#but in all the suffering he sees of the universe sometimes it can be hard to remember that people are worth saving
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Glad you liked the submission, as I have more on the Aware of Abuse AU!
I think it would be really interesting to reflect on how this situation would be kind of a drawn out grapple for Marinette. This is in no way salt and I think if it was written she'd both warrant having hear grievances hear, but also could definitely come off as a bit antagonistic, or at least wary.
(Exactly how hostile she defaulted to with Chloe tended to oscillate episode to episode so ya know how it be)
Marinette would have the easiest time getting close with Kagami. She has no history like with Chloe & no baggage, IE friendship with Chloe, like Adrien. Tomoe is not someone Marinette admires and its much easier to see abuse in the physicals side. While she'd struggle to see it more in the verbal or negligence side; or otherwise be able to rationalize the negative behaviors such as over protectiveness.
Meanwhile Adrien would be tied a lot closer to Chloe going into school as she'd be being less overtly antagonistic or vain. Plus, they'd have a much stronger "We need each other to keep from falling back into old patterns and to survive" mentality.
Plus Adrien would be a bit more overtly snarky and less respectful to authority or stuff like Gabriel's fashion shows. He still is very nice and super wants to be liked by everyone all the time, but it'd be a lot easier for her to see the negatives in his behavior.
Chloe meanwhile would probably rankle and outright frustrate her the most. Not just because she'd still be hard to get along with in general, or because she still is not against ignoring rules or disrespecting authority figures. But because...
No clue what your religious views may or may not be, but have you heard those talks of "Catholic guilt" and the idea of needing to suffer, do penance, ETC before one can be redeemed?
Marinette wouldn't strictly think or want that, but there would be a part of her that would sort of... Well resent that Chloe is seemingly just choosing to change and not even necessarily enough.
That is to say, Chloe might still rudely reject Sabrina's cookies out of hand but then instantly walk it back and have some.
But more in that she's suffered no defeat, she's not been taken from her previous luxurious circumstances, she hasn't seemingly lost anything and even more she'd not even be overtly contrite.
That is to say, Chloe wouldn't be doing stuff akin to the Lady Luck AU (Nothing against it, great fic!) where she'd frequently reflect on how much of a 'fuck up' she was. Or or say stuff like, "I know I was a bitch but I am trying to be better". Or feel guilt in the "I can't even be mad they assume the worst of me cos I probably would have done X."
She's just choosing to be different and on some level its deeply unsatisfying and even frustrating.
(Where is the arc, the climax, the catharsis!?)
Especially if some people roll with it or let her get away with it when she starts falling into old habits.
Marinette doesn't want Chloe to suffer or beg forgiveness or hate herself she doesn't. She just doesn't understand why now? Why at all? Why because of her friend? Why because of how she was treated and not how she treated others?
Why couldn't she care enough about hurting Marinette to change!?
That I think would be the lynch-pin and one that is, from Marinette's perspective, as well as others in and out of universe entirely sympathetic, she was hurt after all.
But in that same vain Chloe's an abused child lashing out due to trauma and taught such terrible lessons she sometimes couldn't process that she wasn't doing 'right'.
Marinette's been hurt, and that would need to be properly addressed. But it wouldn't need to happen in a self recriminating manner necessarily.
Not that I don't love those, self hating characters rife with issues are fun to explore. It is just that I think it'd be interesting to explore both, changing as a person, and a "Bad" victim getting help before they actually even start processing over much how others might warrant reoperations.
Does that make sense?
The story "restorative Justice" sort of dips into this from a different middle ground angle and most stuff by Generalluxun often have elements of it too.
Oh yeah no it's.
Marinette doesn't understand why Chloé is Like That™ in the first place, so she can't fathom her wanting to change.
From Mari's perspective, Chloé's life is pretty perfect. She's beautiful, she's rich. She can do whatever she wants whenever she wants and always gets her way through money or influence. She's always bragging about how she's so much better than everyone. Clearly her parents must adore her because they spoil her with gifts and never tell her 'no'. Any 'hardships' are just minor inconveniences that Chloé brought upon herself by being mean.
So why would Chloé choose to change? If it's not broke, don't fix it. Chloé's life is Perfect™, why would she do something to make it different?
It's not that she wants Chloé to suffer, or thinks that she /should/ suffer. She just doesn't understand why someone with a Perfect Life™ would change without going through some kind of suffering that forces introspection.
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you ever think about how donna noble was so influential in the doctor’s lives that a lifetime later he regenerated with the face of a man she begged him to save. because at that moment, both in pompeii and when he regenerated, the doctor needed a reminder that it’s always worth trying to save someone
and then do you start crying? i do
#once again on my bullshit#doctor who#tenth doctor#donna noble#10th doctor#like i love love love the way they explained peter capaldi coming back#because helping people is so so so important to the doctor#but in all the suffering he sees of the universe sometimes it can be hard to remember that people are worth saving
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won't let you go (this time)
pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader
summary: back home for good after a semi-unsuccessful first year at university in a new city, you’re looking forward to getting back into the routines of your old life in the town you grew up in but the one person you’d been desperate to see doesn’t seem too pleased about your return :(
genre: angst.. ......... fluff, smut, college au, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slow burn
warnings: minors dni, british in a way that's not vague (might be vague.. it's hard to tell when ur british), so so long, sad heeseung, long paragraphs..
word count: 36,007 .. (apparently, i'm in a competition with myself to see who can write the longest fic)
playlist: seasons wave to earth, understand keshi
author's note: writing this fic was like pulling teeth and then cooking pasta out of it.. bUT IT'S DONE !!! also one of these scenes is smth i reworked from a fic i posted to wattpad in 2021.. thanks @asahicore for the beta u rock ! and as always be lmk ur thoughts (positive/negative/anything) 🤍
fic taglist: @enhastolemyheart
Lee Heeseung had often imagined what it would be like when he saw you again.
Sometimes, he envisioned you standing on his doorstep, playing with the cuffs of your sweater. Other times he’d dream up a chance encounter at the local grocery shop, where you’d be distracted and bump the end of your trolley into his. He’d even pictured a sun-soaked vacation, a gorgeous white sand beach where the temperature would be inching past the thirties. You, laying out on a patterned towel, lost in the pages of a book, and your pretty face obscured by its cover. Yet, even with the sun in his eyes and his poor vision, he’d recognise you without a doubt.
Regardless of circumstance or setting, in all of his hazy daydreams, you’d look up at him with unbridled love in your eyes and say the words he wanted to hear all those months ago: I choose you.
Heeseung had always imagined that his heart might glow in his chest, through his shirt like something from Jane the Virgin, and you’d know you made the wrong decision.
But sometimes, typically when in an alcohol-fuelled state of despondence, these images would be rougher around the edges. Heeseung would be hot, with bleach-blond hair and thick dark brows—a walking, talking beacon of sexual energy when you’d see him. In his head, it would happen at a party or a club somewhere, and he’d be too busy talking to another girl to notice you, his arm hanging off of her, lust clear in his eyes. Somehow, even in sweatpants and an old hoodie of his, you’d still look as beautiful as always.
“Heeseung,” you’d say, completely crushed with tears welling up in your eyes under furrowed brows. “I choose you.”
Reluctantly, he’d draw his eyes away from the girl and notice you, finally, and a smile would spread on his lips, a mean one, condescending. He’d shrug, wrapping his arm tighter around the girl and say, “You’re too late.” He wouldn’t mean it, but he’d say it just to drive you crazy. Make you beg him to take you back for months until he felt you’d suffered enough—as much as he had.
These thoughts were few and far between and mainly followed by hot, guilty tears rolling down his cheeks because he knew it was his fault. After all, he was the one to let you go.
For now though, the little round table in Mark’s backyard seats four, and, in the arms of a balmy summer night, Heeseung chooses the seat closest to the fence. The garden light is still busted so in his seat of choice, furthest from the kitchen door, he’ll go completely unnoticed but still see anyone who might join him outside.
His phone is freezing when he takes it from his pocket and unsurprisingly holds no notifications beyond the outsiiiide text he’d gotten from Jake before the party started. Through Instagram stories, Heeseung watches the night play out from the perspective of people who are enjoying themselves while ignoring the voice in his head that tells him he could be one of those people if he tried.
Maybe he was a fool for believing that tonight would go differently and that the boys would keep their ‘bro’s night’ promise for longer than it took to cross the threshold—but it’s not like he blames them. Maybe he was a fool for believing he would find more company than his somewhat abandoned bottle of Peroni that watches him mockingly from the glass table.
He grimaces after taking a sip from it, remembering that he was only ever carrying it around so his friends wouldn’t feel the need to load him with shots. Now he’s not so sure that would’ve been a bad thing, seeing as he’s completely sober and aware of the tightness in his chest as he scrolls through the text thread he’s had pinned for years. Its end came abruptly; revived only by an ignored blue bubble saying: i heard you’re back home for the summer..
Seeing it now, he regrets hitting send even more than he did two weeks ago. Heeseung hates himself for believing the boys when they said it was a good thing that you opened the message right away. “Means she’s thinking of u 2 dude,” was Jake's message to the group chat (along with four bicep emojis and two red exclamation marks). Jay replied: i hope you guys can talk things out! And Sunghoon didn’t say anything.
All your conversations bring up memories that hurt more than the last but he has to take a break when he reaches a text you sent last January: i had so much fun tonight, hee, idk how to thank u enough :((( i hope ur not in too much trouble.. i love you i love you and i’ll love you forever !!!
He ended up getting grounded for three weeks and lost car privileges for months after staying out four hours past curfew, but he’d do it a million times over if it meant he’d get to see you as happy as you were that night on the two-hour drive back, running your fingertips over the Sharpie autograph of your favourite author on the book’s front page—“Heeseung?”
His jaw falls slack and his whole body stiffens. If you don’t count old videos in his camera roll, Heeseung hasn’t heard your voice in over a year. The back door slides shut and when he finally lifts his head, he wants to throw up. Even without the glow of the kitchen lights on your face, he’d still be able to make out the cute point of your nose, and the slight curve of your soft lips. Unfortunately, the breakup only seems to have made you even more beautiful and he hates himself for wishing you were having a hard time too.
“Hey,” you say. “Can I sit?”
Regaining his mobility, he moves his shoulders in a stiff shrug. The sound of your chair scraping the concrete makes him cringe and he hates that you chose the seat closest to him.
“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”
Heeseung scoffs, his brows furrowing defensively. “You didn’t think I’d be at my friend’s party?”
You set your jaw. “Okay.”
An unbearable silence follows, so heavy he can feel it sitting on his shoulders, weighing him down. There’s no way to know how much time has passed but he feels less tense when you start to hum, drumming your fingers against the table to the beat of whatever song the kitchen door is struggling to muffle. If he doesn’t think too hard about the lingering quiet, it feels like everything is okay between you two.
His heart races when you giggle. “You still do that?”
“Do what?”
You smile before mirroring his expression, puffing up your cheeks and exhaling dramatically a few times. Due to the heat, nothing comes of it but you laugh anyway. “You always liked when it was cold enough out to see your breath. I remember having to nudge you every night of summer to get you to stop.”
To Heeseung, there’s something sinister about the fact that you can so easily bring up a memory you share with him. About the fact that even after what happened, his cheeks heat up just from seeing you grin. He deflates, unable to look at you, finding interest in the label on his bottle instead. It’s slightly curled up at its edge, and he runs his thumb over it a few times before peeling it off completely—with some struggle, leaving a sticky patch in its wake. Under your loaded stare, he folds it a little to make a square before trying to craft a swan or a crane (you were the one who knew these things) from the sticker.
Your hands are just as soft as he remembers when your fingers touch his, though it shocks him so much he drops the label, immediately withdrawing his hands and, for lack of a better option, sitting on them. Even softer than your hands is your voice when you say, “I don’t want things to be so tense between us.”
It must be easy, he thinks. For you to say something like that after dumping him. Heeseung wants to laugh, to let his head fall back and cackle from sheer disbelief; you really must have some nerve. Instead, a bitterness, raging and sour, works in his chest, choking the laughter into silence. It pushes his lips into a scowl as he lifts his head to look at you. You’re shivering with your arms crossed over your chest and Heeseung softens. Without thinking, he shrugs off his flannel to drape it over your shoulders, almost regretting it when he fixes his tongue to scold you playfully like he used to. Still too hot for a jacket, right, baby? he wants to say. This is the last time I’m doing this for you, next time you’re on your own. Heeseung figures that somewhere, in another reality where you’re still together, a version of him says these things but continues to give you his flannels and jackets anyway.
He’d give anything to be that Heeseung instead.
Over the last year, he’s been replacing the clothes in his wardrobe. He noticed that during your time together you steadily wore every t-shirt, flannel, and hoodie he owned. Now, as you thank him with a sincere smile, he realises he’ll have to donate his new favourite shirt too.
“What’s in your pocket?” you ask, reaching in to find out. A bleak carton of cigarettes sits full in your hands as you look over at him with wide eyes. “You smoke now?”
“No.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Never.”
Back and forth between your hands, the box and its contents rustle. “Really? Because this—” You pause to pull a lighter from the same pocket. “—and this tell me something different.”
“Sunghoon’s quitting again,” he explains, with air quotes around the word quitting.
“Oh.” You let out a laugh, nodding fondly. “He’s on, like, five weeks or something by now, though, right? Surely you don’t still need to carry these around for him.”
His head tilts so quickly he hurts his neck. With knitted brows, he inspects you. Nothing about your expression seems like you’re trying to hurt him, in truth, you look like you’re being quite sincere; your eyes are wide, curious, and your lips are quirked up at the corners with an amusement he adores. “Six,” he corrects. “How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“You guys still talk?”
A shoulder-dropping sigh falls from your mouth as you put the cigarettes and lighter back in his pocket, raking a hand through your hair. “You’re the only one who doesn’t talk to me anymore,” you say in a small voice.
The five of you stuck together in high school — where he and Jay first met you, Jake, and Sunghoon — and he knew it would be unreasonable for him to expect your shared friends, especially the youngest two whom you’d known longer, to turn on you. He also figured, given how close you’d grown to Jay, and his undying rationality, that his best friend would outright refuse to shun you on Heeseung’s behalf. Even though they didn’t need his permission, he told them that he didn’t want them to feel like they had to pick sides and that he was perfectly happy for them to keep talking to you. On one condition: that none of them tell him anything about you or your life without him unless you’re hurt—a condition they’ve clearly carried out more faithfully than Heeseung expected them to.
Bile rises in his throat thinking about all the things your friends have kept from him about your year away. His heart twists over mundane details like your class schedules and favourite things to eat for lunch, and his eyes sting with tears over the important stuff like new friends and, worst of all, new partners.
Heeseung jolts out of his chair, knocking the table so hard with his thighs that his bottle tips over. You’re quick to catch it. “My mum’s calling,” he blurts out, overwhelmed.
“Heeseung.”
“I really have to go.”
“Heeseung!” you call out, but he’s already back inside.
You don’t follow him.
But that was in June, and now it’s September.
While his friends complain about the chill of autumn, Heeseung’s just happy he can comfortably wear hoodies everywhere again. In a cool lecture hall, home to his Ethics and Responsibility class for the next few months, he relishes the feeling of soft cotton against his ears as he copies the course reading list into the first page of his notebook.
“Is someone sitting here?”
Heeseung’s stomach sinks to the floor. Reluctantly, he lifts his head, and through the gaps in his bangs, he sees you and the way your face falls when you see him, instantly looking around the room.
“Oh,” you say, eyes blown. “I’m sorry, I’ll just..” you trail off.
He scans the room, chewing his lip when he realises that, despite the lecturer not having arrived yet, the seat to his left, with his backpack on it, is the only empty one. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to seem nonchalant as he takes his bag from the chair and puts it on the floor.
“Thanks,” you mumble, frowning a little as you sit down.
In the light of day, he really sees you and a lone butterfly, one he was sure had died with the rest last year, flutters lazily in his stomach—wings buzzing against the lining, tickling him. Even with messy hair and tired bags under your eyes, you’re just as beautiful as the first time he saw you. It’s unfair, he thinks. That you could be dealing with this and still manage to look presentable. Jealousy kills the butterfly, stirring a pit in his belly at the thought that you were able to break up with him and continue with life as normal on the other end of the country, making new friends and new memories as if nothing happened.
Even when Dr. Kim comes in and starts the class, Heeseung can’t take his eyes off of you. You haven’t lost any of your mannerisms, he notices when you stick your tongue out a little while typing notes as the lecturer says them, barely looking up from your laptop to see the slides.
At the end of the lecture, all he has to show for it is the reading list and a couple of bullet points that seemed important as he copied them from your screen. Side by side, you silently walk down the stairs to leave the room, and the sight of Sunghoon through the doorway pulls a relieved sigh from Heeseung’s chest.
Sunghoon’s brows raise seeing you together and he clears his throat when you’re close enough. “Hey, you two! My little study buddies,” he says in a strained voice. “First day back! First day for you, YN, what was that like?” He sounds like he’s reading from a script as he walks between you.
Heeseung lets you answer, listening to your voice as he walks behind you down the stairs. He wonders if things will be this way forever, briefly contemplating throwing himself over the bannister so he doesn’t have to find out. If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t show it, talking excitedly with Sunghoon about the class, mentioning things Heeseung hadn’t even heard, despite having sat through the same hour-long introduction lecture as you. He trails behind the two of you all the way to the library, where Jay is sleeping with his chin on his arms and Jake is staring at the table of contents in his textbook. You cut yourself off, jogging over to the table they’re sitting at to wake Jay. As soon as you wrap your arms around him, he flinches, waking up with his brows pulled together.
“What are you doing?” Jay mumbles, trying to shake you off.
As Heeseung sits beside Jake, he skims over the front page of the textbook, trying to remember what tensile strength means. Sunghoon stands at the end of the table looking at his phone, and you sit next to Jay, pulling your seat a little closer and letting him rest his head on your shoulder. Heeseung looks away, trying to bury the unease building in his stomach.
Sunghoon breaks the silence. “Can we go get food?” And suddenly, you all stand up, filing out of the library towards the Tesco Express down the road.
Jay and Sunghoon take the lead, picking up their lunch without much thought before waiting in line at the self-checkout, while you, Jake, and Heeseung spend an ungodly amount of time weighing up options in front of the meal deals. Heeseung gets the same thing every time but looks at every single sandwich, drink, and snack option just in case before picking up his food.
“Just cheese is crazy, bro,” Jake says, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with you?”
Heeseung shrugs. “It’s reliable.”
“It’s absurd.”
You hum between the two of them, tilting your head thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I think it’s cute.” Your shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug, almost as if you haven’t just paid Heeseung a compliment for the first time in a year and three months.
Jake’s eyebrows raise, a grin playing on his lips as he glances between the two of you when you step forward, pulling a just cheese sandwich from the shelf too. “Cute,” he repeats. “Sure.”
Outside, Jay and Sunghoon are sitting on a half-finished brick wall, and while normally, Heeseung would say something to interrupt Jay’s never-ending lecture series on making the most of your meal deal, he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself or the small smile he’s struggling to keep off his face.
“Hoon, think about it,” he says, resting his giant can of Red Bull on the stepped brick next to him. “A meal deal costs £3. You get a sandwich, a drink, and a snack, all for £3. You, foolishly, bought a sandwich, a snack, and a bottle of water, you gave them money.”
“Yeah, man, anyone who shops anywhere gives money, that’s, like, an entry-level requirement.”
“But I’m taking money from Tesco, you get it?”
Jake sighs, taking a seat next to Sunghoon. “You’re technically right, but you still paid for your food under a promotion Tesco created. If you really wanted to take from Tesco, you should be stealing your lunch. Also, the sandwich he got was £2.85, and there’s more water in his bottle than Red Bull in your can, so I actually think Hoon got the better offer today.”
Beside Heeseung, you roll your eyes, wrestling with a packet of crisps while juggling everything in your hands. Seeing your struggle, he reaches over, taking hold of your drink and sandwich. “Thanks,” you mumble, smiling. You glance towards Jay and Sunghoon, then back at Heeseung. “Are they always like this?”
He nods with a slight frown. A tiny laugh comes through your nose as you nod too.
During the walk back to campus, as you split your sandwich with Sunghoon, Heeseung has an unsettling realisation. If he wants to get you back, he’ll have to start out being your friend. He’s not too sure what that will look like, seeing as the two of you were friends for six weeks — that he spent hopelessly in love with you — before he asked you out. All he knows is he wants to be the one you share your lunch and link arms with unthinkingly. While he assumes that your shared friend group and three out of four classes will naturally lead to friendship, things might go better if he makes an effort.
He doesn’t.
Not today at least. The second and last class of the day ends much like the first, with a heading in his notebook, and slowly reviving butterflies in his stomach every time your knee bumps into his under the desk. Again, neither of you says much as you leave the class to go meet Jay in the library. He’s awake this time, grinning at the girl across from him.
“They’re so cute!”
“They’re talking.”
“Yeah, in a cute way. Look at the smile on his face,” you say as if anyone could miss Jay’s grin or the way it widens when he notices you and Heeseung staring.
Yunjin immediately looks over, waving before getting out of her seat to come over. She greets Heeseung with a hug before flinging her arms around you, gushing about how it’s been so long. Heeseung feels his brow raise when you giggle and say, “We hung out two weeks ago.”
She loosens her hold on you, looking down into your eyes with a shocked look. “Yeah, two weeks too many. What are you doing later?”
It feels like Heeseung skipped a chapter and his stomach hurts when he realises he has—a whole year's worth of the contents of your life. Of course, Jay already introduced Yunjin to you, of course, you’re already friends.
Leaving you with Yunjin in the library, Heeseung and Jay walk back to their flat. They take the long route home, through the winding bike path and over the creaky footbridge by Sunghoon’s old apartment. Jay is eerily quiet, only responding in nods and hums—this silence means one of two things, he’s either too exhausted to speak or he’s saving his words to reprimand Heeseung at home.
Outside their flat, Jay hesitates, gripping the handle tightly before turning to Heeseung. In his eyes is a familiar look, the one he typically wears before telling someone off and Heeseung bites his tongue lest he pisses Jay off even more. A few times, Jay opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, exhaling a deep sigh as he rests his head against the door. “I want you to know I’m on your side, sort of,” he says. “If it’s too hard being around YN, we can always hang out together instead, just us.”
Jay’s key clicks in the lock and Heeseung watches, shocked. He didn’t expect that at all.
“It’s not like it’s hard, just weird, you know?” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, leaving his shoes by the door while Jay locks it before following him into the living room and sinking into the couch. “We have the same friends, so I can’t avoid her, but I don’t think I want to.”
“Like I said, we can just hang out on our own if we’re on campus.” Jay pauses for a beat, clearly pleased by whatever he’s thinking about as a smile spreads on his face. “It might do you some good being around her though, like, to see why none of us want to date her.”
The offer is generous and Heeseung spends a while considering it. But as Jay said, it probably would be a good thing to hang out with you if he wants to build the friendship he finds himself craving.
“It might also do you some good to, you know.. start looking nice again. It’s been a year, dude, and she’s back now, don’t you want her seeing what she’s missing out on?”
Heeseung cocks his head to the side, surprised and honestly a little offended. “Are you saying I’m ugly now?”
“No, I’m saying it probably wouldn’t hurt to put some essence in your hair, touch up your roots, and, you know, use deodorant.”
Reflexively, he grabs the pit of his hoodie, bringing it to his nose and sniffing furiously. The only thing he can smell is fresh detergent and he looks at Jay with a frown. “So you think I should change everything about myself basically.”
“I hate to be the one to say it..” Jay trails off, head falling back in contagious laughter. “Seriously though, if you want her back or, at least, want her to miss you, start putting some effort in.”
Heeseung’s eyes are wide as saucers. “She doesn’t miss me?”
“You spent the whole day together, why would she miss you?”
“So she doesn’t.”
“I didn’t say that.” Jay shrugs.
Outside, a cloud moves away from the sun, letting it shine right through the window and into Heeseung’s eyes. He squints a little, groaning before bringing his arm over his face to shield himself. Jay laughs and Heeseung flips him off. “You didn’t really say anything.”
“Are you crying?” Jay coos.
“Sure.”
“Too bad, I’m taking a nap. Club later?”
Heeseung grunts in response, considering taking a nap too.
A dramatic sigh tugs its way from Jay’s chest. “Look, it’s not my place to say, but she told me a few months ago she was miserable in first year, something about wanting to see some guy she dated in high school.”
“You knew she was coming back?” Heeseung practically jumps in his seat, sitting up straighter. “You knew I’d see her today and you let me leave the house looking like this?” It’s not like he looks bad in his oversized black hoodie and sweatpants but he might have taken the time to do more than run a hand through his hair this morning if he knew.
Jay holds his hands up defensively. “You said you didn’t want to hear anything about her unless she died. I was just doing what you told me to.”
“I think it goes without saying that that would’ve been a nice thing to know.”
“Noted.” Jay nods. “Club later?”
Despite saying no, Heeseung finds himself at the club anyway, having a friendly dance battle with Jay while you hype them up, filming blurry videos with your finger over the camera lens. Jake and Sunghoon came out too but went off to find girls.
Heeseung spent all of pres and the journey to the club worrying about being drunk around you. Or rather, worrying about being drunk around drunk you. Drunk you who typically gets clingy and oversentimental just looking at a bottle of vodka, or brings up old memories and uses pouty, gloss-coated lips to say things without thinking of the consequences. For better or for worse, you haven’t done any of that yet.
Between knocking back drinks and rivalling the club photographer, you find time to make a look of disgust every time a guy comes near you, immediately shaking your head and pressing yourself against Heeseung before mumbling an apology in his ear each time, even though he tells you it’s okay. Your admirers start to dwindle when he dances with you to a song you like, letting you hold his hand and pull him closer, all while wishing he’d stayed asleep on the couch.
It’s only when the fifth guy shows up with a stupid smirk on his face, that Heeseung speaks up. His arm finds your waist and he holds you close as he looks at the stranger. “Dude, leave her alone,” he says, angling his shoulder to him in an attempt to shield you. “She’s not interested.” The weight of his words is lost on him until the guy rolls his eyes, shrugging and mumbling whatever as he leaves.
He saw how uncomfortable you looked after being approached and hated how long it took for you to start enjoying yourself again, so in the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. To look after you. But now, as he stands with his hand on your waist, his skin touching yours at the hem of your shirt, he’s starting to feel like he’s crossed a line. It’s the worst possible time to freeze in place but there’s nothing he can do about it, and Jay staring at him, with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, isn’t exactly helping.
With embarrassment burning his cheeks and neck, Heeseung finally looks down at you. You look almost as shocked as Jay for a split second before letting your hand rest on his chest, smiling. The moment feels endless until you lean up to his ear and Heeseung has to bend down a bit. “Thank you, Hee,” you say, still smiling when you pull back.
All he can do is nod, smiling too.
Over your head, he sees Jay grinning and the heat returns to his cheeks. As if suddenly aware of your position — your hands now resting on his shoulders, chests held together by your grip on each other — the smile falls from your face as you take a huge step back, bumping into Jay while Heeseung’s hand slips from your body.
“Let’s get more drinks!” you yell to Jay, slinging an arm over his shoulders to pull him away.
On his own, Heeseung dances to three whole songs, only stopping when Yoo Jimin wraps her arm around him, holding him in the world’s tightest hug. “Lee Heeseung, did I just see you all over a girl?” The interaction takes him by surprise, seeing as he hasn’t actually spoken to her since before summer. “Let’s go for drinks soon, to say congrats on finally moving on!”
This, of course, is when you and Jay finally return. Jimin notices before he does. “Be good to him,” she yells, smiling, and never letting go of Heeseung. “Bad breakup!”
You stand there, holding two drinks so tightly your hands start shaking, causing one to spill over your fingers. A strained smile spreads over your lips as you nod. “Right! I’ll try!”
As quickly as she appears, Jimin vanishes with a smile on her face, pleased with herself. You visibly relax, handing Heeseung his drink and swaying to the music again. Just like at high school parties, you let Jay sling his arm over your shoulders as you dance together. Back then, you’d dance with all of your friends while waiting for Heeseung to return, usually with a cup of water for you to drink, but tonight, with Heeseung standing there, it seems like he’s as good as dead according to you.
