffee, Spencer and Y/N realized they still had plenty of time before they had to start getting ready for the wedding. The charm of Napa Valley beckoned, and they decided to indulge in one of the region’s finest offerings: wine tasting. The idea seemed perfect, a way to enjoy the beautiful vineyard and create some new memories.

They made their way back to the vineyard and signed up for a tour. As they strolled through the rows of grapevines, Y/N kept her hand looped around Spencer's arm. It felt natural, a comforting closeness that neither of them felt the need to mention. The guide led them through the process of winemaking, from grape to glass, sharing interesting tidbits and answering questions.

Once the tour concluded, they were led to a private table on one of the many balconies the vineyard’s main building had to offer. The view was breathtaking, with rolling hills and endless rows of vines stretching out under the clear blue sky. A tasting flight of wine was set before them, each glass glistening with rich, inviting hues.

Y/N took a sip from the first glass, savoring the flavor before turning to Spencer. “So… about earlier,” she began, her voice soft.

Spencer nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Yeah. That was… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Y/N said, looking at him earnestly. “I just couldn’t stand her talking to you like that.”

Spencer shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t overstep. It was… nice. Surprising, but nice. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

Y/N blushed slightly, taking another sip of her wine. “Well, you deserved it. She was horrible.”

Spencer glanced at her, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the wine. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything. It’s been a long time since I felt… protected.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome. And for what it’s worth, you could have handled it really well all on your own. I just… wanted to make sure she knew she couldn’t mess with you.”

Spencer chuckled, relaxing more as he took a sip from his glass. “You definitely made that clear.”

They continued their tasting, discussing the nuances of each wine, but the earlier conversation had brought them even closer. The view, the wine, and the company made for a perfect moment, one that felt both nostalgic and new.

As they moved through the tasting flight, they found themselves laughing and reminiscing about old times, the tension from the earlier encounter long forgotten. The vineyard, with its serene beauty, provided the perfect backdrop for reconnecting, and they both felt a sense of peace and happiness that had been missing for too long.

Y/N looked out over the balcony, her hand still resting lightly on Spencer's arm. “I’m glad we’re here,” she said softly. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” Spencer replied, his voice equally soft. “It’s like coming home.”

They clinked their glasses together, a silent toast to new beginnings and cherished memories. The weekend held more surprises, but for now, they were content to simply enjoy each other’s company, letting the wine and the moment carry them away.

“Speaking of home… do you think you’d ever come back?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

“To Las Vegas?” Spencer replied, looking at her curiously.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, feeling somewhat hopeful.

Spencer took a moment, thinking it over. “I’ve never thought about it, really.”

“Oh, I guess if I left, I wouldn’t want to come back either,” Y/N said, a hint of sadness creeping into her tone.

“Y/N… it’s not that. There’s just nothing there for me anymore.”

“Yeah, nothing,” she said bitterly, sipping her wine.

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant,” Spencer said quickly, his eyes wide with concern.

“It’s okay, Spencer. You don’t have to pretend. We haven’t talked in over a decade. I can’t blame you,” Y/N said, looking down at her glass.

“Y/N–” Spencer began, but she cut him off.

“I’m going to head back and get ready. Can you give me an hour alone, please?” she asked, her voice strained.

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer said softly, his heart sinking.

Y/N stood up, giving him a small, tight smile before walking away. Spencer watched her go, feeling a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and now he felt the weight of their years apart more heavily than ever. He sat there for a moment longer, staring out at the vineyard, before deciding to take a walk to clear his mind.

The serene beauty of the vineyard provided some solace, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N. He realized how much he had missed her, how much he had missed having someone who understood him. The years had created a distance between them, but he hoped that this weekend could be a step towards bridging that gap.

As he wandered back to the room an hour later, he knocked softly on the door, giving Y/N the space she had asked for. He hoped they could find a way to reconnect, to rebuild the bond they once had. The weekend was far from over, and he was determined to make things right.

— 

By the time the ceremony rolled around, Y/N and Spencer hadn't talked yet but took their seats next to each other. Spencer tried to apologize again, but Y/N brushed him off, telling him it was okay. The ceremony was beautiful and didn't drag on too long. Y/N cried, and Spencer put his arm around her shoulders, letting her cry on him.

They took their seats for dinner after, being seated again with her parents and close family. Though her parents weren't there for the rehearsal dinner, they were now. Spencer was extremely nervous, having never gotten a good read on Y/N and Adam's parents before. All he knew was that they shipped their young children off to boarding school and then left them home with hired staff more often than not.

As the first course was being served, Y/N's mother eyed Spencer with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. “Y/N, who is this man you brought?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Mother, this is Spencer Reid. He grew up with us, don’t you remember?”

Her mother pursed her lips, shaking her head. “No.”

“I’m not surprised,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Her father, catching the exchange, leaned in. “Watch your tone, that’s your mother.”

“I’m 24,” Y/N said, her voice steady but strained.

“And you’re still our child,” her father retorted.

“I’ve been financially independent since I was 18. What are you going to do? Take my salad fork?” Y/N shot back, her frustration evident.

Her parents rolled their eyes in unison. “No wonder it’s your brother getting married and not you,” her mother sneered. “You were always so bitter. Determined to hold grudges.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open, ready to fire back, but Spencer quickly intervened. “Actually, Y/N and I have been together for what, 2 years, darling?” he said, his voice smooth and confident.

Y/N was momentarily stunned, but then a wicked smile crept across her face. “Yes, baby. And that present you gave me for our anniversary was so… sensual. I can still feel it,” she said, biting her lip for effect.

Spencer tried to contain his laughter, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looked at Y/N. 

Her mother’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Y/N L/N! You are incorrigible.”

Y/N shrugged, unfazed. “I don’t care,” she said, a defiant glint in her eye.

The table fell into an awkward silence, but Spencer felt a sense of triumph. He had managed to diffuse the situation and even brought a smile to Y/N’s face. As the dinner progressed, they exchanged knowing glances, each feeling a little more at ease despite the tension surrounding them.

As soon as people were encouraged to get up from their tables, Y/N and Spencer shot up. Their first stop was the open bar, both needing a drink after enduring a whole dinner with her parents.

“Can we get an appletini and a sex on the beach?” Spencer ordered, his voice only shaking slightly.

“Spence!” Y/N yelled, hitting his arm playfully. “I’m so proud of you!”

He smiled to himself, feeling a sense of accomplishment. They stood at the bar, sipping their drinks as they observed the crowd. The lively atmosphere was a welcome contrast to the tension they had just experienced. Y/N’s eyes were on the couples dancing, and Spencer remembered what she had said earlier about wanting someone to swing her around the dance floor.

“Do you want to dance?” Spencer asked, turning to her.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I know you don’t like to dance,” Y/N replied, her gaze lingering on the dance floor.

“Y/N… I want to dance with you. Do you want to dance with me?” Spencer asked, his eyes earnest.

“Yes, very much,” Y/N said, her face lighting up with a smile.

Spencer set his drink down and took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. The music was a soft, romantic melody, perfect for a slow dance. As they found a spot, Spencer placed his hands gently on her waist, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. They swayed to the music, the world around them fading as they focused on each other.

“I can’t believe I’m finally doing this,” Y/N said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Me neither,” Spencer replied, his voice equally soft. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

Y/N’s eyes were shining. “You’ve always been special to me, Spencer.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You too, Y/N.”

Her heart raced at his bold gesture, not expecting such a move from Spencer. They stayed on the dance floor for a few more songs, enjoying the moment and the connection that had been rekindled. Eventually, Spencer took Y/N's hand and led her away from the floor.

“Spence… you’re holding my hand,” Y/N said, glancing down at their intertwined fingers.

“I am,” Spencer replied, his voice steady.

“You don’t do that,” she pointed out, her heart still fluttering.

“I don’t,” he agreed, looking at her with a small smile.

“But you are,” she continued, her eyes searching his.

��Right again,” Spencer said, his smile widening.

“Why?” Y/N asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Because I like you,” Spencer admitted, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she hadn’t seen before.

Y/N felt her breath catch, her heart pounding in her chest. “You… you like me?”

Spencer nodded, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. “Yes, Y/N. I like you. I guess I was just too afraid to admit it before.”

A smile slowly spread across Y/N's face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I like you too, Spencer. I always have, since we were kids.”

Spencer's face lit up with relief and happiness. “Really?”

“Really,” Y/N confirmed, squeezing his hand.

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background as they gazed at each other. The years of separation and unspoken feelings seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of their rekindled connection.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” Spencer asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Y/N replied, her smile never wavering.

They walked hand in hand out to the vineyard’s garden, the night air cool and refreshing. The walk through the garden was very much reminiscent of the last time they saw each other. The path was lined with twinkling lights, casting a soft glow over the grapevines and flowers.

“Did you really not know I liked you all those years ago? I was so obvious. I did everything to get your attention,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“No, I really didn’t know. I just thought you were really nice!” Spencer replied, his brow furrowing in surprise.

“And you liked Adam,” Y/N stated, a hint of a teasing smile on her lips.

“I–I, what??” Spencer stammered, caught off guard.

“It’s okay, Spence, he doesn’t know,” Y/N said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. I could see it in the way you looked at him. It’s fine, really,” Y/N said, her voice gentle.

Spencer looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and relief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward back then.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile softening. “You didn’t. I just wish I had known how to tell you how I felt. I was always so nervous around you.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. “I was nervous around you too. I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. I guess we were both a bit clueless.”

They laughed together, the sound carrying through the quiet night. As they continued their walk, the memories of the past seemed to blend with the present, creating a sense of closure and a new beginning.

“Do you think things would have been different if we had talked about it back then?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Maybe,” Y/N said thoughtfully. “But we were just kids, and you had so much ahead of you.”

Spencer nodded, feeling content with her answer. They reached a bench under a large oak tree and sat down, the stars twinkling above them. Y/N leaned her head on Spencer’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

“I would move back home,” Spencer said softly.

“What?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with warmth and curiosity.

“I would move back home,” Spencer repeated, his voice steady. “If it meant being with you eventually. I’d come back to Las Vegas.”

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise and emotion. “Spencer, you don’t have to do that for me. We aren’t even dating.”

“I know,” he said, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. “But I want to. You were always like home to me, Y/N. Being with you feels right.”

“I would never ask you to give up your job; you worked so hard to get there,” Y/N shook her head.

“But I—”

“Stop,” Y/N interrupted, pulling away from his touch. Her heart raced, and she felt a wave of panic wash over her. “This is too much, Spencer. We’ve just reconnected, and now you’re talking about uprooting your entire life for me. It’s overwhelming.”

Spencer’s face fell, his hand dropping to his side. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just wanted you to know how important you are to me.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “I appreciate that, really. But we need to take things slow. I need time to process all of this.”

Spencer nodded, though the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Of course. I understand. We’ll take it slow.”

There was an awkward silence between them, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily in the air. Y/N felt a mix of guilt and relief, unsure of how to navigate the intense emotions swirling inside her.

After a few moments, Spencer spoke again, his voice soft. “I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you. I just care about you a lot.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her heart aching. “I care about you too, Spencer. But let’s just see where things go, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, though the tension between them remained palpable.

They spent the rest of the evening in a subdued silence, both lost in their thoughts. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, and she wondered if she had made a mistake. But she also knew she needed to follow her instincts and not rush into anything that didn’t feel right.

That night, the walk back to their room was a silent torture. Each step felt heavier than the last, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Spencer desperately wanted to fix things, but he didn’t know how.

When they finally reached their room, Y/N wordlessly grabbed a pillow and placed it between their bodies on the bed, creating a physical barrier that mirrored the emotional distance between them. The gesture was small, but it felt like a chasm had opened up.

Spencer lay on his side, staring at the wall, his heart aching. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to reassure her, but he couldn’t bring himself to cross that line. The fear of pushing her further away was paralyzing.

What was far worse, was when Spencer woke up to an empty bed and an empty hotel room. Panic set in as he called out her name, hoping she was just in the bathroom or getting breakfast. But there was no response.

The reality of the situation hit him hard. Once again, he had managed to lose one of the only people who ever felt like home. The weight of that loss settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands, trying to make sense of what had gone wrong.

The silence of the room was deafening, and the loneliness was overwhelming. Spencer knew he had to find a way to make things right, but at that moment, he felt utterly lost and alone.

—

Downstairs, Spencer was checking out when he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned around to see Adam bounding towards him.

“Hey buddy!” Adam, as broad as ever, swept him into a hug, picking him up in his excitement.

“Whoa! Hi!” Spencer laughed, caught off guard by the enthusiastic greeting.

“How are you? Thank you so much for coming. I’m sorry it’s been so crazy, I can’t believe I almost missed you!”

“Yeah, hah. Glad I ran into you,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his composure despite the turmoil inside.

Adam, unaware of Spencer's inner turmoil, continued with a big grin, “So, I heard you had to bunk with old Petit Chou.”

“Y/N? Yeah, I did,” Spencer replied, the nickname bringing back a wave of memories.

“How was it? Was it like old times?” Adam asked, his tone cheerful and curious.

“Um, no, not really. We got along a lot better,” Spencer admitted, a small, sad smile forming on his lips.

“Oh, you dog! Did you sleep with my sister?” Adam's tone was teasing, but he looked extremely pleased.

Spencer's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. We just... caught up.”

Adam laughed, clapping Spencer on the back. “Well, I’m glad you two reconnected. She always had a soft spot for you, you know.”

Spencer forced a smile, trying to push away the sadness. “Yeah, me too. She’s... she’s great.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Adam teased in a big brotherly fashion.

“So, I thought you’d be gone by now on your honeymoon?” Spencer asked.

“Oh no, Lizzie wanted to have some time as newlyweds in our house first. You know, get settled in, put all the presents away and such before we leave. She really thinks everything through,” Adam explained, love evident in the way he talked about Elizabeth.

“She sounds wonderful. I’m so happy for you, man,” Spencer said sincerely.

“Thank you, little dude. Are there any lucky ladies in your life? Lucky lads?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Huh, no,” Spencer replied, shaking his head.

“Dude, you should have totally made a move on Y/N! She yapped about you for years after you left. When I told her you were gonna be here, she practically threw away her suitcase and bought all new clothes, wanting to make a good impression or something,” Adam said with a grin.

“What?” Spencer choked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah, man, she had it baddd. It was kind of cute,” Adam chuckled.

“Oh, I had no idea,” Spencer said, feeling a little bit of shock and regret.

“Well, if you’re ever in Vegas, you know who to call,” Adam said, clapping Spencer on the back.

“Yeah... where are you living nowadays?” Spencer asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Georgia! Met sweet little Lizzie at Florida State and followed her home after graduation. Never left,” Adam replied, his eyes shining with happiness.

“That’s great, Adam. I’m really happy for you,” Spencer said, genuinely pleased for his friend.

“Thanks, man. And seriously, don’t be a stranger. If you’re ever in the area, you’ve got a place to stay,” Adam said, giving Spencer another friendly hug.

As they finished checking out, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of Y/N. He needed to talk to her, to clear the air and understand what had gone wrong. But for now, he was grateful for the brief distraction that Adam had provided. It gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make things right.

—

Y/N went back home, feeling the weight of the weekend pressing heavily on her. She barely had time to sit down and process everything when her best friend and roommate, Billie, showed up at her bedroom door, armed with snacks and drinks.

“Hey, thought you could use some company,” Billie said, giving Y/N a warm hug as they entered.

“Thanks, Billie,” Y/N replied, her voice tinged with sadness.

They settled on the couch, surrounded by an array of comfort food and drinks. Billie opened a bag of chips and handed it to Y/N. “So, tell me everything.”

Y/N sighed, taking a deep breath before recounting the events of the weekend. She told Billie about reconnecting with Spencer, the intense emotions, and the difficult conversation that left her feeling lost and confused.

“I feel so silly,” Y/N said, heaving a big sigh. “Mourning something I can’t have. We live on opposite sides of the country. How would it ever work?”

Billie reached over, giving Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not silly at all. Feelings don’t follow logic. You’re allowed to feel sad, even if it seems impractical.”

“I just... I really thought maybe we could make it work,” Y/N said, her voice breaking.

“Hey, you never know what the future holds. Maybe things will change, or maybe you’ll find a way to be together despite the distance,” Billie said, their tone comforting.

“But what if we don’t? What if it’s just not meant to be?” Y/N asked, her eyes searching Billie’s for answers.

“Then it's not, you can't control what's out of your hands,” Billie said, offering a comforting smile.

Y/N nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. They spent the rest of the evening talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. While the ache in Y/N’s heart didn’t completely disappear, she felt a sense of peace over the situation.

— 

Spencer wanted to reach out to Y/N, knowing he couldn't even use the excuse of not having her phone number—one of his best friends could hack the Pentagon for fun if she wanted. But he didn’t want to face the rejection he had a feeling would be coming his way. He knew it was impractical: his job was demanding, they lived nowhere near each other, and on top of that, they didn’t even know if they would work. Maybe the magic between them only existed in the air of the wedding.

They went weeks in radio silence, both resigning to move on. They had gone 12 years without each other; they could handle some more. That is until Spencer found something in one of his luggage pockets. He was repacking his go-bag after returning from a case when he opened a pocket that he did not often use, planning to put a fresh pack of gum in there.

He quickly took the note out and opened it, seeing it was in handwriting that he didn’t recognize. His heart skipped a beat as he began to read:

Spencer,

I’m sorry for leaving unannounced. I truly loved seeing you this weekend. It was wonderful to catch up after so long apart and to see that you are still the same sweet, loving guy. I hope you never change.

I left without saying goodbye because of my own issues, not because of anything you said or did. Please understand that. You mean so much to me, and I would hate to jeopardize our friendship over something silly like this.

If you’re ever in Vegas, you always have a place to stay.

Y/N

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james potter x fem!reader 8

prev

wc: 2168

cw: drowning and resuscitation, near death experience, inaccurate medical descriptions, happy ending ofc

me: i have a delicious lifeguard!james request in my inbox which will for sure be the next part but i really wanted to get this part out first sorry anon!!!!! ik this is a little less horny than most of the other parts but i kinda loved the idea of the softness and love of their relationship developing after being braindead horny?? but as always pls feel free to send lifeguard!james reqs bc he's my man fr im feral for him

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the pool was packed. you didn’t know what was different from any of the other hot, sweaty days you’d encountered, but suddenly there was hardly a sun bed free or an inch of space in the pool.

it was disappointing, sure, but nothing your friends couldn’t handle, snatching a piece of grass a bit further from the pool to lay your towels down. it did mean you didn’t have the benefit of an umbrella to hide under, and the direct heat was driving you all mad.

“do you think we’ll even fit?” you asked, not hopeful when you could barely even see the water.

“we come here every other day, they have to make room for us,” lily joked, tucking her magazine back in her beach bag.

“you could always ask james for help,” mary teased with a singsong emphasis on his name. you rolled your eyes, attending to your sun cream to hide the girlish grin that was fighting its way out.

“yeah, bat your eyes at him and he’d clear the whole facility,” marlene laughed, jumping up and holding a hand out to help you stand, “now let’s go fight the old ladies for a spot.”

“hiya,” you called up to james on the elevated lifeguard chair. he brightened as soon as he noticed you, pushing his dark sunglasses up to his forehead so he could make direct eye contact.

“hey, good looking! not in your usual chair?”

“got beaten out by hilda. embarrassing, really. got eyes on any spots for us, baywatch?” james took his duty seriously, scanning the pool for any spots of blue for you to occupy.

“how about down there by the wine mums? good bit of room and i’ll be able to keep an eye on you.” he winked, gesturing down to the group of middle-aged women.

“okay perv,” you replied light-heartedly, but you couldn’t help your smile when he used your nickname for them. the wine mums were a group of women your friends adored from afar. they weren’t drunk as the name suggested — no alcohol allowed inside the pool fences — but all year round they could be found about town, gossiping and laughing well into the night over glasses of red or white. you couldn’t go an encounter with them without at least one of your girls wistfully dreaming about you all becoming wine mums like them in thirty years. it made your heart glow that james had picked up on the nickname.

you slipped into the pool, sighing contentedly as the water immediately brought you relief. there was a group of children playing some sort of ball game, maybe a casual version of water polo, which habitually splashed you all, but you weren’t in the mood to care.

the chaos only became unpleasant after another group of schoolboys came barrelling in, joining in on whatever game had started. even the wine mums climbed out of the water, muttering complaints about their behaviour.

the pool was overrun with adolescent boys, jumping and thrashing and tossing a few balls around recklessly. james had blown his whistle several times, but he couldn’t exactly stop them from playing around.

the next several moments happened like you were watching from an outside perspective. the exact moment you opened your mouth to speak, the ball smacked into the back of your head with an aggressive thwap, dunking your face under the water, your lungs filling with water as you gasped and floundered. in the most evil twists of fate, the mob of teenage boys flocked over to you in hunt of the ball, pushing you down to the pool floor.

if you were in your right mind you might’ve acted differently, more rationally. but you weren’t in your right mind. you were under the water, being pummelled by at least six pairs of feet with water filling up in your lungs. you weren’t the dramatic type, but you were genuinely scared for your life, the possibility of resurfacing in time rapidly dwindling. your already blurry vision under the surface darkened and you tried to make peace with the fact that you weren’t getting another breath in.

the next thing you knew, your chest was heaving and something warm was resting over your mouth. your eyes shot open, body jerking even more dramatically. james potter, in all of his wet, hot glory, was giving you mouth to mouth as you lay helpless on the hot pool tiles. you’d clearly been out for a few minutes as someone had been able to lay a towel beneath you so your skin didn’t blister and burn on the scorching terracotta.

you hacked and coughed a few more times as james gave you a few inches of space, water spitting up and out of you, splashing pathetically on the floor. you noticed the alarming silence that had fallen over the facility, and looked up to face two dozen pairs of eyes fixated on you. it made you nervous in a way attention never had, fighting your body’s automatic reaction to expel water in order to keep some of your dignity.

“alright, everyone, show’s over. give us some space.” james’ usual boyish mischief was long gone, serious expression only intensifying as you locked eyes. “you go with lily to the medical room. i’ll see you there soon to make sure everything’s really fine, but i’ve gotta wait until someone comes to cover, the pool can’t be unsupervised.”

“i get it,” you sighed dramatically, leaning on lily as she helped you up, “duty calls.” james shot you a look that was clearly meant to be unimpressed, but you could see the hint of amusement in the twitch of his smile.

“i’ll see you soon.”

lily escorted you inside the tiny, outdated medical room, sitting you up on the examination table.

“that was hands down the most dramatic thing that’s ever happened to us,” she said, sitting in the seat usually saved for the parent.

“you’re telling me,” you managed a laugh, “what happened?”

“god, it all happened so fast we could barely keep up. you got separated under that group of dickheads and it was all so loud we couldn’t get them off of you so we had to call james for help. now, i’m only saying this because you’re okay and i know you’d be mad at missing it, but it was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.” you interrupted her retelling with a snort, not not disagreeing with her. “he was full baywatch; olympic level dive, across the pool in seconds, carried you out of the water bridal style like some sort of superhero. i could’ve been watching a movie! did some legit looking cpr while absolutely ripping those boys a new one for being so irresponsible — think one of them cried.”

you laughed at lily’s dramatic recount, imagining it like you’d been conscious to witness.

“i’m so upset!” you jokingly whined, “nothing fun ever happens and the one time it does i’m unconscious! i didn’t even get to see him use all those stupid muscles.”

“you know you can just ask, right? you all tease me for my ego but never use it for good.” james rounded the corner, looking extremely satisfied with himself. you and lily exchanged mortified eye contact at being caught, but both dissolved into embarrassed giggles as james’ disarming nature charmed the room.

“do you want me to stay?” lily asked as james gathered his things to examine you.

“it’s okay,” you shrugged, “i trust the doctor.”

“good, i think marlene and mary are pretty shaken up, i should probably walk them home. call me tonight to prove you’re still alive.” you agreed easily, making lily promise to assure all your friends you were perfectly fine.

that left just you and james alone in the medical room, tension blossoming between you.

“are you okay? really okay?” he asked, beginning the checkup.

“yeah,” you answered, hesitating to think through your reply, “shaken up a bit i think. and my lungs hurt. but you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“good.” james smiled, listening to your heartbeat for abnormalities.

you sat in silence for a few minutes, observing as james did his thing, admiring the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was focused.

“thanks for saving me,” you broke the silence first.

“don’t thank me, it’s my job.”

“no, seriously. i could have died, james.” james looked up with a start, his eyes finding yours. he couldn’t remember if you’d ever called him by his real name and not some nickname to tease him. he liked the way it sounded coming out of your mouth.

“you know i never would have let you drown, who else would stare at my body all day?”

“shut up.” you swatted his bicep, secretly grateful for the tone shift. you wanted james to know you were sincerely grateful, but it was hard to sit in that vulnerability. you liked having the power in conversation, controlling it so you always had something witty to say. today had been one big knock down, leaving you to feel powerless and out of sorts, like nothing you did was right.

james had you taking deep breaths in and out, describing how they felt and if you could feel any water in your lungs or other disruptions in the process. his hand on your back was burning a print into your skin, his presence beside you a reminder of everything wonderful about him.

you suddenly groaned, throwing your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. when james asked for an explanation, you almost couldn’t provide one.

“that is so not how i wanted our first kiss to go.” mouth to mouth? definitely one of the least sexy kisses of all time. blowing air into an unresponsive mouth was certainly not what you’d consider a successful make-out, and you were sure james agreed. to your surprise, james looked amused rather than disgusted or judgemental, his casual demeanour once again bringing you peace.

“nah, that wasn’t a kiss. a kiss is supposed to be fun. and consensual. that was just me saving your life.” you rolled your eyes to cover your smile. you both pretended you couldn’t see the other’s giddy grin at the implication that you did in fact plan on kissing james.

“so what’s the diagnosis, doc?” you changed the subject again, nervous sitting so close to him in a private room (especially when his bare chest was still out in his work uniform, glistening with sweat).

“you’re all good to go, but i’d go to a doctor if you feel weird. be cautious for a few days.” james held out his hand to help you off the bed.

“well if it’s really that bad, i could call on you, right? i’m sure the good doctor wouldn’t mind supervising my bed rest, hm?” your flirting was back with full force, paired with some batted eyelashes for good measure. you delighted in watching james understand the implications, blush rising to sit on his already sun-kissed cheeks.

“what about we start with me walking you home, hm? i don’t think your mother would be pleased with me supervising any activities happening in your bedroom.” you laughed at that, tipping your head back as james took the moment to take your beach tote and sling it on his own shoulder.

“that’s why i have a window, stupid.” you let yourself be led home by james, the two of you laughing and talking until you reached your front door.

you stood on the first step of your small porch, making you closer to level with james’ towering height. you could tell he was about to say something, no doubt flirt or make a dumb joke, but you beat him to it, wrapping your arms tightly around his midsection.

you’d clearly caught him off guard as james took a moment to react, but matched your energy, wrapping you tightly against him until you could practically feel each individual muscle in his body — not that that would be a bad thing.

“i’m really glad you’re okay,” he said softly as you finally pulled away, “you had me really scared there, lovely.” you only smiled in response, unable to produce the same openness that seemed to come so easily from james. you liked to have the last word, though.

“you really earned your title today, baywatch.” you kissed his cheek softly before disappearing into your house to giggle in a way usually entirely unlike you. you were scared this thing you had with james wasn’t just about his lifeguard’s body anymore.

[hischiershoe]

Red Bikini’s and Beer Pong | Nico Hischier

word count: 1.5k

warnings: drinking implied, suggestive themes implied, not edited at all

note: this is just a fun little blurb about summer nico <3

When Nico had invited you to spend some of the summer with him in Switzerland, you knew it was going to be full of adventure and fun. You had never been to a European country before, so Nico was nothing short of eager to show you everything he could and introduce you to the different traditions and customs of his country. He waited a few days to introduce you to his friends because he didn’t want to overwhelm you in such a short amount of time, but when he did, he wasn’t all that surprised when you fit right in. 

One of Nico’s friends had invited a decent sized group of people over to their house for a small relaxing get together that everyone was more than happy to attend. After a busy week of training for Nico and a few of the others, a break was exactly what they needed. You had spent the better part of that morning slightly stressing about what, and how much, you needed to bring because, despite Nico’s reassurance you didn’t have to bring anything, you weren’t showing up empty handed. After a quick phone call to his brother, Nico said they could use some disposable plates and cups, and that the two of you could stop by the store to grab some on your way.

“Are you sure we don’t need to bring anything else,” You asked as you fell into the passenger seat of Nico’s car, the bag of stuff placed in your lap.

“I’m sure, I promise,” He reassures, an adoring smile on his face before he leans over the center console and places a gentle kiss to your temple, “They already love you, probably more than they do me.”

“That isn’t true,” You shake your head, relaxing into the seat as his hand finds purchase on your thigh, “It’s definitely.”

Nico’s thumb rubbed the exposed skin of your leg as he drives towards his friend's house, the quiet hum of the radio playing underneath the sounds of your voices as you talked about the upcoming dinner with his parents. It wasn’t long until he was pulling into the long driveway that was already lined with several cars and you were stepping out of the car. You could hear the distant voices and laughter of those who were there as you walked in stride with Nico, slight anxious excitement bubbling in your chest.

The two of you walked into the backyard through the side gate, and not a second later a multitude of voices were calling your name with glee. Erika greeted you with a tight hug before taking the shopping bag from your hands, a few of the others following suit and greeting you while some remained in place. You mingled with a few of the people you had already met, Nico introducing you to those you hadn’t, before the two of you stripped out of your clothes and stepped in the pool.