It’s around 2 a.m. when you and Jay decide you’ve had enough, with Jay struggling to keep his eyes open. After failing to locate Sunghoon and easily finding Jake with his cap on backwards and makeup all over his mouth and cheeks, the three of you let him know you’re going home.
As seems to be the unspoken rule amongst your friends, Jay walks between the two of you while trying to convince you both that if you had fun tonight, there’s no reason to regret having gone out. Even if it means you’ll be sitting in class holding your eyes open. Heeseung ignores him, conspiring out loud about Sunghoon’s whereabouts—getting lost on his way to the restroom or finding an ice rink out back.
For a while, you entertain him before sighing. “I saw in the chat, he said he’s out talking to a girl he saw wearing a band shirt—Nirvana.”
The notion is so surprising that Heeseung almost stops in his tracks. Jay voices his shock with a raised brow and an incredulous tone. “Hoon listens to Nirvana?”
“No, but she’s pretty. I had to send him a screenshot of their popular songs on Spotify when one of her friends came over looking for a lighter.”
At Jay’s request, you and Heeseung spend the rest of the walk back to your flat trying to name fifteen Nirvana songs. By the time you reach the lift in your building, you’ve successfully listed nine and the three of you stand inside while you look for your keys. On your doorstep, you pull Jay into a tight hug, whispering something in his ear that makes him laugh as he pats you on the back and says, “You probably could.”
Pathetically, Heeseung hopes you’ll hug him too. With no hesitation, you do, arms locking around his neck, leaving him with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. “Thanks for looking out for me,” you whisper, lingering by his ear before burying your face in the base of his neck.
Heeseung holds his breath, counting to twelve before you lean away from him, your arms in place as you look up into his eyes. “I’m always going to look out for you,” he manages to say. He can already hear Jay teasing him about it when they’re alone, but the smile on your face is worth it.
In your doorway, you wave goodbye and they wait outside until they hear your lock clicking before heading home, where Jay doesn’t tease Heeseung at all.
Turns out, getting home at 3 a.m. when he has a class at 10 o’clock doesn’t fit in amongst any of his better ideas, but still, he gets out of bed and gets ready, heeding Jay’s advice and scheduling a hair appointment on his way to class.
As soon as he sits down, he gets a text from Jay: thinking of getting smth pierced later, come with?
Heeseung: what is smth.
Jay: cartilage probs
Heeseung: im getting my roots done at 5
Jay: okayyyyyyy good shit man !!! tmrw?
Heeseung: 👍👍👍
It shouldn’t surprise Heeseung that you look good, but the sight of you walking through the door in your zip-up hoodie and jeans almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re holding your notebook to your chest, stopping in the middle of the stairs and sighing when the white strap of your tote bag slips from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. You apologise to the people behind you before rushing up the stairs to Heeseung’s row, putting your things down and slumping into the seat beside him. The room suddenly feels warmer when you take off your hoodie and next to you and your bare arms, his heart starts to race.
“Do you have, like, an interview or something?” you ask, doodling in the margin of your notebook, filling the space with pretty butterflies that make his heart race.
Heeseung, who hasn’t looked for a job in two years, panics. “No?”
“Oh.” You nod slowly, looking away from him. “A date? Maybe?” There’s something in your voice that makes him want to say yes and see your reaction, but the look on your face makes his stomach turn.
“No, ne—just no.”
“You can tell me if you’re going on a date.”
“Why would I go on a date?”
You shrug, gesturing to his outfit. Heeseung looks down at himself and the cream-coloured cardigan he’s wearing. “You just look nice, that’s all,” you mumble after a while. Suddenly, Jay’s Prada loafers squeezing his toes doesn’t seem so bad and Heeseung sits through the whole lecture with a smile on his face.
The leaves yellowed on October first, and unfortunately for Heeseung, the last two weeks didn’t play out how he hoped they would. Of course, he knew that you flinging your arms around him and confessing your love was probably a far stretch. But this is torture. You only talk to him when the rest of the boys are around, and even then, you only say things like, what time does class start? and do you have a pen I can borrow?
His nice outfits don’t let up, but his hair is so long these days that you don’t take any notice of the throbbing hole through his cartilage that Jay somehow convinced him to get. Or so Heeseung tells himself because his ears stick out as far as his shoulders.
Today marks the first time he’s sat in the library during the day for more than ten minutes, and it’s surprisingly busy. Most of his library trips take place in the early hours of the morning, playing his way through the Papa’s Gameria franchise on the computer next to Jake, who spends several minutes at a time staring at his fancy engineering software before clicking the mouse and staring again. So seeing the steady flow of students come in and out, setting up camp at their tables with headphones and thick binders, while groups of friends whisper amongst themselves, leaning back in their seats and gasping every now and then feels like a culture shock.
There’s about an hour until your class finishes, and he’s been sitting here for two hours already since his Music and Identity class ended, wondering if he’s making a mistake by waiting for you. Especially because he knows you’re not expecting him to. He’s at a table right by the library’s entrance, so you’ll see him on the way out and it can feel like a chance encounter. Uncharacteristically, he’s used this time quite wisely, deciding to go through the reading he was given on the role music plays in maintaining cultural identity among diaspora communities and making notes in the margins of his handout until your class is done.
Impatience starts to settle in after thirty minutes so he texts you to see to ask if your class is over yet. Immediately, your response lights up his screen: yeah about an hour ago but i stayed home lmao what’s up :)
Staring down at the message, he sighs, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he tries to come up with something to say. This goes on for a while until he realises what he’s doing and his heart clenches. How did you go from spending every waking moment texting each other to clutching at straws for a valid reason to talk?
At the very least, the smiley face you sent is doing wonders for his declining mood.
Heeseung settles on, “i just left office hours and wanted to know if anyone was still around haha,” before hiding his face with his hands.
oh nooooooo :( sorry dude, you reply. how’d it go?
In the six years he spent by your side, he’s never known you to use the word dude—at least not with him. By the looks of things, it seems like your time away was spent studying Jake’s texting patterns or a secret other thing that makes his head hurt when he thinks about it.
Sighing, Heeseung types back: good! had a couple questions after sem but it went well!
You react to the message with a heart but don’t reply. He doesn’t have enough time to think about what that might mean because Mark approaches the table, clutching the straps of his backpack with a grin on his face that makes Heeseung feel at ease, like a wide-eyed first year riddled with anxious excitement.
“You look good, man. You going somewhere nice later?” Mark asks, dapping him up.
Heeseung shakes his head. “Just home.”
“Nice.” Mark nods, gasping after a beat. “Did you hear? I made captain!”
“That’s major, dude, congrats! I knew you would.” If anyone deserves to be team captain, it’s Mark Lee. He was captain of the basketball team in high school and vetoed his spot to Heeseung when he graduated. Two years later, when Heeseung came to college, Mark had been enthusiastic about him joining the team too.
“I’ve been thinking that my first official act as captain should be getting you back on the team?” Mark’s voice tips up at the end, his brows raising hopefully.
The last time Heeseung was on the home court, he cried with the ball in his hands because he overheard someone in the crowd saying they didn’t think he could make the shot—they were right. He laughs, shaking his head. “Way too much pressure in uni basketball. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”
“I’m not giving up on you,” Mark says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I hear your birthday’s coming up, can I host?”
“Host what?”
Mark’s hands clap soundlessly as he laughs. “A party, obviously! Twenty’s a big one! I’ll text you the deets, alright?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like Heeseung has a choice because Mark’s already walking away, still laughing to himself.
In Heeseung’s eyes, there’s nothing better than knocking back (more than) a few bottles of soju with friends and singing your heart out in the four walls of a karaoke room. Worried about killing the mood, he enjoys from a distance, staying glued to the booth, ad-libbing for the boys and polishing off their drinks as discreetly as he can. The table is adorned with a collection of empty bottles and buckets of feasted-upon fried chicken that still envelop the room in a mouth-watering aroma, while a green strobe light pierces the air as Jake and Sunghoon wrap up their cover of Party Rock Anthem.
By the time Jay manages to convince Heeseung to sing something, he’s four bottles in and searching for the most heart-wrenching ballad he can find. Sofa by Crush has always been his favourite karaoke song. Even when it first came out and he was in a happy relationship; even at home, alone in the kitchen, using a broom handle as a makeshift microphone, singing until his voice went hoarse and tears stained his shirt.
It feels like fate when the song’s title flashes across the screen in big bold letters and he knows there’s no real way to ignore destiny, so he chooses it and stands up from his seat. Weighed down by alcohol and an aching heart, he stumbles to the front of the room to stand with his back to his friends. Clutching the mic until his knuckles turn white, he takes a deep breath, letting the intro wash over him before singing. He gets through the first half of the song before practically caving in on himself, too moved by the lyrics to stay on two feet. To Heeseung’s credit, he’s always had a beautiful voice, so he’s not exactly tanking in that respect, but if he was even a tiny bit more cognisant, he’d scrape himself up from his knees and finish the rest of the song in the same light-hearted way everyone else had.
The lights shift through red and blue, casting a pretty glow over the dim space and streaking purples and pinks all over the walls—aesthetically, the room is as moody as Heeseung feels. If he had eyes on the back of his head (or picked himself and his dignity from the floor) he might notice the way everyone else in the room is struck by his sadness, with all three boys sitting in solemn silence as a drunk Jay records the whole thing.
Tired of watching his friend fall apart, Sunghoon gets up from his seat, muttering dick at Jay for filming before taking the phone from his hands and cutting off the recording. He lifts Heeseung at the armpits like a baby and takes the mic. Clearing his throat, Sunghoon half-heartedly finishes the rest of the song while Heeseung cries into his shoulder. Their duet scores them 63 points and Jay spends the next few minutes texting. Heeseung appreciates Sunghoon’s efforts, crying more as his emotions oscillate from love for his friend to yearning for you, all while Jake attempts to lift the mood with a genuinely moving performance of Highway to Hell. From the way he’s air-drumming and bouncing his leg to the song, anyone could tell that Sunghoon is desperate to join in, but holding back for Heeseung’s sake. With a hiccup, Heeseung wipes his tears with his sleeve and throws himself out to the front, accompanying Jake with an air guitar. It’s only during the start of the second verse that Jay and Sunghoon join in, and a full-fledged rock band moment falls upon them as if gifted from heaven.
After another hour of singing and drinking, Heeseung and Jay race up their apartment building’s stairs. Panting heavily, with his heart beating in his throat, Heeseung’s knees ache when he reaches the top — though caught up in catching his breath and the sight of you sleeping against the doorframe — he can’t even celebrate his win.
“Huh,” Jay says when he joins him. “How’d she get here?”
Heeseung can only shrug in response.
Suddenly self-conscious in your presence, he stands up straighter, pushing some of his hair off his forehead. Jay moves from behind him, approaching you, but Heeseung’s too hung up on the way you hold your jacket tight around your body to do the same. He wants to though—wants to help you out, pick you up and hold you in his arms, kiss your forehead and lovingly scold you for staying out in the cold. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well.
Instead, he remains glued to the spot, watching Jay wake you up, only mobilising when you’re on your feet, stretching your arms above your head. To you, the sliver of skin peeking out where your shirt ends and your jeans begin is a fleeting detail, lost entirely under a veil of just-risen drowsiness. Yet, to Heeseung, it’s everything. It’s enough to make him want to beg you for a second chance right then and there. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well either.
You’re talking with Jay and there’s a crease in your brow when Heeseung reaches you. Your voices were too quiet to make sense of with the distance but now he hears you loud and clear. “You told me almost two hours ago that you guys were leaving soon,” you sigh, rubbing your neck.
Jay snorts, missing the keyhole a few times before catching it. “Should’ve just joined in, stupid.”
“It was boy’s night and you made it very clear that I don’t count. And when I asked what bar you guys were at, you just said doesn’t matter, leaving in ten, and, by the way, none of it was spelt correctly. It felt like you were using code.”
“Caesar Cipher, perhaps?”
“Pig Latin, more like,” you scoff, leaning against the wall.
A mischievous grin spreads over Jay’s lips and Heeseung already hates whatever he’s about to say. “Ixnay on the Eeseunghay.” Yeah, Heeseung hates it. He glances between the two of you, picking up on the smile you can’t hide as you roll your eyes.
Your gaze finds Heeseung’s and your lips curl into a frown as you look back at Jay. “Otgay ityay.” You nod firmly.
From context — and memories of numerous private conversations the two of you used to have in his presence — he figures it’s Pig Latin, a linguistic puzzle more intricate than any the English language has ever thrown at him.
After a beat, you nod towards the open door. “Get inside.”
You follow the boys in and lock the door when Jay hands you his keys. He quickly heads to his room, leaving Heeseung shifting his weight from one foot to the other in the living room, staring at you. Save for Jay’s bedroom, all of the lights are off. The only light shines through the open blinds, a vivid orange beam coming from a streetlight outside, casting a harsh shadow over the room. The terminator line is stark—a clear partition between Heeseung, who’s standing in the shade, and you, who stands in front of the window, backlit by the warm light. You’re glowing. Or, at least, the lighting makes it look like you are—outlining all your edges in soft orange.
Absently, he plays with the zipper on his jacket—unsure of what’s going on or why you’re here at all. It takes a while, but the words finally escape him. “What are you doing here?” Simultaneously, you ask if he’s okay.
Even in the dark, your smile warms the room. For you and Heeseung, speaking in unison like that isn’t anything new, so it’s not enough to rouse a reaction from him—nonetheless, he smiles too. Whether by way of drunk optimism or his own sudden acceptance, Heeseung’s starting to feel as though maybe just being by your side, making you smile, might be enough for him.
“Jay texted me, and I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
“What did he say?”
“That you were having a hard time.”
Heeseung nods slowly.
“Actually, he said—” You pause to check your phone. “—Jay said, worried but hyung he is m let down. I think he meant meltdown?”
“Hyung,” Heeseung repeats, tilting his head as if the word is foreign to him. A crease runs along his brow, Jay is way drunker than he let on.
“Huh,” you utter, tilting your head too. “I actually thought m let down would’ve gotten a bigger reaction out of you.”
A moment passes, and then another before Heeseung says, “You can sit if you want. I don’t know if you’re going to stay long or anything, but you can always sit here.”
You smile and he can hear it, watching you take your coat off before sitting on the couch. It’s a bit of a stretch from where you’re sitting but you reach over to turn on the lamp in the corner and Heeseung sits too, as far away as he can. You look comfortable, like you’re supposed to be there and the thought warms his heart.
“You didn’t have to come here. I’m happy you did but you didn’t have to,” he says after too long.
A frown tugs your lips down. “Of course, I did. I care about you, Heeseung, you know that.”
Now doesn’t seem like the time to argue, so he makes a mental note to mull over this later. “I know,” he lies, his voice nothing more than a mumble as he nods.
“Did you guys have fun?”
Deciding it best to pretend his Crush cover went well, he nods again, smiling as he thinks about the nice parts of boys’ night. With your encouragement, he talks happily for a while about their song choices and the way they all came together in the end. “I feel like we’d get on pretty well as an AC/DC tribute act.”
“Do you know what room you were in? There’s got to be a way for me to pull the security footage and see for myself.”
“I actually think Jimin works there, she might be able to hook you up.”
“Jimin?” you repeat in a different tone. The shift is so subtle that Heeseung barely picks up on it, never mind placing it or knowing what it might mean. If he were any more delusional, he might think you’re jealous, but the curiosity in your voice tells him to get out of his head.
“Yeah, this one girl in the year above,” he explains. “She transferred to humanities so we had a couple classes together last term.”
“Oh, cool.”
He really can’t work out your tone and it’s disconcerting. Maybe he should talk about Jimin some more. “She’s like mega smart, and really nice too. She was actually at the club that night! The girl I was talking to when you and Jay went to get drinks,” he says, suddenly remembering.
“Good for Jimin.”
“I think you’d like her.” He smiles. “You know, if you’re looking for friends or anything.”
You only nod, pressing your lips together and leaving Heeseung at a complete loss for words. He watches you chewing on the inside of your cheek, playing with the thread bracelet on your wrist. “I’ve always loved your voice,” you mumble, looking down.
“I know.. You used to beg me to stay up on the phone singing for you.” Heeseung presses his lips together after speaking, mentally locking them and throwing away the key.
You nod with a smile on your face that makes his stomach flutter. “You’re, like, the best guy ever.”
That makes sense. That Heeseung could be like, the best guy ever but not quite good enough to stay with. He mulls over your words and contemplates setting himself on fire. Standing up from the couch, he goes over to his room. From the doorway, he says, “You can share Jay’s bed, it’s too late to go home by yourself.”
Heeseung closes his door with plans to stay inside the whole night, but only manages an hour before he gets sick of the stale taste in his mouth. He leaves quietly, and in the light from outside, he sees you sleeping on the sofa with your hands tucked under your head. His heart sinks. Without much thought, he carries you to his room, tucks you in and runs away before doing something stupid like kissing your head to go and brush his teeth. Unlike you, he’s not afraid to wake Jay up, pushing the boy over to make room for himself on his bed, where he lays awake for hours trying to figure out what went wrong with you two until his head starts to hurt.
In the morning, Heeseung doesn’t see you before you leave, but he spends the better part of an hour with his ear pressed against Jay’s door, eavesdropping on your conversation. If you weren’t talking about him he might feel guilty about this, but you are, so..
“I just feel bad, you know? I don’t know how to fit into his life and I feel like I’m only making things harder for him by being here,” you say. “Harder for everyone.”
Heeseung grips the doorframe until his knuckles turn white. He’s spent too much time thinking about how to be your friend without actually trying to be, too caught up in his own feelings to see how he’s affecting everyone else. The corners of his lips droop at the thought.
“We’re happy to have you back, Heeseung too. He’s just.. hurting, you know? I’m not sure if you heard but he kind of got blindsided and dumped by his high school girlfriend,” Jay says.
You laugh drily and he pictures the way you roll your eyes. “Hey, uh, random Q, what do you know about Jimin?”
Jay’s quiet for a bit. Or he’s whispering. Heeseung presses his entire body to the door as if it’ll help. “Yoo Jimin?” he asks.
“Probably. Heeseung’s friend.”
“She’s cool,” he answers simply. “You’d like her.”
“So I keep hearing. What’s going on with them?”
“Nothing really. They met at some party last year, both pretty drunk, and somehow ended up in a random bedroom where she tried hooking up with him.” Jay’s words strike Heeseung like a jolt, his heart pounds and his stomach twists. It takes a lot for him and the knot in his stomach not to burst out of the room and clear things up. The main thing stopping him though, is that Jay’s telling the truth. “But he misread the whole thing and ended up detailing your entire relationship for two hours,” Jay adds after a while.
“And now?”
“Why do you care?” Jay’s tone is teasing but the question makes Heeseung spiral.
His mouth starts to dry up at the thought of you admitting that you don’t care, that you’re over him and just being nosy. Panic swells in his chest and he jumps away from the door as if it’s red hot, scrambling back under the covers of Jay’s bed and falling back asleep.
In the following two weeks, Heeseung finds himself mastering the art of avoidance. He fills his evenings with pick-up basketball games with Mark on random courts in the neighbourhood and rushes out of class before you have the chance to talk to him. Playing with Mark is fun, but he can’t ignore the regret festering within him, a persistent thorn in his side. Fortunately for him, Jay, whether knowingly or not, presents him with a potential turning point. He’s invited you and the boys over for pres before his party, instructing Heeseung to get his shit together and acknowledge your existence.
On the night before his birthday, the apartment echoes with your voice, yelling at Jake to get off the floor. Sunghoon’s cackles only get louder, filling the space. Behind his closed bedroom door, Heeseung catches a panicked glance of himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his bangs. He lingers in his room as long as he can, trying to put off seeing you.
Jay opens the door without knocking, a lazy grin on his face and a slight sway in his stance that tells Heeseung he’s drunk already. “What are you doing? We’re waiting.”
“I don’t know,” he admits.
Rolling his eyes, Jay lets out a tired groan. It’s an unspoken scolding that Heeseung heeds immediately, following him into the kitchen, where Jake is messily pouring shots on the counter. He doesn’t see you anywhere, but Sunghoon distracts him, cheering and wrapping his arms around him—also drunk already. “She’s in Jay’s room, Yunjin called,” he says. “Oh, yeah, happy almost birthday, man. Twenty is crazy.”
By the looks of things, Sunghoon’s on a mission to kill Heeseung. Twenty shots for his twentieth birthday doesn’t sound like as much fun as Sunghoon thinks it does, it sounds like a punishment or a death sentence. Heeseung — put off by the smell of vodka — manages four shots before tapping out, deciding that he’d quite like to remember tonight and wake up on his birthday without a headache.
Heeseung’s eyes widen when you show up in the doorway, a confusing sense of surprise washing over him. It’s not like he didn’t know you were here; he heard you earlier. It’s just that your sudden presence catches him off guard. His heart skips a beat and a sudden rush of nerves courses through him. He takes in your appearance, his eyes tracing every inch of you before meeting your eyes. As you run your hand through your hair, you smile at him, so pretty and genuine that he can’t help grinning back.
Your dress is beautiful, of course—black satin, he thinks, with pretty pink ribbons tied into perfect bows on the top, and you’re the only girl Heeseung’s ever wanted in his life.
A whispered whoa falls from his lips, which seem to rest in an ‘o’ as he stares at you. You’re looking away from him now, focused on the tequila puddle Jake’s left on the counter, grabbing some paper towels to mop it up. Jay snorts beside him, nudging his ribs hard. “You’ll catch flies, Heeseung. Come on—decorum, please.”
Heeseung clears his throat, running a hand through his hair and wiping his palms on his pants, but he doesn’t make any moves towards you.
“Do something,” Jay mumbles.
He nods in response, repeating do something, over and over in his head until he finally approaches you. “Hey,” he says, breathless. His heart hammers in his chest when you look up at him, beaming.
“Heeseung,” you say. “Happy almost birthday. How’re you feeling?”
Before he has a chance to respond, you wrap your arms around his waist, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arms fall around your shoulders, holding you close. It’s perfect. Some combination of your warm scent and alcohol causes the butterflies in his stomach to rage, fluttering so frantically he thinks he might be sick.
“Insane,” he admits.
He can hear you laughing, feeling your chuckles against his chest. “You know, what?” You lean away from him, arms still around his waist, eyes locked on his and a soft smile on your lips. “Me too.”
An odd weakness settles in his knees, a dizzying flutter alighting his entire body as he nods. Over his shoulder, Sunghoon calls for him, chanting, “More shots! More shots!” For a while, Heeseung ignores him, watching you until he feels his ears heating up at the top.
“I think I have to go,” he mumbles, eyes locked on your lips. They curl up into a crooked grin, and you use a hand to pat his chest.
“Good luck.”
Heeseung takes a deep breath when you let go of him, taking shaky steps towards his friend, who’s grinning widely enough to show his fangs. “Sorry to interrupt, I think you could use the help though,” Sunghoon says, holding out a shot glass to him.
He shakes his head at the shot, taking it from Sunghoon’s hand and placing it down on the table. “I need a minute.”
Sunghoon only shrugs, taking the drink himself, knocking it back with no visible reaction, and Heeseung thinks he must be a monster. “I really think you could fix things tonight,” he says afterwards, pouring another.
Instead of taking this in stride, Heeseung decides to pretend you don’t exist after hugging you—it’ll be easier that way. To him, this looks like staring at you in your pretty dress and snapping his neck in the opposite direction when you look over at him.
To appease Sunghoon, he takes another three shots and has to sit down, overwhelmed by the way his cheeks burn and how the kitchen starts to tilt around him. His mouth is oddly dry; a sensation that has nothing to do with you or the way you look in your dress. This time when you catch him staring, he smiles.
Even in his beyond-tipsy state, Jay manages to ensure everyone leaves the flat before requesting an Uber. Heeseung finds himself sitting cross-legged on the pavement, for some reason, scrolling through his camera roll.
“Car’s here, get up,” Jay eventually mumbles, nudging his back with the tip of his shoe.
With some stumbling, Heeseung stands up, dusts off his pants and heads to the car. Jay holds the door open for you, and as you slide across the backseat, your dress rides up. Heeseung screws his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, like resetting an etch-a-sketch. Jay’s hand claps his back as he instructs him to get in, which he does. Hesitantly, he slides into the middle seat, glancing to his right to see who’ll be joining you.
“You’ll thank me later!” Jay calls out, closing the door.
Before he even has a chance to shift over, your hand lands firmly on his knee, silently urging him to stay put. With a pounding heart, he complies. The back of his hand brushes against your thigh as he fastens his seatbelt, and the feeling of your soft skin against his leaves him breathless. He feels afloat when the car starts moving. A few minutes pass before you take your hand from his knee, mumbling an apology as you place it on your lap, idly playing with your fingers.
Mark lives about twenty minutes away, leaving Heeseung with something close to sixteen minutes to think of something to say. R&B from the early 2000s rumbles through the speakers in the car, vaguely explicit lyrics alluding to something he’s craving fill the space around the two of you, wrapped up in your warm vanilla scent and the fresh peppermint gum you’re chewing. To put it simply, there’s not a coherent thought in his head he could express that wouldn’t get him into trouble.
“I didn’t know you were on the basketball team,” you say after a while. “Well, I did know, but you know.”
“I don’t know,” he admits quietly because he has no idea what you’re talking about.
A beat passes before you speak again. “How was your day?”
The first thing on his mind is what falls from his lips. “You look beautiful,” Heeseung blurts out, trying to ignore the tinge of anxiety that’s irritating his stomach. “Your dress is.. It’s really pretty,” he adds, feeling as though he won’t lose anything by putting everything on the table.
“Thanks.” You smile. “You look beautiful too.”
Heeseung’s breath hitches in his throat and he looks down at his outfit in the dark. If Jay hadn’t interfered, he’d be wearing a hoodie and sweatpants right now, but he’s happy with the simple striped shirt and loose pants Jay suggested, even if it leaves him a little chilly. “It’s, uh, it’s actually my birthday party tonight,” he supplies uselessly.
You laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “I kind of just meant in general.”
“Me too.”
The car falls silent as he lets his head fall into the space between the headrests and closes his eyes. When you reach Mark’s house, he opens them and finds you staring with a smile. “I thought you fell asleep,” you say.
He shakes his head, sliding over the backseat and opening the door. He didn’t expect you to leave from the same side as him, but he likes the heat on his cheeks as he closes the door for you. Wordlessly, the two of you go through the gate and join Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon who are sitting cross-legged on the porch, giggling around a shared joint. He has no idea how they arrived before you did.
Heeseung isn’t sure how he loses you guys but it’s not until his third round of beer pong that he actually notices. Lee Jeno and his red eyes are a poor shot, barely managing to throw the ball without hitting Heeseung’s chest or dropping it before he gets to aim. He almost feels bad for the guy when he sinks another one of his cups, watching Jeno frown before pinching his nostrils shut and taking a big gulp.
Jay’s sudden presence startles him, though he’s quick to grin at his best friend. The smile isn’t returned. Instead, he leans up to Heeseung’s ear, yelling that YN’s crying before nudging his way out of the room. His heart sinks and he offers no explanation to Jeno, following Jay upstairs and into the bathroom where he finds you, sitting on the floor, crying into Sunghoon’s shirt while Jake watches with a frown, picking at his nails.
“What happened?”
Jake talks with a hushed tone while Sunghoon helps you up before leaving. “She didn’t say anything, she just asked us to go to the bathroom with her and started crying.” He opens his mouth to continue but Jay yanks him out of the room, closing the door.
“I’m not, like, upset or anything,” you say after a while, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to ruin tonight for you so I told Jake not to say anything, but obviously, he didn’t listen.”
“Jake did the right thing telling Jay, none of us want to see you upset.”
“I’m not upset.” You hit Heeseung’s chest with a weak fist, crying more. “Why does everyone think I’m upset?”
“It might be the tears,” he offers, feeling good about making you smile.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Are you using a new liner? Mascara? You still look good.”
You take a look in the mirror, resting your hands on the edge of the sink. “Yeah, I discovered waterproof makeup in first year.”
“Is it harder to take off?”
“Definitely, but it’s worth it, I think, for nights like this.”
“Yeah, right.” Heeseung nods, watching you carefully as he sits on the edge of the bathtub. It’s like being in high school, seeing you like this. Most of the parties you went to were spent in the bathroom, with Heeseung holding your hair back and trying to calm you down after throwing up. He misses all of it except the vomit. “Are you okay?”
Catching his gaze in the mirror, you nod but look down at your hands when he says your name. “It’s just a little harder being back than I thought it would be.”
“Oh.”
You sigh, playing with your hair as you sit down next to him. “Obviously it’s great seeing the guys all the time, seeing you all the time, but everything’s fucked and we act like strangers and it’s killing me not being able to just..” you trail off. Heeseung is clearly drunker than he feels because it looks like your eyes are stuck on his lips. After a beat you slide away from him, moving until your back hits the wall. A mixture of frustration and something else colours your face. “I just don’t like treating you like a stranger and I don’t know how to fix it.” Before he has a chance to think or to say anything you ask him for the time.
“It’s 12:23.”
“Happy birthday!” you say, smiling. “Am I the first to say it?”
“You’re always first.” Even last year, you sent a text at midnight, so Heeseung’s not sure why there’s a surprised look in your eyes or why it’s making him want to kiss you more than usual. “You don’t have to treat me like a stranger if you don’t want to,” he says carefully, trying to get you both back on track.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.”
His voice is soft when he says, “Honestly, neither do I.”
“I wish I never left.”
“Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” Despite the small smile on his face, he’s still trying to understand what reason you had.
An exhaled laugh comes from your nose and you nudge him. “Were you secretly trying to get rid of me?”
“You caught me,” he sighs, holding out his hands in defeat. “I had this whole elaborate plan. I was going to fake my death, but you saved me the trouble. Thanks for that.”
Both of you share a genuine laugh and the tension in the air eases up a bit. Heeseung’s eyes meet yours; a brief moment of silence follows. You clear your throat. “I’m sorry for leaving. I really wish things could’ve been different.”
It can’t be your intention to hurt him by saying that, but you do, leaving Heeseung feeling the full spectrum of his emotions. A pang of hurt, of longing—hurting himself even more as he thinks about the could-have-beens. He purses his lips, looking down at his shoes. “Me too.” Sick of the tension, of his feelings, he glances at you, sitting up a little straighter. “How about we start fresh? Clean slate?”
“Clean slate?” you echo, raising an inquisitive brow.
Heeseung nods, determined, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Heeseung.”
“YN,” you chuckle, taking his hand in yours.
He holds onto it, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Funny, you look just like my ex.”
Your eyes widen, amused. “Wow, Hee, you always know just what to say.”
The two of you sit quietly for a moment, but Heeseung’s just glad you’re not crying anymore. He feels lighter now, hopefully you do too. Standing up, he holds out a hand to help you get to your feet which you take, smiling up at him as you straighten out your dress.
“You know,” he says, clapping his hands together. “For a second there, I thought I’d need a manual on how to talk to you again, but I think we’re doing pretty well.”
Heeseung feels pleased with himself when you laugh, rolling your eyes and nudging his chest with your hand. “Shut up,” you say, light and playful.
“Are you ready to get back to the guys?”
You smile at him, nodding before quickly turning back to the mirror. “Do I look okay?”
It doesn’t make sense to Heeseung that a girl as beautiful as you could ever look just okay. Even with the slight swell to your glassy eyes, you’re the most perfect person he’s ever seen. But he can’t say that. So instead, he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth, tilting his head a bit and raising his hand in a horizontal gesture, his fingers wobbling as if balancing an imaginary scale. A non-committal sound escapes him, a soft eh before he laughs at the way your jaw drops.
You punch his arm. “Heeseung!”
“Come on, you know you look great,” he mumbles, looking away to hide the flush in his cheeks. The sound of your lips spreading into a smile makes his stomach flutter as he opens the door to find Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon sitting cross-legged in the hall in front of it.
“Birthday boy!” Jay yells, springing to his feet and flinging his arms around Heeseung.
“And YN!” Jake adds from his seat.
Heeseung hears you saying thanks to Jake before sitting next to him.
“So, did you two kiss and make up or what?” Jay’s attempt at whispering is futile and somehow Heeseung’s cheeks burn even more as he frees himself from his friend’s hold.
“Kiss, no. Make up, yes.”
“Playing the long game, I like it.” Jay grins, patting Heeseung on the back. “Sit down, let’s talk.”
Heeseung sits in the space next to Sunghoon, holding his legs awkwardly to his chest. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening and he feels like he’s not drunk enough anymore to fully relax into it, until you leave Jake’s side, crawling over to Heeseung and resting your head on his shoulder. In the dim hall, the boys shuffle around but it’s too dark to see what they’re doing—not that he cares much at this point, letting his head rest on top of yours and closing his eyes. It almost sounds quite pretty when they start singing Happy Birthday, and Jake has a tiny lunchbox cake in his hands when Heeseung opens his eyes. Its purple-frosted TWENT-HEE is disrupted by a half-smoked joint stuck in the centre which the flash on Sunghoon’s phone provides a makeshift flame for.
“Make a wish!” you squeal, clapping your hands.
It takes three attempts for Heeseung and Sunghoon to coordinate the timing between his exhale and Sunghoon turning the flash off, but the candle is blown out, and, right now. Heeseung has everything he’s ever wanted.
Almost.
Heeseung wakes up pressed against the wall with an arm wrapped around his waist. An embarrassing surge of excitement courses through him as he thinks about your conversation and puts his hand over yours. What he’s met with is less of the softness he’d anticipated, and more of the coarse skin and defined knuckles he’s come to recognise as Jake’s hand under the duvet. It only takes a look over his shoulder to make sense of why Heeseung’s nose is grazing his bedroom wall. Behind him is Jake, who’s being spooned by you, and behind you is Sunghoon who’s clinging onto your frame for dear life, even in his slumber. Evidently, Jay’s had a successful night and with his unwavering loyalty to Yunjin, it’s not hard to figure out what happened in the room across the hall.
With his eyes pressed shut, desperate to clutch some more sleep, he hears you mumbling. “Park Sunghoon, if you don’t wake up and let go of me, I’ll kill you,” you say with a tone that frightens Heeseung and sets off a flutter in his stomach. The yelp and thud that follow seem to wake Jake up and he crawls over you to get out of bed, stretching his arms out above his head and making no effort to step over Sunghoon on the floor. You roll over in the bed, wrapping an arm around Heeseung’s waist and pressing yourself into his side. “Happy birthday,” you say through a yawn before getting up.
He manages to mumble a thanks, butterflies running wild in his stomach and a flush creeping up his neck as he watches you leave the room, eyes stuck on the way your hips move in last night’s dress. He gets out of bed, sighing, untucking his shirt to cover the tightness in his pants before joining his friends in the kitchen.
Hungry but unmoving, you and the boys occupy the three seats at the small kitchen table, harping on about the different things as Jake whines, begging you to keep it down.
Heeseung’s first intense emotion as a sober twenty-year-old is betrayal. There are used dishes lying in the sink, plates, mugs, and pans — two of each — staring up at him, wafting the scent of a cooked breakfast, with no leftovers in sight, up to his nostrils. He sighs, wondering if it’s his responsibility as host, and eldest friend, to make more food for everyone, or if, as the birthday boy, he should sit around and wait for someone else to take action. Settling on the latter, he sights up on the countertop, sure to keep his back to you so he doesn’t have to see the low neckline of your dress.
Finally, Jay comes back, whistling an unfamiliar tune and twirling his keys on his finger when he reaches the kitchen. “Hello,” he says simply, leaning against the doorjamb as if he hadn’t single-handedly ruined Heeseung’s birthday.
Sunghoon rubs his eyes, looking in Jay’s direction. “So now, if I want a nice breakfast after a night out, do I have to fuck you?”
Jay’s cheeks flush as he looks at his feet. “I mean, I planned to cook for you guys when I got back.”
“I don’t want your sloppy seconds,” he scoffs, slumping in his chair.
“I do, Jay. Cook for me,” you say, gesturing toward Jay’s general direction making grabby hands at him.
With a gentle smile, he crosses the room and pats your head. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Anything,” you mumble into his shirt.
Jay nods, going over to the fridge. He stands in front of it with his hands on his hips, completely still for almost two minutes and Heeseung only approaches him because he’s worried about the outside heat getting on all the food through the open door.
“What are you doing?” he asks, uttering his first sentence of the morning.
Jay clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck as he leans towards Heeseung. “I, uh, finished the eggs, milk, and bacon.” A nervous look covers his face before he continues. “And we ate your Hello Kitty pancake mix,” he adds, mumbling like he doesn’t want to be heard.
Unfortunately, he is, and Heeseung’s mortified. “My Hello Kitty pancake mix?!” He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “YN got that for me, we were supposed to make those together.” His voice is as whiny as his volume will allow, and he struggles not to stomp his feet.
“Oh, you were? How’d that work out?” Jay’s words are cutting.
“Okay, ouch.”
“Dude, it was expiring next week. Plus, Yunjin just looked so cute when she saw it—I had to.”
“What if I wanted to make them this week?”
“You’ve had the box for two years,” Jay reminds him. “Think of Yunjin.”
With a sigh, Heeseung actually does think of Yunjin. Although the girl he envisions is different from the one Jay wants him to imagine.
They met on the first day of university. She had a guitar strapped to her back, and a huge amp in hand when she approached him. Her eyes were wide with nervousness or excitement; Heeseung couldn’t tell which. Immediately, she extended her free hand for him to shake. “Yunjin,” she said.
“No.” He shook his head while pointing at himself. “Heeseung.” From the way she laughed at his stupid joke, he knew she was the next girl Jay would fall for.
Jay had a habit of falling in love with the first girl to do something nice for him on any given day. And then the next girl. But after hearing Yunjin talk about her gap year, spent learning guitar seriously, Heeseung had a feeling things were going to change for his friend. He was right.
The memory, along with the satisfaction of having figured those two out from the beginning, brings a warm smile to Heeseung’s face. “You owe me.”
“Yeah, whatever. I owe you,” Jay scoffs, though the slight furrow in his brow suggests genuine remorse. “Just so you know, they weren’t special or anything.. just pancakes, you know?”
Heeseung chuckles despite himself. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Maybe a little,” Jay shrugs. To his credit, it works.
At least until Heeseung’s stomach grumbles, a noisy reminder of why they’re standing there in the first place. He also learns the hard way that the fridge starts to beep when you leave it open too long. Jay laughs through his nose, closing the door with his elbow.
“What are we eating?”
Jay seems to think about this for a minute, tilting his head and suggesting McDonald’s.
If asked, Heeseung probably wouldn’t have said he pictured spending the morning of his twentieth birthday squished between Jake and Sunghoon in a sticky booth, but he’s here and can’t find anything to complain about as he inhales his breakfast. Too caught up in the way his hoodie drapes over you, he listens half-heartedly as you all quiz Jay on his night. It seems like he’s being pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing but the dreamy grin on his face is hard to miss.
Eventually, you all pile back into Jay’s car, with Heeseung sitting shotgun as a birthday gift, that he doesn’t get to fully enjoy because he falls asleep as soon as the car starts moving. He sinks into the front seat, a contented smile playing on his lips as the warmth of the sun and his full stomach lull him into a peaceful nap.
At home, he thanks Jay before crawling into bed where he replies to messages before letting his head fall into the pillow.
His eyes don’t even close all the way before you come into the room. “Can I nap in here?”
Heeseung nods, watching you get comfortable under his duvet. In a matter of seconds, you’re just an arm’s reach away, softly snoring with your back to him. Meanwhile, he spends four hours laying completely still, trying to convince himself that the heat radiating from your sleeping form doesn’t make him miss you more.
At around 3 p.m. when everyone wakes up, you and the boys hurry away for various mumbled reasons, leaving Heeseung home alone, trying to practise his surprised face for whenever you’re all back with cake and a gift.
You don’t return until Heeseung’s hair has started to dry after his shower, but you waste no time shuffling around the kitchen before coming back with a pretty cake and real candles with a real flame, singing for him again. With the way Jake’s rushing him, Heeseung can’t come up with a wish in time, so blows out the candles with a clear mind.
“Woo!” Jake cheers, clapping around a wrapped present that he immediately thrusts into Heeseung’s hands. “Open it!”
He barely gets to peel the first piece of tape before he jumps off the couch and kneels down next to him. “It’s LEGO! The Infinity Gauntlet, you know? And the best part is..” Jake pauses dramatically. “You get to put it together with your best friend, Jake! Right now!” His excitement is endearing even though he’s ruined the surprise. “The others can help too, I guess.”
You frown at him. “I paid for the kind lady at the LEGO store to gift wrap that for us.”
“Yeah, and she did great!” Jake grins. “Can I help you open it? Please, Heeseung, please. You’re taking forever.”
With a smile, Heeseung hands the box to Jake, letting him open it carefully before Sunghoon joins in, tearing the paper to shreds all while Jay records the whole moment like a proud father. All five of you are sitting on the floor now, covered in wrapping paper while Jake holds the LEGO set up like it’s his, blinking hard at the camera with a smile on his face, and it’s Heeseung’s favourite birthday yet.
my girl: who wants to take me on a date?
Heeseung knows he should probably change your contact name but the notification still makes his cheeks burn in a way he thinks he likes.
jake: heeseung probably
jake: idk tho
my girl: ok heeseung come to the museum with me for class
sunghoon: next time open with the museum thing holy shit.. i almost fucking volunteered
heeseung: when?
my girl: i would have rejected you hoon
my girl: whenever ur free !
Heeseung’s schedule always has a way of clearing up when it comes to you, and he skips pick-up with Mark to pick you up at your door that evening. You answer right when Heeseung knocks, sliding some rings onto your fingers with a smile on your face, saying, “Hello.”
“You..” Heeseung swallows, nodding his head. He’s doing his best not to check you out but he really can’t help it when your jeans seem to fit like they were made for you. “Hi,” he whispers.
“Hey.”
He clears his throat, finally managing to unstick his gaze from your thighs and gestures in the direction of the stairs. “Shall we?”
At the train station, you don’t object when Heeseung pays for your ticket, he didn’t mean to, his finger just clicked through for two tickets instead of one. He’s happy when you don’t make a big deal about it, only smiling and thanking him when he hands you the ticket. He stands close behind you, protective, letting the peak-time commuters nudge past him instead of you as you wait in line for the only working ticket barrier. You go through first and Heeseung quietly follows, trying to keep his eyes off your ass and praying that the rest of the day goes by more comfortably than it’s started.
The train is packed too, so you stand by the doors and, again, Heeseung stands maybe a little closer than necessary, his arm above his head gripping the yellow handrail. “Why did you want to go to the museum anyway?” he asks, gulping when you look up at him.
“I’ve always liked museums.” You shrug, playing with the buttons on your cardigan.
“I know, it’s just.. You said earlier you wanted to go for one of your classes.”
“Right. It’s a requirement for one of them. Visualising Culture,” you explain, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly nervous, he doesn’t trust his voice to speak so he nods, keeping his gaze fixed on yours. “Museum and Exhibition Studies.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.” You nod and turn your head from him, looking through the window.
Your eyes are stuck on the trees outside, blurring into each other, and his eyes are stuck on the side of your face, staring shamelessly for the rest of the journey. A tinny voice announces the name of the station you’re approaching, and you nudge Heeseung gently, a silent signal that it’s time to leave. Silence seems to follow you out of the station and into the museum, but he tells himself he doesn’t mind.
For the last hour, you’ve been looking at artwork without taking note of anything or making comments, all while Heeseung observes you, wondering what you’re supposed to be doing for class. “What’s the point of this trip?” he finally asks.
Without backing away from the painting, you turn your head to look at him, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Like, what’s your task?”
You chew on your lip for a bit before looking back at the painting. He can’t help but wonder if in all your time away you’ve been flexing some sort of elitist muscle, or if it’s come about as a result of your fancy exhibition studies class that you had to take a test to be accepted into. Finally, you lean away from the painting and use your phone to take a picture of the blurb before looking at him again.
“I wanted an excuse to get someone to come to the museum with me and I wanted it to be you.”
Your words are so cute and so honest that his heart warms in his chest, even as he ignores his sadness about the fact you felt like you needed an excuse to hang out. “You could have just asked me.”
Considering his words, you frown, tilting your head at him. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy, or it should be, it’s us,” he says unthinkingly. Clearing his throat, he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, that’s, like, the whole point of having friends, right? To hang out with them?”
“Well.. yes. I just.. I don’t know.”
Somehow, this makes perfect sense to Heeseung who only nods his head, moving on from the frame when you do. It’s nice watching you admire the art, to watch the soft smile that develops as your eyes scan the canvas.
You like looking at the paintings when no one else is, to get up close and try spotting the brush strokes. You like imagining the artist and how they might have felt as they painted, and when the paint is thick, protruding from the canvas, when you can see streaks of yellow peeking through a sludgy green. You have a lot to say about the paintings and how they make you feel, and how they don’t make you feel, finding something you like in all of them.
After a while, you grab Heeseung’s hand and excitedly pull him through all the Ancient Egypt stuff, and he’s too happy that his fingers are locked with yours to worry about his aching feet anymore, and you’re so cute with your wide grin that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d like to sit down. He hates you a little when the two of you take turns writing your names in hieroglyphs, and you somehow manage to maintain your neat handwriting. But you make up for it by writing his name too, drawing a pretty butterfly at the end that makes his heart race.
You start rambling about shabtis and how people were typically buried with a few, depending on their wealth and status, but Tutankhamun was buried with something like four hundred, and some of them were even painted to look like him. “Look at how pretty this one is,” you say, grinning while holding your phone in his face with a picture of one. Your excitement peaks when you reach the big sarcophagus, and you let out a squeal when you open it and three kids run out, bursting into a fit of giggles. You’re excessively cute when you ask him to take a picture of you, and then make him take a video opening the front while you're ‘dead’ inside it. Which takes a few attempts because you’re laughing each time.
You tell him to delete those takes. He doesn’t.
Right when he’s expecting you to get out, you grab him by the wrist and pull him in with you, closing the front of it before letting go of him. Heeseung is certain he’s lived this exact moment before, but he was seventeen and you were giggling like crazy, feeling around in the dark for his shoulders to wrap your arms around before kissing him. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do or what you want him to do, and the feeling of your breath fanning his neck in the tight space isn’t helping.
Silent minutes pass by like hours until a kid pulls the sarcophagus open. The light is blinding but Heeseung steps out, relieved, almost thanking the kid for saving him. You’re fiddling with your necklace and struggling to meet his eyes. When you do though, you shoot him an easy grin, laughing to yourself about nothing.
“Do you want to get something to eat?” Drinks maybe?” you ask after a while, playing with the zipper on your jacket.
Heeseung takes you to a restaurant where university students he’s only seen on Instagram walk around like they own the place. A tired-looking guy comes to take your orders before you even have a chance to take your coat off so Heeseung asks for a minute and the waiter leaves. There’s something in his demeanour though that makes it seem like you only have one full minute to make up your minds.
“What do you want to drink?” you ask, holding the drinks menu out to him.
Heeseung closes it, sitting it on the table. “Probably a beer.”
You laugh at this. “You don’t have to act all manly in front of me.” There’s a soft look in your eyes like you mean it.
“I actually like beer these days.”
Your brows raise and your jaw drops before you utter the word whoa.
“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious.
You shrug, collecting yourself. “You’re just.. different now.”
The very prospect of being different is shocking to Heeseung who prides himself on being pretty consistent with his behaviour. His brows knit together as he tilts his head. “Because I like beer?” he asks, scoffing slightly at the mere suggestion.
“I mean, that’s part of it.” To his dismay, this seems to be the end of your sentence. He gives you a little nod, hoping you read his mind and elaborate like he wants you to. “You bleached your hair, pierced your cartilage, what’s next? Are you going to tell me you have a tattoo?”
Heeseung feels his breath catch in his throat when you say the word tattoo but you don’t seem to notice. “It’s been a year,” he points out, folding the corner of his napkin, pressing his thumb against it with enough pressure to leave a defined fold and have it stick up a little when he lets go.
“I know, it’s just.. weird, you know?” Your voice is small when you speak, soft and quiet, barely anything above the noise around you both.
Heeseung nods. He does know.
“You’re weird too.”
“How?” There’s a defensive tone to your voice that makes him chuckle.
“You’ve always been weird.”
A dramatic frown curves your lips and the waiter is back before you can object. Leaning forward slightly, he orders for both of you, the sharing platter of fried chicken, your French Martini, and his controversial draught beer. He doesn’t miss the way you raise your brows when he orders the beer, as if you’d been waiting to catch him out or something. After the waiter leaves, Heeseung meets your gaze briefly, matching the gentle smile on your lips before looking away.
The drinks only take a few minutes and you thank the waiter before looking over at Heeseung, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you slide your cocktail over to him. “Do you want to try?”
He nods, lifting the glass and moving the straw out of the way to take a sip from the rim. Nodding his head, he hums in approval, eyes widening. “It’s good.”
You lean back in your seat, twirling the straw when he hands the drink back to you. “Yeah?” you ask, smiling triumphantly as if you made it yourself. “A normal person would’ve used the straw.”
Heeseung can’t help but roll his eyes, liking the way you laugh. “Are you acting out because I called you weird?”
“A little.”
The waiter places the platter at the centre of the table with a small smile, that you match, clearly hungrier than you’d been letting on as you lick your lips at the sight of the chicken. Heeseung’s stomach grumbles quietly as the scent hits his nose and he feels like he hasn’t eaten in days when a plate lands in front of each of you. A comfortable familiarity settles over him when he lets you pick first, and he knows you feel it too from the sweet smile you give him before eyeing the food. You take a while considering every wing, even though all of the pieces are scarily identical, before picking one and Heeseung follows, choosing with much less care than you, but enjoying it nonetheless.
Under your light-hearted scrutiny, he orders a cocktail the next time the waiter comes around. It’s much better than his beer, and so quickly, one cocktail turns into two until both you and Heeseung are four drinks in, laughing over nothing and putting in an effort not to slur your words together.
Time seems to pass at the same rate as your drinks, though neither of you seems to notice until you check the time on your phone and your mouth falls into a gasp. Heeseung does the same when you show him your screen, you only have ten minutes to make the fifteen-minute walk back to the station so you can catch the last train.
He gets up to settle the bill as quickly as humanly possible before you grab him by the hand and book it out of the restaurant. Though breathless, he knows he can’t let up, running as fast as his legs will carry him as he tugs you along behind him. Somehow you still have it in you to cackle every time either of you trips up.
Out of breath, you both slump into the first seats you find, sobering up a little after the run. He looks at you and feels his heart snag in his chest. “You okay?” he asks, huffing out a breath that pushes his bangs into the air.
“No,” you whine, pouting and resting your head on Heeseung’s shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours reaching his hand out to grab your own. He squeezes it gently, in a way he hopes is comforting. You lock your fingers with his before he can pull away and Heeseung’s heart starts pounding again.
He doesn’t realise you’ve fallen asleep until the train reaches your stop and you don’t react. He doesn’t want to wake you up, nor does he want to let go of your hand, but he knows he has to. Heeseung nudges you gently, rousing you from your sleep. “Let’s go,” he mumbles.
Stretching your arms above your head, you nod while yawning.
You take tired steps alongside him on the short walk back to your apartment, not saying anything until you reach your doorstep when you yawn once more, looking up at him. “I actually had fun today, thanks for hanging out with me.”
“Actually?” Heeseung raises a brow. “Did you think you wouldn’t?”
You shrug, chewing on your lip. “I thought it might be awkward.”
“It kind of was.”
“Maybe,” you admit with a nod. “It was a pretty successful first date though.” Your eyes are like saucers as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “Not in that way. I’m only saying ‘date’ because that’s what I said in the chat—I would’ve called it a date if Hoon came with me, you know? I didn’t see this as a date if that’s what you’re thinking. Because it wasn’t. And I didn’t.”
“Mhm,” Heeseung hums with a sceptical look on his face, finding amusement in watching you scramble to correct yourself. “First dates are always awkward, baby, don’t worry.” The endearment slips out before he can help it, his heart stopping in his chest until he sees you smiling.
“Well, yeah, but this wasn’t a date, baby.”
“Are you sure? I mean, you made me pay for your train ticket, I paid for dinner and drinks. As far as first dates go, I’ve been a perfect gentleman all night.”
“That you have.” You nod once, firmly. “I’m not going to pay you back or anything. And this is hardly our first date.”
Heeseung grins despite himself. “Is this your way of saying I can bill you for our other dates? Do you have savings?”
Your head falls back in laughter, the sound infectious as it falls from your lips. You sigh softly, straightening up after a beat and nudging his shoulder with your fist. “Stop making me laugh or I’ll do something stupid like kiss you.”
His heart races in his chest, caught between your laugh and the thought that maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “I feel like if we pulled up a typical date timeline we’d be right on track for that, don’t you think?”
“Heeseung,” you mumble, face softening. It doesn’t seem like you’re finding this funny anymore. Your gaze locks on his lips — a hyper focus that makes him press them together nervously — before snapping up to meet his eyes. You gulp. “Goodnight, thank you for today.”
“Anytime.”
“Don’t say that or I’ll take you up on it.”
Heeseung shrugs. “You say that like I’d have a problem with it.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Never.”
A small laugh comes through your nose as you smile up at him. “I’ll see you, let me know when you get home.”
“Got it.”
Wordlessly, you open the door, crossing the threshold before saying goodnight again. Heeseung says it back, watching you shut the door and waiting for the lock to click before he leaves.
He’s never drinking with you again.
Heeseung feels like he’s settling into the role of your friend quite well. So well that he can spend time alone with you without the discomfort he felt in September. Maybe he’s taking liberties, bending the word friendship to suit him, but as you lie in his bed together, your head on his chest as you nap, he can’t bring himself to care too much. He knows he’ll get hurt by this at some point, but for now, he’s just happy to play with your hair and try his best to fall asleep too. You don’t stir when Jay opens the door, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight before him, tilting his head before closing the door quietly.
Sleep never reaches him, but he pretends to yawn, rubbing at his eyes when your alarm wakes you up, making a point to stretch his arms over his head and only respond to you in a lazy mumble when you speak. “Whose idea was it to nap between classes, again?”
“I think it was yours.”
“Damn,’ you mumble, yawning again before laying back down, head returning to his chest as if drawn by a magnet. “I think ten more minutes, fifteen, and then we wake up and go back.”
“Or we could skip?”
The suggestion makes you jolt upright, fully awake now. You let your eyes drag over his face, and maybe Heeseung’s being hopeful or straight-up imagining things, but your gaze lingers on his lips for more than a few seconds before you gulp and meet his eyes. “Lee Heeseung trying to skip class? I never thought I’d see the day.” A smile spreads over your lips, turning into a laugh as you throw your head back. “That was funny, Hee. Let’s go.’
Heeseung’s brows furrow, watching you stretch your arms out in front of you. Was it so hard to believe he would skip class if it meant spending more time with you? His lips settle into a pout. “I’m serious.”
“No, you’re scaring me. Come on, let’s go,” you say, making no attempts to get up.
To prove a point, Heeseung shifts under the covers, lying on his side with his back to you. “You go ahead, I’m staying.”
You sigh but don’t get out of bed, only lying down next to him and draping an arm over his waist. “Ten more minutes.” You press yourself against his back and he feels his heart racing. As quickly as he feels it, you stiffen behind him. “I’m not crossing a line, right? Holding you like this? It’s always been easier to sleep if you’re next to me,” you say into his shirt.
Remembering the way you would cuddle into his side during sleepovers, his heart aches, wondering if you had endured the same sleepless nights as him. Heeseung only lifts your arm to turn onto his back, pulling you onto his chest like you had been earlier. “Fifteen,” he says.
Seeing as neither of you bothered to set another alarm, you sleep through class, only waking up when it’s dark out and Jay comes back. “I bought dinner, come eat,” he says, leaving the door open on his way out.
Wordlessly, you both peel yourselves from bed, dragging your feet to the kitchen to wash your hands before joining Jay in the living room. Heeseung sits cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table while you and Jay sit on the couch. He’s not awake enough to fully register your conversation over the rustle of plastic takeout bags and his sudden overwhelming hunger, but you’re telling Jay to shut up, mumbling something and he lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest when Heeseung turns around to hand over your food.
With his elbows on the table, he takes a bite from his burger and has to suppress a moan. Most of your conversation with Jay goes over his head and he doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until you’re standing at the door pulling on your shoes. Given the way Jay’s lying on the couch, Heeseung assumes he’s on walking-you-home duty and grabs a jacket before stuffing his feet into Jay’s slides.