You could feel Nico’s blatant stare on you as you walked in front of him, your face heating up from his attention despite you knowing it would happen. After all, you had selected the particular bathing suit for a reason.  You could hear the water moving behind you before the feeling of his arms wrapping around your body forced a quiet squeal from your lips. His chest was pressed firmly against your back, his fingers pressing into the flesh on your hip as he ducks his head to your ear.

“You wore that on purpose didn’t you,” He mumbles, slightly twisting your body with his.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You put on a facade of innocence, peering up at him as a small smirk toys at his lips.

Nico shakes his head, his chuckle vibrating against you before he swiftly moves in front of you, squatting down so you can throw your arms over his shoulder. He guides you to the other end of the pool, properly joining the others as they talked. After a while, you swam away from Nico when the girls asked if you wanted to join them on the tanning deck to do some “girl talk” and get away from the boys.

It was shallow enough that you were able to lay on your stomach and face the girls who chose to stay in the deeper part. You could see Nico as he laughed with his friends, his gaze often flicking in your direction as you fell into conversation with the others. He silently curses Mila who stands in front of you, her shoulder blocking anything below your neck, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. He’d never been all that good at self control when you wore that particular bikini.

“So,” Erika playfully drags out, “What were you and Nico whispering about earlier?”

Your eyes briefly widen before you clear your throat and cast your eyes to the water in front of you, “Nothing important.”

“Sure looked important,” Mila teases, wiggling her eyebrows as everyone joins her in laughter, yourself included.

“He was just commenting on my bathing suit,” You defend, trying to fight off the relentless blush from forming on your cheeks.

“Oh I bet he was,” Erika snickered as you carefully splash her with water.

“Are you guys being nice to my girl,” Nico’s voice breaks through, forcing everyone's eyes to him as he swims up to you. Mila steps away from you, letting Nico take her place, but not before she passes you a knowing look.

“Of course! We were just saying how good she looks in her bikini. Don’t you think so?”

The sound of Luca yelling for Nico cuts through whatever response he came up with, instructing the two of you to join him and Nina in a game of beer pong. Nico glances at you, silently asking you if you were okay with playing, before he’s helping you out of the pool and walking towards his siblings. Luca reminds Nico that the two of them need to defend their title as champions, so you two were going to have to play on separate teams.

“Hope you guys aren’t attached to that title,” You nonchalantly let out, taking the hair tie from your wrist and pulling your hair away from your face, “I was beer pong queen all throughout college.”

“Oh,” Luca raises his eyebrows, glancing at his brother who shrugs in response,  “We’ll see about that.”

In Luca’s defense, the two brothers were pretty good, but you and Nina matched their skill with ease. Your “intense” game managed to attract the attention from everyone who was there, a circle forming around the plastic table as the ball was thrown back and forth. They didn’t seem to be going for either team, all of them cheering or groaning in sync, but a few of them were making quiet bets as to who the winner would be.

“You know the redemption rule right,” Luca asks now that both sides only had one cup left.

“We won’t need it,” You cockily let out as you line up your shot, letting the ball fly before it sinks into the liquid filled cup, “But you will.”

A collective wave of ‘oh’s envelopes the four of you as Nina high fives you, Luca and Nico quietly whispering to each other as they presumably form some sort of plan. Nico catches your eye over his brother's shoulder, his left eye dropping in a wink as you cheekily squint your eyes at him. When they finally separate, Luca’s face is hard and focused as he grasps the small ball in his hand.

“He isn’t used to being the one redeeming himself,” Nina whispers to you, smug smile on her face, “It’s great.”

Luca makes the ball into the cup with little effort, quickly turning to Nico who shakes his head in amusement at his brother's competitive nature. As Nico begins to ready his own attempt, you bend over to grab the other ball that had fallen at your feet before it blows away. Nico can’t stop himself from looking at you as you do, his gaze instantly drawing to your chest as he releases the ball, which completely misses the cup. Everyone watching erupts into humorous cheers as Luca’s mouth drops open in shock and Nico shakes himself out of his daze.

“Dude,” He groans, “You couldn’t wait five seconds to stare at her boobs?”

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend's boobs,” Nico feigns disgust, “Maybe next time I can.”

He doesn’t wait for his brother’s response, rushing towards you as Mila and Erika congratulate you and Nina on beating the eldest sibling. When the three of them catch his approaching figure, they mumble a few suggestive comments before slipping away from your bashful laughter. 

“Beer pong queen, huh,” Nico raises his eyebrows, his arms flexing against your back.

“Yeah,” You hum, chewing at your bottom lip as your eyes dart to his, “I was, but I also knew you’d get distracted if I picked up the ball.”

“Damn red bikini,” He chuckles, “I always knew you liked to play dirty, but I didn’t know you were a cheater.”

“I knew it! We need a do-over!”

[blueblossomrose]

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, fem!afab!mc, fluffy, too much fluffy, twst boys with teenage children. And questionable humor, of course. My trademark.

Notes: So, my country is in summer and here in Brazil summer is naturally hot since it's ahem, tropical country, but this year summer has been ABSOLUTE HELL abnormally hot so I need something to keep from going crazy. Preferably air conditioning on 24 hours, but since I don't have that option, I'm going to turn my frustration into fluffy.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Summer Season

The Queendom of Roses had never faced such an intense heat wave. Soon its residents were euphoric, especially certain not-so-eccentric families.

It was frankly absurd. People were already waking up exhausted, walking through the streets like zombies, the heat coming directly from the sun almost like it's melting their brains.

Everything was so hot that it was torture to be outside during the middle of the day.

It got to the point that the air conditioning in Riddle's office simply broke down. He spent the whole day attending to restless children and stressed mothers, amidst sweaty papers and a weak fan that only threw hot air from one side to the other. When he finally got home, sweaty and breathing heavily, his patience was already exhausted.

In this situation, it was absolutely unthinkable to stay home listening to his children complaining about the heat all day. [Name]'s suggestion, said with a carefree smile while fanning her face with a magazine, was that they go to the beach.

Riddle, of course, initially refused. The thought of sand sticking to his skin and the sun that would burn until his whole body was red made him even more exhausted.

But after the insistence of the two of them —his wife and daughter — he had to sigh and give in.

Now, there he was, sitting under a red-and-white striped umbrella, a wide-brimmed hat protecting his fair skin. His blue-gray eyes narrowed as he watched Violete, who was trying to sneak away to the water.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Riddle asked, his voice firm but not exactly stern.

“Uhhh… swimming?” the girl replied, as if it were obvious.

“I told you about that. Not without putting on sunscreen,” Riddle said flatly, pointing to the bottle in the bag next to him. The girl rolled her eyes and grumbled, but eventually reluctantly went back to her mother to apply sunscreen.

Meanwhile, Alex was sitting quietly under the umbrella next to [Name]. He shared the chair with his mother, who laughed softly at Violete's complaints. Alex seemed oblivious to everything, completely immersed in a game on his old blue Gameboy.

Riddle, from time to time, gave his son critical looks. It's not like he hated Alex's appreciation for video games, but God, did he have to have his face buried in that all day?

Alex had been like this since he was 9, when he got his Gameboy, gift from his mother. Now, at 14, he kept the same device, only changing the case from time to time, as if it were a way to personalize his digital adventure companion.

Violete, at sixteen, It was both what you expected and what you didn't expect from a teenager. Energetic and full of life, with a sarcastic and rebellious streak, her excitement was almost contagious. She had her own hobbies which involved video games with her brother as much as books and cricket. She had already jumped into the water as soon as the sunscreen ritual was over.

The short red strands, which she often curled, were now back to their natural state, flowing straight as they got wet. She was swimming happily, challenging small waves, when she noticed a group of people not far away. Two instructors were helping some tourists climb onto a large board, probably part of those leisure programs offered at the beach – canoeing, stand-up paddleboarding, something like that.

Violete swam closer and watched for a moment, until an idea popped into her head. Turning back to the sand, she raised her voice and called: “Dad!”

Riddle, who was finally starting to relax in his chair, looked up suspiciously. “What now?”

“Let’s get on the board together! It’ll be fun!” she shouted.

“Violete, I’m not getting on that board with you,” he replied immediately, with a seriousness that made Alex let out a small muffled laugh on the other side. [Name], next to him, just raised her eyebrows with a look of “let’s see how long you can resist.”

However, Violete was persistent, and his daughter’s insistent expression – the one she clearly inherited from her mother – eventually won out. A few minutes later, Riddle was in the water, visibly uncomfortable as he was guided to the board by a patient instructor and an overly excited daughter.

"This is a bad idea, Violete," he muttered, already feeling regret setting in as he put on a life jacket. "I'm a doctor, I know exactly how many ways this can go wrong."

"Dad, you need to relax!" Violete replied, smiling as she helped him onto the board, where she was already balanced with impressive ease. "It's going to be fun, trust me!"

But before Riddle could argue, the board swayed dangerously, and he grabbed onto his daughter with a suddenness she hadn't expected. "Violette!" he exclaimed, desperately trying to steady himself.

"Dad, you're pulling me under!" she protested, as she tried to steady them both. Riddle, for his part, was focused on not falling into the water, which seemed increasingly inevitable.

He looked back, seeing [Name] on the sand, waving at them with an amused smile. Alex didn't even look – the sound of the Gameboy buttons continued, indifferent to the family chaos that was happening in the sea.

The minutes when Violette guided the board towards the waves were the moments when Riddle despaired the most, although they managed to at least catch a good wave, even though they were completely unbalanced.

Finally, after a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, the inevitable happened. The board rocked to one side, then the other, and they both fell into the water with a big splash.

When he emerged, wet and irritated, but also, to his surprise, smiling, Riddle heard Violete's crystal-clear laugh.

"See, Dad? It was fun, wasn't it?!" her hands hit the water splashing more water on him.

"Ugh, stop!" even while complaining, Riddle was smiling, sometimes returning the splashes of water on his daughter.

"Huh? Where are dad and Vi?" Alex questioned as he lifted his head, [Name] laughed and pointed, just long enough for Alex to see his dad and sister catch a wave together before falling into the water again. Riddle was almost as desperate as you could imagine while Violete was in front on the board with the biggest smile in the world. A frankly hilarious frame.

The blazing midday sun seemed even more intense that unusual summer in the Queendom of Roses. The oppressive heat made even going out for simple activities like shopping at the Clover bakery a challenge. Still, the frozen treats that Trey made had become a sensation. Artisanal ice cream, fresh fruit pies, and refreshing drinks were flying off the shelves.

One afternoon, sitting at the small oak table in the back of the bakery, Trey rubbed his sweaty forehead as he watched his children play. Tim and Thomas were more interested in hanging out by the fan, while Rose ran around with seemingly inexhaustible energy despite the heat. He glanced over at [Name], who was waving a makeshift paper fan and mumbling something about how hot it's outside. It was then that an idea struck him.

How about take a trip to the falls?

A cool, peaceful place, and the perfect local to cool off.

Rose, being the youngest, immediately jumped up and down with excitement, Tim and Thomas, on the other hand, teenagers already at an age where they'd rather stay home with their phones or their own hobbies, didn't seem so excited. But family trip is mandatory, after all. It was an agreement they made with their parents.

Trey and [Name] arrived at the trailhead with their children, each carrying light backpacks filled with towels, snacks, and bottles of water. Rose bounced excitedly ahead, her small backpack bouncing as she droned on and on about how the waterfalls would be.

Tim, the oldest, trailed slowly, already sweating in the heat, his expression clearly reflecting his displeasure with the hike. “Why couldn’t we just buy ice cream and stay home with the fan on?” he muttered, earning an amused look from Trey.

Thomas, on the other hand, was somewhere in between, half-interested in the hike but clearly dead tired. He walked with his hands in his pockets, backpack and bag on the shoulder.

After a while, the trail opened up to reveal the waterfall. The view was spectacular: crystal clear water cascaded down, creating a refreshing mist that immediately took the edge off the heat. The surrounding vegetation was dense, with bright green leaves and colorful wildflowers that looked even more vivid in the sun.

Rose ran towards the shore, stopping only when Trey called her, asking her to wait while he and [Name] found a good spot for the towel. Tim, sighing, threw himself into the shade of a large rock, lying down like a sack of potatoes. “Wake me up when we leave,” he muttered, eliciting a laugh from [Name].

Thomas, however, took advantage of the distraction. He grabbed a handful of cold water and silently approached Rose. “Hey, Rose, look up!” he shouted, pointing to the top of the waterfall. When his sister looked up, he splashed her with ice-cold water, making her squeal.

“Thomas!” she protested, but she was already splashing him back, starting a water fight that soon involved Trey trying to calm them both down so that they wouldn't fall and hurt themselves on the rocks.

Meanwhile, [Name] was standing next to Tim, offering him a bottle of cool water. "You know you're going to want to get in the water soon," she said.

Tim opened a lazy eye. "Only if someone carries me there."

After a while, Tim gave in to the heat and joined his brothers in the water. Trey and [Name] watched, relaxing on the towel on the floor. Thomas and Rose were now trying to build a "dam" with rocks and branches, while Tim stood nearby, pretending not to care but discreetly helping them find the right branches.

As the time has passed, Trey stood up, adjusting his glasses and getting everyone's attention. "Time for a snack!" he announced, grabbing a small cooler with fruit, sandwiches, and some homemade pastries from the bakery.

Rose was the first to run, still dripping watee, while Thomas and Tim followed her. Like three Gremlins, they sat down and ate despite shivering from the cold from the thermal shock of the ice-cold water on the hot climate.

The end of the afternoon was spent peacefully, with the family resting and enjoying the relaxing sound of the waterfall. When they finally started to pack up their things, Rose complained that she wanted to stay a little longer, but Trey promised that they could return soon, eliciting a smile from her. The walk back was less lively – tiredness had finally taken over the trio, mainly Rose who was the central animation. Trey, with a soft smile, carried her backpack along with his, while [Name] chuckled softly at the funny observations her tired daughter even so made about every detail of the trail.

The hot season brought with it an unexpected relief from Cater’s hectic schedule. The scorching sun made everyone crave a break, and for him, that meant finishing work early and finding something more exciting to do with his family. After all, there was nothing worse than a interview in the sweltering heat, with people feeling sweaty and uncomfortable.

With an excited smile, Cater dragged his wife [Name] and children, Astrid and Rory, to a nature reserve by the sea. The place was perfect for disconnecting from the world. It offered ample space to swim and even snorkel with some of the sea creatures, creating a relaxing atmosphere full of photo opportunities that he loved to capture.

Astrid quickly raised her hand, as if she had asked an important question. “Can I swim with the sharks?” she said with a sparkle in her eyes, her light orange hair lightly blowing in her face as she looked anxiously at her parents.

“Why on earth would you want to swim with sharks?” Rory replied.

[Name] couldn’t help but laugh, trying to lighten the situation. “I’m glad you want to go on an adventure, dear, but I think it would be better to start with something lighter, don’t you think?” she looked at Astrid with a calm smile.

Astrid grimaced, not completely convinced, crossing her arms and looking at her parents as if she were going to continue the argument. But before she could complain any further, a hand appeared underneath her, lifting her off the ground with ease. Cater placed her on his back, with Astrid laughing and squealing with excitement.

"Hey, hey! No arguing, let's just enjoy the moment, how about seeing the manta rays?" Cater suggested. "They like getting close to humans, and they're super harmless. It'll be really cool."

Astrid, with her face already lit up with a wide smile, put the grimace aside, agreeing with her father. She was excited about the idea, even more than with the sharks. Rory, still suspicious, looked at his sister and then at his parents, with a slight sigh. He couldn't deny that their enthusiasm was contagious.

And so the family began their walk to the water sports area, with the sound of waves crashing against the rocks and the summer heat enveloping them all. Cater was happy to be sharing this moment with his wife and children, finally having some time to relax and enjoy life outside the chaos of journalistic work. Over the years, he has learned to appreciate life off-screen more.

To escape the hell that was the city that day, Ace decided that the best solution would be to take his family to a nearby river. Nothing too elaborate, but at least there they could cool off without having to spend a fortune on cold drinks or abuse his magic with cooling spells, which were a luxury that he, as someone from the ministry's accounting department, was not willing to abuse.

For a while, everything went peacefully. [Name] took off her shoes and dipped her feet in the water, relaxing as she watched her children venture further ahead. Lilian had already tied her orange-red hair into a ponytail, while Jasper stood with his arms crossed, evaluating whether it was worth getting in the water or if it would be more fun to tease his sister. Ace, on the other hand, already had his feet submerged and was throwing some water up, enjoying the coolness.

It was then that, out of nowhere, the tranquility was broken.

“So, Dad,” Lilian began, crossing her arms and giving him an inquisitive look, “How many girlfriends did you have before Mom?”

Ace blinked in confusion as he finished stretching in the water. “What? Where did that question come from?”

"You had a girlfriend before mom. And you didn't think to tell us, huh?"

Ace glanced sideways at [Name], who just chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation.

“What have you been telling them?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Me? Nothing!” [Name] replied with an innocent smile. “But your brother loves to tell stories.”

Ace groaned softly. His brother... he should have known.

"Lili, I didn't even know your mother when I broke up with this girlfriend!" he tried to argue to see if his daughter would change the subject.

But Lilian quickly dodged him and kept her accusatory expression. "Even so!" she insisted, now going closer to her mother, as if seeking reinforcement. "Uncle said you were a jerk to mom in the beginning! And what about the other girl?! You were nice to her?!"

Ace ran his hand over his face in disbelief. He had faced powerful adverse situations, being a troublemaker at school… but nothing compared to the fury of a teenage daughter determined to seek justice for her mother.

"Is this an interrogation?" he asked, raising his hands in surrender.

"It depends on your answer," Lilian replied with a frown.

"Look, I wasn't the easiest guy to deal with back then," Ace admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But I wasn't that bad either, okay?"

"What does that mean?!" Lilian insisted.

Ace sighed. "You know what? I'll ask your uncle what else he's been telling you. I mean, I should be enjoying the water, not defending my reputation from sixteen years ago!"

"Maybe if you hadn't been such a jerk, you wouldn't have to defend yourself now," Jasper scoffed.

"Are you two going to go swimming or keep tormenting me?"

Lilian and Jasper exchanged glances and, without warning, threw water at their father at the same time, this one who gasped offendedly.

"Sweetie, don't be so hard on your father," [Name] intervened, placing her hand gently on Lilian's hair, who was still pouting. "He wasn't perfect, but he learned a lot. And he certainly wasn't the only one who made mistakes." she chuckled, stroking her daughter's hair. "Although he really deserves some of the karma, I'd say."

"Oh, for the love of—!" Ace exclaimed, feigning indignation, while Jasper, on the other side, burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the situation. Ace an his wet hands over his face, as if that could alleviate the embarrassment. "This is absurd! Look here, I wasn't that horrible! What are you three trying to do to me, huh? A public lynching? Lili, I promise you, the only woman I've ever truly loved was your mother. No other woman has ever made me feel like she did, you little brat."

Lilian was still frowning. "Really?" she asked, a little suspicious.

"More than serious," he replied, with that carefree expression he always used when he tried to seem convincing. "And do you know what happens to those who don't believe in their dads?"

Before Lilian could react, Ace grabbed her by the waist, in a quick and agile movement, dragging her straight into the water.

She let out a high-pitched scream, taking everyone by surprise. "DAD!" she shouted, between laughter and protests, as she tried to free herself.

Water splashed around, and Lilian, now soaking wet, laughed loudly as she struggled to escape her father's embrace, but Ace, laughing along, held her tight. "Do you doubt me? Do you really think I don't love your mother?"

"I never said that!" Lilian replied, laughing and trying to balance herself. "But that doesn't justify throwing me in the water!"

Ace chuckled once more, releasing her and raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, little brat. Just don't question my love for you too."

The unbearable heat that had never been seen before in Queendom of Roses was demanding drastic measures from Deuce. He even thought about taking his family to a place like a beach or a river, but when he got home, he found an unexpected scene in the backyard.

The sound of children's laughter and water jets echoed in the hot air. His children and his wife were completely absorbed in the refreshing game with the garden hose. Matthew, in colorful shorts, held the hose tightly, laughing loudly as he shot jets of water in the direction of his mother and brother. Raphael, smaller and more agile, tried to escape by running clumsily, but was hit full on in the chest, making him let out a shrill laugh. [Name] was also soaked, her white blouse now stuck to her body due to the water, and strands of hair stuck to her face as she laughed, trying to shield herself behind her youngest son.

The scene are completely chaotic.

"Hey!" Deuce's voice broke the moment, firm and unexpected. His serious expression made Matthew's eyes widen and lowered the hose, "What are you doing getting your mother and brother wet like that, Matthew?" Deuce asked, crossing his arms.

"Sorry, Dad, we were just-" Matthew started to justify himself, but was interrupted by Deuce snatched the hose from his hands and held it tightly.

A mischievous glint crossed his determined gaze, the same look he used to have in their old delinquent phase. "It has to be this way!" He turned the hose directly on Matthew and Raphael, blasting them with a jet of water strong enough to make them scream and laugh at the same time.

Matthew tried to run away, but Deuce was spot on—he aimed right at the boy’s back, making him squirm in surprise. Raphael, laughing nervously, tried to hide behind his mother, but Deuce quickly changed his target, and soon a cold jet hit [Name] as well. “Deuce!” she shouted, laughing as she raised her arms in a futile attempt to defend herself. “It's not fair!”

“Of course it's fair,” he snapped, amused by the general confusion that ensued. The boys joined in, trying to grab the hose from their father, but Deuce was faster and dodged it easily.

[Name] took advantage of a moment of distraction to run to a forgotten bucket in the corner of the garden. Before Deuce knew it, she had filled it and poured the water straight over his head. The shock of the icy water made Deuce hold his breath for a moment.

"Ah, now you've done it," he murmured, a smile breaking across his face before he charged at them, picking [Nome] up, making her squeal as he picked up the hose from the floor. Raphael and Matthew ran to escape, but Deuce was too fast to them. Within seconds, they were all completely soaked, laughing as if the unbearable heat had been forgotten.

Eventually, the garden became a water war zone, if it wasn't already before.

© blueblossomrose 2025, I do not allow copying/plagiarism of any of my fanfics.

[callsign-rogueone]

unfit to serve

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!) words: 3.0k 🏷: no book spoilers, getting into october in the iron flame timeline. mentions of a self-inflicted wound (not described in detail / not shown "on screen"), everyone's least favorite infantry cadet makes an appearance, stalking / unhealthy obsession behaviors, sawyer to the rescue. I promise these two will figure their ish out, but today is not that day.

“There’s nothing we can do — nothing he’s done has been an explicit violation of the infantry code of conduct. I suggest you make it clear to him that you aren’t interested -- no more mixed signals. Now run along. Believe it or not, you have patients to attend to.”

“She really said that to you?” the younger healer asks, slack-jawed.

“Word for word.”

She looks both ways, leaning forward to whisper to you. “What a heinous bitch.”

You raise your hands in playful surrender. “You said it, not me. She’s the one person I won’t miss when I graduate.”

“Besides him.”

“Besides him,” you agree. “Alright. Your turn to go eat. I can hold down the fort for a while. Sawyer will be here in a bit, anyway.”

“Are you ever going to make a move on him? If I had a handsome rider boy making me jewelry in his free time, I’d definitely kiss him. And it would be so cute. It already is cute. Childhood friends to college sweethearts to cute old married couple. Just like the colonel and his wife!”

“I told you—”

“It’s just pretend,” she says, sighing, “I know. But don’t you want it to be real? Even a little bit?”

“Get out of here before I change my mind,” you say dryly, and she laughs, scampering off.

“See you in half an hour!”

Speak of the devil and he may appear. You’d hide, but it’s too late — you’ve already made eye contact. You pull your gaze away, down to the bloodied towel he’s holding around his left arm. So he’s actually injured this time — but you really don’t feel like being behind a closed door with him, and going to ask one of the senior healers to do it for you wouldn’t be a great idea. It feels like they’re already out to get you.

Thankfully there’s supplies in every room here, including the intake area.

You nod to one of the chairs, turning to wash your hands. “Have a seat.”

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he starts, sitting down. “How have you been?”

“Well, thank you.”

No details, no extra pleasantries -- no information he could use to keep the conversation going, or to be creepy about at a later date.

He lays his arm across the table, unwrapping the towel. It’s not gushing blood, thankfully, but it’s a nasty scratch that will definitely need stitches. You turn to scratch out a note, needing a break from his stare. Friday October 5th, 634 -- 11:20am. Laceration, left forearm, ≈4 inches long, ¼ in deep.

It occurs to you that all the injuries you’ve treated for him, bar the first one, have been to his left side. You flip back through the thickened folder that holds his records, confirming; left arm, left leg, left side, left leg, left arm… And the times… 9:07, 8:19, 7:45, 9:24, 8:21… always when you’re on shift. Once is an incidence, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern, but five? Five is getting toward concrete proof.

“James,” you ask gently, and he perks right up — you never call him by his name, one of the lines you’d attempted to draw that he’d breezed right past without even noticing. “Can you tell me how this happened?”

He blinks at you for a second before he makes a recovery that isn’t as smooth as he thinks it is. “I was helping some of the first years with sword fighting. They’re pretty good.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, looking back at the wound. You’ve held a sword before — not that you know how to use it — but if he was in a proper stance, using two hands, they would have come down against his right arm, not his left, and it wouldn’t have been so straight, or so deep. This wasn’t sideways pressure, but downward, into the muscle.

But he wouldn’t… Would he?

“I’m just concerned about you, is all,” you say carefully. “You’ve been in here a lot lately.” You tap the folder with a fingernail to illustrate your point. 

You really don’t know where to go with this, but you’re letting him steer the conversation, to see what he’ll tell you. You’ve watched the older healers do this dozens of times; empathize with the first complaint and wait to see if they tell you something serious. You’d fallen for it yourself once as a younger cadet, having mentioned how tired you were that week — and then when Winifred asked more questions, and you told her that you’d been having dizzy spells, you were promptly whisked away for examination and given supplements to take. You felt perfectly fine again within three days.

“Occupational hazards,” he offers with a smile. 

“Yeah,” you reply distantly. “Guess so.” You’re just jumping to conclusions. There’s no way that he did this to himself. It would hurt like hell, for a start. But he doesn’t show any signs of discomfort, smiling at you even as you apply the extra-strong disinfectant that you’ve seen make even the toughest riders wince. You press near the edge of the wound with a gentle fingertip — no reaction to that, either. He remains completely straight-faced, his eyes not leaving yours.

He takes advantage of the lull in the conversation, changing the subject. “Did you get my letter?” He looks genuinely eager, and for a moment you almost feel guilty for letting Sawyer have Sliseag torch it. 

“I did,” you answer, regretting it immediately when you realize that you just confirmed which room you sleep in. “James… I’m sorry, but this isn’t happening. And I’ve told you before, I already have a boyfriend.”

He laughs. “That rider friend of yours? Please. You do know that he was held back a year, right? Couldn’t hack it the first time, so they made him start over again. I guess the second time’s the charm, not the third.”

Your jaw clenches, but you remain silent.

“You deserve better than some second-pick farm boy, anyway. What you need is stability,” he offers. “Someone who has enough so you won’t have to work, and who won’t be in service for the rest of their life — and won’t break their neck falling off a dragon, and leave you to raise the kids alone.”

You can’t hold it back. “You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I want, because you’ve never bothered to ask, and you certainly don’t know what I need. I made my choice, and I love him. I’m sorry that you don’t understand, but you don’t have to.”

He sighs. “What’s it gonna take for you to stop playing hard to get? I’m tired of this game. And it’s such a bitch to change bandages every time I shower.”

He thinks this is all a game?

So you were right, after all.

“You did this yourself?”

“Of course I did. They were turning me away when I needed anything less than stitches, so I didn’t really have a choice.”

There’s a soft rustle from the other side of the room, and you come back to your senses just in time to see someone slip down the hallway, a blur of black and auburn. That can only be Sawyer. Did he hear all of that? If the gods haven’t forgotten about you, then he did, and he’s going to get… someone. But will the older healers even believe him, after they’d dismissed your complaints weeks ago? And what are you supposed to do in the meantime, sitting alone with him?

Finish stitching, you suppose. The bleeding has slowed to a trickle, and he’d made a clean cut, so it’ll be easy enough. You occupy yourself with preparing your supplies, hoping he won’t press you further — you still haven’t responded to his question, or expressed any reaction to what he just told you.

Thankfully he seems content to just be sitting in your presence, but the feeling of his eyes on you is incredibly unsettling — like you’re being watched by a wolf who’s ready to strike.

But a wolf would only kill out of necessity, and make it quick. Men like to play with their food.

Just breathe. The odds of someone walking in right now are pretty high, and if it’s anyone but his two infantry friends, you’ll be safe physically. 

You just need to tell someone what he told you. Someone with authority.

“Cadet Lowen,” the mender greets, and you stand too quickly, hands behind your back in the position of attention.

“Colonel Colbersy,” you reply, trying not to sound too relieved. Caleb is with him. He’ll believe you. He has to.

The mender looks exhausted, and so he, but they still offer James disarming smiles. “Let's get you fixed up, son. Come back to my office.”

As soon as he’s turned away from you, you catch the healer by the elbow, signing — he did it. hurt himself. 

Caleb nods. Your rider told me. 

You press the file into his hands, continuing. Five times. 

His eyes widen.

Because of me.

His lips part to speak, but Nolon beckons him forward, steering James through the double doors leading to the exam rooms. You hold your breath until he’s out of sight, releasing it in a soft shudder as soon as they’re gone. 

You strip off the healer’s robes with trembling hands, tossing them aside carelessly and striding toward the sink. You finally start to cry, your vision blurring with tears as you lather up to your elbows, desperate to get this terrible feeling off of you.

“Peach,” Sawyer begins delicately, laying a hand on your arm to stop you from scrubbing your skin raw, and you flinch away.

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t want to be touched right now,” you sniff. 

He retracts his hand immediately. “I understand. Say the word and I’ll leave.”

“No,” you whisper, watching the water run, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He leans against the counter beside you, a few feet away, speaking softly. “From what I saw, you handled that incredibly well. And you did the right thing. The leadership is going to get him help.”

You nod numbly, rinsing the soap from your skin and turning the tap off. He hands you a towel, and you take it silently, drying your hands. You feel like you need a full shower after the last ten minutes, your skin still feeling unclean despite being washed thoroughly with soap and water — maybe too thoroughly. Your hands feel dry and irritated, stinging from the steaming water you’d used. 

You’re still trying to wrap your head around all of this. “He was injuring himself because of me. Because he wanted an excuse to see me.”

Sawyer doesn’t hesitate with his response. “He did those things because he’s unwell. None of this was your fault, peach. I need you to understand that.”

You don’t respond, still wrestling with the guilt, wracking your brain to think of anything you could have done differently. But if he hadn’t gotten so attached to you, would he have become obsessed with another of your classmates instead? Any girl who smiled at him and listened when he spoke, like all healers are instructed to? Would another girl have accepted his advances, and unknowingly walked into his trap? What would he have done if she realized who he really was inside and decided she wanted out?

“Lowen,” the colonel says gently.

You look up at him through teary eyes, placing your hands behind your back again — regretting taking off your robe. “Yes, sir?”

“You did the right thing. He’s going to be declared unfit to serve, and he’ll get the help he needs.”

You nod quietly, not sure what to say.

“I’m grateful that your friend found me before anything else could happen. And I’m sorry that I hadn’t had a proper handle on this situation until now. I hadn’t realized how serious it was. Take tomorrow off, and get some rest. I need my best third-year in good condition,” he says warmly.

The compliment doesn’t fill you with pride like it usually would — you just feel numb, hollow except for the guilt churning in your stomach that still hasn’t gone away. “Thank you, sir.”

You remain at attention until he leaves, disappearing back down the hall to whence he came. 

You look up at Sawyer. “I’ll be okay,” you say softly. “He’s right, I just need to wash it off.” Literally. You’ll take the longest shower of your life, and probably cry again, and that will help — hopefully.  “Thank you. For all of this. If you hadn’t been there to see me… I’m just so relieved that this is over.”

“Of course, sweet girl.” He picks up your hastily-discarded robe, draping it over his arm. “Let’s get you out of here, hm?”

“I still need to clean up and do some paperwork,” you say softly. “You go on ahead— I don’t want you to be late for class, and I’ll be fine to walk back on my own now that he’s gone.”

“Okay,” he responds quietly.

You take the robe back from him. “Tell the others I say hi.”

“I will,” he promises, still lingering.

You offer him a sad smile, starting to clean up the supplies you’d used. You’ll need to wash your hands yet again after this, but you need to occupy yourself with something or you’re going to start crying again — and you can’t bear to watch Sawyer leave right now.

Hearing his footsteps retreat is hard enough.

Sleep doesn’t come easily to either of you that night — you both lie awake for a while in your matching beds across campus from one another, thinking about the day’s events, and wondering what this will mean for you and your little ruse of a relationship.

——————

“It’s almost eleven thirty, dude. Scoot,” Ridoc reminds, but Sawyer makes no move to leave. “Okay, something is definitely up with you. Spit.”

“James is being declared unfit to serve,” he answers tiredly, still looking at his textbook. “Turns out he was injuring himself just to have an excuse to see her.”

There’s a collective inhale from the table. “Yikes.”

Rhiannon looks at him, confused. “So he’s finally going to be out of her hair. That’s good — why are you so bummed?”

“She doesn’t need me anymore.”

Oh.

There’s a short silence before his friends jump in to help. “Did she tell you that?” Violet asks.

“She thanked me for everything, and said she’d be fine on her own. This whole thing was supposed to get him out of her hair, and now he’s getting discharged, so the logical conclusion is that it’s over.”

“So that’s a no,” Ridoc says. “Got it.”

Sawyer ignores him, continuing to scratch out notes half-heartedly.

“You don’t have to stop seeing her, you just might stop the boyfriend stuff for a while,” Violet reasons. 

He finally looks up at them. “I can’t.”

Three sets of eyes blink back at him, confused.

He sighs, shutting the textbook. “You don’t get it, guys, I’m screwed. So, so screwed. I look at her and I just want to take care of her. It’s been like this ever since I saw her again at land-nav. When she told us about that infantry creep, I was ready to go over there and knock his fucking teeth out, but she looked so scared that all I wanted to do was hold her, because she is so good and pure-hearted and she doesn’t deserve to be scared or in pain, ever. And now that we started this whole fake-boyfriend thing, and I get to take her out to town and pick her flowers and all that, I can’t just stop and go back to being friends. I want to do that stuff for her forever, but I know she doesn’t want anything real with me, and even if she did, in less than a year she’s gonna graduate and leave to gods-know-where, and it’ll all be over like that, all because I wasn’t good enough to be chosen at Threshing the first time around.”

“Okay, first of all, breathe,” Rhiannon instructs, “and quit the self-deprecation thing. That’s water under the bridge. If you hadn’t repeated, you wouldn’t have seen her at land-nav, and you wouldn’t have been able to protect her from that creep, because you wouldn’t even have known about him.”

The thought makes him feel sick. What would have happened if nobody had seen you with James yesterday and gotten help? If Sliseag hadn’t protected you in the forest? Would James have hurt you for declining his advances, or hurt himself again?

“Second, did she tell you that she doesn’t want you? Or are you just assuming?”

Sawyer is quiet in a way that the table interprets as another no. 

Ridoc chimes in, never one to stay silent. “Just take her out again, drop some line about wishing this was real, and boom. Instant happily-ever-after. It was so easy for you guys to click again after two years apart — you can handle a year of long distance! And then if you get married, they have to station you together for the rest of your service,” he adds. “And they pay you more.”

Sawyer doesn’t look convinced. “I can’t just pretend that this never happened. I don’t want to. She’s fragile right now. The way she looked yesterday… I haven’t seen her cry like that in years. And she didn't want me to touch her, which isn’t like her at all. It was scary, honestly.”

“Poor girl,” Rhiannon frowns. “This all must have been traumatic for her.”

“So be there for her,” their newest squadmate stresses, finally speaking. “Keep showing up, and let her talk to you about all this. She doesn’t need a boyfriend right now, or a bodyguard, but she does need someone, and that should be you.”

Everyone turns to her, having forgotten she was there  — she flushes at the attention, returning to her sketch.

Sawyer sighs. “Nolon gave her the day off today, but I might go by tomorrow and see her.”

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

SMOKE SCREENS & CIGARETTES — part one

#1 - The Two Worlds

Lee Heeseung is always known as the quiet boy in class. Although his popularity in school would suggest otherwise, he is never viewed as the rebellious or partying type. In fact, he is the kind of student who reminds the teacher about pending assignments just as the lesson is about to conclude. Simply put, Lee Heeseung fits the stereotype of a nerd—at least, that's the version of him you are accustomed to.

So, when you unexpectedly encounter him at a club in another city during your summer break, his hair, now sporting green highlights, is slicked back instead of covering his eyes as it typically does on campus. He has multiple metal studs hanging from his earlobe, but above all, he seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself, dancing, drinking, and smoking without inhibition. Needless to say, you are taken aback.

While it's not uncommon for an overage university student to be partying during their vacation, this is Lee Heeseung we're talking about. The last thing you'd expect is to see him in Club Dark Moon, one hand holding a glass of some intoxicating liquid, and the other wrapped around the waist of a girl who appears to be of similar age to yourself.

This is the same Lee Heeseung who never knows when to take a hint in class, always finding an opportunity to correct the teacher. The Lee Heeseung who never fails to maintain perfect posture throughout 3-hour long lectures. The Lee Heeseung who becomes unresponsive and distant when the conversation veers away from academic topics. The Lee Heeseung who secretly envies you because you embody everything he isn't.

Now, in the flesh, is The Lee Heeseung embodying everything you thought he wasn't.

You are popular yourself, considering your extroverted and altruistic nature; you are popular because you know how to party. Lee Heeseung is popular because he is a quiet and smart kid yet has a mysterious aura that makes him so god damn attractive. The two of you are complete polar opposites, each other's antonyms, and while possessing many contradictory qualities, you are actually similar to one another in many ways that don't meet the eye.

You frequently attend the weekly Friday night parties hosted by the university fraternities. And with each step you take, you effortlessly command the attention of every person present, your magnetic presence impossible to ignore. Everybody yearns to be in your orbit; guys want you, while girls admire your confidence and charisma, secretly wishing to be you. Your friends eagerly drag you to every party down the block, basking in the reflected glow of being associated with The Y/L/N Y/N—a name synonymous with popularity and social prowess.

Despite the overwhelming amount of attention you receive throughout your undergraduate career, a persistent sense of unease gnaws at you as you find yourself grappling with a profound sense of disconnection. While externally you seamlessly blend into the pulsating dynamic of university life, internally, you’re like a solitary figure navigating a sea of expectations and obligations. You fit in, but at the same time, you don’t.

You always think that maybe you're just stressed out with assignment deadlines. Well, clearly, since you’re partying when you should be working on the next paragraph of your final year thesis. If only the answer were as simple as that.

No, you're not stressed. You just simply do not belong to the party life. However, as the nights blur into days and the days into weeks, you begin to feel the weight of societal expectations pressing down on you, particularly the burden of being labelled as the "popular kid." And popular kids always arrive fashionably late to every party. Popular kids are the lives of the party. Popular kids are party animals.

By the time you noticed your desolation, you're already too far gone, you've convinced yourself that this is your life and all you have to do is suck it up. This label of being the “popular kid” becomes both a mantle of honour and a burden to bear, as you struggle within the confines of a stereotype that fails to encapsulate the complexity of your identity.

You're constantly trying to squeeze yourself into the mould of expectations that your peers have so delicately carved out for you, that you often find yourself questioning the authenticity of your existence, wondering if the façade of popularity is worth sacrificing yourself. Your true self.

And that's being the ambitious and studious girl you always were and still are. You would rather stay at home and finish writing your 100-page psychological analysis on 'Social Cognition and Perception', or finish reading the third volume of the 'Persuasion, Propaganda, and Marketing' trilogy. Hell, you would even rather do a mountain of chores than attend another frat party.

Though you long to share your intellectual passions with your friends, you hesitate, aware that their interests lie elsewhere. They’re in it for the social society life, effortlessly navigating sorority events and basking in the glow of admiration that comes with being in your inner social circle. Yet, beneath their carefree façade, they remain oblivious to the dedication and diligence required to maintain your impeccable grades. Only assuming that you’re a natural-born beauty and brains.

It’s your last break before your final semester and you are thrilled as you eagerly plan your to-do list over the summer break. Maybe learn to play the guitar, go on a hike, or finally start reading that fiction book you had put off for months. You envision checking it all off before the final semester begins. However, your plans are unexpectedly put on hold when your friends suggest a pre-graduation chalet trip to a province northeast of Seoul.

This trip marks your first time travelling outside of the city, and it's with your adventurous, somewhat reckless friends. The decision is made hastily, with everything arranged at the eleventh hour. Your friends unanimously agree to simply "go with the flow," as Yunjin puts it.

Unfortunately for you, your meticulous personality type craves structure and detailed planning, and you are only able to feel at ease if you have an itinerary to follow.

Hence, it’s not a surprise that you were apprehensive about embarking on this trip. You even considered skipping the excursion altogether. Except that wouldn't be fitting for a popular kid, would it? Popular kids should be laid-back and adaptable, they should be going with the flow too, they do not need people telling them what to do should listen and act on what people expect of them.

"Y/N! We're leaving in 5 minutes, will you be ready soon?" Chaewon barges into your room in the Airbnb that the four of you share. Despite your reluctance, you plaster on your flawless façade and smile. "Yes, yes, I'm ready. So impatient as always," you half-jokingly roll your eyes, relieved that Chaewon doesn't catch the genuine hesitation in your tone.

It’s not that you dislike your friends or anything; in fact, you're grateful that they're the most genuine people you've met at university. Unlike most students who sacrifice their integrity to gain favour, your friends are refreshingly candid about their opinions of you. While you and Chaewon didn't hit it off at first, now you're practically two peas in a pod. Yet, it doesn't change the fact that you've become a puppet catering to your friends' partying whims.

As you gaze into the mirror, you confront a version of yourself that you yourself could barely recognise. The person you once were—vibrant, authentic, and unapologetically yourself—has become obscured beneath layers of societal expectations and peer pressure. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time choosing to pretend the girl in the mirror is you, because what’s another day of grinding up your confidence and making it a meal that would last you an hour at best?

So, you do what you do best—picking out the skimpiest dress you own, spraying on your most testosterone-provoking perfume, and drawing a cat-eye sharp enough to kill anyone who dares to meet your gaze.

You settle into the passenger seat of the taxi while your three friends squeeze into the back. Your first destination is Club Dark Moon, one of the province's most popular and bustling nightclubs. The bouncer checks your IDs and ushers you inside, the scene unfolding just as you anticipated for a Friday night.

The dance floor is packed, with male and female dancers taking their positions on mini-stages scattered around the room. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol mixed with hours of piled-up perspiration, nearly causing you to visibly gag. Nevertheless, you force a smile despite the prospect of being pressed up against complete strangers, moving to the beat in a tango of privacy invasion.

"Hey! You guys made it!" Jay calls out from the private booth you reserved earlier in the week. Despite the night still being relatively young, the table is already littered with empty bottles of cheap alcohol, the kind that debt-induced university students can afford. Almost immediately, Yunjin prances over to the booth and squeezes herself between Jay and Sunghoon, swiftly downing a glass of whatever leftover alcohol was in it before you even reach them.

"PSA: I will not be the one babysitting her and dragging her vomit-covered body back to the Airbnb later tonight," Sakura declares, promptly supported by Chaewon, leaving you designated as tonight's caretaker.

"Hey," you greet the two boys, though your attention remains fixed on Yunjin, who just finished another drink. Sunghoon appears to notice your distressed complexion, grasping your wrist and gently turning you to face him. "You look like you need to unwind tonight. Don't worry, we'll take care of her," he reassures you, his tone of voice having some sort of soothing effect on you.

Honestly, you'd be perfectly content not drinking much tonight anyway, but dealing with a drunken Yunjin is... a whole other challenge. Grateful, you offer Sunghoon a smile and a pat on the back before heading to the dance floor to do what you do best—put on a show.

It doesn't take long before you find yourself on one of the mini-stages, the effects of a few drinks starting to kick in just as expected. The strap of your black mini-dress slips off your shoulder, and the hem rides up your thigh, possibly revealing whatever’s underneath to the crowd. Once again, you're the centre of attention, and you're used to it. The predatory stares you receive start to feel unsettling, but what can you do? You were made for this exact moment.

Sakura joins you on stage, and together, you put on an electrifying performance, dancing against each other, feeling the heat of her body pressed against yours. At one point, she even buries her face in the crook of your neck, pretending to plant kisses on your shoulder. It’s not long before you notice your vision slowly becoming hazy from the combination of body heat and the alcohol being pushed on you by your friends.

You're aware that you've crossed the boundary between sober to tipsy, and continuing at this pace will likely leave you nursing a migraine on the floor of your Airbnb tomorrow morning. You’re also aware that another glass of alcohol would only blur your senses further, and you're about to call it quits when you catch sight of a familiar face dancing across the club.

"Is that Lee Heeseung?" you mutter to yourself, Sakura noticing your distraction. "Hey, you okay? We can take a breather if you're not feeling well," she whispers just loud enough for you to hear, receiving a reassuring nod from you. She then proceeds to take your hand as you carefully manoeuvre your way downstage, your gaze still fixed on the figure you assume is Heeseung.

"Y/N! You killed it up there!" Jay's voice booms across the club, announcing it to literally every single soul in the goddamn club. Before you know it, they're chanting your name, urging you to return to the stage as if you were some caged animal in a zoo performing tricks and stunts for onlookers.

Heeseung seems to catch wind of the commotion, his ears perking up at the familiar name. He turns around, locking eyes with you, his expression betraying a hint of surprise, as if he's been caught red-handed, doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

"Lee Heeseung?" you mouth his name, and that's his signal to make a swift exit. He hands his cup to the girl he was grinding onto moments ago and practically bolts through the emergency exit. By now, the cheers from the crowd around you have faded into the background. Excusing yourself, you navigate through the crowd until you reach the other side of the emergency exit, where you come face to face with none other than Lee Heeseung himself.

"Who the fuck are you?" you gawk, taking in his unusual attire as you scan him from head to toe. His eyes, now visible without glasses, appear larger than you remembered. His hair is styled back with faded green streaks in them, and gosh is that a tattoo on his chest? Who the hell is this guy?

"You already know, so why ask?" he retorts, raising his eyebrows, wrinkles creasing on his exposed forehead. "Wow, that's a record for the most words you've ever spoken to me," you quip sarcastically, realising perhaps it wasn't the best idea as he responds with a deadpan expression.

"So... you're into the party scene, huh?" you awkwardly probe, feeling thrown off by this unexpected version of Lee Heeseung standing before you.

"That's none of your business," he replies curtly. What you don't know is that the Heeseung standing in front of you is the real Heeseung, a side he's managed to conceal for most of his university career, until now, when you've downright busted him.

"What are you doing around here?" you awkwardly attempt at conversation, receiving minimal response from him. "My grandparents live nearby. I'm visiting for the break," you nod at his response, trying to come up with something to say to keep the conversation going, but to no avail. All you can do is stand there, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, when Heeseung pulls out a cigarette from his jeans pocket and offers it to you, which you decline.

He then proceeds to light it between his lips. You watch in genuine surprise, your eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of him smoking. It's unexpected, especially considering Heeseung's role as a student ambassador, a proclaimed role model for freshmen and prospective students.

The very same influential figure stands before you, with a cigarette between his teeth. You're taken aback, your mind trying to reconcile this new information as it's a stark contrast to the persona you've always known him to portray.

"You... smoke?" you ask, unable to hide your astonishment.

"Casual smoker. It's not that big of a deal," he shrugs, his tone nonchalant as he exhales a puff of smoke into the hot summer air.

"Yeah, not when you literally rebutted how people who resort to nicotine were just, verbatim, 'losers who are unable to get their lives together, so they look for an alternative to escape from reality,'" you quote him from a discussion your class had a couple of months ago during your psychology lecture on the topic of 'coping mechanisms.'

"Never said I wasn't one of them," he shrugs, turning to look at you. His doe eyes seem to be trying to send you a telepathic message, and you find yourself captivated by their intensity. You're struck by a mixture of surprise and intrigue, wondering what led him to this moment of contradiction. You simply nod in response, not because you don't have anything to say, as a matter of fact your mind is racing, but because his intimidating yet attractive demeanour has rendered you completely speechless.

It's no secret that Lee Heeseung is good-looking, but the scene in front of you suggests he's more than just good-looking. He's hot as fuck, and you can't deny the allure of his rebellious aura. His presence exudes an undeniable magnetism, and you can't help but feel a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

"Look, you're obviously not getting the memo," he says, taking the cigarette between his fingers. "Can we pretend we never saw each other? You go back to doing whatever you do, and I'll go back to doing mine. Deal?"

You stare at him, uncertain of his intentions. Sure, you could keep a secret or two, and you're confident you would have kept quiet about what you saw even without him asking. But the urgency in his tone makes you wonder: What is Lee Heeseung really hiding? The request feels more like a demand, and you can't shake the feeling that there's more to this encounter than meets the eye.

"Yeah, sure, I can keep it on a hush-hush, but I'm just asking out of curiosity..." you start cautiously, not wanting to push his boundaries. You only finish your sentence when you hear him sigh as if he already knows what you're about to ask.

"Why don't you go around school looking like this more often? I'm pretty sure you'd be way more popular if you didn't have your hair covering your eyes. Your eyes are really pretty, by the way, though I'm sure you've heard that like a thousand times before," you start rambling before you realise it. Heeseung just stares at you, his head tilted to one side, looking stunned, amused even. You can't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and frustration at your own inability to keep your curiosity in check.

"I have a reason for it, though I don't really feel like telling you," he says, taking another puff of the cigarette. This time, he blows the smoke out in your face, adding a touch of defiance to his response. The mainstream smoke formed a screen almost intentionally between you and him, a subtle barrier signalling that the two of you are from different worlds, enjoying different luxuries. You nod, taking the hint that he doesn't want you pushing any further than you already have.

"Well, if you're ever out and about again, you know who to call," you say, trying to inject a note of lightness into the atmosphere. Heeseung raises his brow, unsure of what you're implying.

"They don't call me the party queen for no reason," you wink, turning your back towards him, ready to stroll back into the club—back into your world.

As if the universe is toying with you, you start running into Heeseung more frequently than you would prefer at school. You saw him around campus before your little encounter over the summer break, but you never recall being so hyper-aware of his presence until now. Every time you catch sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and a rush of mixed emotions—curiosity, anxiety, even a bit of excitement—floods over you.

It's not that you're avoiding him; you just can't look at him the same way. The fact that you're hiding a life-changing secret (to him at least) makes you extremely cautious walking around campus. You feel a strange sense of responsibility, almost protectiveness, and it weighs heavily on your mind. You can't help but tense up whenever his name comes up in conversations with your friends, afraid that someone might notice your unease and start asking questions you aren't prepared to answer.

"You know if you keep acting so strange whenever we so much as breathe the same air, your friends are gonna start asking questions," Heeseung says, creeping up behind you while you're searching for research materials for your thesis in the library.

"Holy fuck! You scared the shit out of me. Please don't do that again," you whisper-shout, trying to keep your volume down as you notice students around shooting you annoyed gazes, disturbed by your sudden shriek. "What are you doing here?"

"The library is a property of Decelis University, and I'm a student. What do you think?" he responds with a smirk, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. His casual demeanour only adds to your flustered state. You can't help but feel irritated at his nonchalance but also admiration for the way he carries himself so effortlessly.

"Do you always have to answer in such an arrogant manner?" you ask, and he chuckles. It's the first time you've heard him laugh, and you find yourself oddly captivated by his straight, pearly white teeth. Once again, you catch yourself noticing another feature of his that you never really paid attention to in the past.

"Besides, where else would you find a nerd? The llibrary is basically my second home," he adds with a smug look on his face. Oh, how you wish you could rip that expression off his face. You mumble softly, but just loud enough for him to hear, "You're intolerable," before turning your attention back to the rows of books in front of you.

"Seriously though, you have to stop being so awkward," Heeseung teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I am not awkward," you retort, rolling your eyes and continuing to scan the shelves for any knowledgeable book titles so you can get out of there and away from him as soon as possible. The proximity to him is unnerving, making your heart race in a way that frustrates you.

"You so are!" Heeseung ruffles your hair almost as if it’s the most natural reaction for him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"I don't recall us being that close..." you comment, trying to straighten out the hair he had so rudely messed up. Your fingers tremble slightly as you fix your hair, the unexpected intimacy of the gesture lingering.

"Ouch, I guess it was all one-sided all along," Heeseung says, clutching his chest as if he’s been shot. His dramatic antics are so out of character for the reserved student ambassador you thought you knew, and you can't help but let out a small giggle at how goofy he looks.

You never imagined that Lee Heeseung, known to be overzealous, would be standing in front of you right now, showing this playful and relaxed side of himself that he had bottled up for so long. It's a side of him that only you have the privilege to witness, and it makes you question everything you thought you knew about him.

You wonder what other facets of his character he’s hiding and why he’s chosen to reveal this side to you now. All because you know his little alter ego? Unlikely—you’ve already assured him you wouldn’t tell. Because he wants to uncover a secret of yours so that he'd have something against you too? Probably.

The thought makes your stomach twist. Is he trying to level the playing field, to make sure you both have something to lose? The idea unsettles you, but you can't deny the intrigue it stirs. What would he want to know about you? And more importantly, what are you willing to reveal?

You shake your head slightly, trying to clear your thoughts. The library’s quiet atmosphere suddenly feels charged with unspoken tension. You glance at Heeseung, who’s watching you with a knowing look, a slight smirk still playing on his lips. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a silent dare that both excites and unnerves you.

As much as you want to find your books and leave, a part of you wants to stay and uncover more about the enigmatic Heeseung. His duality is captivating, and you feel a pull towards him, an urge to understand the layers beneath his composed exterior. Your mind races with questions, but for now, you allow yourself to enjoy this rare, unguarded moment with him, feeling a bond forming that you never anticipated.

"Well," you finally say, breaking the silence, "if you’re going to keep surprising me like this, I guess I’ll have to get used to it."

Heeseung chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I guess you will. And who knows, maybe you’ll surprise me too."

"What are you doing here on a Friday afternoon anyway? Don't you have another party to go to or something?" Heeseung asks, scanning the stack of books on the cart you’ve picked out during your short conversation.

"I do actually, thought I could have a little me time before I get back to it," you reply without much thought. But Heeseung, being... well, Heeseung, immediately analyses your seemingly meaningless words.

"I'd assume you'd be a slave to fame at this point. Never knew the Y/L/N Y/N would appreciate some quiet time," he intentionally probes, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of you. As always, he hits the mark.

"There's a lot about me that you don't know, so don't assume shit about anything," you snap back, surprised by the aggression in your own voice. Before you can apologise, Heeseung does.

"Sorry, that was senseless of me."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that. It's just... y'know, the popular girl gets tired and weighed down by all the attention too," you smile at him, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, and Heeseung notices.

"Anyway, I gotta go sort these out," you say, referring to the stack of books. "I'll see you in class." You’re already moving away before Heeseung has the chance to say anything. He only manages to mumble a quiet, "Bye," but he doubts you heard him.

You did.

In class, all you can think about is how, despite the lecture hall being ridiculously spacious, Heeseung still chooses to sit in the seat right in front of you, forcing you to stare at the back of his head throughout the entire lesson. You notice he no longer has the green highlights in his hair and wonder when he dyed it back. You also thought that after the encounter the both of you had in the school library yesterday, he'd be avoiding you too.

So, why did he choose to sit here, right in front of you? Is it a coincidence, or is he trying to send a message? The questions swirl in your mind, each one more unsettling than the last. You try to shake them off, but they cling to you like the smoke from his cigarette.

This class isn’t even compulsory. You signed up for an additional course on music production after developing a minor interest in DJ-ing, thanks to your extensive partying experience. Mostly, though, you took it for the extra credit and the convenient timing—Saturday evenings—giving you a perfect excuse to skip clubbing with your friends.

You were shocked to see Heeseung on the first day of class, especially since you had no idea about his interest in music production. That was before you discovered he was a beast on the dance floor. Now that you know about his little side hustle, it all starts to make more sense.

The professor’s voice drones on, but your mind is elsewhere. You steal glances at Heeseung, who seems completely absorbed in taking notes. You find yourself analysing every detail of his appearance and behaviour. The way his shoulders move as he writes, the occasional tilt of his head, even the subtle way he shifts in his seat.

You remember the way he looked at you in the library, the way he made you feel both exposed and connected. His presence is distracting, making it hard to focus on anything but the mystery he represents. You force yourself to pay attention to the lecture, scribbling down notes and trying to absorb the material. But your thoughts keep drifting back to Heeseung and the strange dynamic that’s developing between you two.

"Alright class, as we approach your final semester at Decelis, the faculty has been observing your work thus far and has paired you up for a final-year project," the professor announces, prompting a chorus of groans, sighs, and a few enthusiastic cheers from the lecture hall. You mentally curse yourself for not reading up on the coursework before applying; you're already overwhelmed with your thesis, and now you have another project to juggle.

"Settle down. Although the result of your work will not directly affect your GPA, you must actually submit this project to pass the course. Any poor quality or late submissions can and will be reflected on your student record," the professor continues, causing another wave of mixed emotions to ripple through the room.

"Now, don't be so discouraged; at least you'll be working in pairs!" The professor tries to lighten the mood, but it doesn't help much since the students aren't even allowed to choose their own partners. "We have paired you up with partners who either have similar working styles or share the same music taste. Hence, we will not be entertaining any requests to switch partners."

"Gosh, it keeps getting worse," the girl beside you mutters, and you silently snicker at her remark. Just when you think it couldn't get any worse, you're blindsided by the professor's announcement of your partner: Lee Heeseung.

Heeseung turns around in his seat, his usual smirk firmly in place. "Looks like we're stuck with each other," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You force a smile. "Yeah, lucky me."

You’re not particularly thrilled about this pairing because working with Heeseung means constantly being schooled and corrected. The worst part is, you probably can’t even refute him because, although he says it in the worst way possible, he’s never wrong.

On the other hand, you are interested to see how he'd tackle a music production project. You know he is more of a textbook learner, so when yours and Heeseung's names slip out of the professor's mouth in the same sentence, you are curious—excited even—to witness another side of Lee Heeseung that he's never shown to anyone.

Part of you even hopes you'd be paired up with him because you want to talk to him privately without students walking past and giving the two of you weird or judgmental looks. Of course, they would stare; you belong in completely different pigeonholes.