The conversation is light as you walk together, Heeseung making sure he’s on the edge of the pavement the whole time and letting you talk about your friends. The walk has become so natural now that he only realises you’re approaching home when you take out your key to open the door to your building.
“Do you want to meet before class tomorrow? To go over the slides we missed today?” you ask, with something behind your eyes that Heeseung sleepily interprets as hope.
He nods, smiling at you and waiting for you to lock the door before he leaves.
Jay’s awake when Heeseung gets back home; he can’t say he’s surprised. Heeseung only nods at Jay, who sits on the couch, but he knows his flatmate well enough to know there’s a conversation coming because the TV is off and his laptop is shut. Heeseung makes it all the way to his door before Jay says anything. “You’re in way over your head.”
Heeseung sighs, not in the mood. “Okay. Night,” he says, opening the door.
By the time November arrives and Jake’s birthday approaches, everything is back to normal again. Turning nineteen, Jake celebrates with a modest pub crawl that spirals into a three-day bender, leaving him bedridden for nearly a week due to dehydration and fear of a test he’d forgotten to study for.
In standard Jake fashion, he manages to bounce back and sits across from Jay at his favourite restaurant only six days after his actual birthday. Considering the state he was in, it’s a wonder he can stomach the smell of alcohol, let alone down four cocktails without a pause. Jay and Sunghoon exchange sighs, each supporting one of Jake’s sleeping arms on their shoulders to carry him home.
“Cover the bill and let me know the amount. I’ll transfer you in the morning,” Jay mumbles before they leave.
You shake your head when Heeseung asks if you want to go home as well. “Unless you want to,” you say, all of your words blending together. “If you want to go home, we can. I don’t want you sitting here bored or anything.”
Heeseung smiles. “I’m not bored, we can stay as long as you like.” You seem to take this to heart, nodding and flagging down a waiter to order more drinks. “Let’s maybe slow down a little though,” he suggests.
He pours you a glass of water and makes you drink the whole thing, withholding your alcohol until you’ve finished the cold tteokbokki in front of you. Gradually, you become more coherent, wiping your face with your hands and sitting up a little straighter. You thank him when he pours soju for you and take tiny sips from the glass here and there, telling Heeseung about some of the friends you made while you were away. There’s Yizhuo—sweet, funny, and down-to-earth. And Minjeong—a quiet girl who needed a while to warm up to new people. You tell him about meeting her for the first time, how unsure she seemed when Yizhuo introduced you two, but by the end of the night, she was falling asleep next to you in bed with her arms and legs tangled around you.
“Do you miss them?” It’s a stupid question, anyone could tell from the fond smile on your face that you do.
A beat passes while you think about it before shrugging. “Not as much as I missed being here.” If he wasn’t watching you, or looking you straight in the eye, he probably would’ve missed the longing in your gaze.
He’s never known you to be subtle after a drink, and Heeseung knows he needs to nip this conversation in the bud before either of you says something you can’t take back. “How are you getting on with your research task?” he asks, while at the same time you say, “I’m so happy to be back.”
A short laugh slips out of you, a hand falling to the table before wrapping around your glass. You bring it up to your face but don’t drink, only looking down into it as if it’ll tell you what to say. “Are you happy I’m back?”
“Sure,” Heeseung says noncommittally.
You sigh, sinking into your seat a little. “I loved you. I still love you,” you mumble. “Even after all that.”
He’s not sure what to make of this, of anything you’re saying. It’s not like you had a messy breakup or anything. At least, he wouldn’t describe his long-term girlfriend breaking up with him and asking if they could be friends after as messy. Even in heartbreak, Heeseung was a reasonable person, and any reasonable person would’ve said no. Like he did.
“I still.. You’re still the one for me.”
His stomach lurches violently. “Don’t say that.” He gets out of his seat quicker than he means to and leaves you at the table, tapping his foot as he waits in line by the bar to pay the bill, praying he’s right about the two of you sitting at table ten when the cashier asks. With a folded receipt in his pocket and too much to think about, he returns to the table, only putting on his coat and mumbling, “Let’s go.”
For some reason, you don’t seem to mirror his urgency, only finishing off the drink you had left in one go and sitting for a bit longer. He takes your jacket from the back of your chair and holds it open for you, helping you into it when you finally stand up. “Thanks,” you giggle.
Heeseung says nothing.
The silence and fresh air outside are sobering as he watches an Uber driver through the app, very slowly moving from two minutes away to one before arriving. Maybe if you hadn’t said what you said at the table, he might have warmed to the idea of a forty-minute walk alone with you, but you did say those things and even the thought of this fifteen-minute car ride is unbearable when John (4.9 stars) pulls up on the curb outside. You thank Heeseung quietly when he opens the door for you, and against his better judgement, he walks over to the other side of the car and sits in the middle seat like he used to.
Slow R&B murmurs through the speakers as the driver pulls off while Heeseung hums along. His thigh is pressed against yours but he does his best not to think about it, only chewing his lip when you rest your head on his shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours before regretting it.
He doesn’t move.
It feels a little bit like the driver is playing Heeseung’s playlist, as every song he knows and loves seems to come on one after the other, steeping him in an odd comfort in the backseat of this car.
Your hand falls onto his knee so clumsily he’s sure it’s a mistake, so sure you’ll move it back into your lap that he’s genuinely surprised when you don’t. Unsure what to do, he chooses not to acknowledge it, acting like you sitting so close to him, like the feeling that no time has passed, doesn’t make his heart clench. Slowly but surely, your hand inches up his thigh—a motion Heeseung stops as soon as he realises, his hand falling heavily over yours and pushing it back to his knee. He thinks about keeping it there, but when he feels his thumb stroking your skin, he moves his hand immediately. You’ve obviously gotten the wrong idea. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve actually gotten the right idea. You have. But it can’t happen like this. After a few minutes, you move your hand again, and like before, Heeseung pushes it back, keeping his hand over yours and reminding himself not to move his thumb.
You’re drunk. This will pass.
Finally, the driver parks outside your building, and Heeseung’s sure his “thank you so much” holds the world’s sincerity in it as he unbuckles his seatbelt and practically leaps out of the car. He opens your door and has to undo your belt for you, helping you out and thanking the driver again.
There’s a couple leaving the building when the two of you reach the door, and with your arms wrapped around his, he thanks them when they hold it open.
The lift takes forever to come and Heeseung pushes the up button five times before it arrives. He lets the girl in fleecy pyjamas with a takeout bag in her hand go in first before following, pressing the button reading 7 before relaxing a bit. Under the protection of a stranger, he knows you won’t do anything. The journey to your floor feels like hours as the lift drags its way up the shaft—why does nothing share his urgency?
You don’t say anything until the elevator door swooshes shut behind you. “I love you, Heeseung. You know I love you.” You’re saying everything he’s been wanting you to say for ages, but the words make his words sting.
“Do you know where your keys are?” he asks, though you still have a ways to go before you reach your door.
“My pocket,” you mumble.
Heeseung finds your keys, unlocks the door and helps you in. As much as he wants to leave, he knows if he does, you won’t take your makeup off or change, so he holds your hair back for you as you brush your teeth and wash your face in the sink quietly.
In your bedroom, you search through your drawers, pulling out something to wear. He turns his back to you and ends up face-to-face with an old photo of the two of you from school.
“You can look, Hee.”
Drawn to the picture, he doesn’t reply. The boys are in it too, but it feels like you two are the focus. Everyone’s smiling at the camera except Heeseung, who — with his arm around you — stares at the side of your face with a lopsided smile. Happiness radiates from his being, lighting his eyes and face.
“I want you to look.” The softness and desperation in your voice tug his heart.
“Come on ba—” Heeseung sighs. “Just get dressed, yeah?”
You don’t say anything but he can hear the rustle of your clothes as you change.
Jealousy blooms in his chest, looking at himself three years ago. Happy and full of love for you and your friends, for life. Everything was so easy then. His chest tightens and he has to close his eyes.
Heeseung feels you next to him, hears your jewellery falling into the clay holder on your dresser and opens his eyes, looking at you. You’re in a t-shirt he’s sure belongs to Jake and struggling with the clasp on your necklace. He knows you want him to help but he feels like he can’t move.
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really do want to be with you,” you say when you finally get the necklace off. “And I know I’m too late, but I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t want to be with you.”
You’re so close the peppermint on your breath hits him like a wave. A distinct smell of citrus and summer, of Jake, comes from your body, mixed up with the scent of you in a way that makes him uneasy.
He gets a headache trying to make sense of your words, if it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with him, then what was it? Even back then, you didn’t elaborate, you just repeated his name and the words: it’s not your fault, over and over until they sounded made up. Heeseung can’t entertain this conversation, not now. Not when you’re drunk and looking up at him with longing in your eyes. “I think we need to get you to bed,” Heeseung mumbles, taking a step back. “I’ll get you some water.”
“But I’m here now and we can be together again.”
“You moving was never the problem. You know that wasn’t the problem.” A tear slips down your cheek and he softens immediately. “I wanted to go with you, I was going to go with you.”
You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, frowning. “This university was your dream. How could I let you give up your scholarship for me?”
“You were my dream,” he admits. “And it wasn’t your decision to make.”
“You would have made the wrong one.”
Heeseung scoffs. “Do you think breaking up was the right one?”
Your silence is brutally telling. You squeeze your eyes shut as if trying to magic yourself out of the conversation, but it only makes more tears fall. A realisation hits him like a truck: you’re thinking about it. A painful lump forms in his throat. How could you have anything to think about? How was breaking up with him, not the single worst decision you’ve ever made? He can’t believe you could have let go so easily if you loved him. Long distance wouldn’t have been easy, but surely if you loved him, you would have made it work. You would have tried. Heeseung wishes he hadn’t asked at all.
“I do,” you say finally, opening your eyes to look at him.
His heart is heavy in his chest. “Okay.”
“Heeseung.”
“What?”
A stomach-churning sob falls out of you. “I don’t know.”
Another silence weighs the room down and Heeseung knows what he needs to do. He sighs. “Let’s just.. I should go.”
You don’t put up a fight, you don’t say anything, only letting your shoulders droop before you sigh and lead Heeseung to the front door. He says goodbye as he puts his shoes on and all you do is watch as he leaves your apartment. He waits for you to close the door and lock it before walking away.
Heeseung walks all the way home and only cries when he closes his door, sliding down the back of it like something from a movie. With tears in his eyes, and his knees to his chest, he pulls out his phone to text you. I hope your hangover isn’t too bad, he types. Let’s only talk when we need to.
The two of you manage to hold this up, with you finding others to sit with during classes, and no one seeming to question Heeseung’s skipping plans or new close friendship with Mark’s group who he spends time with between classes instead. But as always, things have a funny way of going different to how Heeseung expected them to.
After three weeks of near radio silence, Jay barges into his room with his face scrunched up. “What are you doing?”
“Right now?” Heeseung asks, confused. Standing by the bed with the corner of his duvet in his hand, in nothing but his underwear, he thinks his plans look a little obvious. “I’m about to jerk off.”
Jay rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what I mean.”
“Evidently, I do not.”
“Why don’t you hang out with us anymore?” he asks, squinting at Heeseung.
“We’re hanging out right now.”
“Forgive me if I don’t count an impromptu circle jerk as hanging out.”
“I don’t.. want to do that.”
Jay clutches his chest. “I’m crushed.”
Heeseung studies his expression. Serious, an inch of concern pooling in his eyes. “We dated for six years, she dumped me, I turned into a shell of myself, but she moved back home and we’re all friends again, so I think things are looking up for me.”
A deep sigh leaves Jay as he sits on the bed. “What happened at the bar with YN three weeks ago when we all left?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“What exactly counts as ordinary for you two?”
Heeseung’s still trying to figure that out. He shrugs. “Making the right decisions.”
“So you’re okay?”
“Never better.’
“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?” There’s a sincere look on Jay’s face as he leans back on his hands.
“Which is why I’m being honest.”
It doesn’t seem like Jay’s going to let this go, but to Heeseung’s surprise, he smiles. “Perfect,” he says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the mirror where he checks himself out. “Because she and the guys are going to be here in ten. Put some clothes on.”
He does just that, pulling some shorts over his hips and a shirt over his head before pulling the two bean bag chairs stacked next to the couch to sit in front of the TV, claiming one of them with his body by sinking into it. The cosy material is soft against his thighs and he wonders why they don’t use them more.
Ten minutes go by like seconds when Jay gets up to answer the door, laughing at something one of you says before leading you all into the living room. He’s watching some show Jay left on, greeting you and the boys with a wave before turning back to the TV. Behind him, the four of you laugh and talk on the couch but Heeesung’s too wrapped up in an argument on screen to join in. His attention only falters when he reaches for the open six-pack on the coffee table. It’s barely out of his reach, so he turns around to take a beer, trying to ignore the way his heart sinks in his chest seeing you and Jay cuddled up together. It’s friendly, he knows that. Jay’s with Yunjin and you’re.. He’s still not sure, but it hurts nonetheless. You’re bickering over a bowl of popcorn and he only laughs when you throw a handful at him.
The red speaker Sunghoon’s holding chimes three times when he turns it on, a Frank Ocean thudding out of it that drowns out the show he’s watching, leaving him to follow along with the subtitles instead. But he can’t focus.
Heeseung tries to settle his heartache, comforting himself with the thought of the two of you in another reality. One where it’s him instead of Jay. Or one where you come over and sit with him, curling up in his lap, pouting because Jay’s being mean. He pictures himself stroking your hair and kissing away your pout, holding you into his chest when Jake and Sunghoon start teasing you. In this reality, however, he watches you peel Jay’s shirt from his chest and dump a handful of popcorn in the gap, cackling to yourself at the clear frustration he doesn’t verbalise. Heeseung sighs, looking back at the TV and taking a sad sip of his sad beer.
After a while, you fall into the beanbag next to him, sprawling out over the whole thing and looking at him. “Hey, Heeseung.”
“Hello.”
“I’m sorry about that night.” Your voice is quiet, clearly apologetic if the way you don’t meet his eyes is anything to go by.
“Okay.” Heeseung nods and a beat passes. “I meant what I said, what I texted you.” It hurts to say but it’s for the best. He stands up out of the beanbag, making a show of stretching his arms and legs before sinking into the couch next to Jake. Over Jake’s slouched form, Jay shoots him a look, arching a brow. Heeseung only stages a chuckle, shrugging before looking at the TV again. He can’t make sense of anything on the screen.
Sunghoon emerges from Jay’s room with a grin on his face, asking when you’re going to eat. In standard fashion, the four of you stand around Jay in the kitchen, bothering him by telling him what to do like he’s a child as he puts frozen pizza and some garlic bread in the oven.
“The middle one’s the timer,” Jake says, pointing at the knobs above the oven door. “It’s there so you can set how long the food needs to cook for, and after you set it, it’ll go off so you know it’s ready.”
“But it’s all up to you and your discretion. You can open the door whenever you want to check on everything,” you coo, patting his shoulder.
If Jay’s actually annoyed, nothing about his smile gives it away as he nods with a clenched fist, closing the door and sitting next to Heeseung on the countertop. Heeseung’s almost too busy focusing on the way his beer heats his stomach to notice the way you watch him with a small frown from barely an arm’s length away. Sunghoon picks up on your declining mood and thrusts an open bottle into your hand. “We like to drink with—” He’s cut off by Jay taking the bottle and setting it behind you on the counter, mumbling cut it out, dude, and tugging you out of the kitchen by the arm when he notices the tears in your eyes.
He hears Jay’s door close and nobody says anything until the timer goes off and Jay comes back alone, filling a plate with food and going back to his room.
“Thanks for dinner,” Jake says to the back of Jay’s head, offbeat and half smiling as he washes his hands in the sink.
Sitting at the table, he watches Jake and Sunghoon eat while pretending nothing’s wrong.
At the end of the night, when everyone’s gone home, Heeseung gets into bed, barely managing to pull the duvet up when there’s a knock at his door. “Yeah?” he calls out. Jay appears with his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says quickly.
Jay regards him with a frown. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“Yeah.” He nods, and Heeseung prepares himself for a lecture. “I was going to say, I’m going home next week, for Christmas, so I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”
The holidays go by in a soju and tteokguk-filled blur, with Heeseung choosing to stay at home until the day of his first class of the second semester so he doesn’t have to be around you. He tells himself it’s for the good of your friend group, as he watches you all make plans in the group chat through notification bubbles, so he doesn’t leave a read receipt.
The commute is more jarring than he realised. What had been a twenty-minute drive turns into an hour-long journey, including a thirty-minute walk to the train station ‘near’ house, fifteen minutes on the train into the city centre, and another fifteen minutes on foot to campus. He’s drenched in sweat despite the below-zero temperature and has to make a stop to the bathroom to sort himself out.
He arrives early at least, finding the room where his Ethnography: Theory and Practice 2 class is set to start in fifteen minutes. The only indicator that he’s in the right place is the lecturer’s name and contact information written in the top corner of a whiteboard, and Heeseung picks the seat furthest from the door. It’s an elective class and, judging by the nine empty chairs next to him, not a very popular one. He’s relieved at least that he’ll be able to start off the semester without running into anyone he knows, least of all you. As seats start filling up and the lecturer arrives, he’s feeling unusually lucky.
So, of course, you show up, running a hand through your hair as you walk through the open door, apologising for being late even though there are still two minutes until the class is scheduled to begin. Of course, the only empty seat is the one next to him, which you sit in without looking at him, making an effort to angle your body away from him. Of course, the lecturer assigns a presentation for two weeks time, pairing the class with the person they’re sitting beside. Neither you nor Heeseung say a word to each other, but you raise your hand when prompted to pick a topic to cover. He can’t help his irritation at you for making the decision without asking him, but you look so nice in your hoodie with your hair tied up that his annoyance settles before it has a chance to bloom.
“YN YLN and Heeseung Lee, we’ll do music and cultural expression,” you say, picking the topic he wanted to do anyway.
When class is over, you’re quick to get out of your seat, pulling on your jacket and stuffing your laptop back into your bag before leaving so quickly that Heeseung has to leave his stuff behind to go after you. You don’t stop walking when he calls out your name, and too scared to make a scene, he overtakes you, leaving you with no option but to stop in front of him.
“We should go to the library, get the research and shit out of the way ASAP,” he suggests.
You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Yeah, okay, I’m going to get my stuff.”
You follow him back to class, watching from the door as he puts his things in his bag before putting on his jacket. You don’t say anything on the walk to the library, when you get there, or when you browse the Cultural Studies section. Heeseung glances at you and you’re chewing on your lip, crouching a bit to read the spines of the books on the lower shelves. “Are you alright?” he asks with genuine concern.
You look up at him, nodding.
“Are you sure? Because you haven’t said anything in an hour.”
This makes you straighten up, your brows furrowing in an expression he can’t figure out. “Sorry, Heeseung,” you say, your voice weak. “I’m just trying to figure out if you think I need to talk right now.”
“Obviously, a paired project is a situation where we need to talk.”
You sigh, muttering oh, my God, before you look at him. “You know what, I’m going home. Let’s do this tomorrow.”
“We have class in twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, I’ll read the slides when I get in.”
Unsure what to say, he watches you walk away, deciding that he should just go home too.
At the flat he hasn’t seen in five weeks, Heeseung feels slightly out of place, going straight to his room and into bed, not even getting up when he hears Jay coming home. Jay opens the door without knocking, his mouth falling into an excited ‘o’ shape. “Hey, stranger,” he says. “I thought you weren’t coming back, so I started advertising your room on Gumtree.”
“Any offers?”
“No one as good as you.” Heeseung doesn’t have to look at Jay to know he’s smiling. “Move over,” he mumbles, lifting the duvet.
Lazily, he rolls over in bed, making room for Jay who makes himself comfortable under the covers.
“What are you doing, Heeseung?”
“Trying to sleep.”
“Talk to me, help me understand.” Jay sighs and Heeseung’s lips curl into a frown. “You’re my best friend,” Jay says quietly, with a tenderness that strikes him.
“You’re my best friend,” Heeseung repeats like an affirmation.
“So why won’t you talk to me?”
There’s a subtle hurt in Jay’s voice that upsets Heeseung, who shifts around to lie on his back. “I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that YN hasn’t already.”
“She only told me that she fucked up.”
Hearing it from someone else’s mouth makes it sound drastic, especially considering he’s the one who left. Again. But he’s too bitter to say that out loud so he bites his tongue. “Seems to be the theme in our relationship.” The words taste rotten when he says them.
“Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you get to be a dick,” Jay says. “What happened?”
It takes some time but Heeseung explains everything, letting Jay ask questions and make comments until the end when he looks away, pressing his eyes shut and saying, “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t think I get it. Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Why can’t you just be together already?”
Everything sounds painfully simple when it’s put like that. But there’s too much between you both for it to go that way. It’s not like he didn’t want to be with you when you confessed, it’s that he didn’t know how he could without knowing why you left him in the first place. Without knowing what he did that was so terrible you couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with him, never mind the same area code.
A beat passes before Heeseung speaks. “There was something wrong, and instead of trying to fix it, she just.. gave up. I would’ve done anything she asked me to. I could’ve changed, could’ve fixed things, but she didn’t even tell me.”
“Maybe she didn’t feel like she could. I don’t think she wanted to hurt you, Heeseung.”
“But she did.”
“Yeah,” Jay admits, sympathy lacing the word.
“How can I be with her knowing there’s some awful part of me she hates?”
“It’s not like that, not really.”
“What’s it like then?”
“I’m not sure it’s my place to say.”
Heeseung laughs, shaking his head. “Do you keep my secrets as dutifully as you keep hers?”
“Are you kidding? She doesn’t even know you have secrets.” Jay sounds exhausted as he speaks, and it’s the last sound to come from him until a few minutes pass and Heeseung hears him snoring.
You didn’t reply when Heeseung texted you asking to meet in the library before class, but you show up anyway, pulling out the seat across from him and dumping your bag on the table. “I don’t know if you saw the email, but the partner work is just for the presentation.”
“Cool.” he nods, relieved.
“I think after that, I’ll start hanging out with Yunjin instead, so you’re not uncomfortable.”
Heeseung frowns, shaking his head. “I’m not uncomfortable around you,” he says. “I just don’t.. get you. You dump me and move as far away as you can. Now you’re back and what? You love me again?”
You furrow your brows, inspecting him for a moment before you speak. “I don’t love you again, Heeseung. I’ve loved you this whole time.”
“So why didn’t you choose me? I just wanted you to choose me.” He’s too anxious to know the truth to worry about how desperate he must sound. Until he notices that the guys sitting at the other end of the tables are watching him, their brows arched sharply in a mixture of shock and curiosity. Heeseung runs a hand over his face, hoping the motion might wipe away the flush burning his cheeks.
“You wanted me to choose you over my future?”
“I could’ve been your future, part of it. I’d never ask you to choose me over university, you know I wouldn’t. I’m saying you could’ve had both.”
“It wasn’t as easy as that.”
“Why not?”
“Heeseung,” you say like it’s an answer.
“Just tell me why you didn’t want me. That’s all I want to know.”
The following silence makes him consider packing up abruptly and faking an emergency. He’s sure he could probably fake his death if he slumps in his chair slowly enough.
You sigh heavily, interrupting his train of thought—now, he’s wondering if he even wants to know. “Because you would’ve put me first,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “If I stayed here or moved away, I would’ve been your top priority and I couldn’t let you throw away everything you worked for, for me.”
“I loved you, of course, you were my top priority.” He can’t believe he even has to say it, can’t believe you might have thought you weren’t the single most important thing in his life.
“Heeseung, you were sacrificing your life for me. You missed your cousin’s engagement party to help me study for a history test, you deferred your scholarship entry by a year just so we could go to college at the same time. How could I keep letting you miss out on your life?”
“Deferring my entry wasn’t just for you,” he lies. “And it’s not like I missed the wedding.”
“But I think you would’ve if I stubbed my toe.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
You sigh again, shaking your head. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t keep living like that, you can’t just throw everything away. You’re such a hard worker, Heeseung, and I’d hate to see you waste that over some girl.”
“But you’re you. You weren’t just ‘some girl’ you were my girl.” He doesn’t mean to say it but it’s true. “We were in high school and I was studying constantly; it didn’t matter back then. And you were so far away, it’s not like I could feasibly drop everything and go to you every time something happened.”
“Heeseung.”
“You had a choice.”
“Heeseung.”
The way you’re saying his name reminds him of your breakup—the pink walls of your childhood bedroom and the pictures of the two of you stuck up all over them, in frames on your desk, and stickers on your light switch. How they seemed to close in around him as he put all of his energy into staying on two feet, instead of falling to the floor and begging you on hands and knees to stay with him.
“Why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve spent the last year and a half wondering what I did wrong, I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” We could’ve tried, he wants to say. I could have changed and we could’ve tried.
“I didn’t want you to lose that. I felt really lucky that you loved me like that, and I didn’t want to rob someone else of it, you know. I thought maybe you’d find a balance with someone someday, but I didn’t think that person would be me.”
Heeseung has to put in an effort to stop his jaw from dropping. How could there ever be someone else? How could you ever think he could have someone else? There’s so much he wants to say, to ask, but he can tell by the way you press your lips together that you’re done with the conversation.
“It’s not too late.”
You tilt your head at him. “What?”
“In your room that night, you said you were too late,” he explains. “I love you.”
“Still?”
His heart shifts uncomfortably in his chest at the tone of your voice and the way your eyebrows shoot up. “Always,” he says.
A smile starts to curve your lips, but it slips before it has a chance to bloom, stifled happiness that you cover with your hands, hiding your face completely. “I don’t think we should talk about this here.” Your palms muffle the words but not their impact; you’re right and he knows it.
It’s been a year—the longest of his life, and the hard part is already over. He knows now and he’ll do anything he can to fix it. “Right.” Heeseung nods but you’re not looking at him. He’s going to fix it. For now, though, he says, “What’s our research topic again?” Despite having had Music and Cultural Expression typed into the search bar since before you arrived.
With Heeseung’s work ethic and your commitment to being the best, the presentation goes quite smoothly. You make no mistakes, and Heeseung, distracted by how pretty you look in professional attire, manages to stumble through the script he’d rehearsed. The two of you even win the first place prize — satisfaction that you got a perfect score — and celebrate with coffee afterwards.
Between the four walls of the campus café, you and Heeseung sip lattes that taste like temperature — still too hot to have a real flavour — and laugh with each other about something Jay said when you all hung out last night. Neither of you mentions your conversation from two weeks ago, deciding instead to fall into the patterns of your first term together: napping in his bed after class and coming up with excuses for alone time. He makes an effort to follow through with his commitments, even when you ask him to hang out, to show you that he’s different now. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t said anything about it, but Heeseung tells himself it’s a good thing while missing shots on the court with Mark, too hung up on you to focus on anything else. The only thing left is to figure out a way to be yours again and do everything he can to make sure he doesn’t lose you.
Over your shoulder, through the window, the sun slips below the horizon, casting long shadows around the café. He takes a deep breath when he looks at you, smiling down at your phone as you take a picture of your half-drunk latte and the milky swirls still peeking through your coffee. A tangible determination settles in his chest as evening’s first stars appear in the sky, he knows one thing for sure: he has to grab the chance to be yours again with both hands, and once it’s his, he won’t let go this time.
The café may be clearing out, but his heart is full of hope and for the time being, sitting with you as a friend is.. fine.
You’d often imagined what it would be like if you hadn’t broken up with Lee Heeseung.
Most of your first year was spent daydreaming about him in all of your usual hangouts. Sometimes, at drinks with your friends, you envisioned him showing up, a smile on his face as he apologised for being late. He’d slide into the booth next to you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and kiss your cheek. Other times you imagined him showing up to surprise you, sitting on a bench in the quad and grinning when he saw you leaving. He’d run up to you with open arms and a bouquet in his hand, wrapping you in a hug and whispering that he missed you too much to wait another day to see you. You would even fall asleep thinking about FaceTime calls that stayed on overnight or drunken texts after the club, misspelt I love yous and can’t wait to see yous filling your text thread.
You didn’t tell your new friends much about him, briefly mentioning a partner you’d watched some film with or an artist he liked if they came up, and most nights were spent begging Jay to send you Heeseung’s social media posts and tell you every detail of the day they had without you. Based on accounts from Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon, it seemed like he was getting on well, a fact that — while hurtful — pushed you to try and do the same. After a month of avoiding your flatmates, you finally managed to connect with them, going to various social events around campus and rolling your eyes any time a drunk guy complimented you.
This is why it took you by surprise to see him at Mark Lee’s party in the summer—sitting alone in the garden, in sweatpants and a flannel, looking at his phone with a deep frown etched over his lips. When you think about it, it feels like so long has passed since then and it’s hard to believe it wasn’t even a year ago.
Being back in Heeseung’s life has been more challenging than you thought it would be when you filled out your transfer application. Especially in the weeks since you finished your presentation together, since you suggested the library might not have been the right place for the conversation you were having and never followed up on.
Now doesn’t seem like the right time either—you’re sitting on the floor in Jake and Sunghoon’s living room with your back against the couch, sharing a blanket with Heeseung. Jay left about an hour ago to go to Yunjin’s, leaving the four of you to your own devices. You know you can’t bring it up with Jake and Sunghoon around, but you’ve had plenty of opportunities to over the last month.
When you finished your celebratory lattes, Heeseung walked you home. The sky was a perfect inky black, and it was cold enough to see your breath, just the way he liked, so cold he offered you his jacket to wear. He didn’t say anything about it, only shrugging it off and setting it gently over your shoulders, shocking you so much that you stopped walking. The scent of his cologne, dark and woody, was overwhelming as you slid your arms into the sleeves, zipping it up and after three paces without you, Heeseung turned his head with wide eyes. You could have said it then, you wanted to say it then, but you bit your tongue and thanked him instead. He smiled, gulping when you closed the gap, you should have kissed him, he was close enough, his lips just a tip-toe and tilted head away, but you hugged him instead.
After that, the two of you had all the time in the world together. Between your shared classes and going for meals alone. All the time you’d spend in his living room together, cosy on the couch when Jay would go to sleep. So many moments to talk, to get back together, but the words would die in your throat every time you thought them. It all seemed too cheesy or not cheesy enough, too dramatic or too casual, you couldn’t strike a balance and had no idea how to even find one.
Last night was probably the most jarring occasion. Yunjin and Chaewon had been trying to convince you to go the club all week but you just weren’t in the mood. They seemed happy enough when you suggested hosting pres—but now you think they’d been hoping you’d be so drunk you’d just agree to go out. Yunjin brought half a litre of vodka and Chaewon brought a soup flask with enough murky cocktail in it to feed a small family. Together, the three of you drank and gossiped around the small table in your living room, with Chaewon’s phone in a glass to amplify her playlist. After taking a whiff of whatever she brought, you and Yunjin decided — for everyone’s wellbeing — to hide her flask and take shots of vodka, finishing off the cider you had left in the fridge.
“Please come out,” Yunjin begged. “I’ll feel bad leaving you here, all pretty and drunk by yourself.”
“I’ll feel bad too!” Chaewon added, clasping her hands. “Not bad enough to stay with you, but I’ll probably have less fun.”
You shook your head. “I don’t even have an outfit.” The words were like music to their ears and you regretted them as soon as you said them. Both girls grabbed you by the hand, tugging you to your room and flinging open your wardrobe. Yunjin looked for a top and Chaewon for a skirt, though both of them gasped when they saw the dress you wore for Heeseung’s birthday. Chaewon pulled it from the rack, holding it out in front of her.
“We won’t pay for anything if you wear this,” she squealed before she and Yunjin started chanting: Free booze! Free booze!
You sighed, thinking of Heeseung and shook your head again. That dress, though beautiful, hadn’t been enough for him to lose all composure and skip the party in favour of fucking you into the mattress, and you didn’t love the idea of guys that weren’t him ogling you all night. “Anything but that dress.”
Yunjin and Chaewon seemed sad, but you were able to distract them by bringing out the disaster cocktail the oldest girl brewed earlier, pouring each of them half a glass and ordering an Uber to come and take them away. You promised them you’d go out next time, locking your pinkies with theirs and closing the door behind them.
Alone in your room, with nothing but thoughts of Heeseung to keep you company, you called him. He answered right away. You can’t remember exactly what you said but you remember the soft sigh he let out when you said it. You could practically see him tilting his head, weighing his options.
“I’m trying to get a paper finished, it’s due Monday,” he said finally.
“But it’s Thursday.”
“Yeah, and I want to have my weekend free. If you’re still up when I’m done, I’ll come over, okay?”
You nodded. “Okay.”
Heeseung hung up after that and you got out of bed to clean up, hoping the time would fly. It didn’t, but your flat was clean again so you pretended not to mind.
He called you after midnight. “Do you still want me to come over?” he asked, breathless.
“Please.” There was a knock on your door after you spoke and you mumbled hold on before going to check it. Warped by the peephole, you saw Heeseung standing there, holding his phone to his ear and playing with the zipper on his jacket. He hugged you when you opened the door, asking if you were okay. “Perfect,” you said, looking into his eyes.
His pretty face scrunched up and he pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers, turning his head. “Well, you smell like a distillery.”
Heeseung stood in the doorway of the bathroom while you brushed your teeth, grinning every time his eyes met yours in the mirror. Tell him now, you thought. You have to tell him now. Those thoughts nagged you as you gargled mouthwash, plagued you when you hugged him again and tortured you when he carried you to bed.
He stiffened when kissed his jaw. “You can’t do that,” he mumbled, setting you down under the duvet. “Not now.”
Then when? you wanted to say. “I’m sorry,” you said.
Heeseung sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s just.. It’s okay.”
Neither of you spoke after that, you made room for him on the bed and he lay down next to you, let you rest your head on his chest and played with your hair until you fell asleep. He was gone when you woke up in the morning but he left a glass of water and some paracetamol on your end table, along with a note.
I had to go to class and you wouldn’t wake up :( We’ll talk about everything soon, we have to. See you at Jake and Sunghoon’s later?
— Your Hee.
If you hadn’t been drunk he might have been okay with the kiss, he might have looked down at you and kissed you properly. You might have talked last night, fixed things—you’ve never regretted drinking so much in your life.
Things are better tonight at least. You’ve been nursing the same can of cider since you arrived a few hours ago and Heeseung’s only had two sips of his beer, so hopefully, if you get some alone time, the two of you can finally talk. You’re still not sure what you should say, if you should apologise for waiting so long, for leaving in the first place. It seemed like a good idea at the time, applying elsewhere. You didn’t even think you’d get in but you knew you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least take the chance. It seemed like a sign when the acceptance letter reached your inbox before the term had finished, an unconditional offer to a high-ranking university, you couldn’t pass it up. And knowing Heeseung as well as you did, you knew he’d do anything to be by your side when you needed him, you knew he’d drop everything to move with you if you let him. You’d owe him forever. It wouldn’t be fair on either of you.
You called Jay in tears after a month away, telling him you made a mistake, that you needed to come back and had already filled out a transfer application. He convinced you to at least stay until the end of term, to actually make friends with the girls you were living with and see how you felt. A week later, he, Jake and Sunghoon showed up on your doorstep with chocolate and booze, hoping your room was big enough for all of them to stay for the weekend, it wasn’t, not really, but for three nights, the four of you slept head to toe in your bed after eating your body weights in pizza and ice cream. There was no talk of Heeseung, even though you begged them, and by the time they left, you felt much better. At the end of your first year, you quietly submitted your transfer application and shared a tearful goodbye with Yizhuo and Minjeong before finally flying back home. The boys seemed happy to have you back, even if it meant sneaking around to hang out with you—A nudge pulls you out of your thoughts, Heeseung.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
When you look at him, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. His eyes are brimmed with concern, wide and beautiful, a deep brown you’ll never get sick of. His lips are curved into a soft pout, a crease running along his brow that you want to smooth out.
Heeseung relaxes a little when you nod, but he seems unconvinced. “You sure?”
You reach up to poke his cheek, grinning when he turns his head, trying to fight a smile. “I’m good,” you say, pressing a dimple into his cheek anyway.
He holds your finger in his hands, unclenching your fist and locking his fingers with yours. A wide grin stretches over your lips as you plead with your cheeks to stop burning. Jake’s hand interrupts the moment, falling from the couch, limp and curled into a fist that smacks the back of your head. He’s fast asleep, not stirring at all even when Heeseung laughs.
Unfortunately, you lose rock, paper, scissors and have to wake Jake up. He shifts a little on the couch when you shake him, whining at you to stop and scrunching up his face at you. Heeseung and Sunghoon eventually sigh, grabbing him by the arms and legs to carry him to bed.
Both boys return, laughing about something and Heeseung sits down next to you again while Sunghoon leans in the doorway, yawning. “You two can have my room,” he says, cutting his eyes at you. “No funny business though, I just changed my sheets.”
You chuckle nervously and Heeseung makes a show of hiding his face in the crook of your neck, much to Sunghoon’s visible dismay. He clutches the doorframe so hard you see his knuckles paling and uses his free hand to point a stern finger in your direction. “I mean it,” is the last thing he says before leaving.
“Sorry,” Heeseung mumbles when the door closes. “It’s just so funny teasing him.” He’s grinning when he lifts his head and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me about your group project.”
A sigh curls out of you, dramatic and loud as you let your head fall back against the couch at the thought of it. You brought it up in passing on Monday after class and spent the rest of the week pretending it didn’t exist.
“Damn,” he mutters. “That bad?”
You don’t have many friends in your Archaeology class, but you always look forward to it — because you’re covering Ancient Egypt — and enjoy it. But this morning, you slept in, arriving late, to find your lecturer assigning groups for a project weighing 25% of your final grade. She put the groups together based on where people were sitting, which left you, standing in the doorway fighting for breath, being added to a group of boys you shared a seminar with last term. They never contributed, and rarely showed up, constantly sending messages in the class Whatsapp group to ask if anyone had the tutorial answers. The sinking feeling that your project was doomed before it began plagued you throughout the lecture and all the way to lunch with Yunjin afterwards. Even though it doesn’t have anything to do with the story, you tell him in meticulous detail about your time with her that day. Thankfully, you’re sober so don’t admit that you spent a lot of the meal exchanging increasingly ridiculous ideas to get him back.
Heeseung is just as beautiful and good at listening as always, nodding his head and uhm-ing and ah-ing at all the right parts. Until his gaze changes for a split second into something so soft and so sweet that it leaves a mark on your heart. “I was pissed about it earlier, but now I’m here, with you, and I want you to be my boyfriend again,” you say, jaw hanging open as soon as the words come out.
His eyes widen, lips parting in shock. Then his brows furrow, pushing a crease into his forehead.
“I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry.” You start running damage control and pray that Jake or Sunghoon will wake up and come back. “I really didn’t mean to say that, especially not now when we haven’t talked about everything. But you looked at me, Heeseung. You really looked at me just now and I can’t pretend I don’t want to be with you. I’m sorry, really, but it’s your fault I said that.”
Mortified, you cover your face with your hands. “Can you say something now?” you ask, mumbling into the heels of your palms.
All he says is your name and a pit forms in your stomach. “God, anything but that,” you groan.
Heeseung chuckles, which you think is a good thing. “Would it be better if I called you baby?”
“In what context?”
Holding your breath, you watch as he presses his lips together, humming as he tilts his head. “Term of endearment between a girlfriend and her boyfriend.”
You lift your head, separating your fingers to see him properly through the space and the pit in your stomach dissolves into something live, butterflies fluttering in a frenzy from the look on his face. The gentle curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, and the slight flush on his cheeks all make your head spin.
“Really?”
Heeseung nods so hard his hair follows the movement. “Yes, baby.”
“Can we kiss now?”
“Maybe if you move your hands out of the way.”
“I don’t like maybe.”
“Definitely if you move your hands out of the way,” he corrects.
You can’t bring yourself to move, worried that the sudden motion might disrupt something, might knock you out of the moment. Heeseung laughs, so softly it sounds like an exhale, as he takes your wrists in his hands, tugging gently. With your face in full view, his eyes flit over your features for a beat before he cups your cheek in his hand, dragging his thumb over the soft skin of your lips.
You don’t even realise he’s leaning in until his lips touch yours. There’s a rush of something in your chest, an intense warmth surrounding your heart. His lips are softer than ever, gentle as he kisses you like you might break—you think you might. Nothing is better than this, better than having Heeseung’s lips on yours after all this time. You lean into him completely, pressing your body impossibly close to his and twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I love you,” he whispers, barely pulling away. “I love you so much.”
You can’t bring yourself to reply, emotions too close to the surface, tears too close to spilling. Instead, you smile into the kiss, somehow holding him closer and hoping he’ll understand. He pulls back, just enough to gaze into your eyes with a look of pure affection. He doesn’t press for words, a reassuring smile tugging his lips.
He understands, Heeseung always understands.
Sunghoon’s sheets are soft against your skin when you wake up, tickling your nose with the scent of detergent and Heeseung’s shampoo—fresh and light. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers curling around the strands as Heeseung watches you with a soft smile, eyes scanning your features, taking you in. He lets his hand rest on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there and his eyes flick up to meet yours. You feel like a teenager, a giddy smile gracing your lips, giggles tumbling out at the tickly feeling of lovestruck butterflies rumbling in your stomach. Heeseung beams, nuzzling into the touch of your hand as his eyes flutter shut.
“If we’re going to work out this time—I want us to work out, but we need to talk,” you say after a beat.
Heeseung’s brows raise like he can’t believe what you’re saying, his lips pushing into a pout. “We are going to work out, of course we’re going to work out.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a deep hoarseness that’s too sexy for the cute way he’s chewing on his lip, doe-eyed and sweet as his eyes scan your face.
“I know, baby, I want that.” You nod, using your hand to push his hair out of his face. It’s so long now it’s starting to cover his eyes, the soft blond strands curling into his eyelashes. “But you have to say no to me, you know? I want you to have a life of your own, we both should.”
“No.”
“No?” You press your eyes shut, sighing. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’m starting now.”
“I’m serious, Hee, this is serious.”
He pouts for a second before nodding. “I’m serious too. I can say no to you, I will say no to you.”
You can’t help your scepticism, raising your brow at him as you inspect his face. There’s nothing about his expression that suggests he’s not being serious, nothing in those huge eyes seeming insincere. But you know Heeseung, you’ve been with Heeseung, and you know better than anyone, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do if it meant spending time with you, so you have to ask. “So from now on, if I text you when you’re in class or out with friends, and I tell you I want to see you, what are you going to do?”
Heeseung sighs. “I’m going to text back and say that I’m.. busy.” His lips curl into a frown. “My heart will be super heavy though.”
“But you’ll do it? You won’t see me until you’re free?”
“I’ll do it, I won’t leave or anything.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yeah, baby, I promise.” When you smile at him, Heeseung leans in to seal his promise with a kiss, his lips meeting yours softly.
You flinch when the door opens and Heeseung chuckles against your lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. Over his head, you see Sunghoon standing in the doorway, hair dripping water on the floor with a towel wrapped around his hips.
Sunghoon sighs, loud and dramatic, his head falling back. “I specifically said no funny business,” he mutters. “Quit looking at me.” He comes into the room and lifts the duvet over your heads.
Under the covers, Heeseung pulls away, poking his head out and laughing. “We’re just kissing.”
“Yeah, with your shirt off. Why is your shirt off?”
“She wanted to wear—”
Sunghoon cuts him off with a gasp, pulling the duvet back. “Wait, why are you kissing?”
“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?”
The word makes your cheeks burn and you hide your face in Heeseung’s chest. His lips find the top of your head, kissing you as he wraps his arms around you.
Sunghoon groans at the sight. “I haven’t missed this at all,” he says. “Who else knows?”
“Just you so far.”
You can hear Sunghoon grinning when he drops the duvet back over your heads and shuffles around the room, getting ready for skating. Heeseung calls you cute and holds you closer. “I’ve missed you so much, missed this,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you.”
Dating Heeseung again is better than anything you could have imagined, even if it has only been two weeks. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and even the simple things he does make you smile so hard your face aches. Like when he picks up snacks for you after class or sends you pictures of sweet things he wrote about you in his old diary. Chaewon and Yunjin comment that you seem happier, that you’re glowing, and you can’t help the giggles that always escape and the flush that burns your cheeks when you mention your boyfriend, Heeseung.
Even under the pressure of taking on a group project by yourself, you find yourself fighting a grin in the library just thinking about him. Your class finished an hour ago and you’re doing research in the computer lab while waiting for him so you can go back home together. With a crease in your brow, you try to make sense of conflicting articles on the origin of the Great Pyramid of Giza, happy when your phone lights up with a text.
hee: we should go on a date tonight !!! how does the fair sound?
you: sounds good :D
hee: ❤️
As if sensing that plans have been made without him, Sunghoon sends a message to the group chat asking who wants to go to the Spring Fair in the city centre tonight.
you: hee and i are alr going :/
sunghoon: awesome i can meet u at hee’s in a few hours?
You really can’t find the heart to tell Sunghoon it’s a date so you decide not to say anything, only feeling worse when Jay replies.
jay: sounds good :D
hee: it’s a date dumbass, you’re not invited.
sunghoon: ok.. i can still go
jake: time?
With your date set and whatever else the boys are planning in the group chat, you manage to finish up your work in time for Heeseung to show up with a grin on his face as you pack up your notebook. Excitement stirs in your stomach when he locks his fingers with yours and you’ve never looked forward to the sticky heat of a night in spring as much as you are right now.
“How was class?” you ask, squeezing his hand.
Heeseung grins at you, swinging your hands between your bodies as you weave through tables to leave the library. “Turns out I focus really well when you’re not sitting with me.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mm.” He nods, biting his lip.
“I can sit with other people if it’ll help you focus.”
“No!” he whines, loud enough to draw side eyes from the students around you before the tips of his ears burn red and he pulls you out of the library at lightspeed.
When you reach his flat, Jay’s sitting on the couch grinning at something on his phone, so distracted he doesn’t even realise you’ve arrived until you sit down next to him. He’s got a lot to say about his mock trial and tells you everything, all while you’re cuddled up to Heeseung, with your head on his shoulder.
You blink and the sun’s gone down, Jay isn’t around anymore and Heeseung’s arms are around your waist, holding you close. “Hey,” he says when you stir. “The boys left already, you just looked so cute sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you.”
There’s a wet patch on his sweater where your mouth was that you try to wipe away. It doesn’t budge. And a burning flush attacks your cheeks and neck when Heeseung uses his thumb to wipe some of the drool by your mouth. “So cute.” He chuckles. “Should we get going?”
You spend the whole journey to the city centre with your hand in Heeseung’s, trying to fight the butterflies in your stomach every time he smiles at you. It’s weird. To have been with him for so long, yet still feel giddy when he looks at you. This is new though, you suppose, to live away from home and see him whenever you want. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder and you can’t help the grin on your face at the thought of spending infinite nights like this, with him.
The Spring Fair is alive with laughter and squeals of delight that you can hear from around the corner. Winking lights spill onto the pavement in rapid succession, somehow showing the whole spectrum at once. Heeseung is bursting with excitement, running down the street with you in tow, desperately trying to keep up with his stride and regulate your breathing. His eyes are huge when you reach the gates, scanning the area for the churros he’s been talking about for the entire walk and he gasps when he sees the stall, pulling you along with him. You have to weave through the crowd, dipping and dodging tired locals and excited tourists as you call out apologies to everyone Heeseung bumps into. The first night is always packed like this, so full it’s hard to believe the fair runs for six whole weeks.
You share a heart-shaped churro and pose for the photos he wants to take, your heart swelling with affection as you pretend to be embarrassed when he buys matching character headbands for you both. Two years ago, Heeseung would’ve told you that headbands aren’t a good use of your money and bought them anyway, but today, he spent fifteen minutes trying on and taking photos with each character before finding the perfect pair. You can’t help but grin as he puts the headband on for you, a sense of excitement blooming inside you, so great it’s overwhelming.
Heeseung buys a blue raspberry slushy in an obnoxiously large reusable cup with two straws, and as he clutches his head with each brain freeze, chuckles pour out of you, only increasing when he pouts.
At every opportunity, the two of you take selfies, and the grin on his face in each one warms your heart. He posts his favourite to his story, showing you all the compliments he’s getting in his DMs, all aimed at you. He seems so proud and excited to be with you, and butterflies go mad in your stomach as he reads some of them out to you, agreeing with and adding to the messages.
“You’re so beautiful, baby. I think I might delete the picture,” he says, frowning as the story replies pour in.
The look on his face makes you laugh, struggling to talk but trying anyway. “But I love it.”
Heeseung puts his phone away, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I love you,” he says, using his free hand to tip your chin towards him. He grins when you say it back, tracing his thumb along your jaw. An odd stillness hits you, in the midst of vibrant chaos. Flashes of multi-coloured LEDs dance in orange and purple strobes over his face and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are pretty and wide, flicking from your eyes to your mouth a few times as a flame starts to burn in your stomach, low and scorching.
“I love you,” you repeat, tip-toeing to close the gap.
You kiss him, slow and sweet to savour the sugary taste on his lips as they move against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss and the taste of syrupy artificial fruit, leaving you craving more, craving him. A pop goes out in the air and you flinch in Heeseung’s arms. He chuckles against your lips before he pulls away, looking up. Trails of pink and gold paint the sky above, vibrant sparks spreading everywhere as a few more go off. If you weren’t so busy trying to catch your breath, you might appreciate their beauty, but you are and the next pop only startles you too.
Heeseung looks down at you, his slightly swollen lips curving into a grin. “How are you so cute?” he coos. “And don’t most people want fireworks to go off when they kiss someone?”
“It’s probably a sensation thing, Heeseung.” You know it’s a sensation thing. The first time he kissed you, it felt like you were floating on air, as if Sunghoon’s basement, cold and dark, was the most romantic place on Earth. You were sweaty and nervous, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Heeseung while the boys were sleeping. He was the one to lean in and he kissed the tip of your nose by accident.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Come here.” His voice is so deep and raspy that it spurs the flame on, burning higher, hotter, until it’s the only thing you can think about. His hand finds your jaw again, pulling you towards him to kiss you. Of course, you can’t resist; he’s Heeseung.
The kiss is rife with neediness, whether from you or Heeseung you can’t tell, but you’re tugging at his hair and he’s clutching at your t-shirt, both of you struggling to get enough of the other. You nip at his bottom lip with your teeth and a heady sigh falls from his mouth into yours, brewing a storm in your mind, a thick fog obscuring everything but thoughts of him.
At the sound of a forced throat clearing, you break away from Heeseung, seeing an elderly lady with a steaming cup in her hand and a disgruntled look on her face. She extends an arm, gesturing behind you. When you follow the direction of her hand, you see a bench that you’re standing right in front of. Heeseung grabs your hand, mumbling an apology and tugging you as far away as possible. You struggle to stifle a laugh at the redness of his ears against his hair.
A huge ride swings and spins into the air, catching your attention, though Heeseung seems to be more interested in the way Jake stands by the entrance with a scowl on his face. Jake waves you over when he sees you, grinning and hugging you both like it’s been years since he saw you.
“Jay and Hoon are..” he trails off, using his arm to vaguely gesture towards the sky.
“Man,” Heeseung whispers, pointing a reverent finger to the sky, “R.I.P.”
Countless fireworks shoot up noisily, painting the dark sky, and Heeseung’s arms fall heavily around your shoulders, his body warm against your back. If not for the way Jake’s flinching next to you, covering his ears with his hands and ducking slightly at the bang of each one, it might feel like the two of you are alone in the moment. Alone despite the chatter, the laughter and squeals. Just you and Heeseung.
And Jake.
Heeseung is amazing at fair games, especially the ring toss. But a tired-looking man in a business suit wins the Hello Kitty plush you’d been eyeing for the snotty toddler wrapped around his leg, so you settle for the Kuromi plush instead. Heeseung says it’s cuter. You agree.
His voice is soft when he asks, “Maybe we can go on the Ferris wheel later?” This is a far cry from the boy of sixteen who fainted at an amusement park just from seeing the drop on the biggest ride there. When you look up at him, his eyes are wide, boring into you, holding the stars in his pupils with a grin across his blue-stained lips, and how could you say no to that face?
The platform by the Ferris wheel is sticky under your shoes, making you cringe with every step you take towards the front of the line. Heeseung’s grip on your hand is tighter than you think it’s ever been when he realises that you’re next to get on. This might be the most scared you’ve ever seen him, your poor boyfriend with his overpriced Kuromi headband shivering beside you.
You frown at the sight, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We don’t have to do this, Hee,” you say.
He tries to play it cool, shrugging with a nonchalance that doesn’t match the fear in his eyes. “I want to,” he assures, though his voice lacks conviction.
“Are you sure?” The way he flinches when the ride operator opens the gate gives you his answer, but Heeseung is firm in his words as he pulls you towards the cart, despite wincing when the operator locks you in. “Baby,” you whisper, touching his cheek. “It’s not too late to get out.”
In what appears to be a display of his bravery, he makes a show of rocking the carriage — only to be told off by the operator (who can’t be older than sixteen) — and cheering (with no conviction) about nothing in particular. You can’t help but laugh, the cart shaking slightly as you let your head fall back and you only laugh harder when Heeseung gasps because of it.
He flinches again when the ride starts moving, an unsettling creak sending you forward just enough to allow the next victims — according to Heeseung — to get on the ride. When the last of them board, the wheel sets off in a slow spin and he spends the entire first rotation with his eyes clamped shut, only opening them after a while when he thinks the ride is over.
The wheel creaks more than what you think is necessary and he only grows more and more outwardly uncomfortable, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and gripping the safety bar above your laps until his knuckles turn white.
“Would it make you feel better if I held your hand?” you coo, holding your left hand out to him.
He rolls his eyes but takes your hand in his, holding it between his palms. Seemingly at ease, Heeseung shifts slightly in his seat to close the tiny gap between you, pressing his knee into yours.
Even in the distance, the fair’s LED lights are beautiful, melting away into flashing bokeh before your eyes as the carriage inches higher and higher. You almost forget your company, leaning over the edge to get a better look, only for Heeseung to put his arm on your arm, mumbling, “Stop it.”
His skin is warm despite the slight chill that comes with your increasing altitude, and you wish the carriage was smaller—cramped even, forcing the two of you together so tightly that you have no choice but to become one. You sit in the quiet of the night, excitement on the fairground growing quieter as the wheel spins, agonisingly slow, until eventually it’s just the two of you—you and Heeseung: the only people in the moment.
The only people in the world.
“Why are we even on this thing?” you whisper, squeezing his hand.
Heeseung shrugs his shoulders as gently as he can manage so as not to rock the carriage. His eyes are big when he looks at you, holding your gaze intently. “I wanted to be romantic.”
Oh, Heeseung, you think, pressing your lips into a frown. He’s the sweetest person in the world and just the thought of it makes your stomach flutter. “You’re plenty romantic,” you say sincerely.
He scoffs. “Yeah, because pretending you didn’t exist for a year is romantic.”
“Yes! Very!” You chuckle, nodding your head.
Again, he rolls his eyes at you but he uses his hand to hold your face, pulling you in. His kiss tastes like candy floss and the blue raspberry slushy you shared earlier, lips soft, relaxed against your own. Your hand reaches for his thigh, meeting instead with the squished plushy between your bodies and you can’t help but laugh.
With your presentation out of the way, you and the guys are all sitting in Heeseung and Jay’s living room for the first night of Spring break. You’ve just about reached your limit, cuddling into Heeseung’s side with your eyes closed, sleepily listening to the conversation. It’s unintelligible, more laughter and wheezes than anything else.
You shift your way into Heeseung’s lap after a while, moving around to get comfortable. It only takes two movements for him to grab you by the waist, holding you still. You try again, and his lips catch the shell of your ear. “Relax, baby. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” you admit, moving around again until he sighs, relieved, you think. A wicked grin spreads over your lips when you feel him getting hard, grinding down on him a little and liking the warmth that spreads in your stomach from having him pressed against you.
“Stop it,” he whispers, kissing the spot behind your ear.
You heed the warning but can’t help the thoughts filling your mind, though you try to ignore them, laughing at something Sunghoon said about Jake’s ugly hat and shoes. Jake doesn’t find it as funny as the rest of you seem to.