After the lesson is dismissed, you take the chance to talk to him. "Heeseung, hey!" you greet him as he stands up from his seat, packing his bag. To your relief, he doesn't seem to be upset with you about what happened yesterday in the library.

"Y/N!" He is about to give you a playful dab but then realises it probably isn't a good idea with the lecture hall still filled with students. However, you think it is because of what you said about not being "that close," and for a second, you feel a sense of guilt wash over you.

"I was thinking we should get this project started so we can get it over and done with. You cool with that?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he smiles, and you can't help but scream internally. It's such a shame that no one else can see this smile of his.

"What about my place?" Heeseung suggests innocently, but your mind takes it out of proportion with your unnecessary imagination that you know would be better for both you and him to keep to yourself. A slight blush creeps up your cheeks, and you pray to God that Heeseung doesn't notice it.

He does but chooses not to pick on you about it, mainly because he feels his own cheeks heating up too. "Yeah sure, tomorrow okay for you?" he nods, and you reach your hand out to him. He tilts his head to the side, weighing his options before deciding to take it.

You laugh out loud at how cute he looks in the moment. "I was asking for your phone so I could give you my number, but this works too," you tease him, and he quickly pulls his hand back, jokingly pouting, which you find to be adorable.

Heeseung hands you his phone, and you enter your number. "There you go," you say, handing it back to him.

"See you tomorrow then," you say, giving him a small wave as you turn to leave.

When Heeseung texts you his home address, you can't help but feel a twinge of intimidation. You recognise the street name as one where high-status families reside in their luxurious landed properties.

You are further proven right when you alight from the taxi that manoeuvred through the neighbourhood with great difficulty to a meticulously maintained garden surrounding a grand, modern mansion. The sheer size of the property is daunting, and don’t even get you started on the rows of luxury cars parked outside. Your nerves tighten as you approach the front door, feeling like you’re about to step into a different universe.

Despite knowing you shouldn't be prejudiced—after all, you're a victim of it yourself—the thought of potentially running into his parents, siblings, or even distinguished guests scares you shitless. The last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of rich, snobby, and arrogant boomers.

However, you know better than to let that fear deter you from your original goal: completing this godforsaken project. Before you know it, you're ringing the doorbell to his private estate, which is oddly isolated from the rest of the neighbourhood. The gates open, and you step through—into his world.

#2 - The Parallel

Lee Heeseung is the eldest son of the Lee Group, South Korea's largest and most successful healthcare conglomerate. His father, Lee Daeseong, owns Seoul National Hospital and oversees a vast network of clinics, pharmacies, and even veterinary practices. The Lee family boasts a lineage of healthcare professionals, including renowned doctors, surgeons, psychologists, veterinarians, dentists, and pioneering lab researchers.

They aren’t just limited to healthcare either; the family also controls one of the country’s biggest and most luxurious department stores. This revelation surprises you, given that Heeseung never gave off any impression of being well-off, let alone being the eldest son of one of Korea’s richest and most influential families.

You stare in awe as you stroll along the ridiculously long hallway leading to the main living room. The walls are adorned with certificates, trophies, and commemorative pictures showcasing his family's impressive lineage. With each step, you feel smaller and more intimidated, overwhelmed by the weight of their achievements. If your impression of Heeseung hasn’t shifted by now, this discovery definitely did, but you try your best not to let your nervousness show.

You consider the possible reasons why Heeseung has chosen to hide such a significant part of his life behind closed doors. Maybe he was forced to keep it a secret? That seems plausible as you imagine yourself in his shoes—dealing with strangers sucking up to you, not because they wanted to be friends, but because they wanted a taste of old money and power.

As you painstakingly reach the end of the highly esteemed yet spacious foyer, you emerge into a lavishly furnished living area with high ceilings and large windows that let in an abundance of natural light. It exudes typical rich family vibes: unnecessarily large chandeliers, sofas upholstered in the finest fabrics that stretch for what seems like miles, a TV almost the size of your bed back home mounted on the wall, and a grand piano that likely hasn't been touched in ages, standing elegantly in the corner.

The air is perfumed with a subtle, expensive fragrance, and everything gleams with a polished sheen, making you acutely aware of the disparity between this world and your own. You can't help but feel a little out of place.

A friendly old lady approaches you, her steps soft and practised, offering to take your coat and presenting you with comfortable house slippers to switch out your dirty Air Forces for. "Thank you," you say, bowing slightly, feeling a pang of awkwardness in this palace-like setting. You guess she is well into her 70s, her demeanour warm and welcoming yet impeccably professional.

"The young master is upstairs in his room, the last door in the corridor to the right. Be careful not to make too much noise when you pass by the other rooms; Mr. Lee is resting," she advises, prompting you up the huge flight of stairs leading to the second floor. You gulp at her warning, knowing well that the "Mr. Lee" she refers to is Heeseung's father.

As you ascend the stairs, the opulence of the house continues to impress and intimidate you. Each step you take echoes lightly, the staircase grand and sweeping, lined with a plush carpet that feels luxurious under your feet. The walls are adorned with intricate woodwork and expensive art pieces that seem to whisper stories of the family's history and prestige. Finally, you reach the corridor and make your way to the last door on the right, careful to tread lightly as you pass by the other rooms. Your heart races, not just from the physical exertion but from the anticipation of seeing Heeseung in this new light.

You knock softly on the door, your knuckles barely making a sound on the polished wood. The door opens almost immediately, and Heeseung stands there, a welcoming yet slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

"Hey, you made it." Heeseung greets you, stepping aside to allow you into his room before closing the door behind him. "You sleep here?" you ask, scrutinising your surroundings and taking in the spaciousness of his room. "It's the size of my apartment," you add, fawning in awe.

Heeseung shrugs, seemingly indifferent. "It's alright, I guess? I'm not really home most of the time anyway."

"Oh? Then what made you suggest doing it here?" you inquire, genuinely curious.

"I have a producing studio," he replies nonchalantly as if it's the most normal thing ever to have a fully equipped studio in your house. Given the size of his mansion, you're not entirely surprised. Who knows what other unconventional amenities this dreamhouse has to offer? You nod slowly, still adjusting to the opulent environment.

For a guy, his room is remarkably well-kept and smells surprisingly pleasant. The colour scheme is rather mundane—neutral tones of grey and white, with minimal decorations. It doesn't seem to match the character of Heeseung you've come to know. It feels almost impersonal, more like a pre-decorated hotel room than a college student’s sanctuary.

He gestures for you to take a seat on his bed, and you do so awkwardly. You catch him stealing a glance at your exposed legs, making you wonder if wearing shorts and a t-shirt was the right choice, especially since his room is absolutely freezing. "I can lend you some clothes if it makes you more comfortable," he offers, and your ears perk up at the suggestion. You immediately accept.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of joggers and a hoodie. You throw them over your clothes, and it’s needless to say they are way too big for you. You secure the waistband as tight as you can to keep the joggers from slipping down your hips. The sleeves of his hoodie run all the way past your fingers, enveloping you in the familiar scent that comes along with it—a mixture of fresh morning dew and a hint of teakwood. You revel in the natural yet exotic scent he emanates, a fragrance that even the richest-smelling flowers would stand second to. It feels almost... homely, unlike everything else in this mansion.

"Thanks," you say, adjusting the oversized hoodie. Heeseung gives you a small smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

"No problem," he replies, his voice softer now. He moves to his desk, cluttered with music equipment and notes.

"Oh right, I really wanted to ask you something," you say, catching Heeseung's attention as he looks up. "I never really pegged you as the musical type, at least not until, you know," you trail off, and he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, "When did it... start?"

"You mean the part where I'm actually a self-absorbed womaniser and also an alcoholic raging reveller?" he quips, a teasing glint in his eye.

"You said it, not me," you respond, trying to keep the mood light.

"Why do you want to know?" he asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"I mean, if anyone else was in my shoes, knowing what I know, they'd be curious too," you explain. He purses his lips, nodding in agreement with your point.

"Well, I can't tell you when it started because, as far as I know, I've always been like this: partying, drinking, sex. It's fun," he shrugs nonchalantly.

"Right... and I can't get over the fact that those words just came out of your mouth. Pardon me, it's going to take a while for me to adjust to this," you say, flailing your arms to emphasise your point.

"All good, it's a first for me too. I don't think anyone knows about it, except you," he admits.

"So like... you're living your Hannah Montana dreams or what?" you joke. He scoffs, rolling his eyes, and you laugh, feeling proud of your joke.

"Why don't you want people to know?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

"Because I can't have my father knowing," he shrugs almost emotionlessly. "Typical crazy rich Asian parents whose entire reason to have kids is so they can impose whatever corrupt business they run onto you when they so unwillingly die someday."

"Sounds like shit," you sympathise.

"You have no idea how shit it really feels: having to hide, lie, and endure the harsh reality that I'll never be able to break free from the grasp of my birth giver. Not everybody gets the freedom to enjoy doing what they want like you do," he says, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You inhale sharply, realising you've touched a sensitive topic. However, you can't help but see yourself in him. "You'd be surprised to know that I actually do."

"How so? You literally have everything: you're pretty, you have good grades, you're popular, you can do whatever the fuck you want, and nobody is going to question you," he retorts. It hits you that even Lee Heeseung can't tell apart your egos. You must have put up a hell of a show to convince someone as sceptical as him.

"You think I'm pretty? I'm honoured, sir," you joke, not wanting to escalate the tension that was so evidently present in the room. Luckily for you, swerving topics is a long-honed skill of yours, having been in similar situations with your friends. Heeseung takes the hint and lets it slide.

Heeseung can't help but notice that he somehow always manages to put his guard down whenever you're around. It's unusual, more like a once-in-a-lifetime situation for him to accidentally lash out and even trauma dump on somebody. He wonders how you could have that type of effect on him when he barely even knows you.

"Enough moping around, let's get started!" you clap, breaking the awkward silence that has enveloped the room. Heeseung hurriedly agrees, and the two of you set off on your own research for ideas and inspiration.

As you scroll through a myriad of pop songs on the web, all of which somehow sound the same, you hear a faint humming despite your headphones pressing firmly around your ears. The sound is angelic, a stark contrast to the not-so-angelic person emitting it, that you think you must be hearing things. "You sing?" you ask, intrigued.

"Sorry, I didn't notice I was humming out loud," Heeseung responds, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Nah, you're good. What song were you humming? It's got a catchy melody," you say, slowly taking off your headphones. He awkwardly chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you, almost embarrassed.

"It's actually a song I've been working on. It's nothing much, though. I was just humming it subconsciously," he admits.

"It's really good," you’re generous with your praise, not able to get the melody out of your head. He turns to look at you, clearly unconvinced. "I mean it." For a few seconds, you and Heeseung just stare at each other, neither willing to look away first.

Your heartbeat speeds up, and you feel heat rushing to your cheeks, tinting them with a shade of pink. The room feels charged with an energy you can’t quite place. You look so divine sitting on his bed and praising his voice that Heeseung feels like he could tell you anything in the world, and you would still be sitting there, listening attentively to him.

"Thanks," he says, looking away shyly, now hyper-aware of your soft gaze on him. An epiphany strikes you as you realise that this is the inspiration you've been looking for, so you waste no time suggesting it to him.

"Actually, why don't we just produce it into an actual song? I think it'll turn out well."

"You think so? Won't it be too... I don't know, ballad-ish?" His interest is piqued when he sits upright after all this time.

"Who said we have to stick to making boring pop music?" you say, placing your hands on your hips in a jokingly menacing way. He laughs, the sound warming you.

"I'm fine with it, if you are," he says, looking expectantly at you. You nod and a huge smile creeps onto his face. You wonder if this is really the same Heeseung you met in that shady alley the day you discovered his alter ego. Because all you see in front of you is an overly excited boy, whose passion for music outweighs any nerdy stereotype or frat boy persona you once held against him.

At that moment, a saying from your psychology professor comes to mind:

"If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."

Was it just you, or does Heeseung remind you a lot of, well... you?

As you and Heeseung toil away on the song for hours, the room gradually darkens with the fading light outside. With a sigh of frustration, you crumple yet another failed attempt at lyrics, tossing it aside. Draft after draft, the words blur together, leaving you more lost with each attempt compared to the last.

"If I write the word 'love' one more time, I might actually lose it," you grumble, running your hands through your hair and leaning back against the headboard, eyes closed. Heeseung, noticing your weariness, suggests calling it a day. Both of you have been so immersed in your work that time has slipped away unnoticed.

"I'll finish writing this verse, and then I'll leave," you declare, sitting up straight and stretching your arms and fingers as if you’re preparing for war. Rightfully so as it’s a mental battle at this point.

Unbeknownst to you, Heeseung has been watching you intently for a while now, his gaze filled with a mix of admiration and intrigue. Seeing you draped in his oversized hoodie, diligently working on a song that on paper, wouldn’t even benefit you the slightest, captivates him.

Today, Heeseung is the one who gets a glimpse of a different side of you—one that isn’t defined by alcohol-fueled escapades on the dance floor. He finds it admirable how you remain dedicated to your studies despite your popularity. He knows you’re genuinely passionate about pursuing psychology; he sees it in your active participation in class, although it's often misconstrued by others as seeking attention or being humorous, the intention isn’t lost on him.

Today's experience solidifies for him that you're more than just a pretty face, and witnessing your dedication cements his respect for you. Watching you research and write for hours shows him that you truly enjoy learning. How does he know? Because he's much like you, albeit in a different field. While you delve into the study of the human mind and behaviour, Heeseung pours his heart and soul into music—the one thing that keeps him grounded at home, if it can even be called that.

"I've heard so many sappy and depressing ballads, I’m convinced I might end up depressed myself," you confess, crumpling yet another sheet of paper in frustration as you catch Heeseung’s gaze. Heeseung, recalling a past conversation, approaches you with a proposition.

"You know… about that offer you made me that day, is it still on the table?” He stands up, making his way over to you on the bed. You tilt your head, not quite sure what he’s referring to.

“Offer?”

“The one about being called the party queen for a reason?" He prompts, extending his hand out to you. You’re surprised, not expecting him to remember your words that were carelessly spilt from your mouth that day. You didn’t even think he’d take it seriously.

"But it's a Sunday night, and we have class tomorrow."

"So what?"

"Well, shouldn't we be getting some rest?"

"Come on, Y/N, it'll be a nice break from all this. Maybe we'll even find some inspiration," Heeseung persuades, knowing you've entertained the idea yourself. After all, you’ve been drowning yourself in sappy romantic ballads the past three hours or so, that you actually yearn for the club music you despised so much. “Don’t tell me you’re going back on your words now?” Heeseung provokes you, and just like the people pleaser you are, you sigh and agree.

Heeseung suggests a discreet club not far from his home, and as you step inside, the air buzzes with an electric energy. It’s immediately clear to you that this is no ordinary club, and the probability of running into a familiar face is slim, almost close to zero. The most obvious telltale being the aura of sophistication exuded by the clientele, dressed in boujee and classy bejewelled statements that speak of wealth and privilege rather than cheap mini dresses or skirts. If you felt out of place in your casual t-shirt and denim shorts, it's because you are.

"Mr. Lee, I didn't know you'd be coming tonight," the bartender addresses Heeseung, clearly recognising him. You assume he must be a regular for the bartender to call him "Mr. Lee."

"It was on short notice. Don't tell my father though," Heeseung’s playful wink is met with a knowing smile from the bartender, their interaction hinting at a shared history or inside joke.

"So, what? Your family owns clubs now?"

"Not exactly, but I'd like to think we almost run this place. The hospital employees frequent this joint so much that it's become a bit of a Lee thing," Heeseung explains kindly, his tone tinged with a hint of pride. "It's also the only entertainment establishment I’m allowed in without being questioned by my father. If I'm going to be seen partying, it might as well be with the elites, am I right?" He shrugs.

As Heeseung's words sink in, you nod slowly, still processing the layers of his rich boy persona. The revelation adds another dimension to your understanding of his world and the complexities of his affluent background, where even leisure activities come with the weight of familial expectations and scrutiny.

Without warning, he pulls you onto the dance floor, and you can't help but remember the day you first spotted him in the crowd. You recall the look on his face when he locked eyes with you and how attractive he seemed that night. Although he still strikes you today, it's not as remarkable as he appeared the last time you saw him in this setting.

Considering that both of you practically rushed out of his mansion, he's only thrown on a plain top and a black leather jacket. His tousled hair is subtly parted down the middle, exposing his doe eyes that you've grown to appreciate. As you watch him move to the music, a pang of self-consciousness washes over you, thinking if you had something nicer to wear, you’d be turning heads by now.

"Okay, party queen, show me what you got!" Heeseung hollers, his hand firmly clasping yours as he twirls you around the dance floor with practised ease. You can't help but let out a delighted laugh, your heart quickening with the thrill of the moment. "Are you sure? I'm not easy to handle," you tease, raising an eyebrow in a playful challenge.

Undeterred by your jest, Heeseung pulls you closer by the waist. The warmth of his touch on your sides sends a shiver down your spine as you find yourself drawn into him.

Refusing to let him take control of the situation, you play tricks of your own as you throw your arms over his shoulders, drawing yourselves closer as the music pulses around you.

To your surprise, Heeseung doesn't even flinch. Instead, he envelops you in his arms, his hands now resting comfortably on the small of your back. As you gaze up at him, you catch a smirk playing on his lips. Clearly, he's no stranger to your dance floor prowess, and anyone who knows you knows that you can make any guy fold in an instant just by looking into their eyes for a little over three seconds. Well, three seconds pass and Heeseung’s gaze is still locked on yours with an undeniable spark of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"You're enjoying this more than I expected," you tease, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I literally have the esteemed party queen right in front of me, who wouldn't?" Heeseung's response is met with a roll of your eyes, though you can’t deny the flutter of excitement in your chest at his words.

"You're annoyingly flattering, you know that?" Your voice raised slightly above the music as you playfully jab his chest. He reacts with exaggerated surprise, bumping into a nearby patron who shoots you both a disdainful look, their gaze staying on you a second longer, undoubtedly judging your attire.

Ignoring the snide glance, you and Heeseung share a knowing look before bursting into laughter. "Seems she's allergic to your impressive choice of clothing," Heeseung quips, earning an unimpressed scoff from you.

"Please, if you had given me a heads up, I'd probably be the best dressed in this shithole," you retort with a mock huff, crossing your arms in front of you. Heeseung can't help but find your playful indignation utterly endearing, though he's careful not to let it show.

As you stand there, feigning annoyance but unable to conceal the playful glint in your eye, Heeseung feels a surge of affection wash over him. Despite the glamorous setting of the club and the pretentious glances from some of the other patrons, he finds himself drawn to you—an average college girl in a place clearly out of her league, sticking out like a sore thumb among the elites.

Suppressing a smile, he reaches out to gently nudge your arm, his touch light and reassuring. "Come on now, you’ll be turning heads dressed up or not," he says softly, his words sincere. In that moment, amidst the pulsating music and the dimly lit dance floor, he realises just how much he enjoys your company, your playful banter, and your unapologetic presence by his side.

The night was still relatively young, at least in your vocabulary, and just when you thought you had seen every side of this man, he managed to surprise you yet again. He dominates the dance floor with such confidence that you can't help but feel a twinge of competitiveness, sensing your throne as the party queen being challenged. Yet, there's something undeniably endearing about the sight of him, his smile radiant as he sings and dances with indifference to the music.

However, your admiration falters and you assume your eyes are deceiving you when you catch him dancing up against multiple girls, his eyes clouded with lust as he checks them out. From the intense intimacy you shared in his room earlier, dancing the night away was the last thing you expected. Yet, here you are, caught in the whirlwind of the moment.

As you sway to the music, you feel a presence coming up behind you, a young man presumably in his late twenties. You didn’t reject his advances so he takes it as a positive sign to move closer with each step. Turning around, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, swaying your hips in sync with his. His response is palpable, and you revel in the power you hold over him, whispering sweet nothings into his neck as he shivers under your breath.

You chuckle subtly to yourself as you look up from the man, locking gazes with a pair of eyes you know all too well. Meanwhile, Heeseung, wrapped in the arms of another girl, stares intensely over her shoulder at your interaction with the stranger. For a fleeting moment, he imagines himself holding you, corrupting you in ways only he knows how. Sensing your gaze, he quickly diverts his attention, forcefully grabbing the jaw of the girl in front of him, kissing down her neck with a calculated intensity that surprises even you.

Shocked by his sudden display, you feel a surge of heat coursing through your body. Refusing to attribute it to him, you take matters into your own hands. You start sucking on the skin of the guy in front of you, tasting the salty remains of his perspiration that makes you cringe a little as you feel him melt into your arms. Oh, the power you have over men.

All the while, your eyes remain locked with Heeseung's, a silent challenge passing between you. In that moment, he realises the depth of the connection between you, a connection that transcends mere attraction and borders on something far more dangerous. And as he watches the scene unfold, a sense of déjà vu washes over him.

You remind him of someone, someone he knows all too well—an uncanny resemblance to… himself.

Heeseung and you stumble out of the club sometime after midnight, giggling and visibly intoxicated as you lean on each other for support. He stands there, slightly swaying, with his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, a goofy smile plastered on his face. In this moment, he seems carefree and boyish, a stark contrast to the different facets of his personality you've come to know. Heeseung is a man of many faces, and you have had the honour of witnessing them all... well, almost all.

You gaze at him endearingly, reflecting on how your relationship with Heeseung has changed so drastically in just a matter of weeks. The two of you barely knew each other before; you were practically strangers with only a superficial understanding of one another. Come to think of it, you don't even know his favorite colour. However, the connection between you feels like you've known him for a lifetime, and you're sure Heeseung feels the same way.

As you stand there, the world spinning slightly from the alcohol, you reflect on how Heeseung has become a cornerstone of your life. There's a comfort in his presence that allows you to be vulnerable, showing him sides of yourself you wouldn't normally reveal to anyone else. He, in turn, seems to trust you implicitly with his deepest, darkest secrets (literally).

Not wanting this magical moment to end, you discreetly pull out your phone. You aim the camera at Heeseung, capturing him in all his glory—his tousled hair, his bright eyes, the unguarded joy on his face. The click of the camera shutter is soft, almost imperceptible, but the image it captures is one you know you'll treasure forever.

You are so caught up in angling your phone so the street lamp highlights his features perfectly that you don't even notice when Heeseung turns his attention to you. His smile softens as he watches you, a tender look in his eyes that catches you off guard when you finally glance up.

Snap.

"You know I'm right here in the flesh, right? Why look through a picture when you can experience the real thing?" Heeseung smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief as you fumble with your phone, quickly hiding it behind your back. His chuckle makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Come on, I'll take you home," he says, already starting to walk away before you have a chance to protest.

"You don't really have to," you say nervously, catching up to him. He looks down at you, his warm smile making your heart skip a beat.

"It's the least I can do after dragging you out here with me. Besides, it's getting late," he replies, his voice gentle and reassuring. You fiddle with your fingernails and nod in defeat, grateful but slightly flustered.

The walk home is quiet, but it's a comforting silence, filled with unspoken words of affirmation and the soft hum of the city at night. Your outfit isn't exactly ideal for the chilly fall weather, and you mentally face-palm when you realise you left your coat at Heeseung's place. The cold seeps in, making you shiver beneath the featureless grey clouds that blanket the streets of Seoul.

Suddenly, you feel a rough, heavy material fall over your shoulders, wrapping you in warmth. Heeseung has placed his leather jacket on you after noticing your visible shivering. "Idiot, you should've worn something warmer," he scolds lightly, his concern evident in his eyes.

You chuckle, feeling a surge of gratitude and a warm blush spreading across your cheeks. "I didn't think it'd be this cold already. Also, I didn't exactly plan to stay out this long," you retort playfully, shooting him a mock glare. He smiles sheepishly, his own cheeks tinged with a faint pink.

As you continue walking, you find yourself sneaking glances at Heeseung, marveling at how quickly he has become such an important part of your life. The leather jacket smells like him, a comforting mix of cologne, cigarettes and something uniquely Heeseung. It feels like a protective embrace, and you can't help but feel a little giddy.

In what seems like no time, you find yourself standing in front of your apartment building. Heeseung glances around, surprised at how quickly the walk seemed to pass. It felt like thirty minutes, yet somehow it seems like barely half that. You reluctantly hand his jacket back, feeling the warmth linger on your skin. "Thank you," you say, genuinely grateful and a bit sad to see the night end.

"Anytime," he replies with a soft smile, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. You bid him goodbye and head into the building, feeling his eyes on you until you enter the lift.

Heeseung puts on his leather jacket, now imbued with hints of your perfume. The scent lingers, a comforting reminder of the night. As he walks back home through the bustling streets, his mind is filled with the events of the evening, a smile playing on his lips. The city lights blur around him, and he can't help but feel that tonight was the start of something truly special.

Just as you had thought, clubbing the night before a school day probably wasn't the smartest idea, but if you were being honest with yourself, you had no regrets. After that night, you felt a noticeable shift in your relationship with Heeseung, and it was definitely a positive one. So many things were left unsaid, but there was no need for words; you both just knew.

It didn't come as much of a surprise when you and Heeseung stopped avoiding each other on campus. In fact, the two of you were practically inseparable, spending every possible moment together. Some might even think you were dating. That wouldn't sound so bad, except for the fact that your reputations were complete opposites—the party girl and the goody-two-shoes show-off? Unfortunately, you weren't the only one who thought it was an odd pairing.

"Y/N, what's up with you and the smart aleck?" Yunjin asks as she sits down across from you, joining Sakura and Chaewon in their persistent quest to dig up whatever you might be hiding about Heeseung.

"First off, his name is Heeseung," you sigh, shifting over to make room for Sunghoon, who sits next to you. "And there's absolutely nothing going on."

"Mhm..." Yunjin props her chin on her fingers, clearly not convinced by your half-hearted answer.

"Look, we're just working together on a project and got to know each other. He's actually a decent person, so there's no need for me to push him away. There's nothing more to it," you explain, trying to sound casual.

Sakura squints her eyes, staring intently into your soul like the lie detector she is. You realise you're holding your breath, feeling an unexpected wave of nervousness. Why are you so anxious? It's not like you're lying. When Sakura finally smiles, you silently release a breath of relief, thankful that her smile seems to have debunked the suspicions of the other girls.

"Okay, okay, we'll drop it... for now," Chaewon says, grinning mischievously.

"Speak of the devil," Yunjin says, pointing. You follow her gaze and, lo and behold, there’s Lee Heeseung with his attention on you and your group of friends. You smile and wave, which he gladly acknowledges, waving back and reminding you of your appointment later to continue working on the song you had to abruptly pause the other day.

As you watch him walk over to his own group of friends not too far away, you can hear his sweet laughter over the noise of the bustling cafeteria. Your body is at the table, reacting to your friends' conversations, but your soul is patently somewhere else, drawn to Heeseung.

"To be honest, he's actually not bad looking," Yunjin says, shrugging her shoulders and bringing up Heeseung again, which catches your attention. "If only he wasn't so annoyingly unlikeable. There's only so far a pretty face can get you." Your friends nod along with Yunjin's statement, and you suck in a quick breath, trying to hide your frustration. It affects you how your friends think of Heeseung, but you feel helpless to change their minds. After all, you've told them he's nothing more than a mere friend.

"Now that guy beside him," Yunjin nods towards the younger-looking boy beside Heeseung, "he could hit me up anytime." You roll your eyes at her usual flirty antics; she never fails to check out any decent-looking guy within her preying vision.

"I believe his name is Jake," Sunghoon pipes up, surprising you since he usually never joins in on your girly talks.

"Jake Sim? As in the famously smart junior from the faculty of health sciences?" Chaewon asks, and Yunjin seems intrigued.

"Yeah, you heard about him, Chaewon?"

"Of course, everyone from HS has heard his name before. He's famous for being the guy who tried to resurrect a rat during his dissection practicum, though it didn't exactly work out," Chaewon explains. You, being from the same faculty, struggle to recall ever hearing about this 'Jake.'

"He WHAT?" Yunjin bursts out laughing as Chaewon shrugs her shoulders. "Honestly, I don't even know. What I do know is, he's a total softie and extremely humble, unlike his best friend."

"I'm glad you and Lee Heeseung aren't what I thought you guys were. It'd be detrimental to your reputation if you were ever involved with him in that way,"

"Thanks for the concern, Yunjin, but I can take care of myself," you reply, standing up with your tray of almost untouched food. You excuse yourself, saying you don't have much of an appetite. Thankfully, your friends don't think much of it. Sunghoon, however, catches the tension lifting your shoulders and can't help but feel like you're hiding more than you let on—maybe even facts that you yourself aren't fully aware of.

As you walk away, you steal one last glance at Heeseung. He's engrossed in conversation with his friends, but for a brief moment, he looks up and your eyes meet. There's a spark of something unspoken, something that makes your heart race and your mind whirl with possibilities.

A week has passed since that weirdly infuriating conversation with your friends, and during this time, you've done a lot of thinking... like a lot. It bothers you how much their words about Heeseung affected you more than you'd like to admit. It's true that your relationship with him has changed in ways you never expected, but he was nothing more than a friend—friends who share life-changing secrets, but still, just friends.

I mean, you were just looking out for a good friend, right? It was out of your guilty conscience that you couldn't sit there and listen to your friends talk smack about someone they clearly didn't know two shits about. Your friendship with Heeseung has advanced to something more than just surface-level "heys" and "how's your day?" So, clearly, your friends were wrong for judging him based on stereotypes and rumours... right?