Another hour passes by in the same way before the boys stumble into Jay’s room, calling out a slurred goodnight to you and Heeseung on the couch. You stand up first, holding out a hand for him to take and giggling when he presses a kiss to the back of it.
In his room, he stares at a spot on the wall as you close the door, a contemplative look on his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, but he doesn’t look at you, only nodding his head with a crease along his brow.
You kiss him, a featherlight touch of your lips against his. It’s soft for a while, sweet and sincere until he clutches your shirt like his life depends on it. Heeseung’s hands are all over you, stroking and squeezing every part of you he can reach. Overwhelming heat burns your skin under his touch. He inhales sharply through his nose when you reach for his waistband, tugging the drawstring free but he grabs your wrist, stopping you. He keeps kissing you, keeps trying and frowns when you pull away.
“You don’t want this?”
He tilts his head, looking down at you with concern flooding his wide eyes. “Do you think we’re going too fast?” His voice is quiet and he chews on his lip after speaking.
“We’ve been together for six years.”
“A month,” he corrects, looking at his feet.
As badly as you want him, you don’t want him doing anything he’s not ready for, so you wiggle your arm free from his grip, dropping it at your side. He lifts his head to look at you, brows knitted together, the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “I don’t want to rush you.”
“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with wide eyes. “I just don’t want us doing anything you’ll regret.”
“I’m not going to regret this, I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Heeseung,” you say, holding his face in your hands.
He closes his eyes, nodding.
“Do you want to stop?”
“Never,” he whispers and the word has you falling to your knees.
It’s hard to see his exact expression in only the dim glow of the streetlights outside, but you can clearly see the way he’s watching you. The way his eyes are lidded as he chews on his bottom lip, watching you reach for the buckle on his belt. Heeseung threads his fingers through your hair, groaning, and for a few seconds, you’re hypnotised. Too wrapped up in tipsiness and lust to move your fingers, completely focused on the way his breath starts to pick up before you’ve even done anything. You’re starting to think it might be enough for him just to see you like this, on your knees for him, wide-eyed and eager.
Whether on purpose or not, Heeseung tugs on your hair gently, pulling you from your trance. His blunt fingernails scratch at the back of your head as you undo his belt, tugging his jeans down. He steps out of them as soon as he can, smiling when you toss them behind you. Too worked up to wait, you push your face against him. You take a minute to hold his covered cock between your lips, shuddering at the feeling of the damp spot at the top of it. Heeseung grunts, bucking his hips. He looks like sin when you lock eyes with him, licking a strip to the top of his waistband, sucking and nipping at the skin and coarse hair there.
“Quit teasing,” he says, still keeping control of his voice.
You blink up at him sweetly, shaking your head. “I’m not,” you mumble, pulling his underwear down.
Heeseung’s dick smacks his stomach with a wet sound that makes you clench around nothing, and you sit back on your heels to admire him. Maybe it’s from time, or your unbearable desire, but he looks bigger, thicker, and much prettier than you remember. When you finally drag your eyes from his dick, you notice a mark on his hip, right above where his thigh starts. It’s a smudge of something dark, inky almost. You furrow your brows, licking the pad of your thumb to try and get rid of it. He practically flinches when you touch it, moving away from you. The increased distance between you and the low lighting only further obscures it—when you rub at the mark it doesn’t budge.
“What is this?”
“It’s nothing,” he says, sitting down on the bed and covering it with his hand.
If it was anyone other than Heeseung, you might have thought it was a tattoo, but you can’t make sense of the thought so it slips your mind as soon as it occurs. You reach for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on, losing your breath at the sight of his skin glowing golden in the light, and the tip of his cock is a tempting, glossy red. You can’t help but take him in your hand, stroking him slowly.
“Tell me, baby.”
“It’s a bruise,” he manages through a gasp, licking his lips.
Your thumb swipes over his slit and he crumbles. “Heeseung.”
“Butterfly, it’s a butterfly.”
A fuzzy warmth starts to bloom in your chest, overwhelming you. “Lay down,” you say, voice as soft as it’s ever been.
Heeseung obliges, linking his fingers with yours when you move his hand from his thigh. Under the light, you can see it clearly, dark strokes of ink forming a pretty butterfly, tiny, and heart-achingly familiar.
“Is it..” You trail off, moving your lips around words that you can’t get out as tears sting your eyes. “Did I draw this?” Leaning over him, you get as close as you can, using your finger to trace the shape.
Sitting up on his elbows, he looks down at you with a worried look on his face as he nods. “Do you hate it?”
“I love it.. it’s perfect.” You let go of his hand, using the back of your fingers to wipe at your eyes.
Heeseung sits up, letting his hand cup your cheek and looking at you. He uses his thumb to wipe some of the tears you missed before leaning down and kissing you. His lips move slowly with yours, he’s being gentle, so gentle that you hear your heart thudding in your ears.
“Come sit,” he mumbles against your mouth, helping you up and guiding you into his lap, a whine falling out of him when you sit on his cock and you mumble an apology that you don’t mean.
“When did.. Why did you..”
His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “My first birthday I spent without you. I just wanted to have something for you.”
You’ve seen it and you’ve heard it from him, but you still can’t make sense of it. “But you’re.. you’re Heeseung. You’d never get a tattoo, you told me that.”
“I’ll probably never get another tattoo, it hurt like hell,” he says, frowning.
“You’re such a sweetheart.” You cradle his face in your hands, gazing into his eyes, your sweet Heeseung. So different yet so incredibly similar. “You’re, like, obsessed with me.”
There’s a loud adoration in his eyes that makes your stomach turn. “How could I not be?” His smile is wide even though his lips are smushed a little by the way you’re holding his face.
Heeseung tilts his chin towards you so you kiss him, the two of you passing moans and whines between your mouths as you grind on him, his hands gripping your waist under your shirt. He shudders under you, rutting his hips against yours with a groan. He’s harder than ever underneath you, his cock hot between your thighs, pressed up against your core in the most maddening way. It can’t be comfortable for him, the friction from your underwear but he seems like he’s enjoying it just as much as you, maybe more, you think, when he starts throbbing.
Conscious of the boys across the hall, you try your best to be quiet, though Heeseung doesn’t share your concern, his lips parting too wide to keep kissing you and his head falling back as he lets a whine out into the air. His nails dig into your skin, hips speeding up more than you can keep up with as he trembles, clearly so close to the edge that you moan at the sight of him all fucked out in front of you. You chew on your lip, watching his whole face scrunch up before falling to your shoulder, his cum leaking out all over your panties and the tops of your thighs. A grin covers your lips while your pussy aches from the heat of his release and the feeling of his staggered breath hitting your skin. When he finally sits up, sweat slicks the column of his neck and chest, a nervous look in his eyes that he can’t quite bring to meet yours.
“This is j—” Heeseung cuts you off by covering your mouth with his palm.
“I remember. You don’t have to say it, baby, I remember.”
“You were so cute that day,” you say when he moves his hand. Butterflies fill your stomach when you think about it, the first time you ever did anything with each other, with anyone. He was fifteen, with cute round glasses perched on the end of his nose and teeth too big for his mouth, finishing in his jeans with you in his lap.
“You don’t think I’m cute anymore?” he asks, frowning.
“You’re always cute.”
Heeseung grins at your words, so wide and sweet your heart races. He kisses you gently and slips his hand into your underwear, his finger trailing the length of your pussy slowly, groaning into your mouth at how wet you are. You whine into the kiss when he strokes your clit and gasp when he pushes a finger into you easily. Gradually, he adds more fingers, fucking you open on his knuckles and watching as you fall apart.
His lips move from yours, falling to your neck so he can kiss and suck the sensitive skin there. “You feel so good, baby. My sweet girl,” he mumbles, breath searing your skin. The words make you clench, your stomach fluttering relentlessly as he uses his thumb to press on your clit, the pressure enough to make you spiral. It’s all too much too fast and before long, you’re squirming and mewling in Heeseung’s arms, finishing all over his fingers.
Immediately, an excruciating flush burns every inch of your body as you hide your face in his neck to catch your breath. His arms wrap around you and he whispers sweet nothings into your hair while stroking your back.
Ever since that night in his room, all your senses feel heightened when Heeseung is around.
And it doesn’t help that you spend every waking moment with him. Whether in his flat or yours, you’re joined at the hip and it’s near impossible not to pounce on him. In your stomach blooms a heat you haven’t felt in years. An all-consuming flame that makes you hold your breath when he cuddles you; makes you look away when he strips before showering.
He’s taken a liking to shirtlessness, only seeming to remember that the garments exist when he has to leave the house—which isn’t often now that classes have ended. This sudden cotton allergy plagues you, burning the image of his ever-increasing muscle definition and the tattoo on his hip into your memory, so deeply they’re the only things you see when you close your eyes at night.
Even when Heeseung’s being romantic, cooking dinner for the two of you and almost burning his finger with a match while lighting a candle, you’re thinking about him fucking you. When he goes out with the boys and stumbles into your flat, drunk, with a crushed bouquet in his hands, you’re thinking about what might have happened if you’d gone out too. If he’d finger you in the back of a taxi or take you against the door when you got back.
Weeks go by like this until you finally reach your limit.
There’s nothing overtly sexual about the way Heeseung’s sitting. About the way his lashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks, or the way his hair sits in a sleepy mess on his forehead. But it’s Heeseung. So these things existing on him drive you crazy.
Given the lack of privacy in your family homes — by way of an open-door rule when visiting each other — you and Heeseung didn’t have many opportunities to have sex that didn’t involve being tangled around one another in the backseat of his car. And even those occasions were few and far between.
With the only three brain cells that seem to function around your shirtless boyfriend and your head on the doorjamb, you begin to scheme. It doesn’t have to be elaborate—just a way to get Heeseung to fuck you without you having to bring it up.
“What’s up, baby?” he asks, finally looking over at you. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, with a raspiness to it that makes your thoughts run wild. From head to toe, his eyes drag over your body, his tongue coming out to run over his lips.
Clearly, a very delicate, well-timed conversation is in order and the gears in your mind scrape against each other, turning egregiously as you try to figure out how to start the conversation. “I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out. Not the most delicate approach, but the way Heeseung’s eyes widen suggests you might be on the right track. “I didn’t mean to say that,” you admit sheepishly.
He chuckles deeply in a way you haven’t heard in years. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a challenge in his question, evident from his raised brow, the setting aside of his phone, and the way he sits up straight. The movement forces the duvet to slip a little, falling from above his belly button to his hips in one fell — effortlessly sexy — swoop.
In spite of this, you can’t help but roll your eyes at him. How could you be standing there, in nothing but his t-shirt, asking him to fuck you and he’s caught up on semantics? “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?” When you don’t say anything, Heeseung lifts the duvet from his body entirely, grinning when your gaze locks on his hips. His pyjama pants are sitting low enough to show off the waistband of his underwear, and they don’t do anything to hide the way his hard cock pushes against them.
Heeseung towers over you, overwhelming you and the space of the doorframe as his mouth quirks up at one corner. “You want it, baby?” he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face in his hand, using his thumb to trace your lips.
His face dips down to yours and you can’t resist reaching up to kiss him, whining at the contact as you move your lips in sync with his. The sounds he’s making are dizzying, deep groans you feel in your chest. His hand grips your waist, pulling you as close as possible so you can feel him, hard and thick, pressing against you.
You whimper when he pulls away, chasing his kiss, but Heeseung only chuckles. “Say the word and I’m yours,” he whispers, looking down at you with those big eyes.
“I’m not going to beg.”
He smiles sweetly, a soft curve of his lips summoning butterflies. “Suit yourself,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of your neck and leaving the room.
Flustered, you follow him, flinging your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back. “Okay, I’m going to beg.”
“I’m listening.”
“I need you,” you mumble into his skin.
“You have me.”
Even though his words and the way his lips audibly split into a grin make your heart race, you can’t help your frustration. “Heeseung,” you say, pleading with him.
He frees himself from your grip, turning around. When you look up at him, he’s watching you closely through lidded eyes, his lips parted in a soft pout that makes your heart melt. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close enough to feel him pressing against you. “I’m all yours, baby. What’s up?”
“Why are you torturing me?”
This makes him smile as he shakes his head. “I’m not.”
“Please.”
He brings a hand up to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and you can’t help but nuzzle into his palm. “Please what?”
“You know what I need and I can’t go any longer without it,” you mumble into his hand. Heeseung only raises a brow and you sigh. Somehow, your want for him is greater than your embarrassment so you sigh, looking him in the eye. “If you want to, please, please, fuck me, Heeseung. Any way you want, baby, just promise me you’ll do it. I need it, need you.”
A shit-eating grin takes over his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Was that so hard?” he asks, frowning when you don’t reply. “Don’t get all moody, baby, talk to me.”
Heeseung picks you up, holding you close as you wrap your legs around his waist. Both of his hands are spread over your ass and you’re too embarrassed to say anything, chewing your lip and staring at the little mole on his forehead.
“Need me to fuck you ‘til you can talk again?” There’s a roughness to his voice that makes your cheeks flush, but you can’t help but laugh, head falling back in a fit of cackles.
“What are you talking about?”
His pretty lips come together in a pout before he speaks. “I don’t know.” He shrugs, the tips of his ears burning red as he carries you to his room, using his foot to close the door behind him. “I’m rusty.”
You shake your head before kissing his forehead. “You’re perfect.”
Heeseung sets you down on the bed gently, crawling over you. “I like seeing you in my shirts,” he says, clutching the fabric in his fists, tugging a little.
“Someone has to wear them.”
A breathy laugh falls from his lips. “What?” He tilts his head, leaning away from you to sit back on his heels. “You don’t like seeing me like this?”
It’s hard to find a balance between missing his warmth and looking at his body. Staring at the definition that marks his chest and stomach and the way his muscles stick out over his biceps, you can feel yourself leaking at the sight of him. Your eyes catch on his waistband, on the strip of hair that’s cut off by the start of the fabric before falling to the bulge in his pants.
“You’re looking at me like I’m your next meal,” he mumbles, leaning back over you with a deep flush on his cheeks and neck.
“I think I want you to be.”
“You think?”
You nod eagerly, anticipation swirling in your stomach.
“Anything I can do to make you certain?” Heeseung’s voice is thick with something you think could be enough to make you finish.
“Whatever you want,” you say, desperate.
He chews on his lip, considering you for a while before kissing your cheek. Once more, he sits up, tugging at your waist. “First, I want this shirt out of my way,” he says with a smile.
Immediately, you lean off the bed to let him take it off, tossing it behind him. “Anything else?”
Heeseung’s too busy staring to speak, taking you in hungrily with a jarring combination of lust and adoration behind his eyes. You thought you’d feel shy about him seeing you after so long, but you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life as he reaches down to lock his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “You’re so pretty,” he says against your skin.
There’s no stopping the flutter in your stomach or the smile that spreads over your lips. You tell him you love him and he says it back as he leans back down to kiss you slowly, his tongue licking into your mouth at an agonising pace, a line of saliva connecting you to him when he pulls away.
“I want to get my head between your legs,” he mumbles, letting his hand dip between your spread thighs. “So wet already?” he asks, dragging your slick up to your clit, rubbing it with a featherlight touch that leaves a whine slipping from your lips. “Will you let me?”
You nod.
Heeseung smiles and you match it before he dips his head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there for a minute. His breath and wet mouth are hot, burning a trail down to your collarbone and chest, where he gets distracted, pulling one of your nipples between his lips.
Your stomach twists at the sight of him, his pretty, pouty lips sucking and biting at your sensitive skin, the way he’s moaning against you, using his thick fingers to tug and pinch your other breast. It takes him a while to move on but you don’t complain, even when he presses tickly kisses to your stomach.
When he reaches your legs, he gets off the bed, kneels on the floor and hooks his arms around your thighs to pull you towards him. You feel exposed when he uses his thumbs to spread you, staring at your pussy with wide eyes, his lips parted a little until his head falls back with a groan.
“Missed this pussy. Been thinking about it so much, all the time. So beautiful, baby.” He manages to drag his gaze from between your legs to lock eyes with you. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” His lips touch your thighs, kissing the soft skin there, sucking marks into it and biting softly. The sting is subtle but it makes you clench, a movement that isn’t lost on him. “You’re so needy, huh? You want me that bad?” he asks, looking up with a tilted head.
You mumble the word ‘no’ and shake your head. “Need you.” The words come out of their own accord, nothing more than a desperate whine that makes Heeseung press his eyes shut. You watch as he shifts on the floor, leaning in and giving you the attention you deserve.
Heeseung’s nose grazes your slit and you gasp at the sudden contact, flinging your head back into the pillows when he licks a strip from there to your clit, giving it a quick peck.
You card your fingers through his hair, gripping at the strands so hard it must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, going slow despite the way you’re trying to rut against his face. He kisses the spot above your clit, his tongue poking out to lick at the skin there, only hitting the bud a few times and the anticipation is enough to make you spiral.
Time stands still, all concept of it demolished when, finally, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit, running his tongue over it with a pressure that leaves you shaking against the sheets. Moans pour out of you like water from a faucet with nothing but pleasure and Heeseung’s sweet mouth crossing your mind.
It doesn’t seem like he’s ever going to stop, only coming up for air for a brief moment before sticking a finger into you and attaching his mouth to your clit, burying himself in your wetness. The stretch is minimal, barely registering in the waves of pleasure crashing over you, until he adds a second finger, thick and rigid as he works you open for him. By the time his third finger enters, you have to pull him away by his hair, struggling to find the words to say and settling on a whiny cry of his name.
“Hmm?” He looks up at you, face covered in slick that shines on his chin and nose, shoulders rising and falling heavily, but his fingers don’t let up, curling towards your belly button torturously slow.
“Want to cum with you inside.”
Heeseung’s eyes darken and he licks his lips. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh, and I don’t want you using a condom either, want you to fill me up.”
“Are you sure?”
You nod. “I’m still on the pill and you’re the only person I’ve ever been with.”
Heeseung wastes no time standing up from the floor, watching hungrily as you sigh at the emptiness, moving up on the bed. He uses his fist to pump his cock slowly, sighing when he drags his thumb over his tip. A beat passes before he grins, boyish and handsome while crawling over you again. His face softens and his eyes burn into yours as he cups your cheek in his palm. “You sure about this?”
“I’m sure, Heeseung, you’re all I want,” you whisper, pecking his lips.
“Me too.”
He uses his free hand to reach for his cock, rubbing his tip over your clit and chewing on his lip. He lets his cock split your folds, grinding his length against you, rubbing your cunt with a wet sound that fills the room. Heeseung straightens up and you moan when he spits into his palm, stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. You hold your breath, bracing for the stretch and crying out when he pushes in. His head falls forward with a sigh, his hair tickling your forehead.
“I missed you,” he groans when he bottoms out, his thumb running over your lips. A moan slips out of him when you open your mouth, running your thumb over the pad of his finger and sucking on it. “Missed these pretty lips, this pussy. Don’t know how I got on without it.” His words and the feeling of him inside after so long only make you dizzy, knowing that he wanted you like you wanted him. He watches you with parted lips, rocking his hips tenderly against yours.
“Faster, Hee,” you whisper. “Harder.”
Heeseung’s brows knit together and he slows to a pace that lets you feel single vein and inch of him as he bottoms out before pulling almost all the way out. “Can you take it?” he asks, a jarring tone to his voice that you think is a challenge.
You nod desperately. “Please.”
The word flips a switch for him and he speeds up, thrusting so hard, so deep that your back arches off the bed as his tip nudges your g-spot each time. Just when it all starts to feel too much, Heeseung lifts one of your legs, hitting deeper than he has before and tangling up a knot in your stomach.
“You’re so good, baby, so good for me.” His eyes are dark and lidded, full of all the love in the world as he gazes into yours, a tangible love that overwhelms you, eating you alive along with his praise.
Sweltering heat stretches through every part of your body at the drag of him inside, the push and pull of his cock along your stuttering walls. It’s enough to make you shiver and a cry of his name rips out of you when he starts rubbing your clit again, pushing the bud in slow circles that make you screw your eyes shut.
“That’s it. Cum for me, baby, make a mess,” he whispers and that’s as much as you can take.
Stars flash behind your closed eyes as every single part of your body sets alight, dazed by Heeseung’s whines and the feeling of being full, finally being full, until both ends of the knot tug and tug, leaving you with nothing but a hoarse moan that dies in your throat as your orgasm hits you like a truck.
A lewd squelch accompanies each of his thrusts as they get sloppier and sloppier, losing their rhythm and intensity. It seems like he’s right there with you though when he collapses on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck and his moans slipping out like music to your ears.
It’s hard not to fall apart under him, but you try your best, dragging your nails over the toned muscles of his back while telling him you love him over and over until he finishes. Both of you are trembling, fighting for breath and whining as Heeseung sloppily fucks you full of his cum. The sound is downright pornographic, loud and wet as your cum mixes with his for the first time in so long. An inexplicable intimacy so thick it hangs in the air, perching on your shoulders as he looks into your eyes.
Heeseung slows down after a while, stopping completely but not pulling out yet, keeping you full and aching around him. When he catches his breath, he gives you a dreamy smile, thanking you before pressing soft kisses to every part of your face he can reach.
You whine when he pulls out, missing him as soon as he’s gone. Despite your sensitivity, you want to beg him to come back, to slip back into you and stay forever, though Heeseung has other plans. He sits between your legs, dragging a lazy finger up your slit and watching with a smile as cum leaks out. You squirm against the sheets, pushing your head into the pillow when he uses two fingers to push it back in.
“Wish I could keep you full like this forever,” he mumbles absently, curling his fingers.
All you can do is sigh happily. Long minutes go by until he takes his fingers out of you, reaching behind him for his shirt to wipe you up before leaning down to your face, mumbling against your lips to come and shower with him.
You’ve never showered with Heeseung before and a voice in your head tells you to press your cheek against the tile and let him have you again, but you’re way too sleepy for that. The warmth of the water and his big hands roaming your body do nothing to help, only forcing your eyes to fall shut as you lean back against Heeseung’s chest, willing yourself to stay awake.
Once you’re all showered and clean, you only feel sleepier, standing on the plush bath mat in front of the steamed-up mirror. Droplets of water trickle down your skin and you can’t help but revel in the warmth of the room around you. Wrapped snugly in a soft, fluffy towel, you find yourself too tired to follow Heeseung out, slathering some of the expensive moisturiser Jay keeps in the bathroom over your skin. You peer into the mirror, though you don’t see much, and for a moment, it’s just you and the steady trickle of water from the showerhead. The bathroom smells like Heeseung’s minty shower gel and you miss him already, but you take your time anyway, savouring the moment and everything that came before it.
You find him in his room when you’re done, tucking the last corner of a fitted sheet around his mattress.
“You want to nap, baby?” he asks when he sees you, holding out a clean shirt for you to wear.
“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head and dropping the towel so he can put the shirt over your head.
“Let me just fix the pillowcases, yeah?”
You nod, slumping into his desk chair and watching the muscles in his back shift and flex as he moves around the room, dumping the dirty bedding into his laundry basket and slipping the clean linen over his pillows. He pulls the duvet back and pats the mattress, grinning when you shake your head and make grabby hands in his direction,
Heeseung stretches his arms above his head and comes over to you but you stop him before he can pick you up.
“I’m going grocery shopping with Yunjin later and I need a pound for the trolley, do you have any?” you ask through a yawn.
He scratches his chin, thinking about it. “If I do, they’re in my wallet,” he says, reaching for it on the desk and handing it to you before taking a seat on the end of his bed.
When you pull on the zipper to open the coin slot, you find a shiny pound coin and a folded piece of lined paper. You leave the coin where it is and hold the paper between two fingers for him to see. “What’s this?”
Immediately, he hides his face with his hands but you can still see the flush on his ears. You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting, but despite your curiosity, you won’t look at it if he doesn’t want you to. “Sorry, baby,” you say, putting it back. “Forget I asked.”
Heeseung sighs, looking up at you through the gaps in his fingers. “You can look if you want, it’s nothing bad, just mildly humiliating.”
Nervous anticipation settles over your body and you can’t help but laugh a little, feeling your breath catch in your throat when you unfold the crumpled and creased paper. It’s blank. You arch a curious brow at Heeseung, who, though still slightly embarrassed, gestures for you to turn it over.
What meets your eyes on the other side leaves you stunned. There, inked in blue with delicate care yet bearing the natural imperfections of a hand-drawn butterfly, was a familiar image. It’s the very same butterfly you drew in your notebook on a spring date with him four years ago. Your fingers tremble as you trace the lines, your heart racing as you remember how he’d torn it from the page, eyes full of appreciation for the simple drawing.
Tears well up in your eyes when it dawns on you. It’s the very same butterfly he has tattooed on his hip, a permanent reminder of your love that endured separation and time.
Your voice is weak as you look up at him, quivering with emotion. “You kept it after all these years,” you whisper.
Heeseung smiles, his eyes full of love. “I never let go of what matters to me.”
© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !
permanent taglist: @asahicore
#heeseung smut#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen scenarios#heeseung scenarios#heeseung x reader#lee heeseung smut#lee heeseung#lee heeseung x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshots#heeseung oneshots#heeseung imagines#enhypen hard hours#fic.heeseung
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mean dom w/ matz seonghwa (specifically)
words - 🤨
genre - smut with a little fluff at the end
warnings - oh god, mean dom!hwa, choking, spit kink, overstimulation, brief mention of safewords (none are used in this), degradation, brat kink, clit slapping, dacryphilia, desk sex, boot riding, boot licking, edging, aftercare, clothed sex (he wears his fur coat the entire time), gagging (with panties), good god, i’m so sorry for what i’ve written…
matz seonghwa is genuinely driving me insane. every time i see him in that stupid fur coat all i can think about is him being a mean dom
like i’m sorry but imagine him pinning you to the bed with a hand around your neck whilst he fucks you in nothing but the coat
your cheeks are wet from a mixture of your tears of overstimulation and his spit
but he doesn’t slow down as he watches you cry
no, he speeds up, even going as far as to reach between you and let his fingers play with your already abused clit
he’d been playing with it for what felt like hours now, alternating between his fingers and his tongue until he finally decides you were ready for him to fuck you
you whine and try your best to thrash about, but his grip tightens around your neck
your eyes go wide as he restricts your air supply
“fucking stay still, brat,” he grunts through gritted teeth, “you wanted to piss me off so now you have to suffer the consequences.”
and if that doesn’t do its job, he won’t hesitate to deliver a serious of hard slaps to you clit that have you squealing from the overstimulation
when you eventually go limp in his grasp, he won’t praise you
he’ll just loosen the hold he has on your neck a little and go back to playing with your clit like he was before
it doesn’t take long before you’re wailing as you cream around his dick, but even then he continues to snap his hips against yours
and he won’t stop until you either safeword or he’s satisfied with how many times you’ve cum for him
and when he’s working, he definitely makes you kneel between his legs as he wears the coat
even if he doesn’t have his dick shoved down your throat - which believe me, he often does - he just like the power it gives him
to see you sitting there with wide eyes, staring at him like he’s your whole universe makes his heart stutter a little
occasionally he’ll pet your hair, but other than that he does his best to ignore you as you lean your head against his thigh
of course, he sneaks glances at you when he knows you won’t notice
but it gets him off to see you so needy and desperate for just the tiniest bit of attention
and he lets it go on for as long as he can, letting you silently beg for his dick until he cant wait any more
without a word, he’ll lift you to your feet and bend you over his desk
with one huge hand pinning you to the desk, he uses his other to flip your skirt up and rip your panties away from your body
if you even dare to complain about it he’ll put you back on the floor for a little while longer
only this time the torn up panties will in between your lips, pushing against your tongue to silence you
of course, when enough time has passed for you to ‘think about your actions’, as seonghwa had put it, he’ll pick you back up and try again
most of the time he’ll fuck you like that until he cums in your starving cunt, leaving you high and dry and begging for more
it’s just because he likes to see you all whiny and pathetic and desperate for his cock
but sometimes he’ll let you cum before putting you back on the floor between his legs before continuing what whatever the fuck he was doing beforehand
occasionally, on the not-so-rare occasion that he doesn’t let you cum, he’ll make you ride his foot whilst you’re down there
if you want it that bad, you can’t complain about how he lets you have it, right?
so you let your fingers lace with the fur of his coat as you grind against his boot
he just chuckles to himself, comparing you to a bitch in heat under his breath as you desperately move your hips back and forth
and when you cum, best believe he’s making you lick it clean
he taunts you as you lap at the sticky liquid that covers his boot, calling you whatever name pops into his head as he watches you
“such a dirty slut, hm?” he asks as he pulls his foot away from your tongue and uses it to tilt you head back
behind the layer disdain in his eyes, you can see a familiar twinkle that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach
so you carry on until he’s deemed it enough, and pulls you onto his lap to lay against his chest and relax as he finishes his work
because even after all of that, you can’t say that mean dom!hwa wouldn’t be absolutely beautiful with aftercare
before you can even ask him for anything, it’s there
like, the scene is barely over and there’s already a wash cloth in his hand, ready to wipe your flaccid body down of all the spit and cum and sweat
he praises you in between soft kisses, and brushes your hair out of your face with his gentle fingers
you can’t help but flinch a little every time the fur of his coat brushes against your oversensitive skin, but he won’t take it off just yet
and the second your body is somewhat clean (you’ll be showering as soon as he’s sure you can stand up for that long, seonghwa wall make sure of it) he’s pressing snacks to your lips
he hand feeds you like you’re some sort of royalty, which to him you might as well be, and watches you with gleeful eyes as you slowly chew on whatever he gives you
and don’t get me started on the water bottle either
he puts it to your lips every few seconds for you to take a sip and he won’t put it back down until you’ve drunk at least half the bottle
even if you’re whining about not wanting anymore, he just quirks an eyebrow and brings it back to your lips as if he didn’t hear you
finally, when you’re clean, fed, and watered he lies down next to you on his back and opens the front of his coat wide
you take the hint and crawl onto his chest so he can wrap you both up in the oversized thing
chances are the two of you will fall asleep like that since it’s so warm and cosy
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez fluff#ateez fic#ateez smut#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa fanfic#seonghwa fluff#seonghwa smut
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astro thoughts pt blablabla 🫴🏼
pinterest
Leo mercury + 6H, she’s a perfectionist and has such a creative, intelligent and confident mind. she’s PRACTICAL and knows her worth -describing a friend-.