You find yourself running away from the answer you so desperately seek, but all you can think about is—do Heeseung's friends talk about you that way too? Do they see you as an attention-seeking whore, a chronic people-pleaser, a clubbing maniac with an alcohol addiction? If they do, does he defend you like you did for him?

The answer would be ‘yes’, because Heeseung had just as much of a week as you did, with his friends constantly asking about you. Each time, he gave them the same exact answer: "We're just working on a project together." It disturbed him how even people he barely knew felt compelled to ask about you, some going as far as inquiring if you were any good in bed. It saddens him that this is the impression people have of you when he knows you are so much more than just the girl who parties a lot. He wonders if you are aware of the things people say about you, and all he can hope for is that you stay blissfully ignorant of it.

You've been avoiding your friends since that day in the cafeteria, not because of what they said, but because of how you reacted. The intensity of your feelings scared you, and you dread being put in that same predicament again if they inevitably bring up Heeseung.

Your friends didn't sense anything off about your behaviour that day, and you don't blame them. After all, you've been hiding your true feelings from day one; you're far from an open book, and your friends know about as much about you as the strangers you walk past every single day.

However, a week of avoiding your friends did made them question if something went wrong, especially since you were so active around Heeseung but shied away whenever one of them approached you. Their concern grew, but it didn't last long when you showed up at the weekly frat party, best dressed as always.

You couldn't let this setback ruin the reputation you had worked so hard to build and keep, so you decided to suck it up, put on the sluttiest mini dress you owned, and went to work.

The party is in full swing when you arrive, the bass from the speakers vibrating through your body. You make an entrance, turning heads as you stride confidently through the throngs of partygoers. Your friends spot you almost immediately, their expressions a mix of relief and curiosity.

"Y/N! There you are! We were starting to worry," Yunjin calls out, waving you over.

You flash a dazzling smile, pushing away the nervous flutter in your stomach. "Hey, guys! Sorry, I've been a bit busy," you say, trying to keep your tone light and breezy.

Sakura raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Busy with Heeseung, huh?"

You laugh it off, though the comment hits closer to home than you care to admit. "We've just been working on our project. Nothing more."

The conversation shifts as your friends drag you to the dance floor, the thumping music drowning out any further interrogation. You lose yourself in the rhythm, your body moving to the beat, the worries of the past week melting away under the flashing lights and the haze of alcohol. Yet, even as you dance, you can't help but scan the room for Heeseung even though you know he can never be caught dead at a frat party. It's just become a habit, this unconscious need to know where he is, what he's doing.

Heeseung isn’t any better, constantly refreshing his Instagram feed to catch the latest updates on what you were up to. It’s not difficult, considering you were everywhere on everyone’s stories. Heeseung scrolls through the endless array of posts, his smile tinged with an emotion he can't quite place. He watches you chugging a glass of beer in Sakura's story, admiring the way you dance on the floor in Jay's, and even feeling a tinge of jealousy at the closeness you had with guys other than himself. Despite the show of carefree revelry, he knows you'd rather be working late into the night on the song you two were supposed to be writing together.

“What a life you have, Y/N,” Heeseung mutters to himself, laying back on the fluffy comforter that still carries the faint scent of you from your last visit. He hasn’t changed it out, clinging to the lingering trace of your presence, finding an unexpected comfort in it. He wishes you were right there beside him.

He closes his eyes, picturing your laughter filling the room, the way your eyes light up when you're excited about something. He imagines you working together on the song, bouncing ideas off each other, and the comfortable silence that often falls between you when words aren’t necessary.

A sigh escapes his lips as he grapples with these feelings, pondering if you feel the same way, if you think about him when you're out with your friends or if he even crosses your mind at all. The thought of you being surrounded by other people, especially guys who don't understand you the way he does, makes him uneasy.

Unlike you, he was fully aware of the tension between you two, a tension that screamed "more than friends." Despite this awareness, he had no immediate plans to act on it. Then again, things don't always go according to plan, do they?

You cannot begin to explain how thankful you are for Heeseung's perfect excuse to bail you out of this messy alcoholic galore. "Chaewon! I have to go!" you shout over the music, pushing your way through the crowd to get to her. "What? Why? It's not even midnight yet!"

"Something went wrong with the project file I'm working on!" Chaewon pouts, clearly disappointed that you can't stay longer. "Can't you stay a little while longer? I think they're popping the expensive bottles soon!"

"I can't, I’ve spent way too much time on it to lose it now!" You feel a pang of guilt for having to come up with yet another lie. Every time you swear to yourself that you won't do it again, but it happens so often that it has just become second nature.

"Sorry!" you say, downing the last of your beer and setting the glass down on the counter beside Chaewon. "You're good, I guess it can't be helped! I'll let the rest know you had to leave earlier, don't worry about it!" You mentally thank the angel that is Kim Chaewon for not questioning you any further. You hurriedly gather your belongings and make your way out of the house.

You’ve walked the halls of Heeseung’s mansion and knocked on the door of his room more times than you could count on one hand. However, this time you’re standing at the head of his door not because you can't wait to bombard him with ideas and song lyrics for your project, but because he simply wanted to hang out—just the two of you, in his room.

"Hey, you made it," he greets, opening the door. That familiar musky scent washes over you, and you notice how he stands there silently, staring at you—or rather, what you’re wearing.

"I couldn't change on my way here," you blurt out. You didn't really have to, but you find the need to explain yourself to him. You feel so vulnerable under his gaze, and you’re not sure if it's the alcohol kicking in that makes your body heat up or the fact that Heeseung is blatantly checking you out. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to turn up in front of him, visibly tipsy and wearing the most inappropriate thing you own.

"Come in, I’ll grab something for you to change into," Heeseung says, stepping aside and gesturing for you to close the door after you. You stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, waiting for him to return. In this short time frame, you can feel yourself sobering up in the quietness of his space. You wish you had drunk a bit more so you wouldn't be so hyper-aware of the tension that has conveniently presented itself within these walls.

After what feels like hours, Heeseung returns with a newly-washed hoodie. You recognise it as the one he always lends you when you come over. The hoodie is as much yours as it is his at this point.

"Why are you just standing there like that? It’s not like it’s your first time here anyway," Heeseung says, throwing himself onto the bed and gesturing for you to sit beside him. 

You pull the hoodie over your head, feeling the soft fabric envelop you in its familiar warmth. The scent of Heeseung clings to it, making you feel a strange mix of comfort and nervousness. You awkwardly shift next to him, the bed dipping under your combined weight as he chuckles softly, amused at how differently you’re acting in front of him.

You mentally thank Heeseung for his insanely perfect proportions that his hoodie covered all the way down to your thighs, especially as you feel your dress riding up your hips when you sit down. 

"Seemed like you were having a lot of fun. Didn't really expect you to actually show up," Heeseung says, grabbing the mid-sized soft toy sitting at the edge of his bed and placing it on your lap.

Chuckling, you play with the ears of the teddy bear. "You know damn well I’d rather be working on that song with you. Though we’re not actually doing anything right now..." Heeseung laughs, clearly satisfied that he knows you so well. It makes him feel special.

"Don’t get so cocky now," you smirk, looking at him.

"You think I don’t know you missed me so much you took the opportunity to invite me over even though you knew I was out?" You raise an eyebrow, intentionally teasing him. It has become a running joke between the two of you that Heeseung has some sort of infatuation towards you. He texts you over every little thing, and you, being embarrassingly awkward and heavily influenced by your flirtatious lifestyle, make a joke out of it.

Heeseung doesn’t deny it, though. Maybe he really does feel some sort of attraction toward you, one that’s more than merely sexual.

"What were you doing before I came over?" you ask, your curiosity piqued as you play with the teddy bear, moving its limbs in circular motions like a mini b-boy dance routine.

"Thinking," Heeseung replies, staring at you absentmindedly.

"About?"

"You," he says simply.

You turn to face him, a little too quickly for your liking. You don't want to seem shocked or flustered, so you keep your composure. Snickering, you try to play it off as a harmless tease. "Your awful attempts at seduction won't work on me, Heeseung."

"I didn't say it would be easy," he shrugs, casually picking a piece of lint off the sleeve of your—well, technically his—hoodie.

"You're such a flirt. How do the people around you not notice that trait of yours?"

"I'm a pretty convincing actor if I do say so myself," he says, dramatically brushing his fingers through his hair. "Better than you even."

"Puh-lease, even Angelina Jolie has nothing on me," you retort, joining in the act by dramatically flipping your hair in his direction, inadvertently smacking him in the face.

"Why are you here again?"

"Shut up, don’t act like you weren’t the one begging me to come over."

"Ha! You wish you had that power over me," you say, not realising how close you've gotten to Heeseung during your playful banter. He stares directly into your eyes, and you're not sure if he's being dense or just incredibly bold, but he shows no intention of breaking the eye contact. You lose the unintended battle when the intensity becomes too much as you fold and look away first.

"You're unbearable," you mutter, returning to fiddling with the teddy bear now sprawled gracelessly on your lap.

"I know," Heeseung replies, a smirk playing on his lips. “But you're right. I did want you here. It’s just… nice having you around, and not having the silence in this house deafen me once in a while.”

His honesty takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. "Well, I’m here now," you say softly, meeting his gaze.

“Okay, but you were the one who willingly showed up at my doorstep, so who's the one begging?”

“And you're back to being annoying,” you roll your eyes in mockery.

Heeseung laughs, the sound light and genuine. "Can't help it. It’s part of my charm."

"How does Jake even tolerate you?" you ask, carelessly name-dropping the Jake that you and your friends talked about the other day—the Jake he has never once mentioned to you. You mentally curse yourself the moment you realise your slip-up.

"Oh? How do you know Jake?" 

"Everyone from HS knows him. He's pretty popular, didn’t you know?" You try to play it cool, channelling your inner Angelina Jolie, but your calm demeanour always seems to crumble around Heeseung. Unlike everyone else, Heeseung can read you like a book.

"Mhm..." He raises his eyebrows, smirking, and you know you've been caught. "To be fair, it wasn't me, more like Yunjin and Chaewon," you say, mentally apologising to your friends for throwing them under the bus. The last thing you want is for Lee Heeseung to think that you’re interested in him.

"Sure it was," he says with a benevolent smile, letting you off the hook. 

"So, what kind of person is Jake?" you ask, trying to shift the conversation and cover your slip-up, after all you're a professional topic changer (or so you think). Heeseung doesn't tease you, sensing your semi-embarrassment at having exposed yourself for talking about him when he isn’t around.

"He's basically like the little brother I never had," Heeseung says, and you notice the corners of his lips lift as he talks about Jake. There's a softness in his expression that you hadn't seen before, a genuine affection that seems to light up his face. "He's had my back ever since middle school."

"The two of you must be very close then?" you prompt, curious about the depth of their relationship.

"Yeah... I mean, we do fight here and there, but it was never that serious. That was our friendship: equal parts irritation and cooperation," he trails off, a fondness in his eyes as he speaks. The way he talks about Jake, with such nostalgia and warmth, makes you realise how precious their friendship is to him. You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, wishing you had someone who spoke about you with the same reverence.

"Which is why it would absolutely break my heart if he finds out I've been lying to him this entire time," he adds, his smile turning tender yet strained.

"You've never told him?" you ask, not wanting to be that person but realising you both are doing the exact same thing to the people you care about. Were you really such horrible people? Is it so wrong to be someone that you're clearly not?

"I couldn't bear to," Heeseung's usual imperious tone vanishes, replaced with a melancholic hint as if he’s on the brink of breaking down. "He looks up to me not just as someone older than him; he told me I was his role model." The tension in his voice is palpable, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. Heeseung's usually confident demeanour falter, revealing a vulnerability that catches you off guard. He’s always been the one with the answers, the one in control, and seeing him like this stirs something deep within you.

His voice wavers, and you feel the weight of his words. "Now what kind of person would I be if I told him that his role model is actually a delinquent who smokes and drinks his life away, on top of that doing everything behind his parents' backs?" Heeseung shifts his gaze from his fingernails toward you, but this time you don’t look away—you can’t. The Lee Heeseung you knew was confident, arrogant, and sometimes a total douchebag, so to see him so helpless, with pain so evidently present in his speech, completely breaks your heart.

You feel an overwhelming sense of empathy, realising that Heeseung, like you, is struggling with his own contradictions and fears. The façade he maintains is just as fragile as yours, and for the first time, you see him not as the perfect student or the flawless person but as someone who is deeply flawed and painfully human.

"Heeseung," you say softly, your voice trembling with emotion. "You’re not a bad person. We all have things we regret, things we’re not proud of. But those don’t define who we are entirely. Jake looks up to you because he sees something good in you, something worth admiring. Maybe it’s time you start seeing that in yourself too."

Heeseung's eyes soften, and you can see the conflict in them. He wants to believe you, to find solace in your words, but the weight of his guilt and shame holds him back. "It's hard," he admits. "Living up to everyone's expectations. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning."

You want him to know he isn't alone, that you relate to him, and that it's okay not to be okay. You try to convey this through your eyes, but this time, he’s the one who looks away first.

"Why do you think I attend all these parties?" you ask, your words heavy with emotion, urging Heeseung to look up at you. "Because you're stressed out about school and it's your stress reliever, isn't it?"

"That's where you're wrong, Heeseung," you reply, noticing the little arch forming on his eyebrows. You let out a giggle. "I club because that's what people expect me to do." You look solemnly at the teddy bear in your arms, as if speaking to it could somehow bring you comfort.

"Expect you to do...?"

"Because the popular girl is supposed to be fun and carefree, the life of every party. She's not supposed to be talking to self-absorbed smart alecs," you turn toward him as you finish your sentence, "because I'm that popular girl."

"Y'know, if my mom and dad saw me in this dress in some shady club downtown, they'd pack me up in a box and ship me off to North Korea," you joke lightly, not wanting the mood to spoil any more than it already has. "And honestly, I think my source of stress actually comes from me clubbing." You shrug it off, making it seem like no big deal. After all, you’re used to pretending to be somebody you’re not.

Heeseung, however, stares at you wistfully, his lips parted in surprise. This entire time he thought clubbing was something you enjoyed, a way to reduce your stress. He believed that the times you'd refuse to party were because you were caught up with submissions or exams. Your words strike him deeply, and it hurts him to think that you have to hear and endure the shit that comes out of people’s mouths about you that isn’t really… well, you.

"Your friends know about it?" Heeseung asks cautiously, aware of how close you and your friends are. He’s taken aback when you shamefully shake your head, your gaze fixed on the bear in your lap.

"Just like you, I couldn't bear to tell them. They'd be disappointed. Chaewon especially would beat herself up for not noticing," your voice is barely above a whisper, but in the silence of his room, it’s all he can hear. He feels the weight of your confession, the awkwardness overflowing the edges of the room. Not wanting to push it any further, you put on the smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Heeseung's expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "But you’re so much more than that," he says quietly. "You don’t have to be what everyone expects. You can just be you."

"I'm not trying to get your attention or sound pitiful. I just want you to know that you're not alone in this, Heeseung. I know how it feels to be helpless, thinking that the only way around it is to make up more lies to cover up the ones you've already told," you say, your gaze locking firmly onto his. Neither of you is willing to look away.

“We all feel like that at times. But you have people who care about you, who see the real you, even when you can’t see it yourself. And Jake—if he truly admires you, he’ll understand. He’ll still look up to you, maybe even more so for your honesty.” Heeseung nods slowly, absorbing your words. The vulnerability in his eyes makes your heart ache, and you wish you could take away his pain. “And it doesn't have to be now or tomorrow that we come clean about it. Hell, it might never even happen. So, don't blame yourself for it. If you do, you have to blame me too..."

You notice his face inching closer with every word that escapes your now quivering lips. You’re not sure whether he’s doing it intentionally or if he’s so deep in thought that he doesn’t realise your noses are touching, your lips just inches apart.

"Y-you don't have to tell Jake about it if you don't want to. I just wanted you to know that," your voice is breathless, probably inaudible if Heeseung wasn’t literally in your face. "So now that I know that you know that I know..." your train of thought derails with the distraction at hand. You bring your hand up to his chest in an attempt to wake him from whatever daze you think he’s in.

"I wouldn’t have to worry—"

He’s in no daze.

In the short one-and-a-half months that you’ve known this man, he’s reached into the deepest parts of your soul and connected them with his own, all before you even knew what his hands felt like. Despite what the majority say, despite everyone insisting that the two of you don’t belong together, you’re sitting here, body to body, chest to chest, hands in his, his hands on yours, and it feels so right.

So right that somehow, against all the wrongs you’ve been writing, you’re kissing him. You close your eyes, slowly drowning out the world around you; all the noise, the expectations, all the lies fade into white noise. In this moment, it’s just the two of you, raw and vulnerable.

You relish the familiar scent of teakwood and the fragrant floral scent of his laundry detergent. You also pick up the tangy smell of cigarettes lingering on his body, all of which drive you completely crazy.

The intensity of his kiss is indescribable, almost as if all the paths in the world have led to this very moment, and no matter how hard you or Heeseung try to stray away from it, you’ll always find your way back. He tugs on your arm, pulling you closer until you nearly fall onto his lap. He holds you so tightly, as if afraid you might run off. The sense of desperation he exudes is almost hungry, and you show him just how hungry you are for him too.

His arms slide around your waist, pulling you even closer. You swing your legs over him so that you are now straddling him, your arms running up his chest and around the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. Your lips move in unison, in a rhythmic silence that only the two of you can hear, speaking a language that only your souls understand.

There is a connection between you two that is so strong and priceless that the universe refuses to keep you apart. Heeseung moves back from your lips, but only far enough to catch a glimpse of your eyes, which remind him of the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on the ceiling of his room in an unfathomable mural.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes flicker between his darkened gaze and his lips, now swollen from your bites. To Heeseung, describing you as beautiful feels like an understatement. Everything about you is so foreign to him, yet so familiar. Maybe it’s the stories you’ve shared, the hurt, the longing for freedom that instigates that sense of familiarity.

He presses his lips back onto yours, attempting to tip your head back. You gasp as you feel him trailing feather-light kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone. The sensation is so new and out of this world that it sends shivers down your spine. You cup your hands around his face, pushing him away gently so that he is face-to-face with you again. Your eyes meet, and it's as if your souls catch on fire. With your heart pounding wildly, you’re sure Heeseung can hear it. Your suspicions are confirmed when he flashes you a teasing smirk.

"Excited now, aren't we, Y/N?" The tips of your ears heat up, and you can only imagine how red they must be. You push your finger into the centre of his forehead, trying to break his piercing gaze and give yourself a moment to regain composure.

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it yourself," you say, puffing up your cheeks in embarrassment. He shrugs, pulling you into one last embrace before lifting you gently off his lap and setting you back onto the duvet beside him.

"I'll go wash up and then take you home. Wait here, yeah?" He caresses your cheek, and you nod, watching as he stands up and heads towards the bathroom. You lie back, still feeling the warmth of his touch and the intensity of the moment lingering in the air.

You curl up in the comfort of his blankets, replaying the scene that had just taken place over and over again in your head. It only just occurs to you that you and Lee Heeseung had just made out. You place a hand on your chest, feeling the abnormal pattern of your heartbeat and the churning sensation in your stomach; it’s as if a whole zoo has been released inside you.

Exactly like how curiosity killed the cat, you dig relentlessly into the mystery that is Lee Heeseung. You notice that your heart is expanding uncontrollably as you get to know him better. It’s true that you’ve always desired a man to regard you as if you were a miracle, but what you hadn’t anticipated was that you would someday come across a man who actually do.

You smile softly, feeling a sense of connection with him that goes beyond the superficial. In this moment, you realise that despite the façades and the lies, you both are just trying to navigate through life, searching for acceptance and understanding. And maybe, just maybe, you can find that in each other.

Bringing the collar of his hoodie up to your nose, you inhale the comforting scent of Heeseung. You’re so occupied and distracted by everything that has happened tonight that it doesn’t even occur to you how physically and mentally exhausted you are. Without any care in the world, you unconsciously fall into a deep slumber, a subtle smile plastered on your lips as you grip tightly onto the sleeves of his hoodie.

On the other hand, washing up is just an excuse for Heeseung to escape the uninvited sexual tension that arose while you were making out. He closes his eyes, and all he can hear are the words of disappointment his father had said to him before. It scares him. Heeseung leans against the door of his bathroom, hands on his chest, feeling the irregular rhythm of his heartbeat. 

He’s attracted to you, sure, but falling in love? It’s out of the question. 

He takes a deep breath before confidently opening the door, his expression stoic. However, it’s later proved that he’s indeed a bad actor when his eyes soften and a smile unconsciously creeps up his lips as he watches you sleep so carelessly on his bed.

Heeseung sits down gently at the corner of his bed, the fondness in his smile never fading as he listens to the quiet breathing coming from your lips that were so desperately on his just a few minutes ago. He softly brushes a strand of hair aside and tucks it behind your ear, and only then does he notice just how long your eyelashes are.

He scrutinises your face, taking in every little feature he hadn’t noticed before, like the mole hidden right under your lip or the faded scar just above your eyebrow. He traces his finger along your jawline but snaps himself out of it when he realises how close he is to your face.

Sighing, Heeseung brushes a hand through his hair as he considers what he should do with you. Not wanting to wake you up, he tucks you in by throwing a blanket over you and slides onto the other side of his bed, making sure he isn’t too close to you. He lies on his side, staring at you, with millions of thoughts running through his mind. Only after what feels like hours does he slowly feel sleep catching up to him, not able to hear the sound of a car backing into the front porch of his property.

You awaken from your slumber to the blinding sunlight penetrating your eyelids. You lay on your back, unmoving for a while, staring at the ceiling covered in stars and down at the surroundings until you recognise that this isn’t your room. 

You snap your head to the left and almost scream when you see the sleeping figure of Lee Heeseung, his face only inches away from you. His hand is draped around your waist, and his lips are slightly parted—those lips. That’s right, the same lips that were on your very own the night before. You can barely catch yourself staring compellingly at him when you see his lips move.

"Good morning, sunshine," your eyes flicker up to his, finding them open and staring right back at you. A teasing expression creeps up on his face, and you gulp, knowing damn well that he has caught you in your little act. Something about Heeseung seems different this morning—perhaps it's his demeanour. He does seem more confident for some reason. So, why does he suddenly seem more attractive to you?

You shake your thoughts away as you turn your gaze back to the ceiling. "I thought you were going to take me home. What happened?"

"I was, until you decided to sleep like a roaring pig," he chuckles as he slowly sits up from his lying position. "It was impossible to wake you up." Heeseung teases as he tickles your feet, making you jerk them back, a pout forming on your lips.

"I do not snore," you jokingly sneer at him as you lightly kick him in his shin. Heeseung laughs as he gets off the bed, shivering as the cold air comes into contact with his exposed skin. His morning voice throws you off with how deep it is, and you shiver at the tone of his voice. Heeseung then throws on a hoodie and leaves the room without another word.

Is it just you, or is Heeseung pretending as if nothing happened between you two last night? You feel your heart drop in disappointment, but the feeling quickly subsides when Heeseung returns a few minutes later with clothes in his hand—women's clothes.

"These belong to my older sis. Pretty sure you're around the same size," he says, handing you a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. You return the gesture with a smile and slowly begin taking off the hoodie you’ve been wearing since last night. You instantly notice Heeseung turning shy, his gaze momentarily dipping down before he looks away, pointing at your legs as he does so. 

You look down, petrified, realising how far up your dress has ridden, exposing your thighs entirely. 

"Don't look!" you shriek as Heeseung nods and you quickly throw on the clothes he provided over your dress, pleased that they fit just slightly bigger than you.

"Okay, you can look now," your voice is small, clearly embarrassed, but you try to play it cool. Heeseung notices, but he doesn’t pick on you for it.

"Hey, look at that, it fits just right," he smiles with a hint of nostalgia, his eyes tracing over the familiar clothing on a body that’s not so familiar to him.

"I didn't know you had a sister," you say, carelessly folding his hoodie and placing it neatly on the corner of his bed. 

"Yeah, I don't really talk about her that much," he shrugs, picking up his car keys from his bedside table, signaling that he's ready to go whenever you are.

You slowly descend the staircase leading down into the common room, afraid that someone might hear and realise a stranger is in their house. Out of the many times you have been over, you have luckily never run into anyone other than the friendly old lady who greeted you at the front door.

Trailing behind Heeseung, your eyes wander everywhere except where you are going. This explains why you don’t notice Heeseung stopping in his tracks, and you clumsily bump into him. "You can't just stop in the middle of the halls," you grumble, peeking out from behind his shoulders to give him a big scolding. However, your intended reprimand is cut short when you see the reason for his sudden halt: an older man who bears a striking resemblance to Heeseung.

"Lee Heeseung, where are you going?" the man’s voice carries an assertive tone, his haughty demeanour sending shivers down your spine. His mere presence changes the mood in the usually silent house. He looks over at you, scrutinising you from head to toe, and then scoffs, giving you a look of disapproval as if you were caught committing a crime. In that moment, you mentally thank Heeseung for offering you a change of clothes.

Heeseung must notice how uncomfortable you feel under the man’s gaze. He pulls you behind him and shoots the man a glare of his own. "I'm just stepping out for a moment," he says, his usual snarky tone replaced with a nervous one.

"It's been a while since you've had someone over, hasn't it? Why don't you invite your little friend here to stay for some breakfast?" the man suggests with a smile that hides a hint of sarcasm. Who the hell does he think he is to talk to Heeseung like that?

"That won't be necessary, Father," Heeseung replies firmly.

Well fuck, you think, your eyes widening momentarily before you manage to withdraw the confused expression from your face. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lee," you greet with a bow, trying to sound as calm as possible despite your pounding heartbeat. He barely acknowledges you, responding with a dismissive blink.

"I insist," Mr. Lee speaks with authority, making it clear that this is not a suggestion but a command. Heeseung is about to refute when you quickly interject, "I would love to.

As you make the long journey through the halls to the kitchen, you walk beside Heeseung with your head hanging low. Suddenly, you feel a vibration coming from your back pocket.

He nudges you softly, and you smile. That smile alone reassures Heeseung that everything will be okay because you are right beside him. The simple gesture, so intimate and sincere, calms the turmoil within him.

You sit next to Heeseung at the table, with his father situated across from him. The atmosphere is suffocating, making you feel queasy despite the lavish breakfast spread before you. It’s not just the tension in the air; it’s something about Mr. Lee—something ominous despite his composed demeanour. His presence dominates the room, casting a shadow over the entire meal.

"Eat," Mr. Lee commands, and Heeseung immediately picks up his utensils, stuffing food into his mouth with a mechanical precision. Despite your lack of appetite, you follow suit and start eating, the food tasting like sawdust in your mouth. You try to focus on the act of eating, but the knot in your stomach tightens with every bite.

"I didn't manage to catch your name, girl," Mr. Lee says, his voice dripping with condescension. You look up at him, noticing how even the way he eats is posh and lavish. His every movement exudes an air of superiority, making you feel small and out of place.

"It's Y/L/N Y/N, sir," you respond, your voice barely above a whisper. You hope the trembling in your hands isn’t too obvious as you place your fork down.

"Y/N, don't mind me asking," he continues, taking an elegant bite of scrambled eggs, swallowing, and then wiping his mouth with a handkerchief that probably costs more than the dress you’re wearing underneath. The dress, now drenched in sweat, clings uncomfortably to your skin. "Are you and my son dating by any chance?"

You nearly spit out your coffee, choking on the hot liquid. You’ve just met the man, and he’s already interrogating you, his eyes piercing through your façade. You resist the urge to scoff in his face, reminding yourself that you’re here to keep Heeseung out of trouble, not get him into more. "Sir—"

"We're just friends," Heeseung cuts you off hastily, his voice carrying a slight edge of desperation. You snap your head to look at him, his face a mix of determination and anxiety. It’s not like he’s lying; he’s practically saying what you were planning to. But why do those words leave you feeling so hollow, so disappointed? You try to decipher the look in his eyes, wondering if he feels the same sting of regret.

Yeah, you guys are friends—close friends even! So close that they kiss, make out, and sleep together. The memory of his lips on yours, the way his hands held you so tightly, flashes in your mind. The intimacy of the previous night now feels like a distant dream, overshadowed by the cold reality of Mr. Lee’s scrutiny.

"R-right, we're just friends. There's nothing to worry about," you stutter, still unsure of what you feel at that moment.

"Good," Mr. Lee smiles in satisfaction, his gaze cutting through you. "So, what brings you over so early on a Saturday morning?" His words are a thinly veiled attempt to humiliate you further, but you swallow your pride and respond calmly.

"Did Heeseung not tell you? We’re working on a project together," you say, trying to sound casual.

"Oh? What project, if you do not mind me asking?" Mr. Lee's voice is smooth, but his eyes remain cold and calculating.

"It's for a research project for a psychology presentation," Heeseung interjects quickly, cutting you off before you can respond. “Not like you care what I do in school anyway…” Heeseung’s voice is bitter, and you get the memo that his father probably doesn't know about him taking extra classes on music production over the weekends.

Mr. Lee clears his throat pointedly, a psychological tactic to reassert his dominance. You notice how Heeseung flinches, a small, involuntary movement that breaks your heart. The poor boy is scared shitless, and it infuriates you to think about how much emotional abuse he must have endured to flinch over a mere cough.

"I take it that you're in the same classes as my son?"

"That's right, I'm a senior majoring in psychology."

"If you're ever in a pinch looking for a job after graduating, there's an attachment program in my hospital just for fresh graduates like you, with no experience and connections," Mr. Lee comments. You know the intentions behind his words are far from genuine as you see the distinct flicker of power play in his eyes. And despite the jab affecting you more than you expected, you resist the urge to lash out.

In fact, you laugh in the face of humiliation. You won't show this self-conceited, power-tripping asshole that his words offended you because that would just be giving him what he was looking for—submission to power.

Mr. Lee seems to find it amusing that you aren't shivering in his presence, and that irritates him. "Well, do enlighten me about this research my son was talking about, Y/N." His striking gaze feels like it’s shooting lasers through you, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared. For fuck’s sake, you literally just found out about this apparent research project you were supposedly working on, and he wants you to 'enlighten' him?

But come to think about it, It's okay to be scared. It just means you're about to do something really, really brave.

"I would be more than happy to. Our area of research focuses mainly on coercive human behaviours," you smile at him, noticing a slight twitch in his eyes.

"Oh, is that so? What have you learnt so far?" Mr. Lee raises his eyebrows, feigning interest.

"That being a control freak is a weakness, not a strength," you start, noticing his facial expression hardening. "A famous psychologist once said, 'If you can't allow others to shine, you're exhibiting signs of narcissism and showing a lack of self-confidence.'"

"I personally think it's just isolation through ego," you shrug, turning to look at Heeseung. His eyes, which lost their sparkle ever since his father showed up, look at you with so much fondness and admiration that you swear you see the entire galaxy in them.

"I think that's all the time I have for today. Excuse me, for I am a busy man," Mr. Lee stands up from his seat a little too aggressively, and for the first time since you met him, he falters.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal, Mr. Lee," you calmly stand from your seat, reaching out your hand to him. He reluctantly takes it in his own, forcing a smile that almost makes you burst out in laughter.

"Thank you for the wonderful company and insightful conversation, Y/N."

"The pleasure is all mine," you reply, maintaining your composure even as he exits the room.

#3 - The Paradox

You sprawl over in your own bed, tangling up in your blanket as you recall the events of that Saturday morning. You must've been crazy, drugged even, to have had that much courage to stand up to his father like that. You, who couldn't even say 'no' to your own friends, lost your temper over something like that? It must've been a fever dream.

Except it wasn't, and you lie there in disbelief, cursing yourself for making such a bold decision. Maybe Heeseung was right—you really were an idiot. You think back about what made you so angry and every conclusion leads to one thing (or person, actually): Lee Heeseung.

You can't bear to see him so helpless and afraid in front of someone who is supposed to be his father. Someone who literally gave life to him was making him feel like he couldn't even be safe at home. It angers you and, thus, scares you because you care about him more than you ever realised. Because caring about someone means being vulnerable, and you've never been good at that.

You tell yourself that it didn't have to be Heeseung—that for anybody else in that same predicament, you would have acted and felt the same. You convince yourself that what happened was your guilty conscience talking, your sense of justice prevailing, or literally anything that fits the narrative. You fail to consider that, hey, maybe you do have a soft spot for him.

Sure, you care about the boy since he is someone you can lean on and be yourself around. So why does every thought about him lead back to you on his lap, hands on his chest, and his lips on your own?

Your fingers absentmindedly reach up, landing on your lips as you fondle them. You notice how chapped they are and mentally cringe at the possibility that they were in this condition when you and Heeseung made out.

There it is again—the sound of your heartbeat pounding vigorously against your chest. It was just a kiss. You've had plenty of those, so why is it that when it comes to Heeseung, you can't seem to get rid of that churning feeling in your stomach?

That feeling scares you. So, you avoid him.

Heeseung has texted you multiple times over the past few days, asking if you wanted to come over to continue with your project. You've exhausted almost every excuse possible to avoid doing so. Partially because you don't want to risk running into his father again, but mainly because you're running away from your feelings—feelings that you are already subconsciously aware of, just buried deep within you.

Each excuse you send feels more feeble than the last. "Got a lot of homework." "Feeling under the weather." "Have to help Chaewon with something." You know Heeseung isn't buying it, but he doesn't push. Each time, he responds with understanding, though you can almost sense the disappointment in his texts.

Every time your phone buzzes with a new message from him, your heart skips a beat. You can’t help but read his messages over and over, your mind replaying the scene in his room. You remember how his eyes softened when he looked at you, how his touch sent shivers down your spine.

The more you think about it, the more you realise that avoiding him isn't going to make these feelings disappear. It's not going to make your heart stop racing or your stomach stop fluttering. You can't keep pretending that what happened didn't matter.

I made a little room in my heart. You, who I can't forget, is standing there. I open that door, so that your voice that I long for calls me...

"Y/L/N Y/N!" The familiar voice jolts you back to reality, followed by a series of knocks at your front door. You frown, not expecting any visitors on a weekday evening. As far as you know, only Chaewon, Yunjin, Sakura, and your parents know where you live.

Dragging your feet to the door, you check the mini tablet and see Lee Heeseung standing on the other side. What the fuck? It comes back to you that Heeseung has walked you home plenty of times, some days even to your front door after you insisted that he didn't need to.

You mentally panic as you scrutinise your appearance in the full-length mirror by the door, grimacing at your musty attire and the messy bun your hair is tied up in. You look... awake at best.

"Y/N? I swear to God I heard something." Heeseung's voice echoes through the intercom, and the panicky feeling settles in even more. You think to yourself that he came all the way here to see you; you can't possibly leave him stranded outside like that. After another knock on your door, you give in, unlocking it and coming face-to-face with the very man you've been avoiding all week.

"About time," Heeseung smirks, catching a view of you in all your glory. You roll your eyes and step aside to let him into your humble abode.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

"To see you," he shrugs, as you look away, blushing. Not that it mattered anyway, since Heeseung is concentrating on taking his shoes off carefully to avoid creasing them.

"We see each other in school. You didn't have to come all the way here," you say, eyebrows raised, still unsure of his true motives. It wasn't unusual for you and Heeseung to be together in an enclosed space, just the two of you, but something feels different than before. An atmosphere that only started presenting itself after your shared kiss the other day.

"Yeah, but not when you're literally avoiding me," he replies, squinting his eyes at you. You mentally face-palm, realising he already knew what you were doing.

"I was not!"

"Sure, princess, anything you say." Your heart skips a beat at his new nickname for you, and you almost overlook the slight hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Though I would believe otherwise when you literally looked at me and turned the other way that day in the cafeteria."

"I didn't even see you... besides, I was rushing off to run an errand somewhere," you lie, though your alibi isn't solid enough to justify it. "So, you do remember what happened." He leans in close to you with a cheeky smile that you hadn't realised you missed over the few days you hadn't seen him.

"Gosh, you're intolerable," you mutter, putting a reasonable distance between Heeseung and yourself as you brisk-walk timidly over to your sofa.

"I know, you've told me that twenty-three times now," he says, genuinely surprising you that he was even keeping count of the things you say to him. Heeseung thinks to himself if he was always this attentive to detail or if it was just because of you.

You sit down on the sofa, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Heeseung follows, sitting beside you, his presence both comforting and nerve-wracking.

"Though I'm really here to see you, I would also like to remind you that there's a project of some sort due in two weeks," Heeseung smirks, and you playfully roll your eyes.

"I would have you know that I did not forget, which is why I've been working on the melody in my own free time. In fact, I was even singing it right before you so abruptly barged into my apartment."

"Barged?" Heeseung scoffs, picking up a pillow and throwing it at you, purposely aiming higher so it'd fly over your head. You laugh, feeling a warm sensation spreading from your chest to the rest of your body.

"Okay, rockstar, then show me what you got." He passes you a half-filled water bottle, presumably for you to use as a microphone. Heeseung wants you to sing, right now, in front of him?

"Hell no."

"Oh, come on, you do know we have to actually record it, right? I'll hear you sing sooner or later," he tries to convince you. To be honest, you still aren't very confident. You aren't tone-deaf, thankfully, but definitely not the best singer out there. The only other person you've ever sung to was your grandmother, and that was when you were ten years old.

"Fine," you huff. "You're not allowed to laugh though."

Heeseung cackles and nods to reassure you, which doesn't really help, but it's the intention that counts. You close your eyes and begin singing the lyrics to one of the verses you wrote the other day.

In this unstable world, when there was no place to stand. It held me from somewhere, that invisible touch. Once again I want your warm embrace, I'll go and find you...

The words flow out, surprisingly smoothly, the melody carrying them effortlessly. You lose yourself in the song for a moment, forgetting Heeseung is even there. 

Heeseung once again finds all his senses bewitched by you; his eyes wander over your features as you sing, his nose drowning in the homely scent of you, and his ears captivated by the melancholic tone in your voice. He hears you sing for the first time, and it's almost angelic. As you had said, you're not the best singer, but that distinct sharpness in your voice makes it impossible for Heeseung to get it off his mind.

Heeseung finds himself reaching his hand out to you, unable to resist your magnetic pull as he you finish off the next line.

Your warm breath, dazzling smile. When I close my eyes, I feel you, I believe you...

You feel a warm touch rest upon your cheeks, and instinctively lean into it, seeking the comforting warmth in the approaching winter. Your eyes flutter open, wincing at the sudden waves of bright light that blur your vision. Gradually, as your sight clears, it focuses on one person alone, eclipsing everything else around you. Before you sits a masterpiece, captivating your attention entirely.

Heeseung finds himself ensnared in the stars of your eyes, momentarily delirious as he glimpses a whole other galaxy within them—a black hole drawing him closer to you. Then, amidst the cosmic symphony, he hears it—the mingling of your heartbeat with his own. His heart, accustomed to beating for himself, now beats for someone else, and it only takes a mere millisecond for him to realise he has fallen in love with you.

It also takes a mere millisecond for the image of his father to intrude upon his thoughts. 

Heeseung insisted on driving you back to your apartment that day, but you were adamant about him staying. You didn't want him to get into any more trouble because of you. However, it never occurred to you that he might just have wanted to leave with you just to escape his father's presence.

As you bid him goodbye and walked off his front porch, his father's voice echoed from behind Heeseung in a low whisper, "Cut off contact after this project of yours. Don't disappoint me, son."

Heeseung withdrew his hand from your face in a panic, and you, seeking the warmth you had just lost, leaned forward in a futile attempt to recapture it.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you ask, concern lacing your voice as you notice tears streaming down Heeseung's face. He frantically hides his face in the sleeves of his sweater, seemingly trying to shield his vulnerability from you as he does not want you worrying. 

Rightfully so, because you are worried. The last thing you expect when Heeseung shows up at your doorstep is to see him cry. Hell, you didn’t even know he had the ability to shed tears. Part of you wonders if you're somehow the cause of his tears, stirring up feelings of guilt within you.

"Was my singing so horrible that you burst into tears, Heeseung?" you try to lighten the mood with a joke, hoping to bring some comfort to the situation. You're relieved to hear a faint snort from behind his sweater paws, indicating that your attempt at humor isn't entirely lost on him. Still, you can't shake off the concern gnawing at you.

Instinctively, you reach out and grasp his wrist, delicately shifting aside his sweater to expose his tear-streaked face. His eyes are swollen, and his nose is red, the sight pulling at your heartstrings to witness him in such visible distress. "Didn't know you were such a crybaby," you say lightly, hoping to lighten the mood even more as you brush away a fresh tear that teeters on the edge of his cheek.

"You look like my bestie Rudolph!" you tease, lightly poking his nose. He scrunches it up, his lips forming a pout as he watches you caress his face, a hint of a smile breaking through his sadness.

"One might think you actually care for me," Heeseung murmurs, voicing his thoughts. You’re taken aback, the question echoing in your mind, both heart and mind answering: yes.

"If you know that already, then don't ever cry like this in front of me again," you say gently, your thumb tracing soothing circles on his cheeks. Your eyes search his face for any sign that he wants you to stop, but you find none. Instead, Heeseung leans in and plants a chaste peck on your lips, catching you by surprise. The warmth of his lips lingers, mingling with the salty taste of his tears. You purse your lips and cringe slightly, lightheartedly pushing him away as he laughs, the sound like music to your ears.

Heeseung, feeling an urgent need to be closer to you, grabs your legs and places them across his lap, positioning you to face him. The sudden movement startles you, but you quickly settle, bending your knees and leaning against them as you stare up at him. From this angle, you notice the sharpness of his nose, the slight stubble on his chin, and the way his eyes, now clear of tears, hold a depth of emotion that tugs at your heartstrings.

As you study his features, you’re overwhelmed by a rush of feelings. The boy who always seemed so strong and composed now looks at you with such raw vulnerability that it breaks and mends your heart simultaneously. Heeseung’s gaze is equally intense, his eyes exploring your face as if memorising every detail. He seems entranced, lost in your siren eyes as though he’s seeing you for the first time.

"Will you tell me why you suddenly cried now?" you ask softly, concern lacing your voice. A brief silence falls between you as Heeseung contemplates whether to come clean. You wait patiently, playing with the ring on his pinky finger, not wanting to push his boundaries if he isn’t ready to speak.

"Remember how I told you I have an older sister?" Heeseung begins, his gaze drifting past your eyes into a sea of nothingness. "Her name is Lee Hae-yi."

Heeseung giggles as he recalls details about his sister, and you look at him fondly. "She takes after our mother a lot. It's something I've always been envious of. Hae-yi, she's incredible. We had many similar interests growing up, and she was somehow always better than me at everything we did. She's my biggest role model. I'd give the entire world for her to be happy." His face brightens at the mention of his sister, and you find yourself envious of the sibling bond he has with her, wishing you had a sibling of your own.

"My father wants me to take over the company when he retires, but she’s the one that deserves it, not me. I have no intention of running the company, but he's very adamant about me being the one to do it." Heeseung sighs, tightening his grip on your hand. "Even though the entire family can see that my sister is the natural-born leader—it’s the only quality she takes after my father. But he refuses to leave it in her hands. He says a woman can never hold leadership positions or other misogynistic bullshit. So, my father sent her away to the States, told her to study there and someday prove herself to him."

"He was never going to give her a chance in the first place, and she knew it, but she went anyway..." Heeseung pauses, and your eyes shoot up when you hear him sniffle. "She left because of me. Now I can't go on another day knowing she probably hates me for taking her spot that she worked her entire life for." A lone tear escapes the crevices of his eye, and you reach up to swipe it away, your palm resting on his face as he leans into your warmth. 

"My father has a reputation to uphold, and I am naturally a part of that reputation. He expects me to be the perfect son, even if it's pretentious. I became the person I am and do the things I do as an act of defiance. I didn't want to feel like he had full control over me," Heeseung smiles solemnly, finally making eye contact with you after fully exposing every detail about himself and his story. It hits you that the things you knew about him were only surface-level problems and that they actually ran much deeper than just Jake.

"Don't you ever just want to stop everything and be free?" you ask foolishly. Heeseung giggles at your innocence, unknowingly breaking your heart a little more.

"Of course I do, but I won’t suffer the consequences alone. To my father, his career comes first, and everything else falls in line after."

"Even family?" you ask, incredulous. Heeseung nods, and your lips part, wanting to say something, but you decide against it and return to listening attentively.

"That man would do anything to defend what's important to him, even if it means hurting his own blood. I can't—won't—allow the people I care about to suffer because of my actions, even if it means playing a pawn in his little game." Heeseung caresses your hand, drawing circles in the centre of your palm. You grin and push the hair covering his eyes away from his face, noting the softness of his hair and the way it falls perfectly even when dishevelled.

"Thank you, Heeseung, for telling me this," you say, your voice filled with sincerity. Although you want to argue that he should fight for his freedom and not live for the sake of others, you can't bring yourself to tell him that, because you are doing the exact same thing.

"No, thank you for listening, Y/N.”

"Well, if running a company isn't your forté, what do you actually want to do?" you ask, hoping to take his mind off his very pressing situation. You watch him closely, noticing the way his expression shifts to one of even deeper regret.

"I think you already have some sort of an idea," he replies, managing a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I want to be a singer-songwriter."

"That surprisingly kind of suits you, Mr. Idol," you laugh, reaching out to pinch his cheeks. He puffs them up, making you lose your grip, and you can't help but smile at his playful defiance. Leaning down, he gently pushes you back onto the sofa, his hand supporting the small of your back as he towers over you. Your hair sprawls over the cushion beneath you as you look up at him, your breathing becoming uneven from the sudden closeness.

As you gaze into his eyes, you feel an undeniable connection. Everything the two of you do feels so natural; from the hand-holding to the hugging to the kissing even. It's as if you two are actually dating, but you aren't. It feels almost too perfect, too seamless. That alone feels wrong, how it comes so naturally even though you have no labels. 

You close your eyes, expecting your lips to meet his again, but instead, you feel his warm lips gently press against your forehead. The unexpected tenderness makes your heart swell, and when your eyes flutter open, you see his own staring back at you with an intensity that takes your breath away. He gazes at you as if you are the most precious thing in the world, and it sends shivers down your spine.

You giggle softly as he snuggles into your neck, his hand wrapping around your waist protectively. You make space for him on the couch, allowing him to fit perfectly beside you. With your face buried in his chest, his chin resting on top of your head, and his arms wrapped securely around your small frame, you feel a profound sense of peace wash over you. His warmth seeps into your skin, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you finally feel safe.

One question constantly replays itself in your mind as you slowly drift off into a deep slumber. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is both soothing and grounding. In the hushed quiet of the room, you whisper, "What are we?"

The question hangs in the air, laden with all the emotions and uncertainties you've been grappling with. You feel his arms tighten around you, a silent promise of protection and something more. As you drift into sleep, the thought lingers, a beacon of hope and a source of fear all at once.

That morning, as you gradually awaken to the muted light filtering through your window, you're met with an emptiness beside you that's both physical and emotional. The warmth lingering in the vacant space beside you feels like a cruel reminder of Heeseung's absence, and it weighs heavily on your heart. The realisation that he left without a word of farewell hits you like a punch to the gut, leaving you disheartened and bewildered.

Before you have a chance to fully process his departure, the bright rays of the morning sun illuminate your living room, casting warm hues across the space. The sudden awareness of the time jolts you into action, and you curse under your breath at the realisation that you're running late for class.

"Curse you, Lee Heeseung," you groan, quickly ripping the blanket covering your body away and scrambling to your feet, feeling lightheaded from the sudden movement.

"Good morning, sunshine," your head instantly whips around at the familiar voice you were longing for just a few seconds again, momentarily taken aback before relief floods your senses. 

"I thought you left," you murmur, the words tinged with a mixture of hurt and longing, though you try to keep your tone neutral. He smirks, sensing the disappointment in your voice. Oh, how you wish you could rip that sweet sweet smile off his face..

"Why? Were you disappointed because you thought I left?" Heeseung's teasing tone irks you, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. His smirk only serves to deepen your irritation, fueling a desire to push back against his playful demeanour.

"Jerk," you grumble and Heeseung laughs, finding your sulking expression adorable.

"Who's the crybaby now, huh?" Heeseung's playful jab catches you off guard, eliciting a scoff as you feign nonchalance.

"I'm not even crying, idiot," you retort, a mixture of amusement and exasperation colouring your words as you shoot him a playful glare. Heeseung giggles and carefully pulls you into a warm embrace, as if you’re a piece of fragile glass, afraid that even the slightest pressure might make you crumble.

It’s official—You and Heeseung are in a situationship. If someone were to ask you how it feels to have something you wanted so badly just within reach yet still fail to grasp it, you'd tell them it feels absolutely shitty.

It bothers you how he doesn't seem to mind that your relationship has no label, yet he still initiates things that only couples do. You're conflicted; your heart tells you one thing, but your mind tells you another, and you can't seem to decide which feeling to follow. The only thing you're certain of is that you want to be by his side.

It's a tangled web of emotions, one that Heeseung and you are both ensnared in. He knows it's complicated. He'd be a liar if he said he didn't want to be with you, close to you. But that courage to stand up against his father seems to evade him every time he tries to grasp it. Every time Heeseung closes his eyes, attempting to convince himself to fight for what he wants, his father's image intrudes his thoughts, and he’s back at square one all over again. It’s an endless cycle he can’t break out of. So, instead of making promises he knows damn well he can’t keep, he keeps you close to him under the guise of a research project that is only going to last a mere week.

As promised to his father, after one week, you'll be gone from his life, and vice versa. It's for the best, or at least that's what Heeseung has convinced himself of, that one week is all he needs to psycho himself into believing he doesn't need you; like the two of you never even met.

Except you did, and now you know each other's deepest, darkest secrets. But he knows you wouldn’t tell a soul, and likewise for himself. Then again, Heeseung is making all these decisions on his own, assuming that you’d be perfectly okay with it when the time comes around.

The ambiguity of your relationship with Heeseung leaves you grappling with questions that have no easy answers. As you try to make sense of it all, you can't help but wonder if he's aware of the turmoil brewing within you.

It's a silent struggle, one that you keep hidden beneath a façade of normalcy. It's almost funny how when you thought he didn't stay, you were hurt; when you realised he didn't actually leave, you were still hurt because you knew deep down that you couldn't hold onto him forever. Yet, amidst the confusion, there's a glimmer of hope, a fleeting sense of connection that keeps drawing you back to him, despite the looming deadline that threatens to tear you apart.

Saturday arrives, and for once, you find yourself declining your friends' invitation to attend the weekly parties. They're disappointed sure, but you reassure yourself that missing one party won't be detrimental to anyone. Chaewon did notice your frequent moments of distraction and introspection, behaviours she's never observed in you before. You brush off her concerns, attributing your preoccupation to stress over upcoming projects and submission deadlines. After all, it's your final semester.

Sunghoon also picks up on your behavioural changes, especially when you're around Heeseung. To him, you appear shy, like a kindergarten kid experiencing their first crush. However, he knows you well enough to anticipate that you'd argue otherwise if he were to express his observations.

Meanwhile, you find yourself spending most of your time in Heeseung's bedroom, working on a song that holds no academic value. You vaguely remember how you were dreading even thinking about this project and just wanting to get it over with, hell, you were even willing to turn in a nursery rhyme if the situation calls for it. With that thought, you chuckle to yourself as you sit in your usual spot on Heeseung’s bed, enveloped in the familiar scent of Teakwood and cigarettes lingering in the sweater that embraced you.

"Thoughts about singing the last chorus together?" Heeseung skillfully tucks the pencil he was just using behind his ear as he swivels around on his chair from his table to face you. 

"You sure about that? I'm afraid I might outshine you." You comically brush your loose hair and shoot him a smirk, prompting him to jokingly roll his eyes back at you. "Is that so, Ms. Mariah Carey?"

"On a serious note, I really think singing the last chorus makes the song sound, I don't know... more desperate?"

"I see your point. Though I would hate to ruin the climax of the song with my horrendous singing, if Mr. Future K-pop Star says so, I have to do it." You smirk again when Heeseung scoffs before breaking out into small fits of laughter—laughter that sounds like music to your ears. "I can't take you seriously." He swivels back to face the computer displaying the music editing software. Your song is in its final stages of production before you and Heeseung can go ahead and record the demo, and it's one demo away before Heeseung has to completely cut you out of his life as promised.

The mere thought of letting go fills his heart with unease and uncertainty, crossing his mind during the day or even right before he falls asleep. Every fibre of his being resists the notion of parting ways, as if holding on tighter could somehow freeze time and preserve the precious connection you share.

In the quiet depths of his heart, Heeseung finds himself surreptitiously gazing at you, consumed by an overwhelming affection while struggling with the bittersweet truth that letting go may be an inevitable choice, but one he's not yet ready to make.

The universe is a paradox. Some might believe that even though a person eventually dies, your relationship with them doesn't, as it will live on forever, never changing. However, the truth about forever? It doesn't exist. Nothing lasts forever. Not you, your feelings, your relationships, the sun, the moon, or even the galaxies. Although forever has no meaning when one is living in the moment, and you, for one, aren't ready for that moment to end.

At the end of the day, the absolute truth is that all this shit about 'nothing lasts forever' is just an excuse for both of your lack of courage and commitment because those who truly want to be together find a way to make it happen.

In an inconspicuous outbuilding situated in the family's backyard, the hallways are unusually clean yet dark. Heeseung explains that the building is being used as sleeping quarters for the housemaids, which explains the customised doors that line the halls. He also mentions it's the only part of the house where he could actually build a recording studio without his father finding out.

You step into the recording booth, the air humming with anticipation as the padded walls cocoon you in a world of sound. With a pair of headphones hugging your ears, you feel the rhythm pulsate through your veins, while the microphone stands tall, poised to capture every nuance of your voice. The word 'nervous' is more than an understatement for what you're feeling at the moment as you watch Heeseung's every move on the other side of the tempered glass. It's endearing to say the least, watching the boy thrive in his element, right where he belongs.

You jump a little as you hear his voice coming out from the speakers in the booth, "You ready?" You find Heeseung looking at you with confidence, maybe more than you have for yourself. You feel the pressure, and Heeseung knows that the only thing he can do is show you that he believes in you. Heeseung is right because something about his unspoken trust assures you, even gives you that little boost of self-confidence you need as you sing your lines in the first verse.

Tears filled with regrets flow unconsciously. I wish I could follow to wherever and flow somewhere. In that warm sunlight, I want to let myself go, so that I can meet you...

Almost on instinct, Heeseung leans in, captivated by every word that leaves your lips, his gaze fixed upon you as your melodic voice fills the room. Every note, every accentuation, every lyric, is delicately captured by his ears as if he's savouring a rare delicacy.

At that moment, the world around him fades into a distant murmur, leaving only the desperate purity of your singing. He listens not only with his ears but with his heart, appreciating the beauty of your voice and the story it conveys. His face reflects a mixture of awe and admiration, mirroring the emotions woven into each line you sing. 

The room is filled with an unspoken connection, a shared language that transcends words. In this tender exchange of sound, Heeseung embraces your vulnerability, your strength, and the extraordinary power you have over him.

You're one star, that's your name

You finish off the last line of the song before realising you had your eyes closed the entire time. Turning to look at Heeseung, who has an unfathomable expression on his face, you know singing wasn't your forte, but it couldn't have been so bad to the point he looked like he was about to cry. "So... did I do okay?" The sound of your voice brings Heeseung back from whatever futile thoughts he had running through his head, focusing on the present—on you.

"You were amazing, princess," Heeseung says, and you blush upon hearing the nickname he gave you. Although it isn't the first time, you still feel light-headed whenever he uses it. "I'll take whatever compliment I can get," you comment, and he smiles lightly to himself, replaying the recording so you can hear it for yourself. Heeseung was right; you weren't half-bad after all.

After re-recording some parts and unwillingly adding in adlibs as per Heeseung's request, this time you find yourself in the producer's seat while Heeseung stands behind the microphone, which he had to readjust to fit his height. It's no surprise that he manages to record everything in such a short period of time with very minimal mistakes. Once again, you catch a glimpse of the Heeseung who can do anything if he puts his heart and mind into it.

This is your first time recording a song, and you're pretty sure it shouldn't be this easy. You were mentally preparing yourself for the insults that he would throw at you. However, considering this is just for a mere ungraded school project, you think maybe that's why Heeseung isn't picking on every little flaw like he would any other project. Then again, the Heeseung you know is a perfectionist, so being able to leave the recording studio unscathed is a mystery for not only you but also Heeseung himself.

"I can't believe we actually finished this song," you remark as you stroll alongside Heeseung in the hallway, a slight spring in your steps. Heeseung grins, carefully matching his pace with yours, still attentively listening to your speech of accomplishment.

"The night is still young. I say we take our celebrations to the party at Sunoo’s. You could finally meet my friends so they can stop having this false perception of you. What do you think?" You turn on your heels to face him, half-expecting an excited expression on his face, so you are taken aback when a lone tear falls past his cheek.

"Heeseung-ah..." Without a second thought, you pull him into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, I said that without thinking. We don't have to go. Let's stay in and watch a movie instead, hm?" Heeseung shakes his head beside you, and you pull away just enough to catch sight of his face. "No, I'm not crying because of that, don't worry."

"Then what is it about?"

"I'm just... happy, that's all."

"You're so precious, you know that?" You hold his face between your cold hands as you stare into his eyes, neither of you willing to look away first. You lean in and gently kiss the freshly escaped teardrop as if the essence of sorrow itself had been distilled into this tiny, tasteable form. "This is the second time I caught you crying, that's twice more than me." He giggles as he gently grabs your hands into the palm of his own. "Let's go."

"Great! I have this movie I really wanted to-"

"No, Y/N, let's go meet your friends."

With a heavy heart and a bittersweet urgency, Heeseung embraces the knowledge that your time together is drawing to a close. The impending separation looms, but he clings to a precious sliver of time, determined to make it count, even if it means sacrificing everything to see you smile one last time.

You give Heeseung the address to Sunoo’s place and tell him to meet you in front of his house. Standing outside in your off-shoulder top, you take yet another glance at your watch—10 minutes past your agreed meeting time. Anxiety creeps in, mingling with the chilly night air, as you wonder if he'll show up or if this was a mistake.

You come to a consensus that you should've known better than to convince Heeseung to go partying with you after everything he did to hide that fact from everyone. Guilt gnaws at you, knowing you may have pushed him out of his comfort zone, and you wouldn’t even blame him if he decided to bail on you.

You text Chaewon, asking her where they are so you can go ahead and look for them, but you receive no response. You figure she's probably having too much fun to pay attention to her phone.

Freezing and desperate for a glass of alcohol to numb your nerves, you make your way into the house. Inside, it pulses with energy as vibrant music fills the air, its rhythmic beats reverberating through the packed living room. Colourful lights flash and dance across the room, casting an enchanting glow on the eclectic crowd that has gathered for a night of revelry. The dance floor is a sea of motion, a kaleidoscope of bodies writhing to the infectious tunes, and you make a mental note not to lose yourself in the bustling crowd this evening.