Uranus/Neptune retrograde could mean struggle to exit a toxic group, “friends”.
Mercury retrograde not necessarily represents obvious or visible problems/conditions with speaking, stutter or dyslexia, etc. I’ve noticed they could seem rude, too direct, not diplomatic, they could have difficulties explaining themselves. they could generalize often or they don’t ask about certain things bc they’re ashamed.
when your mars is in their 2H you feel so comfortable with them. in other words, the other day I hooked up with the person I share this synastry and I felt incredibly comfortable, seeing each others naked and don’t feel ashamed or judged. idk it’s funny to me, I’ve never felt that way -casual situation-, like I could even fart and he won’t even judge. too explicit I’m sorry 😭. I’m gonna stop with the mars 2H synastry
I’ve read a lot of comments about black moon in lilith 7H that says they could be part of a 3rd party or be “the other women”. I have that placement in my natal chart and already a couple of times my friends who end up a 2 year relationship propose me to be their sneaky link. also, it could mean that the girlfriends/ boyfriends/partners of your friends could be jealous of you, the Lilith 7H person.
9H stellium in solar return signifies improvement, learning, to expand your horizons, to start a new period of high/education/learning.
in this whole period of time I’ve learned about my needs and how to communicate them (Chiron 3H in solar return): for example, I’ve seen people and I wanted something casual but didn’t know how to make myself understood. I didn’t even know what I wanted, so I’ve learned it during this period. It doesn’t count only in situationship stuff, it’s an example.
Uranus 4H in Solar Return: yes, it doesn’t mean you’ll end up moving to another country. I’ve seen a CHANGE in my family dynamic. believe me, if my “me” from one year ago observes my family dynamic now, she would be SHOCKED.
Solar return mars conjunct Part of Fortune: yes, I’ve been 🤓📚🫦
Solar moon square uranus: I was a good girl all that time 🥰 I was suffering, struggling so hard so things will be in order, pretty and diplomatic… My feelings and ideas didn’t match what I usually used to do: do whatever I want (uranus ruled). I wanted but my subconscious was telling me to keep calm so all the trust or time i gave to build that environment won’t be wasted. then, unintentionally, I broke that diplomatic environment after my birthday. it felt really good, like it was me again😩
natal saturn 1H why so conservative and traditional? I’m not affirming is a bad thing but this placement often behaves exaggeratedly, too disciplined/formal. they could be too focused on what should be and how things should work instead of appreciating the whole situation. they could end up judging others too much, evidencing the amount of criticism they have on themselves.
pluto 9H not everything has to do with politics. -yes and no, it’s debatable-. my point is, relax, sometimes life it’s not how you wanted to be. let things be🧘♀️
Lilith (mean) 5H you were the experiment of your parents, don’t you?
Node trine Jupiter tells me you can overcome challenges in your life even if you have a lot of chiron aspects in your natal chart 😭 idk if it’s understandable. What I mean is that the universe has your back, this aspect goes through deep experiences that have the previous mentioned effects on them.
Ascendant - Mercury aspects: job that has to do with communication 🤪 too obvious but I’ve noticed. lawyer, publicity, etc.
sun opposition sun synastry: opposites attracts.
pluto opposition juno natal tells me you have to work first on yourself to enter a relationship, to solve those control issues. also meaning that if you didn’t work on yourself, you could have being the one directing the relationship.
—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
❀ Based on personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings
❀ English is not my first language
❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer
Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋
Do not copy. Please give me credits.
#synastry#astrology#astro observations#pinterest#astro posts#astro placements#astro notes#birth chart#solar return chart#Solar return#natal chart#Astro thoughts#sun opposition sun#Lilith#mars 2H overlays#Chiron 3H#leo mercury#ascendant#mercury retrograde#retrograde#Pluto opposite Juno
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(Guess which fucker is suffering from his uterus again? ME! Bevcucase I am suffering you get to hear how I think each member of the batfam (sibs only cause im mad at bruce rn for something he did in another story)would deal with you aggressively swearing at the Universe)
*Transmasc Reader on their period headcanons*
Dick Grayson
“I am going to stab a motherfucker in the throat and sacrifice them to the sun god if means he’ll end my pain”
surprised af, looks at you like you’re crazy
mildy concerned that you’re muttering under your breath swearing vengeance at the universe for giving you a period (apparently the uterus thing is fine but the period thing isn’t?)
Eventually asks what’s wrong and when you tell him that everything hurts, he’s very much going ooh and calling up babs to ask for some help with managing your pain. Once that’s happened he takes you to his room because his mattress is heated and wraps himself around you for a nap
Jason Todd
“If one more person tests me I’m telling Damian that they pissed me off”
He’s surprised with the viciousness of your throat and then pissed when he realizes that you have his favorite hoodie
you have to give him all the puppy eyes in the world to convince him that you need it and it smells like him and that makes it safe.
He understands better then a lot of people because his working girls complain to him when they see him.
helps your make even more creative threats because it’s funny to watch the horror on dick’s face when he hears them.
Cassandra Cain
“I’m going to rip out my uterus and feed it to the ground”
Dies laughing to herself at the absolute violence you threaten yourself with too make the pain stop then scolds you for threatening to hurt yourself
you explain to her that you aren’t actually going to hurt yourself and that you’re just in pain and severely dysphoric.
To combat this, Cass calls you brother (well signs it aggressively) while she cuddles with you in Dick’s bed (it’s the best bed okay!)
Tim Drake
“I hate my everyone and everything”
Finds you crying, and swearing at your body in front of the mirror. Immediately goes into damage control mode, bundling you away from the mirror and calling bart, because Bart’’s also trans and ergo he might know how to help with your freak out.
Bart has to stop Tim from freaking out and very patiently explains to him that sometimes bouts of dysphoria happen and there is nothing that anyone can do about them. Tim ends up asking again if you want to start t and when you say no, he just sits with you on the ground while you come back to yourself
Duke Thomas
“Fuck these motherfucking cramps,”
As the only other trans person in the manor (though Duke is agender to your transmasc) you feel a special kind of bond with him. He makes you feel comfortable and safe when your skin is itchy and all you want to do is explode
Laughs at you swearing at your cramps, and offers you some aleve and a heat pad. The two of you watch an anime together and argue about ship wars. It’s great!
Damian Al-Ghul Wayne
“I am going to rip out the universe’s entrails and give them to damian as a gift”*
Thinks that it’s perfectly reasonable to be angry at your body for failing you.
Makes you spar to get all of the anger that lives inside of you out. It’s very funny to watch the two of you. scream in different languages as you attempt to beat dummies into a pulp
He of everyone understands that it’s hard to keep control of anger and keeps you start to notice when your hold on it is fraying
*(the line that inspired everything)
#yandere batfam#dark batfam#yandere batman#yandere batfamily#dark batfamily#batfam#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere cassandra cain#yandere tim drake#yandere duke thomas#yandere damian wayne#gender dysphoria#period tw#yandere writing prompts#yandere#yandere platonic#platonic yandere#batboy tag#my voices and hands; are all i have (original work)
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Brat Taming
18+ Content, Minors do NOT interact
Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader
Summery: Modern AU Kakashi is your arrogant and creepy step brother. One night while your parents are out of town you come home from a night of partying only to find Kakashi in your room, ready to make you pay for all your cheeky comments
Warnings: NSFW, NONCON, Stepcest, Toxic Kakashi, brat taming, oral, fingering, unprotected penetration, choking, anal play, facial, hair pulling, harsh spanking, under age drinking.
Word Count: 4.6k
Anon Ask
When your mom married Sakumo three years ago you thought your Clueless fantasy was about to come true. Your new step brother, Kakashi, was stupid hot. He was blessed with a gorgeous angular face, deep brown eyes, thick silky silver hair and a mouthwatering scar over his left eye. He loved to walk around the house either in fitted muscle tanks or shirtless with only loose gray sweats, showing off his chiseled frame. On top of that he had big masculine hands with perfectly manicured fingers that you would daydream about grazing your most sensitive areas. He was going to be your Josh and you were Cher waiting for him to fall madly in love with you.
Only it turned out he was a complete and total ass.
Soon after your parents got together he had been accepted to Harvard and loved to lord over everyone what a genius he is. You quickly grew a distaste for the prick and got cheeky whenever he felt the need to remind you of his superiority.
Currently you are a freshman in college starting your second semester at UMass. You chose to live at home to keep your mom company since you didn’t like the idea of living in a tiny dorm room with some random roommate you didn’t know. Kakashi on the other hand, just got kicked out of the dorms last semester and was finishing his Junior year at home with you and your parents.
It turns out you were not the only person he liked to mouth off to. He got into several arguments with many of his dorm mates and the RA. Eventually he was banned from on-campus housing and now you were left to suffer through daily interactions with the world's most annoying step brother.
Always his insufferable self, recently Kakashi has been extra creepy. He seems to have forgotten what a shirt is and rarely had one on his back. Sometimes you thought you caught him palming himself out of the corner of your eye and you would catch him staring at you when you get ready to go out with your friends. Most annoyingly, sometimes he’d hang out in your bedroom when you were trying to get ready for bed.
“Can I help you?”
“Just making sure you’re not so brain dead that you forgot how to put on pants. I know it can be hard for some people.”
“Oh is that so? Cause I was just making sure you didn't forget how to shut your mouth. I know it can be hard for some people.”
“Careful, now. You should really mind who you’re speaking to that way.”
“Sorry, I don’t take kindly to creeps who think I’m too stupid to put on pants. Is that why they kicked you out? Cause you were trying to show girls how to put on their pants?”
Kakashi furiously charged up to you and got right in your face. You were scared but you weren’t gonna show him that. Instead you glare at him.
“Watch it kid or you’ll find yourself in a world of trouble.”
“Threats don’t work with me big bro. Try again some other time.”
Angry, he left the room. Closing his door with a snap.
It had been like this for weeks. His unwelcome presence always looming around. You hated the way he looked at you. It was like he was hunting for a reason to tear you down. Whether it was your degree, your ‘public university’ education, or your slutty outfit choices. The guy needed a life. Most of the time you’d quip back but sometimes you just didn’t have the energy and instead roll your eyes. Tonight was one of those nights. Sakumo and your mom were out of town on a romantic getaway so you were going out while Kakashi tried to lord over you as the ‘man of the house.’
“Ah you going to see your boy toy? You know you’re never going to get a respectable man dressed like that.”
“I’m not going to see any boy toy, I’m going out with my friends.”
You see him give a smug smirk at your answer
“Besides, it’s not up to you if I’m looking for a respectable man or not. Maybe I’m not looking for one at all.”
“So just looking to be a little whore. I see how it is.”
You glare at him before rolling your eyes.
“I’m out. See you later, loser.”
You catch Kakashi’s face paint in fury as you leave. He hated how you constantly try to undermine him. He hated that you were such a brat. And he truly hated how no one ever put you in your place.
********************************************
You loudly came home at 2am from partying with your friends. You were a little inebriated and stumbled to the kitchen to get water before heading upstairs to bed. You make your way up the stairs, tripping over your high heels. You get to your bedroom and when you turn on the light you see Kakashi already laying in your bed.
“Seriously, what’s your problem?”
“I have no problem. I’m not the one getting home at 2 am after a night of underage drinking.”
You were hit with a wave of sobriety at his words. If he told your mom, you’d be screwed. Seeing your expression, he knew he had you cornered. Kakashi stands up and walks past you as if he’s leaving the room, putting himself between you and the door before changing his mind and closing it.
“Remember when I said you should watch it?”
He turns to you, taking a step forward. You begin to stumble backwards towards the bed.
“You’re such a filthy brat” he spits.
You continue to stumble backwards, your heels slipping off your feet.
“And there's nothing I love more than putting a brat in her place.”
Your eyes widen in fear as you see a dark smile stretch across his face. Calves hitting the bed, you fall down to the floor and Kakashi weaves his strong hands into your hair, pulling it back so you’re forced to stare up at him. Your mind hazy, you begin to realize exactly how he imagines putting you in your place and it causes you to tremble.
He tugs down his sweatpants and pulls out his length. Its weight slaps you in the face with a heavy thud. You flinch in his grasp but his fingers tighten in your locks as he begins beating you with his manhood.
“Drunk little girls like you don’t deserve to brush their teeth with a toothbrush. They only get to brush their teeth with cock. Now open that brat mouth for me.”
“No!”
Kakashi spits on your face. “I said open”
In your outrage you open your mouth about to hurl an insult at him when he shoved himself between your lips and pushed your head all the way down to his stomach. You were gagging and retching around him. You pushed against his thighs with all your might but your pathetic drunken arms were no match for his robust muscular physique.
“That’s it. Choke on my cock you twerp.”
He groaned as he feels you constrict around his tip in an attempt to swallow air. Your eyes were tearing up from oxygen deprivation and your entire body was rigid in your struggle. He roughly pulls you up and down on him, pummeling your throat with a manhood much too large for your mouth. You feel your jaw lock as you open wide, tears falling freely from your eyes.
He pulls you off of him and slaps your drool and tear drenched face.
“Look at you. Just a little slut swallowing me so good. It seems college has at least taught you how to swallow dick so I guess your tuition has been put to good use.”
Your chest is heaving as you gulp down fresh air, seeing two of him with inebriated eyes while the pain of your hair being pulled registers in your hazy mind.
“Again.”
He plummets into your mouth once more, fucking your face while you choke. Drool dribbling past your lips and down the front of your dress. He threatens you,
“Don’t even think about running to mommy. I’ll tell her all about how drunk you were and how you came onto me and you’ll be grounded and not allowed to see your little friends for the rest of the semester. Got it?”
He shakes your head with the hand grasping your hair. You whine ‘yes’ with a full mouth as you cry out from the pain. He retreats from your throat and you cough while he shoves you face down on your bed. He bends you over its edge, ass facing him. You desperately bring your hands to the back of your head, trying to pull off the hand tangled in your hair. He pushes you down into the mattress with force majeure and you sob from your dishonorable predicament.
“Resisting is futile little sis. This is what happens to brats who don’t know their place.”
He pulls up the skirt of your mini dress and yanks down your strappy thong.
“Who are you wearing this slutty underwear for, huh? I thought you weren’t going to meet up with any boys” you hear a hum of amusement from his chest. “Did you wear this for me?”
“Fuck off” you choke.
“Ah, you see? You shouldn’t have said that.” He spreads your legs and brings his hand up to forcefully slap your sex. You yelp and flinch.
“This is the very attitude I was talking about sis.” He slaps you again, this time harder.
“Someone’s gotta beat this out of you.” He slaps you again, this time with significant strength.
Kakashi catches some arousal dripping out of you when he removes his hand from your folds. He lets out a chuckle. “Seems like you’re enjoying this.”
His words burn you with embarrassment and reignite your struggles till he plunges his fingers inside of your gummy cunt. You gasp at his uninvited intrusion. He feels around, stroking in and out, coating his knuckles in your secretions. As he toys with you he hits your sweet spot and an involuntary groan spills past your lips.
“Oh, you like that, huh?”
You shake your head ‘no’ but when he does it again you moan once more, walls tightening around his fingers. He pulls out of you and spanks your cheek causing you to cry.
“You’re not supposed to enjoy it brat.” he snarls before sinking his fingers into you again.
He maliciously milks your sweet spot, driving you to a crazed state. You struggle to refrain from moaning but if you fail and a cry slips past your lips be brings a heavy palm down on your rear with so much force that the red handprints quickly turn purple. He repeats the torturous process till you are thrashing in his grasp and he has to pull you up by your hair to pin you down on the bed with his body weight on top of you to stop your struggle.
Kneeling on either side of your arms, weight on your chest, he can see the mascara run down your cheeks. He swells with pride seeing you made messy by his hands. He shoves himself back into your mouth. You kick and try to push him off of you but he has no patience for your misbehavior. He reaches behind himself and gives you a slap between your legs.
Your resulting squeal vibrates along his shaft. A pleasured growl rumbles from his chest so he continues to reach around, beating against your cunt while he thrusts in and out of your mouth.
Your fingers begin to dig into him, scratching up his legs as you desperately try to get him off of you. He rips himself from your mouth and grabs you by your wrists.
“You wanna play rough, sis? I can give you rough.”
He gives you a shit eating grin as he leans all his weight on your restrained wrists and uses his knees to spread your legs. You feel the heat of his length rub against your folds as he gets his body into position. You quickly realize you’re losing the war and he’s going to get exactly wants. You squirm and wiggle your hips trying to stop him from sinking in. In his frustration he pulls down the top of your dress and slaps your tit. You feel the sting as your arm goes to his chest but he quickly recaptures your wrist.
“Stop moving” he warns
“Fuck you loser!”
“Gladly”
The most sickening smile splits his face as he sinks himself deep into you. A loud groan is pushed out of you as he shoves your organs out of the way with his fat cock.
“Wanna say that again?” he croons in your ear
You look up at him with doe eyes, not ready for how he is about to tear you apart and shake your head ‘no’
“That’s what I thought.”
He glides into you slow and deep, making sure you feel every vein as he violates you. He loves watching your eyes go wide every time he bottoms out, pausing to feel the full effect of him stuffing you. You whimper and groan stretched more than you thought possible, helplessly trapped. There was no running, no way out. You were alone and defenseless.
Nevertheless you struggle under his weight, trying to free your wrists. Annoyed by your incessant struggle he decides to bring them above your head and pin them together, freeing up his hand so he can grab your nipple, squeezing it between his index finger and thumb. You squirm as he applies pressure.
“Keep resisting and see what happens” Kakashi threatens as he pulls up with your bud trapped in his pinch. You draw breath through your teeth, the pain consuming your thoughts. Not even registering that he hasn’t stopped rutting into you the entire time.
“Gahh!”
“Understand?” You’re so focused on the pain in your nipple that all you do is whimper. “Answer me!” he barks with a twist of your nub
“Nggh! Fine!” Your eyes are screwed shut. You begin to open them when he releases your captive bud but you flinch when he slaps your tit again.
He grabs your face, smushing your cheeks together.
“See, I knew you could follow directions. That’s a smart girl”
You loathed him but you couldn’t help how your walls were restricting around him. His size massaged your sweet slit in such a gratifying way. Your body completely betrayed your mind. It seemed completely out of touch with the gravity of your situation. He left you breathless, your lungs forgetting how to breathe, as he pummeled into you.
Anger on your mind, you watched him as he watched you. You pan over his stinging brown eyes, his angular features, and the mole that sits just below his drool inducing lips. He was hot and you hate him all the more for it.
Disgust written on your mug as he studies you, anxiously waiting to watch you break. He picks up a little speed and you groan into it. You immediately regret the noise when you see a smug simper stretch on his face. You try to give him a glare but he hits you with a particularly sharp thrust and your face betrays you as your mouth falls open and your profile softens from pleasure.
���I knew you were just a weak little slut.”
“Shut up.”
He slaps your face. “Wanna try that again?”
You attempt another glare at him but he thrusts up into you in a way that hits a sweet spot and you mewl for him.
“Ah! Thank you, ah.”
His chuckle makes your stomach twist as you realize what you said.
“Ahh, she has manners.” condescension thick. You truly hate him.
He continues to thrust against the same spot making you pant under him. You cry pleasured screams from the sensation. He kept going, enjoying the view of you coming undone against your will.
The sounds of your submission were getting a touch too loud. Trusting that you would behave, he strips off his shirt to reveal his well defined muscular frame beneath. He balls up the hem and shoves it in your mouth before returning a hand to your wrists, obediently still crossed together, waiting to be restrained again.
You hated how good it felt. The recognition of him pleasuring you made you feel slimy on the inside, and desperate to get him off of you. He was your brother. Your arrogant asshole of a brother, yet he had you panting and crying beneath him. He was such a sick fuck.
He gains speed. Beginning to bang the headboard into the wall. The sound thundering through the quiet night. Good thing the parents weren’t home to hear you cause he was beginning to lose his composure. He had been so careful to conceal his hunger but it was evident in his eyes that he was wild with lust. You sing into your gag, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. His unrelenting pace, his careful aim, and his grunts combined into a euphoric melody that had you spasming around him, calling his name through the gag. Your body stiffened as the orgasm tore through you.
“That’s a good brat. See how good it is to behave?”
You dumbly nod your head as the aftershocks course through your system. He strokes slowly allowing you to fall limp before he barks at you again.
“Get on your knees” he says, lifting his weight off of your wrists. He helps you flip over on your stomach and his hands pull up your hips so they are aligned with his pelvis. You attempt to support your weight on your arms when he pushes your head back down, roughly shoving you into the mattress.
“Brats get fucked like whores. Lift your slut face off the sheets and there will be consequences..”
You cry out as you obey his command. He pushes in just the tip and you anxiously close around it before he pulls out again. You hate the way you whined from how empty you felt. He pushes in just a little deeper before retreating again, toying with you to prove his point. This time when he begins to line up his tip you rock your hips all the way back so he ‘s buried inside of you. You hadn’t anticipated how the angle would overstimulate you and you gasp about to pull away but his hands grab your hips and hold you steady. He begins to chuckle.
“Such a twerp, complaining about something you did to yourself.”
You loathe yourself for how you sought him out just now. He was assaulting you and you were practically begging him to fill you. It was all a game to him and your pathetic response was exhilarating.
He brings his hand down on your backside that was already bruised and purple from his earlier battery. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, cries muffled by his shirt. He strikes you more. Every time you try to tuck your tail under to avoid the abuse he pushes down on your back. You were not running away from him. You were a mouse trapped in the maze.
He begins to ram into you, the plush tissue of your behind rippling violently as his hips collide into you on repeat. Your fingers spread and grip onto your duvet for dear life as he bullies himself deep into you.
You can’t handle the feeling. He’s too big! You lift yourself up trying to change the angle, trying to find relief, when his formidable hands sweep across your neck and choke you. He pulls you up just enough that your arms couldn’t reach the mattress and your entire body weight was supported by his grip on your neck. His hands sink into your trachea with every plummet into your slick cavern.
You claw at his hands on your neck, trying to get under his fingers to lift the pressure from your windpipe so you could breathe. Your attempts were futile. Eventually your hands grip his wrists, giving up on being allowed to breathe.
“I told you not to lift your face. Here I thought you were learning your lesson.”
Seeing the gag start to fall out of your mouth, he lifts one hand off your neck to stuff it deeper before returning it to your throat. You spasm around him, tears spilling from your eyes, back involuntarily bowing, allowing him to push against your diaphragm. He knocked the wind out of you without allowing you to catch your breath. His cruelty leaves you putty in his hands, pliable and bending to his will. Gushing around his girth, broken and winded.
“Now you’re starting to get the picture.”
Pleasured cries permeate through the fabric in your mouth. He doesn’t plan on letting up any time soon either. He’s enjoying the view too much. Your glutes shake with each thrust while they’re spread wide open. He hones in on your puckered rear when he remembers what he found when he was snooping in your room.
He pulls out of you and grabs you around the waist, pulling your back into his cut chest, possessively holding you so you can’t run away as he drags you across the bed where he can reach into your nightstand drawer. He pulls out your tiny black plug with a blue gem on the end. You look over and through your dazed state you realize what he grabbed and you start to protest.
“No, no, no, no” you say through the cloth.
He shoves you down pulling your hips up once more and shoving your face back into the bed so your cries cannot be heard. His spit falls onto your rear, pooling over your sphincter where he pushes down on the tapered tip of your plug. You begin to wail.
“What’s all the fuss for? This is your’s, is it not? I thought whores liked having their holes stuffed.”
You tried pulling away but his grip on your hips tightened and he slammed back into you enjoying the friction of where the plug encroached on the space in your tunnel.
You looked so beautiful with the blue gem protruding out of your dirty hole. He was definitely going to do this to you again. He was going to make you beg him for it once he was done putting you in your place.
The thought of you coming to his room, plug in place, to get another taste of his fat cock made him ravenous. He rails into you using every drop of athleticism he has. You start to scream and go dizzy. His heavy balls slap into the bundle of nerves swelling between your legs. Eventually they swing into you with so much voracity that you twitch with each stroke of his hips. Your face began to melt into the mattress from his pounding and you are certain he will break your neck from the force.
He flips you over, pushing your hips up so your knees are by your face, ass high in the air. He stands on the bed and sinks himself between your lips, thrusting down into you with all his might. Abdominals flexing with each thrust, passionate grunts bending you in half. The impossible positions shredding what was left of your once tight pussy.
“Take it little slut.”
He can see the helpless tears leak from your eyes as you feel every inch of him being swallowed up by your soiled cunt.
“Fuck Kakashi” you moan between labored breaths.
He smirks. He had you just where he wanted you. He only needed to push you over the edge. He reached down and begins whirling circles around your clit. You shriek and knock your knees together. But his silky chuckle cuts your mind like a knife. The fucker was laughing at you. You squirm but your current position was so compromising you couldn’t move. He plays with you rubbing more vigorously. You scream and holler under him unfamiliar with such intensity as this.
“Ple-Pl-ease” you dumbly whine.
“Please what, sis? You’ll need to speak up”
“M-may I c-cu-mm?”
He pounds into you without relenting. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that”
He was such an abhorrent ass but the heat in your lower belly was boiling over and you needed to release. You try to phish your voice from the back of your mind but it’s swimming and the way he drags along your ridges while swirling your sensitive bud has you desperate for him.
“Gah! Please l’me cum!”
The glint in his eyes sickened you but you didn’t have the strength to care as he readjusted his stroke to pound into the sweet spot he found earlier. Your entire body convulsed under him as you had the most intense orgasm of your life.
Kakashi, pleased with his successful session of taming you, feels his own gratification on its precipice.
He pulls out of your quaking cunt with a slap to your sensitive clit causing your hips to fall to the mattress with a cry. Your destroyed state was erotic. Helplessly shaking, sweat all over your body, dress bunched around your stomach, hair knotted and messy, ass still plugged and tears drenching your face. His fingers seek out your hair to hold you still while he paints your face white.
“That’s a good girl. Take your reward.”
You tremble in his arms. When his seed can no longer shoot from his tip and simply oozes from his slit Kakashi presses himself against your lips. You part them slightly to give it a kiss leaving him to shutter from sensitivity.
“Yes, very good”
He brushes your cheek with his thumb pad smearing his cum along your skin. You look up at him pathetically and he smiles down on you.
“There we go sweet sister. That’s much better.”
You make a little whine that he finds so precious.