Approaching the open bar, you pour yourself a cup of beer to kick off the night. The cool liquid soothes your parched throat, offering a momentary reprieve from the chaos around you. It's ironic, really, now that you think about it, because no matter how hard you try to escape or manifest excuses out of thin air, you always end up back here with a beer in hand, willingly or not.

As much as you've convinced yourself that you certainly weren't made for the nightlife, you can't deny that you stand out amidst the sea of people. Maybe sometimes, you actually do have fun, more than you'd let yourself believe.

As you take a sip from your cup, you feel a hand on your lower back, causing you to almost jerk forward. "Hey baby, you here alone?" Turning around, you find a young man in a button-up shirt that accentuates his physique. The strong smell of alcohol emanating from him indicates that he's already quite drunk, even though it's barely 8 PM.

"I'm actually here with some friends, thanks for asking," you respond politely, trying to maintain composure despite the uncomfortable situation. However, your patience wears thin as you feel him inching closer. "Can't a lady have her personal space?" you retort, your tone growing irritated as you notice his offensive scrutiny of your attire.

But he brushes off your discomfort, continuing to leer at you. "Come on, don't act like you hate it. You're basically asking for it, I mean look at this dress..." His words trail off as he shamelessly scrutinises your appearance, his hand still firmly planted on your back. Feeling increasingly uneasy, you shift uncomfortably under his gaze, and he takes advantage of your vulnerability by leaning in closer, his breath uncomfortably close to your ear.

You despise how some men automatically assume they're entitled to your attention or affection, simply because of how you're dressed. You know that physically fighting back would likely escalate the situation, especially since he appears much stronger than you. Not wanting to cause a scene in the bar, you consider threatening to call the police as a last resort.

Before you can take action, however, a sudden commotion erupts nearby, and the man is forcibly pulled away from you. Relief washes over you as you realise that someone has intervened, sparing you from further discomfort.

"She has a boyfriend." Your head snaps to the source of the voice, finding Heeseung glaring daggers at the man.

"Heeseung," you call out softly. He turns to you, searching your eyes for any sign of disapproval. When he finds none, he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Should have known it was too good to be true," the man mutters, ruffling his hair in clear frustration. You can't help but laugh, realising you're probably just one of many attempts he's made tonight. Heeseung walks up beside you at the bar, pouring a drink before turning to you.

"Didn't think I'd show up?" he asks, noticing the stunned expression on your face. You nod, still watching him, grateful for his intervention.

"So you're my boyfriend now?" you smirk, taking another sip from your cup to mask the fluttering feeling in your chest. Heeseung laughs, a bit embarrassed, and takes a sip from his own drink.

"Why? You like the sound of that?" he teases.

It's almost comical. You wouldn't take crap from any other man, not even Sunghoon or Jay, but you’d let this man openly tease you about your ongoing situationship. Yet, you willingly succumb yourself to the fluttering feeling in your chest.

"You don't?" you retort boldly. Your response catches Heeseung off guard, and he nearly chokes on his drink. As you laugh at his reaction, you notice a fleeting look of panic and sorrow on his face. The thought that he does like the idea of being your boyfriend crosses his mind, only dampened by the reality that this might be his last chance to be this close to you.

You're about to push the joke even further when a familiar voice calls out. "Y/N!" You turn to see Chaewon and Sakura making their way towards you from the corner where your friends are gathered. Their overjoyed expressions slowly morph into confusion as they notice Heeseung standing beside you.

You wonder why Chaewon and Sakura seem so confused—it’s not like they didn't know you were hanging around Heeseung. Then, as you really take in his appearance for the first time that night, you realise he’s dressed up for the occasion. He’s wearing a black graphic tee with a blazer thrown on haphazardly, his hair carefully parted down the centre, and his iconic round glasses are gone, no longer perched on his nose. This is the Lee Heeseung you first noticed at that club all those months back.

It slowly hits you: this is the first time your friends are seeing him outside of his usual nerdy persona.

"Lee?" Chaewon questions, eyebrows furrowed as she wraps her hand around Sakura's arm, nudging her. Heeseung smiles awkwardly and gives you a knowing look, silently asking you to act like you forced him to come (which, technically, you did).

"Chaewon, Sakura. I don’t think you two have officially met. This is Lee Heeseung." Chaewon subtly tilts her head, clearly puzzled as to why the academy's top student is at a frat party on a Saturday evening. "I wanted to have some fun after finishing our project, so I dragged him here," you explain hastily, hoping neither of them notices the little white lie.

"Wow, you really dressed him up nicely," Sakura remarks, her backhanded compliment making you roll your eyes as you quietly mouth curses at her.

"Come on, let’s introduce you to the gang," Chaewon cuts in just before the atmosphere turns awkward, and you mentally thank her for being the angel she is.

You sense Heeseung stiffen beside you, so you take his hand to reassure him that your friends are nice. Not that he doubted their kindness; he just doubted they’d want him there. However, he did say he'd come to meet your friends, so he doesn't resist.

With eager anticipation, you lead him into the heart of your cherished social circle, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as your two worlds collide. You can't help but steal glances at Heeseung, who seems to be taking in everything with cautious curiosity. Your friends, too, look intrigued, if not a bit taken aback, by his transformation.

It’s awkward at first, but after some drinks and a few icebreakers, Heeseung starts to warm up to your friends, and vice versa. Yunjin, in particular, gets more comfortable with him than you’d like. Knowing her, it’s probably her attempt at flirting with Heeseung now that he’s the hot guy at the party everyone wants a piece of. You don’t expect any better from Yunjin, but Heeseung? He gladly reciprocates her flirtatious attempts, even black knight drinks for her whenever she loses one of your drinking games.

You’ve been sending Heeseung death glares, which he’d notice if only he spared you a glance or two in the last fifteen minutes. The word 'jealousy' is an understatement at this point. But then again, why would you be jealous? It’s not like the two of you are dating. But you did get close to him first. You know his little secret, you slept on his bed, heck, you even made out with him. You, not Yunjin, not Chaewon, not Sakura, and certainly not Jay or Sunghoon. So why are you getting the least attention from him among everyone else?

Frustrated, you pull out your phone and send him a piece of your mind. His phone vibrates on the table, but he doesn’t notice it. Pettily, you kick him in the shin under the table, and he lets out a yelp. You signal to his phone, and he checks it, smirking when he sees the content.

Heeseung excuses himself first, and you follow a few minutes later, claiming you’re going to get more drinks for everyone. Your friends are already past the boundary between sober and drunk, and they probably don’t even hear you. If they do, they’re too intoxicated to process it in their heads fast enough before you leave.

You squeeze yourself between the messy tango of people in the house until you reach the base of the staircase. Upstairs has fewer people, though most of them are likely looking for an empty room to complete their seven minutes in heaven with a stranger they just met. You find Heeseung leaning against the ledge overlooking the ground floor, and you just stand and admire him in all his glory until he finally notices you.

“Took you long enough,” Heeseung teases, reaching a hand out for you to hold, and you do just that. He pulls you in closer, spinning you around against the ledge so you’re now trapped between it and him. His arms press against either side of you, leaving you with nowhere to run, not that you would if given the chance.

“Never knew The Y/L/N Y/N could get jealous so easily. I must have overestimated you.” He leans in, and you can smell the vivid scent of alcohol mixed with cigarettes edged onto the fabric of his clothes.

“I told you, I’m not jealous.” You roll your eyes, trying to mask the fact that he’s hit the nail on the head.

“Oh, really?” Heeseung’s voice is a low murmur, his breath warm against your ear. “Then why were you glaring at me like that?”

“I just didn’t like seeing Yunjin all over you,” you admit, your voice softer than you intended. The truth slips out before you can stop it, and you feel a rush of vulnerability.

Heeseung chuckles, a sound that vibrates through you. “Well, I’m sorry that you felt like I wasn’t giving you enough attention. You have it all now.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you look up at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you see is the same boy who has become so important to you, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and affection.

“You’re impossible,” you mumble, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He shifts his hands to hold you firmly on your sides, not breaking eye contact for a second. “Am I holding on to you like you’re precious now?” You mentally cringe at yourself for having sent him that text. Not wanting to give him that satisfaction, you purposely ignore the question.

Heeseung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My precious princess,” he murmurs, closing the distance between you. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s both gentle and passionate, and you feel yourself melting into him.

In that moment, the noise of the party fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world. And as Heeseung’s arms wrap around you, holding you close, you come to terms with the feeling that yes you do, you feel precious.

#4 - The Fallout

The night ends in a blur of emotions and stolen moments, the memory of Heeseung’s kiss lingering on your lips as you part ways. Heeseung walks you to your door, his hand lingering on yours before he finally lets go, promising to text you later. You watch him disappear into the night, a warm feeling settling in your chest despite the cold air.

But Heeseung’s warmth is replaced by a chilling reality when he arrives home. The house is dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the party. Heeseung tiptoes through the hallway, trying to avoid waking anyone, but the creak of a floorboard betrays him.

“Lee Heeseung.”

The voice is cold and sharp, freezing Heeseung in his tracks. He turns to see his father standing at the top of the stairs, the dim light casting a shadow over his face. His father’s stern expression is enough to drain any remaining warmth from Heeseung’s veins.

“Where have you been?” His father’s voice is controlled, but Heeseung can hear the underlying anger.

“I was just out with some friends,” Heeseung replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Don’t lie to me,” his father snaps, descending the stairs with heavy, deliberate steps. “I got a call from Mr Kim. His son showed him pictures of you at a party posted all over the academy’s forum.”

Heeseung’s heart sinks. Mr Kim, a family friend and strict disciplinarian. The old man's disapproval was well-known, and Heeseung’s father always took his word seriously. He must have been tipped off by his own children studying at the academy, and in true fashion, news spread like wildfire, especially among the elites. The anxiety gnaws at him as he imagines Mr. Kim's stern face, the way his father’s expression will harden with disappointment. Heeseung’s mind races, trying to find a way to mitigate the fallout.

“Father, I—”

Before he can finish, his father’s hand strikes him across the face, the force of the blow sending him stumbling back. The sharp sting spreads across his cheek, but it’s the look of disappointment in his father’s eyes that hurts the most.

“You disgrace this family,” his father seethes. “Sneaking out to drink and party like some delinquent. You’re throwing away everything we’ve worked for.”

Heeseung tries to speak, to defend himself, but his father’s next blow catches him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Heeseung doubles over, gasping for breath, his vision blurring with tears. He doesn’t dare fight back; he knows it will only make things worse.

“You think you can just do whatever you want?” His father’s voice is a harsh whisper, filled with venom. “You’re nothing without this family, without me.”

Another punch lands on Heeseung’s shoulder, and he crumples to the floor, curling into himself in a futile attempt to shield his body from the blows. Each hit is a reminder of his place, of the expectations he’s failed to meet.

The beating continues, each strike heavier than the last, until finally, his father steps back, breathing heavily. Heeseung remains on the floor, pain radiating through his body, tears mixing with the blood from his split lip.

“Get to your room,” his father orders, voice cold. “And don’t think about leaving this house again without my permission.”

Heeseung drags himself up, each movement sending fresh waves of pain through him. He stumbles to his room, collapsing onto his bed. The darkness of his room feels like a refuge, but it’s not enough to keep the tears from falling.

Heeseung curls into himself, clutching his phone to his chest. He wants to call you, to hear your voice, to find some comfort in your presence, but he knows he can’t. The risk is too great. Instead, he texts you a simple goodnight, hoping you’ll understand the unspoken plea for solace.

As the pain in his body slowly dulls, the emotional scars feel even deeper. Heeseung closes his eyes, wishing for sleep to take him away from the reality of his life. But even in his dreams, he can’t escape the feeling of his father’s disappointment, a weight that crushes him more than any physical blow ever could.

A whole week passes by since that night at Sunoo’s, and you wonder if the universe is playing another game with you. You no longer run into Heeseung in the hallway or find him huddled up reading in a corner of the library. It’s strange. Not only have you not seen him, but he also hasn’t texted you back. He always texts you back.

You even consider finding him at his mansion, but now that your project is done and dusted, you no longer have a reason to show up at his front door without looking like a clingy girlfriend—who isn’t his girlfriend. There is also the issue with his father; you don’t want to risk running into that man more than you need to.

Surely something must’ve happened for him to blatantly ignore you. You’re not even going to convince yourself otherwise, because nobody just suddenly goes radio silent on someone. You think back to that night, wondering what could’ve possibly gone wrong. Was it the kiss? Did you come off too possessive in your text messages? Or was it the fact you guilt-tripped him into attending the party with you, and his face ended up everywhere on the Decelis T?

Yes, you’ve seen the posts. You’ve seen the way people talk about you and Heeseung. Frankly speaking, you couldn’t care less. This isn’t your first rodeo with what the people in this school have to say about you. You’re used to it. What you hate to see are the posts about Heeseung, about how you ruined his bright future. And you can’t help but think that what these trolls are saying holds some truth.

The whispers in the hallways, the stares, and the snide remarks—they don’t bother you. But the thought that Heeseung might be suffering because of you does. You remember the way he had held you at the party, the way he had looked at you with such warmth and affection. It seems impossible that he would just abandon you without a word.

You decide to visit the library one more time, hoping against hope that you might find him there. The library is almost empty, the silence broken only by the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper. You scan the room, but there’s no sign of him.

Defeated, you sit down at one of the tables, your mind racing with a thousand questions. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your messages with Heeseung, rereading them in search of any clue you might have missed. Each unanswered text feels like a weight on your chest, a reminder of the distance growing between you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden ping from your phone. You glance down, heart leaping with hope, only to see a message from Chaewon. She’s asking if you want to grab lunch, but you can’t muster the energy to respond. All you can think about is Heeseung and why he’s disappeared from your life so abruptly.

With a sigh, you put your phone away and rest your head on your arms, feeling a mixture of frustration and sadness. The library’s quiet atmosphere does little to soothe your troubled mind. As you sit there, your mind in a whirlwind of confusion and concern, you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up to see Jake walking past you, a book in hand and a frown on his face. Relief washes over you at the sight of a familiar face.

"Jake," you call out, standing up. The boy seems surprised that you even knew his name, given that you barely talked to him.

"Have you seen Heeseung? I haven't heard from him all week."

Jake's frown deepens. "No, I haven't seen him. I thought he was just busy with you. Looks like you don’t know where he’s been either.” You sense some animosity in his words, but you try not to focus too much on it.

“What do you mean busy with me?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“That’s what everyone’s been saying. Lee Heeseung sleeping around with the campus slut.” You’re taken aback by his words, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting, especially on an open wound.

“Okay, ouch? What did I even do to you?” Your voice comes out more defensive than you wanted it to, and Jake isn’t dumb enough to not notice it.

“You’re one to talk,” he mutters, now just pushing at the tiny bits of patience you had left after all the shit you’ve endured this entire week.

Jake hesitates, then sighs. "He told me he was going to stay out of trouble and focus on his studies, but it seems like he lied. He’s been sneaking off to parties, thanks to the likes of you. Who knows? He’s probably grounded right now because of that.”

Your anger flares, and you take a step closer to Jake. "You think this is all my fault? That I'm some kind of bad influence on Heeseung? Do you even know what he’s going through? He needed an escape, Jake. He needed friends to support him, not judge him."

Jake crosses his arms, still looking skeptical. "Support? By dragging him to parties and getting him in trouble?"

"Support by being there for him when he feels suffocated by his father and this school!" you snap. "You don’t know half of what Heeseung’s dealing with. You think he’s lying to you, but maybe he just didn’t want to burden you with his problems."

Jake's expression softens slightly, but he still looks unconvinced. "I just thought he was focusing on his future. Now it seems like he’s throwing it all away."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Jake, Heeseung is trying to balance everything. He’s not perfect, and he’s going to make mistakes. But he needs his friends now more than ever. You don’t get to be disappointed in him without even trying to understand."

“And what makes you think you understand him? Y/N, you knew him barely for a quarter of the time I did. If there’s anything, he would’ve told me by now.” Jake snaps, his voice rising and attracting the attention of every nearby patron.

“I don’t think I understand him, Jake. I know I understand him, more than you ever will. Because if you really understood him, you’d know he never wanted to be tied down by all these expectations from you or his father. If you really cared about Heeseung, you wouldn’t be here arguing with me about what’s best for him, because who are you to decide that for him? You should be showing up, reaching out to him now more than ever, but you’re not.” You say your last piece with conviction, each word laden with frustration and a hint of desperation.

Jake is stunned, his face paling as he absorbs your words. You can tell by the way he’s disassociating, his eyes glazing over and his expression becoming distant, that some part of what you said hit him hard. 

The library is now uncomfortably silent, the eyes of the other patrons heavy on you both. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, your hands trembling slightly from the intensity of the confrontation. But Jake doesn’t say anything, just stands there, his mind clearly racing.

You take a step back, the anger and adrenaline starting to ebb away, replaced by a gnawing worry for Heeseung. "I’m going to find him, Jake. With or without your help," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm. With your new resolve, you leave Jake standing still in the middle of the library, the gears in his head turning as he tries to recall all the times Heeseung was ever out of character, even for just a second.

Then it strikes him. All those times Jake showed up at Heeseung’s house over the holidays, he was somehow never home. His clothes always had a hint of cigarettes, but Jake was never too sure because Heeseung would attempt to drown out the smell with his cologne. Then there was that one time over winter break when Heeseung drunk-texted him one evening, but when Jake confronted him about it the next morning, Heeseung claimed he was at a company event with his father and had drunk to entertain the guests. All of it sounded perfectly reasonable to Jake at the time.

Jake’s mind races, piecing together the fragments of inconsistencies. Is Heeseung not who he seems to be? This realisation hits Jake like a ton of bricks. He’s been blind, perhaps too caught up in his own expectations to notice his friend’s struggles. And like the theorist he is, Jake is determined to find out the truth.

The conversation ends, and the conviction in Jake’s messages gives Heeseung a strength he didn’t know he had. Heeseung recalls a particular conversation he had with you, about how if Jake truly cares for him, he’d appreciate his honesty. And you weren’t wrong, because Heeseung and Jake come out of this with a brotherhood stronger than ever. It’s like you knew this would happen.

Then again, you always give the best advice and always know what to say to reassure him. You know him like the back of your hand, reading his thoughts like the cover of a book, which convinces Heeseung even further that if you aren’t soulmates, no other words can describe the connection you two hold. And it’s because you two are soulmates that the universe decides it’s finally time to piece the two of you together so that neither of you has to continue pretending to be someone you’re not.

But no, you’re not soulmates. What you have isn’t because of some cosmic design. Heeseung willed this. He willed you to come into his life; he willed you to show up at that club all those months back to catch him in the act; he willed you to be the one he can be himself around. He intricately weaved the threads of fate himself until they spelt your name. And right now, your name, Y/N, is like a mantra in his head, echoing itself over and over again until he sees you in the flesh, until he feels your presence in his vicinity. That mantra is the only thing driving his decision.

That night, Heeseung sneaks out of his mansion. He moves quietly, making sure not to alert anyone, especially his father. His heart pounds in his chest, each beat a mixture of fear and excitement. Every creak of the floorboards seems amplified in the stillness of the house, and he holds his breath, praying no one hears. Heeseung has never felt so alive, the adrenaline surging through his veins as he edges closer to freedom.

The cool night air greets him as he slips out the back door, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of his home. The stars above seem to twinkle with approval, as if they too support his decision. Heeseung pulls his jacket tighter around him, not just for warmth but for comfort, as he heads towards your apartment. Each step is a step towards reclaiming his life, towards taking control of his own destiny.

As he walks through the quiet streets, memories of you flood his mind. He thinks of your smile, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, the sound of your laughter. The thought of seeing you again, of being in your presence, propels him forward. Heeseung’s heart swells with a mixture of longing and determination. This is what he wants. This is what he needs.

Heeseung finally arrives at your apartment building, his pulse quickening. He takes a moment to gather himself, taking deep breaths to steady his racing heart. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, but he knows he has to do this. For himself. For you.

He approaches your door, his hand trembling slightly as he raises it to knock. The sound echoes softly in the hallway, and he waits, his breath caught in his throat.

When you open the door, the sight of you takes Heeseung’s breath away. You look surprised, but there’s a warmth in your eyes that reassures him. For a moment, neither of you speaks.

“Heeseung,” you finally say, your voice soft but filled with concern and relief. “Where have you been? I was worried sick!” You hit him softly on his chest, and Heeseung smiles, the familiar gesture a balm to his frayed nerves.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Y/N. But I really needed to see you,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with regret.

“You think you can just disappear whenever it’s convenient and come back when you want to see me? What if I want to see you? Have you ever thought about that? Selfish jerk.” You fight back the tears threatening to fall. Part of you is angry that Heeseung is doing whatever he pleases, but another part of you wants to just forget the pain and longing you’ve been experiencing the past week and crash into his arms. It’s sickening, the power he has over you.

“I was wrong, princess. I won’t disappear again. Not anymore.”

You step aside, allowing him to enter. The familiar scent of your apartment wraps around him like a comforting embrace. The tension that has been gripping him for days begins to ebb away, replaced by a sense of belonging and peace. He realises now, more than ever, how much he’s missed you, how much he needs you.

You both stand there for a moment, the silence filled with unspoken words and emotions. Heeseung reaches out and gently takes your hand, his touch sending a reassuring warmth through you. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. I didn’t realise how much until I couldn’t see you.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his for sincerity. “Promise me you won’t shut me out again.”

Heeseung pulls you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you securely. “I promise, Y/N. I won’t shut you out. You mean too much to me.”

As you stand there, enveloped in his embrace, you can feel the tension in your own body slowly melting away. You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Each thump is a reminder that he’s here, that he cares, that he won’t leave you again. You take a deep breath, savouring the moment.

You open your eyes, and the two of you just look at each other, a silent understanding passing between you. You smile, your heart full, and you know that this time, his promise will be kept.

You have no clue what happened to him the past week, you don’t know what stunts he had to pull in order to get to you today and have you in his arms. To be frank, you aren’t looking forward to finding out. The cuts on his face and the bruises on his arms tell you plenty—more than you need, really. You didn’t comment on it when you first saw it, not wanting to bring up anything that caused him pain. When he’s ready, he’ll tell you what happened on his own.

You draw back slightly to look at him, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin is warm under your touch, and his eyes hold a mixture of relief, regret, and deep affection. He leans into your touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. You take his hand and guide him to the couch, where you sit close together, the familiarity of your surroundings adding to the comfort of the moment. 

You spent almost an hour talking about everything but nothing at the same time, it's like every time Heeseung felt he was ready to talk, he backs out and veers off into another topic instead. He shares about his reconciliation with Jake, how your advice about honesty proved true, and his regret over not being upfront sooner. He mentions the newfound attention he's received since the party at Sunoo's, people sliding into his DMs, but it all seems like a distraction from what he really wants to share.

You can see the struggle in his eyes, the weight of unspoken words on his mind. Without needing to say much, you place your hand gently on his, a silent assurance that you're here, you understand, and he can take his time. “Hey, slow down yeah? Heeseung, there’s no rush to tell me everything right now. I’ll be here whenever.” You say gently, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

In the depths of human nature, is an obsessive desire for logical explanations that make sense. However, there’s no explanation logical enough for how you just always seem to know your way around his emotions, because the gesture works almost immediately in calming his nerves.

Heeseung takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on your joined hands. His fingers intertwine with yours, and you can feel the tension in his grip. It’s a silent signal that he’s ready to share what’s been weighing on his mind.

“Remember, you don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready.” 

“No, I need to tell you. You deserve to know.”  He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “That night at Sunoo’s, everything was fine until I got home. My father was waiting for me. Someone probably sent him the pictures from the party, the ones all over the Decelis T. He was furious.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue. The anguish in his voice is palpable, and it breaks your heart to see him like this.

“He was so angry. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. He just kept yelling about how I was ruining everything, how I was throwing away my future. And then…” Heeseung’s voice falters, and he swallows hard. “Then he hit me. Over and over.”

Your heart clenches, and you feel a surge of protective anger. “Heeseung…” you whisper, your voice trembling. You reach out, gently tracing the bruises on his arms with your fingertips. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he did that to you.”

Heeseung’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I tried to stand up for myself, Y/N. I really did. But it only made things worse. He said I was a disgrace, that I wasn’t living up to the family name. He threatened to cut me off completely if I didn’t get my act together.”

You’re in fury by this point, because how could anyone possibly expect you sit still and listen when someone you care about is being hurt by someone who is suppose to shelter him with love and hope. This anger is mixed with sadness when you realise this is probably a frequent occurrence for him.

“You don’t deserve any of this. You’re amazing, Heeseung. Don’t let him make you believe otherwise.”

Heeseung takes a shaky breath, his grip on your hand tightening. “After that, Jake called me, and he helped me realise that I need to fight for my own life. That I can’t keep living under my father’s thumb. That’s when I decided to sneak out and come here. I needed to see you. You’re the one thing that keeps me grounded, that makes me feel like I can be myself.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you pull him into a tight embrace. “We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

Heeseung holds you close, his voice filled with a mix of relief and determination. "Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you." His words, though fitting for the occasion, hit you more deeply than you expect. You feel his heartbeat against your chest, each thump echoing the sincerity of his words. The realisation that he is relying on you as much as you are on him sinks in. You understand that the only thing keeping both of you sane, preventing you from becoming the versions of yourselves that others expect, is each other.

That night, you make the bold decision to invite Heeseung to stay over, considering it’s already well past midnight. As if sneaking out wasn't difficult enough, Heeseung assumes sneaking back in before dawn and before anyone realises he’s gone missing wouldn’t be too much of a challenge. Without even thinking twice, Heeseung accepts your offer, a mixture of relief that for a night, at least, he doesn’t have to feel trapped in the confines of his makeshift prison.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t fully thought this through. You live in a studio apartment, and with your queen-size bed spilling into your so called living room, there’s no privacy. You two are essentially sharing the same space. The room feels suddenly smaller, the proximity more intimate than ever before.

Noticing Heeseung’s fading bruises, you almost offer to take the couch so he can sleep comfortably on the bed. However, you know he’d likely reject your offer anyway so you didn’t even try. As you rack your brain trying to find a solution that works for both of you, Heeseung speaks up.

“We can just share the bed.” He shrugs, his expression stoic as if he hadn’t just spout the most out of pocket thing ever. Speechless, you stare at him, eyebrows raised, trying to form a coherent sentence that won’t embarrass you.

"Uhm..."

“What? Your bed is huge; I’m pretty sure we could both fit on there.” You can’t tell if he’s playing innocent, being naive, or if his dad knocked some sense out of him, but the shamelessness is almost baffling.

You won't lie and say the idea didn't cross your mind at some point, but the thought of sleeping next to Heeseung, especially now that you’ve come to terms with your feelings for him, seems like an impossible task. You’re afraid your heartbeat will vibrate across the mattress, and he’ll hear it and question you. The mere thought brings heat to your face, your pulse quickening at the proximity.

“Oh I see, you’re shy. Come on, it’s not like it’ll be the first time we’re sleeping together anyway.” He says, referring to the night the two of you made out and you accidentally fell asleep on his bed.

“Don’t phrase it like that, gosh. And that time was an accident.” You puff your cheeks, willing the heat to cool down but to no avail. The memory of that night, the closeness, and the vulnerability, floods back, making your heart race.

“You’re the one making this weird; it’s literally just sleeping. Not like we’re going to have sex or anything.” He giggles. You’re taken aback by the statement, and more so by his little giggle that accompanied it. How can he laugh in this situation when you’re as panicked as it is?

“Okay, now you’re just being annoying.” You turn your back towards him, rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance, though honestly, it only makes you feel more embarrassed for reacting the way you did. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. If it makes you comfortable, I’ll take the couch.” His voice softens, sensing your discomfort, but his eyes hold a plea, a silent wish to stay close.

“What? No! You’re injured; you should be getting plenty of quality rest.” You insist, your concern for him outweighing your own embarrassment. The sight of his bruises, the fatigue in his eyes, tugs at your heartstrings.

“And let you take the couch? Don’t even try.” He shakes his head, his determination clear. His gaze is steady, filled with a mixture of stubbornness and affection.

“Fine. We’ll share the bed, but you’ll stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. No. Funny. Business.” You say firmly, trying to set boundaries, but the warmth in his eyes makes your resolve waver. The idea of sharing a bed with him, feeling his presence so close, is both thrilling and terrifying.

As you both settle into bed, the silence is filled with the soft rustling of sheets and the distant hum of the city outside. The mattress dips under his weight, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body and hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

The room is dark, but the glow from the streetlights outside casts a soft light across his face. He looks peaceful, and for a moment, you just watch him, your heart swelling with emotions too complex to name.

Heeseung turns to face you, and you immediately turn away, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. You lie stoically on your bed, looking up at the ceiling, afraid to move a single muscle as you sense his gaze on you.

A few minutes pass, and you still feel his eyes on you. You suspect Heeseung himself doesn’t even realise he’s been staring at you unwittinglyaa as. You feel the tension between you hit a new high, the silence growing heavier with each passing second that you feel the creeping need to dig a hole right where you are and hide inside it. The elephant in the room is big, way too fucking big, and you finally decide to address it.

“There’s something else we need to talk about,” you say, finally turning your body to face him. His eyes meet yours in the dim light. You can barely make out the expressions on his face, but you can tell from the sudden shift in his body language that his guard is up at your proclamation.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice soft yet tinged with apprehension.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts and courage. “This… situation between us. What are we doing, Heeseung?”

Heeseung’s eyes flicker with uncertainty, and he looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he admits. “I don’t want to mess this up, whatever it is.”

You feel a pang of vulnerability, a raw honesty hanging in the air. Before you can say anything else, Heeseung speaks up, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with intensity. “I like you, a lot actually. If it wasn’t already obvious enough, I like you, Y/N.” You can tell it took him a lot of courage to confess this to you.

Before you even got the chance to reciprocate his feelings, he stops you, wanting you to finish listening to what he has to say before he can bring himself to hear your answer. So you let him.

“I know our situation is really unconventional, and that it’ll be situationally better for both of us if I stayed away from you. That’s how I initially planned to keep you safe. But something about you, its like a drug; I just keep wanting more. Every minute, every second of every fucking day I’m just thinking about you. I want to know what you’re doing, who you’re with. I want to punch every single person who has nothing good to say about you. I want to feel you, I want to hug you, god, I want to kiss you so bad.”

He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours. “I realised how much you mean to me when I no longer try to force myself to sleep, trying to dream of something that'll numb my pain just a little. Instead, I can't sleep thinking about you because, for the first time, my reality is finally better than any dream. This, whatever we have, is real, and it’s the only thing that makes sense in my life right now. But every time I close my eyes thinking about you, I’m just reminded of the fact that I can’t have you and treat you the way you deserve.”

“You can have me, Heeseung,” you say, your voice filled with determination and emotion.

“You know what I mean, Y/N. I mean just look at the state I’m in. If my father can do this to his own blood, I don’t see why he wouldn’t do worse to you. I can’t have that.”

You reach out and gently touch his face, your fingers tracing the bruises and cuts. “Heeseung, I don’t care about the risks. I care about you. I want to be with you, no matter what.”

Heeseung looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear, hope, and love. He leans into your touch, his hand covering yours. “I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.”

“You won’t,” you promise, your voice steady and sure. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften, and he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Those words again. The phrase, "I don’t know what I’d do without you," to you isn’t mindless appreciation but a genuine confession. In your fucked-up realities, you are each other’s only salvation where he doesn’t have to shed any part of himself to feel connected with you. You see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he looks at you with a mixture of hope and desperation. It’s a look that tells you he needs you as much as you need him.

With that realisation, you know you are ready to be the person who loves him, no matter how imperfect he is. This is no easy feat, because it is easy to love someone when they’re perfect. But loving someone when they are wearing their flaws like an apology, when nobody else tries to really know them and accept them for who they are—that is what truly makes a difference. You think back to all the moments when he was vulnerable, when he let down his guard and showed you the parts of himself that he kept hidden from the world. Those are the moments that made you fall in love with him, not despite his flaws, but because of them.

You smile, your heart swelling with love as you reply to his sentiment, “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

Heeseung’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel the tension in his body slowly melting away. His shoulders, once rigid with stress and fear, relax against you. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint smell of cigarettes, is comforting and familiar. You realise that this is where you both belong, in each other’s arms, facing whatever comes your way together.

Heeseung’s fingers gently brush against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and your eyes flutter closed as his lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss.

When you finally pull away, Heeseung’s forehead rests against yours, his fingers tangled in your hair. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, to make this work.” You nod, tears welling up in your eyes.

Funny, isn’t it, how you started insisting he stayed on his side of the bed, and now you’re wrapped in his arms with barely any space between your bodies. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, his breath against your neck. His eyes meet yours, and you see a depth of emotion there that takes your breath away. It’s a look of pure, unfiltered love and gratitude. You know that this moment, this connection, is what you’ve both been searching for.

It’s the kind of love that makes you feel alive.

That makes you feel whole.

That makes you feel like you.

masterlist | part two

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he possibly tell you how he feels when you’re leaving him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,505

Warning: Language, suggestiveness, mentions of sex, mentions of death, depression, insomina

A/N: BestFriend!Suguru series is now our Saturday special!! Let’s goooooo!!! 😈💚

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Tweleve

Fifteen years ago, you and your family moved to Tokyo from the countryside due to your father’s job. You were so nervous, walking into your kindergarten class and holding your bag as your homeroom teacher introduced you to your new classmates. Everyone stared at you as you were ushered towards a table with two boys. One stuck his tongue out at you while the other colored with crayons.

“Oooh.” You said in awe, looking at the picture the dark-haired boy was coloring. “That’s pretty! Did you draw that?”

The crayon stopped moving as the dark-haired boy looked up at you for the first time. His dark eyes widened as he looked you over, a rosy flush dusting his cheeks. “I uhm,” his eyes darted back towards the paper, “yeah, I drew it.” You leaned in, your eyes sparkling in awe, as your classmate sucked in a deep breath as you got closer.

“So pretty!”

Swallowing hard, the boy continued coloring. “I-If you want it, you can have it when I’m done.” His voice is so timid that you almost don’t hear it.

“Eh?! Really!?” You smile, revealing a missing tooth. “Thank you—uhm, what’s your name?”

“G-Geto.”

“Thank you, Geto!”

“You’re welcome.”

That day marked the beginning of your friendship with Geto Suguru! You two have been inseparable ever since that day. You were having play dates and attending the same middle school, high school, and college! You even lived in the same apartment complex, just two floors separating you.

Suguru never once gave up on his passion for drawing, trading his crayons and construction paper for oil paint and canvas. You didn’t have an artistic bone in your body. You did, however, have a way with words. You were constantly losing yourself in characters you'd create and worlds you built, and you never thought of sharing them with the world until Suguru pushed you to do so.

You took his advice and submitted your novel to several writing competitions, not expecting anything to come from it. Boy, were you shocked when you won first place and were allowed to publish your novel! The publishing company loved the story, your characters, and the premise of it, so much so that they signed you on for a whole saga.

That was great! Your characters would finally be given the chance to shine. Their stories would be told! There was just one issue that you kept running into while working on the sequel. Your high-end fantasy novel was a romance between the princess of your series and her knight. You ended the first book with a very intimate kiss and confession. The whole purpose was to have readers wanting more, and they wanted more.

Your reader wanted more Ilaus and Oaklynn, more kisses, sweet whispers of nothing, and steamy smut. The readers wanted to see the lovely, innocent princess and her hot knight getting freaky. Which you were all down for! You wanted them to get to that point as much as your readers! You wanted Oaklynn to be face down getting plowed by Ilaus more than anyone else! You had written their story and made them suffer; they deserved to be happy with each other.

So why was writing sex scenes your kryptonite?!

You anxiously watched Nanami Kento, your beta reader and editor, scroll through your phone and read the latest pages you had written. His face was stoic, unreadable as his eyes glimpsed over the screen. Your leg bounced as he put your phone down, his eyes focusing on his mug before he sighed.

“Oh my god, you hate it.” Anxiety settled in your gut. “It’s terrible! I knew it sucked.”

Nanami winced, his eyes not meeting yours, and he brought his mug to his mouth and took a sip. “Why did you call his penis ‘his raging meat stick’? Like it was a slab of salami?” Your friend watched you slam your head gently against the table. “And for her, you called it her fairy cave?” This time, your friend didn't wince; no, the bastard chuckled.

“This isn't funny, Nanami!”

“I know,” he took another sip, “look, it's not bad; I just think if you're going to write a sex scene, you need to refer to the genitals as genitals and not lunch meat and damp mystical caves.”

“L-Like use the word penis?”

“Or cock, dick, not meat stick.”

“Shh!!” you reached over the table, covering his mouth with your hands. “We're out in public!!”

Nanami pulled back away from your hands. “Oh please, we know Gojo and Sukuna. They are more foul than that.” He had a point; the two could make grandmothers cry with their colorful vocabulary.

The first half of your novel was easy to write—lots of action, passionate kisses, and dialogue. The middle had hit you with a brick of writer's block. This was your first time writing anything remotely spicy other than making out with tongue. The scene you were stuck on right now wasn’t even a full-on sex scene! That made it so much worse! They were pleasing each other in a tent with just their hands! It's a simple mutual masturbation scene.

But using a meat stick and a fairy cave would not cut it. And the next couple of chapters were due to your agent in a week. If Nanami pretty much flat-out told you these scenes sucked, there was no way in hell you would be turning this in to your agent.

“Fuck, Nanami, what am I going to do?”

“Scrape it and rewrite it.” Feeling your gaze on his, Nanami breathed out a breathy huff. “Look, it's not terrible, trust me; I know you're capable of more.” Your trusted friend chuckled as you puffed out your cheeks.

“Oh yeah, scrape it; maybe I'll use a hot dog instead of a meat stick this time.” What were you going to do?! There was a week to turn the poorly excused terrible smut you'd written into something that would please Nanami, your agent, and the publisher.

Nanami patted your shoulder as he collected his stuff. “You know, sometimes our own experiences can help.” Great, now you were frustrated and a blushing mess!

“I-I can't do that!”

“Well, then read some erotic novels for inspiration if you have any questions if you don't want to use your personal sexual experiences.”

“That’s not what I me—”

“Look, let's meet on Tuesday for lunch, and you can show me what you have then. I gotta run to class; I’ll see you then.”

With a heavy heart, you watched your friend rush out of the café and return to Campus. Nanami was full of good ideas. Using one's own experiences was a good muse. It was something you would do if you had any experience. The number one reason you had so many issues writing smut seems like this was because you were a complete and total virgin.

That was the sole reason why writing sex scenes was your kryptonite. Because you had zero experience, writing about something you had no experience in was hard. So Nanami’s advice, while appreciated, was utterly useless. You had no experience, and there was no way you were hooking up with some random person to inspire you.

Oh well, you had a lovely long week to try and fix the monstrosity you had created. It wasn't like your agent would call you out of the blue! Yeah, you had a week! A week! It was all good!

A bag slammed on the table as you packed your laptop and notepad. With a squeak and a jump, you turned to see your agent staring down at you—a look of dismay and stress plastered over her face.

“U-Utahime?” Her expression remained the same as she adjusted her baseball hat. “H-Hi, what's up?”

“Meat stick?”

“Fuuuck.” you cried out, throwing your head back.

“I come in to give you good news, and I hear that Nanami is saying you're struggling with the sex scenes?” She sips her coffee anxiously, her foot tapping against the tile floor. “You told me it was a romance? And you can't write sex scenes?!”

You hushed her, standing up and putting your index finger against your lips. “Shut up! Please! I'm working on it; I'm just struggling!” Utahime laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'll fix it! I promise you’ll have a super spicy mutual touching session by next week!” she gives you a skeptical look, one you're pretty sure was on your face as well. “B-But what good news do you have?” Your agent and friend relaxes as she grins.

“You know that cottage that you saw online? The one in Europe that inspired your book?”

“The one that I can't find? Yeah, I know it.”

When you graduated high school, you and Suguru had stopped at a bookstore while shopping for supplies. You were grazing through pictures of European castles when you saw this darling little cottage. It looked similar to the cottage in Sleeping Beauty. It was made of stone in the woods beside a river where a water mill ran.

The cottage was gorgeous; it got your creative juices flowing. You imagined characters living there, and it was honestly the inspiration for your book. You desperately searched for it. Wanting to learn more about the cottage that had inspired your fantasy world, you couldn't find a lick of evidence. You had been under the assumption that it was either destroyed or didn't even exist. So you had given up on finding it two years ago.

“Well, your lovely agent made a few calls and sent out some photos, and she found it.”

“Shut up bitch.” Utahime just smirked, pulling out her phone. “Oh my god, oh god! Are you serious?!” Her phone slid across the table, the screen illuminated by the cottage that inspired your novel. “Ahh! Oh my god!”

“I also got in touch with the owners of the cottage. And when I told them a best-selling novelist was in love with their cottage, which they just so happen to rent out, they offered for you to stay there.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Maybe staying here will get your creativity flowing! Help you with the next few novels.”

Your body was vibrating in excitement. “Oh my god, yes! A week here would be great!” A low ‘uhm’ from across from you drew your attention from the phone to your agent. “Or a weekend?” she shook her head.

“They offered it to you for longer than that.”

“Seriously? How long are we talking?”

Utahime’s smile was wide and warm. “You’re gonna need a few bags.”

The second you left the coffee shop with a coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, you bolted down the street. Your meeting with Utahime went so well! You couldn’t wait to tell Suguru all about it. By the time you reached the apartment complex and his door on the third floor, you were panting.

Glancing at the handle, you luckily didn’t find a tie on it, meaning he didn’t bring home some chick, so it was safe for you to come in if you wanted. He did that for you after you walked in on him eating some bimbo out on the kitchen counter. Knowing it was safe, you unlocked the door with your spare key and headed inside.

The smell of paint was strong, meaning Suguru was in the zone and probably had been for hours. Meaning he hadn’t eaten. He was so lucky to have you as his best friend in the whole world, or the man would have starved.

“Suguru~!” Stepping through the apartment, you followed the sound of alternative music toward the spare room, which he’d turned into his makeshift studio. Stepping inside, you didn't find him, but his easel had a new canvas.

Quickly rushing forward, you stared at it, and your heart sank. Suguru had sketched out an aquarium, the base colors down, and a girl stood in front of the tank. The colors hadn’t been placed on her, but you knew who she was from the ruffled sun dress she wore to the braid that cascaded down her back.

“Riko.” Her name tore at your heart as you reached out to touch the sketch of the girl who had been taken far too soon.

Before you could touch the canvas, a creaking floorboard had you pulling away, rushing far for the easel. Your best friend walked in, a fresh mug of water in his hand, while he scrolled through his phone in the other.

God, how he had changed in the fifteen years you’d been together. His hair was longer, pulled in a bun; his bangs hung in his face. Suguru’s left arm was inked with a dragon; it swirled around the head of it tattooed on his shoulder. His lip was pierced along with the cartridge of his ears, and he was wearing his black gauges. That boy you met in class was now a man who was shirtless and covered in paint.

Suguru finally looked up; seeing you standing there startled him, causing him to spill water on the floor. “Fuckin’ hell!” He yelled, putting the mug down to grab the edge of his tables covered with tubes of paint. “You little fuckin’ shit.” His words held no heat as you placed his food and coffee down.

“Oh please, you’d starve without me. I tried calling you when I came in.”

“I was in the kitchen.”

“No, you weren’t.” You sat on the table inches from where Suguru stood. “I walked through there; you sneaking a girl down the fire escape? Not wanting me to catch you doing something indecent again?”

There was always a playful, teasing tone between the two of you. Especially now that you were older and he was a man whore. His dark eyes narrowed as he grinned, slotting between your legs as he sipped coffee.

His eyes trailed over you. “Why would you be jealous if I was?” You shook your head as he pushed your hair back. “Damn, I was just talking to Satoru.” Suguru rolled his eyes as you whistled. “You would like.” He ruffled the top of your head.

“Nah~ I’ve seen you go down on a girl.” He opened his mouth again. “And no, I’m not jealous; I just don’t wanna see you going at it.”

“Yeah, he said we’re all going out tonight; something about that sushi train place.” He pulled out the sandwich you brought him, taking a bite. “Said we had to celebrate.”

“Oh, we do.” Suguru swallowed the mouthful of food. “Because I got some great news today.”

“Really? Did Nanami like your new pages?” He stepped away, grabbing the mug of clean water as he stepped back in front of the canvas.

“Well, no, but that’s a whole other situation.” The excitement buzzing in your chest could no longer be held in. “Utahime found the cottage!”

Suguru perked up, knowing exactly what you were talking about. “Shut the fuck up, she did, where?!” He’d helped you search for your inspiration for hours; he knew how badly you wanted to go there.

“It’s in a wooded area in England. Super pretty! The owners have read my book and offered to let me stay there!”

“Well, that’s gre—”

“For the next two years!!”

Glass shattered, leaving both you and Suguru in stunned silence. Your best friend was pale, the color leaving his cheeks. His eyes were distant as you looked down, seeing the water spreading over the floorboard, sliding under Suguru’s bare feet.

You were the first to move, not to pick up the glass but to grab Suguru’s face gently. He was as still as a rock; he only got like that when he had flashbacks to that night. Seeing that he was painting Riko must have meant he was stuck in that moment from your second year of high school.

He shut his eyes tight, leaning into your touch, cluing you in. It wasn’t a flashback. He took a deep breath before lifting you, putting you off to the side, away from the glass. Something wasn’t right with Suguru; you knew it from his lingering touch and the lack of light in his eyes.

“What time did you get up?” You asked as you bent down, helping him pick up shards of glass.

“Are you going to leave?”

“I asked you a question first. What time did you get up?”

“Three this morning. Are you leaving?”

Peering up, you found his eyes focused solely on you. “I’m uhm—I’m waiting for Utahime to contact the owners.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes returning to the glass on the floor. “It’s not set in stone yet, Suguru.” You gently nudged his hand with yours; those words had him relaxing a bit, like relief was washing over him. “Why were you up at three?” He stood up, tossing the broken glass in the trash.

“Nightmares.”

“About Riko?”

Riko Amanai was a person Suguru didn’t like talking about. He went to therapy for what happened, but her death left a mark on him that probably would never heal. He had his good months and his bad months. Between the canvas and the nightmares, you knew he was going to have a hard time this month.

You didn’t push him; you hated to pry that part of his life. That didn’t mean you weren’t there for him, though. If he wanted to talk to you, your door was always open. There had been many nights when he would show up and ask to stay in bed with you. Those were the nights when nightmares were too much to handle when he had too much on his mind. Those were the nights you both stayed up, talking about life, your novel, or his work. They were also the nights you both fell asleep in each other‘s arms and got some of the best sleep of your lives.

“Suguru—?”

“I’m going to grab the broom. Just stay here.” Suguru grabs a white sheet and covers his newest canvas up before heading out of his room towards the kitchen.

Great, you just had to go prying into his trauma. What the hell is wrong with you? He would’ve talked about it with you if he wanted to talk about it. It was wrong to dig into what was happening in his mind. You worried so much about him, and sometimes you forgot you had no right to question him.

Despite your prying and prodding questions, Suguru was still warm to you. He wrapped an arm around you and plopped down on the couch with you while he finished eating breakfast and drinking coffee. He showed you some of the paints he wanted to get the next time he dragged you to the art store. Suguru acted like everything was normal when you both knew it wasn’t.

He was masking; he often did when he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his mind. Or when he didn’t want to worry you. You could easily see through his façade, but you weren’t about to ruin the rest of his day with your questions. You lay there on the couch with him, listening to him talk about his paints and the commissions that he had received.

The mundane conversations lasted until four o’clock. The two of you freshened up before heading downtown to meet your other friends for your not-so-celebratory dinner. Satoru had invited almost everyone you knew. Nanami, Shoko, Sukuna, Haibara, and Yuki cheered when you two entered.

You were pulled towards the bar by Shoko and Yuki, who squealed over how lucky you were to have found your cottage. Suguru snatched a beer from the bucket on the table, chugging it as he sat beside Satoru. The white-haired man hissed out a sigh, his arm wrapping over Suguru’s shoulder as the two watched you closely.

“I can’t believe they offered her to stay there for two years.” Satoru purred out. “Like fuck, it’ll be weird not having her here.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

Satoru pulled his dark sunglasses off, glaring at his best friend. “Who pissed in your cereal?” He paused, pursing his lips together. “Oh right, the girl you love is leaving you. I have an idea; tell her how you feel!” A handful of gyoza is shoved into Satoru’s mouth.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Nanami glanced at the two before him, gulping down his beer. “If I tell her, it’ll be like I’m holding her back. I can’t do that.” As he steals another glance at you, confusion, doubt, and anxiety settle in Suguru’s stomach. “If she wants to go, she can go.”

Thankfully, after his little rant, the conversation drifted from you and focused on school. The whole night, no one brought up the cottage, nor you leaving yet. As you assure them, nothing is set in stone yet, but finding out where your inspiration was was enough to drink to.

The happiness that seemed to radiate off you made Suguru feel bittersweet over the whole situation. He was happy for you. He knew how much finding that cottage. He spent his free time looking into it for you. But he could never find anything. He desperately didn’t want to go either. You were his best friend. You had been for fifteen years, and he was utterly in love with you, but he didn’t want to cross that line.

Now that there was a possibility that you would be leaving, he regretted all the chances he had to cross that line, and he never took it. That’s why he slept with so many girls who shared attributes similar to yours. Some of them had your eyes, others had your hair color, and there were just some of them that looked similar to you. It was a way to cope with being unable to tell you how he felt. But at least he didn’t ruin your friendship.

Between the lack of sleep and the new fear of losing you, Suguru needed something more potent than beer. He shimmed over to the bar, ruffling your hair as he passed you. As he leaned over the bar, waiting for his drink, Nanami squeezed in next to him.

“I think I know why she might be leaving.”

“Huh?” Suguru’s pierced brow lifted in confusion. “Why would there be a reason for her to leave? She’s always wanted to go to that cottage.”

“She offered to stay there to help with her writing. I may have called Utahime and given her a heads up about the pages I read today.” Nanami sipped his drink. “We both agreed that change of scenery might help with her writing.”

“The fuck do you mean?” A twinge of anger flashed over Suguru’s face. “Her writing is the best. There’s nothing for her to work on. She got published, for God's sake.”

Nanami chuckled nervously. “There’s no doubt that she’s a talented writer. While her dialogue and kissing scenes and her world-building are superior to other authors, I’ve read for. Her romance scenes are atrocious.” When Nanami saw the look of bewilderment on Suguru’s face, he nodded. “By romance, I mean sex scenes.”

“Well, she’s never had a boyfriend; I don’t think she’s even kissed someone.” Nanami makes a humming sound of understanding as a revelation overcomes Suguru. “Do you think if her sex scenes get better, she might now want to leave for as long as she said?”

“Maybe. But it’ll take a miracle for her sex scenes to improve.”

A miracle that Suguru was willing to provide. If he could help you, maybe, just maybe, you might consider staying if you’re given a chance to leave. And if he’s lucky, perhaps he would finally find the strength to tell you how he felt. Downing his drink, he rushed back to the table, grabbing your hand.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Your eyes glitter, making Suguru’s heart thunder. “Sure!” He drags you through the crowded restaurant, pulling you outside towards the alley. “What’s up?” God, you look so pretty with flushed cheeks.

“Nanami told me about the sex scenes”

“That traitor!” You pout, tilting your head back with a grumble. “Fine, go ahead and make fun of my usage of deli meat for describing genitalia.” The teasing never comes. Instead, Suguru's musky, earthy smell crowds you as he slams his hands on either side of your head. “S-Sugu?”

“I have a proposition.” His voice purrs out, making your heart race spike. “You’re struggling with the sex scenes. That’s why you’re thinking of leaving, right?”

“Y-yeah, and?”

“What if I help you? If your sex scenes get better, do you think you might not need to leave for two years?”

Heat begins to fill the tiny space between your bodies. You feel your exhaled air mingling with the others. Fuck was it the alcohol?

“I-I mean, maybe I wouldn’t need to leave for so long. Maybe just a week.” There’s a gleam in your best friend's eyes. “But how are you going to help me?” His mouth inches closer, and you can feel the heat as he leaves an inch away from your lips.

“I can teach you.”

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[sillygoofyqueer]

Today I had the wild thought of "you know, I could just queue my mad scientist AU posts" but one, that would require far more work in one day than I can be arsed for and two, that would mean you guys don't get my personal notes every day. Like, for instance, I've been reading Faraway Wanderers! Exquisite series. The moment Wei Wuxian and Wen Qionglin are discovered missing, there's a meeting immediately called for the Big Shots to attend. Yu Ziyuan, despite all attempts to keep her out of such meetings, of course is there and has opinions - namely, that Wei Wuxian and Wen Qionglin have gone back to spill all of their secrets to the enemy. She, personally, believes that this has been going on for ages, and that Wen Qing is just covering up for her didis so that they can get away with such things. Of course, it's the first time Lan Xichen has had to physically grab his didi to stop him from climbing over the war table to start a brawl. Wen Qing is about to tell her exactly what she thinks about that take on things, but a calm voice comes out of the left corner - JIN ZIXUAN sliding in with the "Wei Wuxian has messenger crows that could do such things for him." As much as Yu Ziyuan wants to beat the shit out of this boy, this is her sworn sister's son and so all she can do is glare at him from the corner.

Nie Mingjue quickly takes control of the meeting from there, fielding different suggestions on how to proceed - should they send someone after the boys? Should they wait for them to return? Should they...I mean there isn't much else they could do about this, so it is just those two options. Lan Wangji, who is obviously worried about the two, is desperate to go after them so he can make sure they're alright, but there's no way that's happening - they've already lost possibly their wild card and best archer in one swift move, they're not losing another one of their best fighters. Wen Qing volunteers to go, but she's literally like the head medic, they need her, so that's a no-go as well. Plus, they have no idea what the Wen would do if they they found their troops crawling around anywhere near Dafan if nothing has happened to the inhabitants there - it's too much of a risk.

They're just coming to this decision, albeit reluctantly, when there's a loud commotion outside. They all rush outside, because of course they do, and they find Wen Qionglin and Wei Wuxian stumbling their way back into camp. They don't look injured, but there's blood smeared on their robes and Wen Qionglin looks like a mess, tear streaks clear on his face and hands clutched around himself as they approach camp. Wei Wuxian looks only a little better, tears instead replaced by an empty expression on his face and a haunted look in his eyes, with a bundle of blankets clutched firmly against his chest. Wen Qionglin's eyes are fixed on the ground, and Wei Wuxian isn't responding to calls of any of his names, just staring ahead silently. Wen Qing sprints over to ask what's wrong, what's happened, is their family okay- all questions are answered with a single shake of the head from Wen Ning, before he bursts into tears once again, uncaring who's watching him as he buries his face into Wen Qing's shoulder.

Wei Wuxian has stopped beside them, watching the scene listlessly as his grasp tightens on the bundle of blankets, a soft sound escaping the bundle with the movement. His unblinking eyes snap down to it, adjusting his grasp so he can gently brush at what is obviously a child's head, lips moving with indecipherable murmurs and body swaying back and forth the slightest bit. He is holding a baby. When everyone realises this, one of the other onlookers makes the mistake of reaching out to try and take the baby away from him - saying something about relieving him of a burden. He fully jolts away, a wild snarl escaping him and a sudden oppressive sensation appearing in the area as resentful energy curls around his body completely of its own accord. "Don't you fucking touch him!" Is the animalistic response the unfortunate onlooker receives.

Everyone has gone still, sensing the volatile, dangerous state Wei Wuxian is in a little bit too late. It's like something has cracked within him; he won't even let Wen Qing close in his distress, baring his teeth at anyone who tries to approach him. The baby in his arms has a single little hand gripped into the fabric of his bloodstained robes, thankfully remaining rather undisturbed despite the tense situation they're involved in. Lan Wangji desperately wants to help, wants to hold Wei Ying close and comfort him in the midst of what can only be a tragedy that has befallen the Dafan Wen, but he doesn't know if Wei Ying would react any differently to him compared to his literal family. He can only stand there, wishing he could reach out and soothe the distress marring the other boy's features but unable to move his mouth to do more than murmur Wei Ying's name.

Another, more hesitant voice rings out from the crowd, a "gege?" coming from Xue Yang as he takes a casual forwards - he has seen Wei-gege in a state similar to this before, when the resentful energy overwhelmed him in an experiment gone wrong back in the Wen stronghold. He knows that he can be useful, that he is the only one knows how to handle his gege, to push him away from the edge of his sanity. Everyone's holding their breath as this child walks closer as though he isn't quite possibly courting death with this move, forgoing touching the child to instead rest an arm on the teenager's shoulder. "Gege, Xue-di needs reminding how to circulate his qi!" In Wei Ying's mind, all he's seeing is another child that he needs to protect from the danger all around them, another child who he could fail with one stupid move. He carefully adjusts his hold on the baby to free up one of his hands, tugging a willing Xue Yang in close to his side as well, avoiding eye contact with everyone. If his didi needed help with such a thing, he was going to put all of his focus into it.

It's like the oppressive air is lifted from around them as he mumbles about circulating his qi, almost naturally doing it in demonstration, leaving the more volatile resentful energy to either clear from his system or retreat in its broiling state to avoid the qi rolling through his body. Everyone can only breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that a literal bomb has just been defused right in front of their eyes. Wen Qing, who has been doing a very good job of not breaking down in tears at the implications of this whole situation, takes a deep breath and starts whispering softly to Wei Ying to draw his attention to her, all while Wen Ning is still clinging to her and sobbing softly into her arms. "A-Ying, we need to check on A-Yuan to make sure he's alright." She murmurs, watching as Wei Ying's grasp tightens a little on the baby, who has been snuggling into his arms with no care for the dangerous position he's been in.

The teenager nods a little, but still seems reluctant to move from this position - he can see everyone right now, he knows where all of the potential threats are and can deal with them in the blink of an eye if necessary. Thinking on her feet, Wen Qing is like "Lan Wangji can watch your back while we move to the medbay" because of course he looks up at the mention of Lan Zhan, even in this state, those haunted grey eyes latching onto the other teenager. Of course he can trust Lan Zhan to watch his back, he can trust Lan Zhan with all of his darkest secrets, he knows that Lan Zhan will look after him if he turns his back on him. It's for this reason that he nods a little, watching the boy immediately move to be at his back when the little group begins shuffling to the medbay. Everyone else who has watched this situation unfold is both thanking their lucky stars and is like "what the fuck just happened" - Yu Ziyuan had the Lan Silencing charm cast on her so she couldn't burst out with horrific shit, and she is so fucking pissed off at Lan Xichen for that movement.