“Go clean yourself up little one.” he pets your head before pulling on his sweatpants and tucking himself away. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to join me if you want.”
He grabs his shirt, throwing it over his shoulder before lacing both hands together behind his head as he walks away.
Your lip quivers as you entertain the idea, realizing you were hopelessly hooked.
Shakily you get up, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and walk naked to the bathroom. Kakashi glances over from his bed as he sees you through the crack in his bedroom door before exhaustion lulls him to sleep.
He wakes up a half hour later to your weak-willed body slipping into his bed completely naked. He opens his arms, letting you settle into his chest before he closes them around you. You exhale with a small sigh and in your mind you know you would be yearning for the next time the two of you are home alone so he could tie you up and brutally defile you again.
He plants a kiss on your forehead, mind flooded with gratification at finally breaking you down into such a needy state.
He reaches down between your cheeks to see you kept your plug in tact. He gives it a small tug and you look up at him with a whine. He nuzzled your nose and whispers to you in his silky smooth voice before gently pressing a kiss on your lips.
“Such a filthy brat”
Masterlist
#kakashi x reader#kakashi smut#kakashi hatake#kakashi senpai#kakashi is daddy#kakashi fanfiction#hatake kakashi#hatake smut#kakashi romance#dark kakashi#kakashi x you#reader x kakashi#mean kakashi#anon ask#kakashi modern au#noncon smut#dark smut
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Carlisle x reader - the peace of you
Hello, could I request your 2024 prompt number 3 with Carlisle X fem Reader? Maybe the reader is immortal and has lost her family/friends/lover and had been suffering with loneliness and abuse until she met Carlisle and his family? Because he's a vamp and he knows what it's like to outlive people? And Edward can hear how happy she is around his adoptive dad - Anon 💜
3: “He/she/they carry more anger and pain then the whole universe combined, I can see it. Betrayal, hurt, deception, heartache, they’ve been through it all. He/she/they walked through hell a thousand times.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Because the only time I’ve ever seen true peace in his/her’s/their eyes is when he/she/they saw you.”
Sitting in your shop, you rested your feet on the chair opposite you, flicking through some of the books you had delivered while a few people wondered the shop.
The door went, and the bell sounded.
“Afternoon.” You called.
“Hey, have you seen Edward?”
You glanced up at the teenager unimpressed, a straight looking on your face.
“I’m not his keeper, I don’t keep track of all the vampires in the area Bella. If you can’t find your boyfriend that’s not my issue.”
She furrowed her brows a little.
“Seriously? You always know where people are.”
“I’m a bounty hunter, I know where people are when they’ve got a bounty, Edward doesn’t, so, if you’re not here to buy something go away.”
“Just tell me.”
You narrowed your eyes at her and she shuffled back a little, making her way towards the doors before she left.
You didn’t like humans, but you had to live among them, and you especially didn’t like her.
So ready to just throw away her human life, everything she had just for a boy she met.
It annoyed you.
A few seconds later and the bell went again, and you grumbled.
“I already told you I don’t know where he is.”
“Well, that would be good to know except I’ve already found the person I was looking for.”
You set your book down and stood up, walking around the desk to stand in front of it as the other vampire walked around.
He smiled softly at you and you gave a tiny one back.
“What can I do for you Carlisle? You’re not my usual clientele.”
“No, I’m not here about a bounty, I was wondering if you had any of these.”
He handed you a list and you looked through, nodding to yourself.
“Yeah, I’ve got them. Do you want me to bring them to yours?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you so much.”
You smiled at him, setting the list on your desk and you glanced at him before turning away.
“Yeah, I’ll be around later that’s no problem. How is everything?”
He sighed, shaking his head.
“Honestly? It’s all over the place, but I can’t do anything about it, he loves her, we need to protect that.”
“Even if it means putting yourself in danger?”
“Everybody has someone, Bella is the someone Edward has, it’s important we protect that.”
You gave a small shrug.
“Maybe, but maybe it isn’t worth it.”
“I know you don’t fully agree with the way we do things, but I am really grateful for everything you do to help.”
“Don’t worry about it, you should go, I’ll sort these.”
Carlisle nodded, glancing at you one last time before he left.
The moment you came into town he was smitten with you, but he was finding it hard to grow close to you.
You kept everybody at arms length, you made it clear that you were by yourself, you did things your way with your own rules, and there wasn’t much they could do about it.
You didn’t hunt on their grounds, you ran your shop just outside their territory, but sometimes if they came to you for help you would help.
You were like a box of mysteries, just then he think he has you figured out there’s something new there that surprises him.
Later that night you turned up at their house with the box of books, and you carried it upstairs, setting it down on the counter and began to take them out.
You were talking to Rosalie and Alice about them, explaining what they were about and what was in them, and Carlisle stood across the room watching you.
“Why not ask her on a date?” Emmett asked.
Carlisle shook his head.
“I could never do that.”
“Yes you could, and you deserve it.” Edward said.
“She isn’t exactly the most social person, there is just no way she would agree, I think I would rather try be friends.”
Edward glanced at his adoptive father before looking at you.
You glanced at Carlisle, and all the noise Edward heard in your head just seemed to stop, then when you looked away it picked up again.
“She carry’s more anger and pain then the whole universe combined, I can see it. Betrayal, hurt, deception, heartache, they’ve been through it all. She walked through hell a thousand times.”
Carlisle turned to Edward, his back towards you.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Edward smiled a little, gesturing to you with his head.
“Because the only time I’ve ever seen true peace in her eyes is when she saw you.”
Carlisle turned back around to face you, and the moment you connected eyes with him you smiled.
“I think it’s worth a chance.”
With that, Edward left, and Carlisle walked over to help you, all the others quickly leaving.
“You seem to enjoy being around them.” He said.
“It’s nice knowing you guys get the whole immortality thing, and I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.”
“I understand that, it does get exhausting after a while.”
You nodded your head, resting your arms on the counter.
“At least when you’re human you know everything stops when you die, as a vampire you still have to live with all that pain from your human life and more. You have to do it alone.”
“You don’t have to.”
You turned to him, furrowing your brows a little.
“You can still find people, have a family, friends to support you.”
You scoffed a little.
“Nobody wants to be around a vampire who’s bounty hunter.”
Carlisle smiled softly, turning fully to face you.
“I do.”
You stood back up, looking at him utterly confused.
“I want to be around you, I would like to be with you. You’ve spent so long by yourself that you’ve forgetting life still has beautiful moments, even for a vampire, I want you to see that it still does. I want to see you smile (Y/N).”
“Carlisle…”
“If you don’t want that then it’s okay, I hope we can stay as friends but the offer is there, just a drink, that’s all. Nothing more unless that is what you want.”
You stared at him, and he could see the little spark in your eyes that was there when you saw him.
Usually you held a cold and callous look, but when you looked at him it was with nothing but pure softness, fondness.
“You don’t have to be alone..” he whispered.
“People will talk.”
Carlisle reached out, taking your hand in his.
“Then let them, I want you around, I know everybody else here wants you around as well.”
You smiled, looking away.
“I haven’t been for a drink in a while, I cant even remember what I like.”
He chuckled.
“Well, I have plenty of options for you to chose from.”
He raised your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles before he let go.
“Take some time, think about it.”
“I will.”
You left a few moments later, his offer still running around in your head.
A life as a vampire wasn’t easy, and you thought there was nothing else too it, but you couldn’t lie when you said the world was definitely better when you were around Carlisle.
You didn’t have to think too much about his offer, you were going to accept, but you didn’t want to come across as too eager so you decided to wait before agreeing, and at least it would find you time to find something to wear.
Carlisle didn’t need Edward to tell him that you would agree to his offer, he could see it on your face, the pure happiness you had when he had asked.
He had a good feeling you would agree, and he couldn’t wait for you to tell him so he could see you again, because there was nothing in this world quite like you
#twilight#twilight x reader#twilight x you#twilight x y/n#twilight imagine#Carlisle Cullen#Carlisle Cullen x reader#carlisle Cullen x you#carlisle cullen imagine
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Favorite firstprince fanfics, another incomplete list:
(Part 1)
Come Let Me Love You
Henry always struggled to have a good night's sleep. Alex made it easier over the years they had been together, but little cries in the middle of the night always woke Henry.
A little glimpse into a future where Alex and Henry are doting fathers to a beautiful little girl.
Obliviously Devoted
She looks at him in the way only June can. She's the only one he'll allow it from without a fight. "I don't know if you're ready to have this conversation or not."
His fork clatters to the plate in front of him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
June sighs a sigh of long-suffering and pinches the bridge of her nose, before she looks him dead in the eye and sets his world upside down. "You know you and Henry are dating, right?"
Alex gapes at her. Mouth hung open, eyes blown wide. "W-what?"
"I say this with all the love in the world," she says. "But sometimes, I swear, you are the most oblivious idiot on the face of the planet."
Tags: idiots in love, oblivious acd, best friends to lovers, alternate universe - roommates/housemates
(even though you want to) please try to never grow up
“You better have a good fucking reason for sending me to voicemail, Hen.” He glares at the phone for one second before he actually sees the screen, and then his face melts into something Henry can only describe as fond. “Oh,” he whispers, dropping his mug of coffee onto the counter so he can lean in closer to the phone. “Look who’s there.”
“Yeah.” Henry keeps his voice so low he isn’t even sure Alex can hear him. He doesn’t seem to mind, eyes taking in the picture in front of him with parted lips, the edge of his finger covering the camera when he undoubtedly reaches to caress his daughter’s head.
Or, Alex misses his daughter when he goes back to work after a long paternity leave.
tags: domestic, tooth-rotting fluff, family fic
Let Me Wash Away Your Worries
Alex has had a terrible week. Henry is right there to take care of him.
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Bath Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Romantic Fluff, Praise Kink, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Worship
ephemeral enchantments
in which Henry is an overworked barista with a tendency to embarrass himself in front of everything that breaths and Alex is charmed from the first time he met him.
Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Awkward Flirting
Three fights Alex and Henry never had
Yes, Alex and Henry got their Happily Ever After. But that doesn't mean everything was just automatically perfect when they moved in together...
Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff
am i homophobic? (URGENT) (PLEASE HELP)
Now, it might be pretty early in the morning and Alex’s brain functions might not be working as quickly as they normally do, but he can still put two and two together. There's a strange man in their kitchen. Henry is shirtless, rumpled, and holding two pairs of boxers. Henry and this Sam guy slept together. Which… obviously is fine because Alex is not an asshole, but he’s definitely feeling something about this development that he will examine at a later date. But of course, instead of saying something normal, you know, like a normal person would, he says, “Ohh.” Like a fucking weirdo.
or: the "am i homophobic?" roommate au that no one asked for
Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Sexuality Crisis, Mentions of homophobia, no one is like actually homophobic though, Idiots in Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Unsafe Sex
The shape of your lips bruising my heart
So, that neck-kissing scene in the bloopers? Yeah, that one. Well. I wrote it.
—
In which Alex has a hard time leaving the hotel after their night in Paris.
you’re leaving (now i’m left amongst the living)
Six years since they've been together, Alex and Henry were now a far cry from the lovestruck couple they once were when their history began. If you ask Alex, all of it was Henry’s fault. If you ask Henry, he’d agree and say that Alex was right.
But before Alex could ever find out why Henry does not seem like the man he once decided to spend the rest of his life with, he already walked away from it all. Now, Henry was alone, left to deal with whatever shattered remains he could salvage from his life.
Or, the one where Henry’s sick and Alex only finds out two years after they've broken up.
Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Lawyer Alex, Writer Henry, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hospitalization
Fifty First Dates
Henry has used a dating app exactly one time. Predictably, the date turns out to be terrible. The bartender, however, is not.
OR
A cute stranger’s solution to Henry’s woeful dating life is to set him up on fifty first dates.
Most People Exist
Henry Fox is a nurse at the New York Cancer Center. He’s happy with his job, content enough with his life, but it all gets turned on its head when he connects with a patient with a brain tumor—Alex Claremont-Diaz.
———
Henry is a nurse, Alex is a patient.
Tags: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Cancer, Nurses & Nursing, Minor Character Death, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, They will end up happy I pinky swear
i want your dreary mondays
“You little menace,” a voice says from the door, entirely too fond to be anything mean. “I told you to wait by the car, not go inside.” The man steps inside, shaking the rain from his hair, and Henry is treated to the sight of the most beautiful man he’s seen in his entire life, standing in the middle of his shop with clothes dripping to the floor and raincoat bundled up around him. He notices then the umbrella clutched in the little boy’s hand, the innocent wide eyes watching his father, and the picture forms in his head.
Or, five times Henry makes a piece of art for Alex's son on his drinks, and one time he does it for Alex himself.
It's Nice to Have a Friend
Two boys meet on a beach, build a sand castle, write letters, and fall in love.
Tags: Alternative Universe - Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Slow Burn, Growing up together
Leave A Message
"This is Alex Claremont-Diaz's phone. If it's a business matter, I don't know how you got ahold of this number, but if you have my number that means you probably have Zahra's. Call her instead. If you're friends or family, just text me. If you're anyone else, I'll call you back as soon as I can."
Or: Alex's voicemail message over the years, and the messages people leave for him.
I must tell you what you will not ask
Henry's lower lip wobbles, and a fresh tear rolls down his cheek. Alex watches it track down to his chin, and wonders if Henry would mind him wiping it away. “I really was looking forward to seeing them.”
Another tear escapes, and this time Alex can't help but lean forward and brush it away with his thumb. Henry's breath catches, and he looks at Alex, wearing an expression he can't quite parse. “Come home with me,” Alex blurts out.
Henry's plans for Christmas fall through, so Alex invites him home for the holidays. They're best friends, strictly platonic roommates, so why does everyone think they're dating?
drive-thru mornings
“Would you like to pay cash or by card, sir?”
Alex startles, but recovers quickly and smiles charmingly at the girl in the window. Maggie, her tag reads. “By card, darlin’,” he says. “Actually, could I pay for the man behind me, as well? I have no idea what he ordered, but he’s strikingly handsome, isn’t he?”
Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in love
you turned a moment (into forever)
Sharing an apartment with Alex had seemed like a good idea at first. They’re best friends, prices in Brooklyn are absurd, and they had both been in urgent need of residence – it only made sense.
Except for the small, tiny, teeny, barely there fact that Henry has been in love with Alex from the first moment he laid eyes on him. And the fact that Alex doesn’t know, and can never find out.
—
Or, as coffeecatsme so eloquently put it: Roommates AU where Alex has insomnia and slips into Henry’s bed every night because it’s the only way he gets a good night’s sleep.
You Can Hear It In The Silence
At the Lake House, Henry doesn’t run when Alex tells him he loves him. But he can’t say it back; too afraid of the consequences it would have, no matter how true it is. But as the truth settles in, Henry decides Alex is worth fighting for. So he does.
A Long Way From the Playground
Henry and Alex were best friends growing up until they went to separate colleges and they grew apart. When they see each other again as adults, against the odds, both living in the same city again, will it be a joyful reunion or will the pain of the years apart get in the way? How do you become friends again when there is so much of the past in the way?
Oblivion
The man starts to cock the hammer of gun, and Alex squeezes his eyes shut, his lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly.
“Stop!” Henry shouts, his voice cracking. “I’ll give you whatever you want, I’ll do anything…just please, don’t hurt him.”
Alex’s eyes fly open, shooting Henry the same incredulous look that he gave him in the hallway, and Henry knows he’s shown too much of his hand, revealed a part of himself that he’d sworn he would take to his grave, but he’s too full of fear and desperation to feel self-conscious about it now. He can deal with the consequences when they get out of this.
If they get out of this.
******
What if the moment in the hospital wasn’t a false alarm and the publicity surrounding the forced bromance between Alex and Henry had the adverse effect of them being kidnapped together?
Confidential Memorandum
"Hello, Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's office. How may I help you?"
"Hello, can I speak to Mr. Fox-Mount-krishen, please?"
Alex blinked. After two weeks of hearing nothing but the voices of snooty men and frazzled secretaries calling in, the person on the other line now sounded decidedly neither snooty nor male nor in any way adult.
It was a little girl.
"Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's unfortunately in a meeting right now,” Alex began slowly, “but I could take a message?"
"Oh." The girl paused. "You're not Mr. Hunter."
Alex starts a new job as Henry's new assistant. Henry's daughter keeps calling the office and leaving him messages.
we thought we ruled the world
Alex stares down at his latest text from Henry. A link to an article he’s seen about ten versions of so far. He’s managed to resist clicking on any of them, but now Henry is sending it, so he supposes he should at least give it a skim.
How Prince Henry’s Relationship With FSOTUS Lost Ellen Claremont The Election
............
Or, what would have happened if Ellen lost.
Run, Don't Walk
Henry loves sex. He loved sex even before he was with Alex, although there's something to be said for the level of precision and intimacy acquired through years of learning each other's bodies. He's liked being filled from the first time he ever experienced the feeling, and he doesn't think he'll ever love anything quite as much as he loves getting fucked.
But this? This is giving him pause for thought.
Tags: Porn without plot, Marathon sex, Henry loves sex, and Alex, and sex with Alex
london bridge has fallen down
Alex can feel the eyes of the room on him as Shaan approaches his side. Then, Shaan quietly murmurs in his ear. They’re words he’s thought about before, distantly wondering about what might happen when they were finally uttered. How their lives might change. There’s nothing that can prepare him for the reality of it though, nothing that can prepare him for how his breath hitches when Shaan speaks.
‘London Bridge is down, Sir.’
---
Queen Mary is dead. Henry doesn't know how to feel.
Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place (and forget macbeth is a fucking tragedy)
"You don't owe me anything."
"Of course I do. If you have time now...there are things I'd like to say."
Alex hesitates.
"I know I don't have any right to ask you to listen," Henry adds. He sounds so hopeful though.
A little closure doesn't sound like a terrible thing. Agreeing to go with Henry, alone, to Kensington Palace sounds like returning to the scene of a crime.
It's been over a decade since their breakup - Alex is now a single dad forging his career as a lawyer, and Henry's finally getting the courage to stand up to his grandmother. In finding themselves, can they also find their way back to each other?
#here we go#there will probably be a part 3#firstprince fanfic#rwrb#rwrb fanfic#firstprince#red white and royal blue#alex claremont diaz#henry fox
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Pink Pastels Pt 16
Description: Miguel and Gabi have a much needed talk.
Part 17
Miguel and Gabi walk you back next door. He watches as you give her a tight hug, whispering platitudes in her ear before you let go. You then brush your lips across her forehead and giving him a small smile, then the door to your apartment is closed and Gabi starts to cry once more.
Miguel scoops her up, cradling her to his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, her tears wetting his shirt as she sobs. He misses holding her like this, when she was a baby she clung to him constantly, crying if he put her down for even a second. Then she grew older and became so curious about everything, she wanted to be on the ground, have the freedom to run and play and explore the world around her.
He’s proud of her for being so courageous, so adventurous it reminds him of a younger him, before he became Spiderman, before he lost his original universe and searched the multiverse desperately for a new one. But he’s forgotten that courage takes a lot of strength, and obviously Gabi has been running on empty for a while.
“Gabi, Mija, I’m sorry.” He says, settling on their couch and squeezing her tightly.
“Why are you sorry?” She asks, looking up at him with those big round eyes.
He can’t explain how much he loves his daughter; he’s tried a million times to verbalize the depth of his emotions and finds he always comes up short. So he’s come to the conclusion that it’s simple. He loves her beyond words.
“I didn’t notice you heard my call with your mother, and then I continued to fail to see how it hurt you, and I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to feel all that sadness on your own.” He shifts her, so she’s facing him, and brushes back the hair from her face, it’s like his mother’s hair. He’ll have to call her, ask her how she’s doing, if she wants to see him and Gabi sometime soon.
She snuggles into him, her tears slowly drying. “It’s okay, Papá, I’m strong.”
He swallows hard, tears pricking at the back of his eyes.
“Mijo you shouldn’t have done that, you know your father; he gets angry.”
“But Mamá it’s not fair he shouldn’t treat you like that.”
“It’s better me than you or Gabriel, I’m strong Miguel, I can take it.”
He fears he’s going to wretch, and he takes a deep breath counting ten things he can see, he can feel, hear, smell, until his heart rate has slowed, and the nausea is gone.
“You are strong, but you are also little—”
She goes to protest, and he stops her with a playfully stern look that makes her giggle.
“You are my baby girl, my daughter, you are not alone, you will never be alone, you don’t have to be strong all by yourself, especially not when you’re sad.”
Gabi mulls over his words, fidgeting with the little watch he made for her. “But I want to be strong like you.”
“Mija, I am strong because of you. Because I love you so very much, and I want to make sure the world is safe for you.” He tells her, praying that she understands how earnestly he’s speaking.
She nods and wraps her arms around as much of his torso as she can. “I love you, Papá, and I promise I’ll tell you next time I’m sad.”
He returns her hug, resting his chin on the crown of her head. “I love you more than you can imagine, Mija.”
He makes a mental note to make sure Lyla saves this video file, adding it to the hundreds upon hundreds of clips he has saved of Gabi. He’ll never have enough, never get enough time with her, but here in this moment he feels like everything he’s done, everything he’s been through and suffered was worth it.
“I think Ms. Y/N saw my superpowers.” Gabi says hesitantly, her voice muffled by his chest.
He pulls back, scanning her face. “What?”
“I got mad, and I threw my doll, and now the wall is broken.” She says as she leads him into her room.
Miguel’s mind is turning, churning, roiling. You know he’s Spiderman, as of last night, but he hasn’t been able to go through it with you to explain what happened, or to tell you how Gabi might have developed a lesser version of his abilities and was just now coming into her powers.
He inspects the wall. It’s a small dent, but clearly in the shape of a doll. He can fix it, he’s picked up a number of skills during his time in the multiverse, but he isn’t sure how you’re going to react to the truth.
“What did Ms. Y/N say when this happened?” He asks carefully, running calculations in his head of how much damage control he was going to have to do. You’re a reader, he knows this. Maybe he’ll hack into your laptop and see what kind of books you like. Buy you a first edition of your favorite book, or see if there’s any erotica, you’re fond of that he can read and put to good use to distract you.
Gabi’s brushing her doll Carmen’s hair in rapid jerky strokes, something she did when she was nervous. “Nothing, she just kept playing with me. Well…she seemed a little…tomada por sorpresa.” Trsl: take/taken by surprise.
He smiled at her lapse into Spanish. Gabi spoke both languages fluently, but he noticed a year or so ago that she’d picked up a quirk from him. They both tended to fall back on his first language whenever they were nervous or overwhelmed with emotions.
“Ah, well, Ms. Y/N just found out I was Spiderman last night.” He’s taking a gamble, telling her this. He knows Gabi can keep a secret, she’s been keeping theirs since she was little, but now that you’re involved, he isn’t sure how she’s going to react.
Gabi nods. “Well, that’s okay because you’re going to get married, and married people have to keep each other’s secrets, that’s what Auntie Monica said.”
His half-sister would say something like that…
“She is right, married people do keep each other’s secrets, but Gabi, Ms. Y/N have only known each other for a little while now, not even half a year. Most people like to know each other for at least a year before they get married.”
Gabi sets down her doll and her lips tick to one side in thought. “Yeah, I guess you should wait until the year is done, because if you marry her, then they might move me out of her class. Kids don’t get to be in their mom’s classes, apparently, it’s called a conflict of interest, but I just think it’s because then they’ll be the favorite. But I’m already Ms. Y/N’s favorite, so I don’t think it’ll be any different.”
Miguel laughs, he doesn’t mean to, but that’s his daughter, thinking three steps ahead while still attempting to get what she wants.
“It’s true!” Gabi pouts. “She’s still wearing the necklace we gave her!”
Yes, you are, and he is so thankful for that fact.
“You’re right, Mija, she is.”
She gives him a smug, satisfied ‘I told you so’ smile and begins to clean up her toys. “I bet if you asked her on a date, she’d say yes.”
“I think Ms. Y/N would say yes, but her job is very important to her, so she wouldn’t agree to go out with me until the year was finished.”
“So, you’ll just have to go on secret dates like in the telenovelas, me and Tia Margo watch.” Gabi says, nodding her head knowingly, as if this had been his plan all along, and she was just now catching on.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, a half exasperated, half amused smile on his face. “No more telenovelas for you, they’re giving you too many crazy ideas.”
Gabi throws herself into his lap dramatically. “No Papá, but I need them to live, they’re the only thing keeping my secret half-sister maybe actually my cousin alive.”
He laughs again and shakes his head, scooping her up and holding her above his head, making her giggle. “But I do not, for I am the evil tio and I want your half-sister maybe cousin gone, so I can steal her inheritance.”
“¡Monstruo!” Gabi gasps, her face an exaggerated look of horror and surprise. Trsl: You monster!
“Yes, I am an evil monster who says now it is time to go to bed, so you can wake up and have a good day at school tomorrow.”
Gabi wrinkles her nose, but nods, and he sets her back down. She throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. “I love you, Papá.”
He hugs her back. “I love you too, Mija.”
If you haven't seen my answer to an ask, I will be going on vacay for 10 daysss, but I'll be back and will be picking this fic up once I return, so don't worry! I'm not abandoning it!!!!
Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars
#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#meg's writing#miguel's pastels#spiderman 2099 x reader#more good dad Miguel
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『02』 原神: genshin impact recs
魈: xiao
preta by @itoshisoup
"People think that ghosts are born exclusively of resentment, but they can also be born of love. Between those driven by resentment and those driven by love, which do you think cling most strongly to their suffering?"
Xiao replies without pause, his gaze unfocused yet fixed upon something you cannot see.
"Love."
After a yaksha saves your life on the Plains of Guili, you insist on joining him in his war against the evils of Liyue. As the two of you encounter hungry ghosts and resentful spirits, you learn about the ones haunting him.
notes: incomplete but intricately woven together; heavy emphasis on chinese culture, wuxia/xianxia genres; if you have watched any historical cdrama, you will like this fic; xingqiu and chongyun are wrapped up into the dynamic; xiao wishes to protect you for centuries; him and his paradoxes; not being strong enough to be considered invincible but still strong enough to try
公子: childe
thin ice by @falconcoast
childe is that senior frat boy on teyvat university’s campus. the one who majors in economics because he’s on scholarship to play sports. the one who is way too loud and you can hear him all the way across campus. the one who’s daddy’s money rich because he’s already sponsored, even while just in the ncaa. the one who manages to get everyone to swoon over him.
oh, right. and your favorite title for him: the one hockey captain who hogs all of your free time to skate after lessons because he always steals it.
all you want to do is do your job and teach skating lessons to the kids to keep your mind off the year-old mess with your figure skating, maybe even get an hour of skating in afterwards as a reward. that is, until the hockey coach sits you down and tells you that surprise! you’re the new team manager for liyue’s hockey team!
...it can’t be that hard to manage twenty or so boys and their captain, childe, right?
spoilers: it absolutely is.
notes: wonderfully curated modern skating/hockey AU; childe is so american white boy in this; teucer being adorable; diluc and kaeya sibling dynamic is well-established; university and post-grad plans; figuring out your life and then working other people into it
国崩: scaramouche
tea screen by @after-witch
The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers?
notes: forced marriage and abuse; tea ceremony; sort of reminds me of the edo period; examination of womanhood within a patriarchal society; sexy, sad, and scary all at once; i pity the reader at the end; cycle of love and violence
a simple cup of tea by @after-witch
You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes...
notes: reader grapples with lust and objectification; unhealthy dynamic but portrayed realistically in an almost historical setting; reader is unable to separate her identity as wife apart from her husband; women being defined in the context of men; could be a social satire on traditional gender roles if you squint
love is a dog from hell by @itoshisoup
"A will is something you don't have. That's why you'll follow mine."
notes: this fic is the reason why i do not think the concept of ownership in love would translate well into real life because it would be so self-destructive; reader struggles with aftermath of abuse and mistakes possession for protection; realistic depiction of unhealthy relationships; the fatui is exactly the dark criminal organization it is supposed to be; human trafficking and child sexual abuse; scaramouche is so goddamn funny i can't
钟离: zhongli
spoil of war by @bye-bye-sunbird
In the dead of night, you hear the sea calling your name.
Sometimes the sound is as soft as a love song, gracing your skin in a gentle breeze that lures you to the seashore where the waves can finally lay claim on you. Other times, the sea strikes the land in a deafening, challenging roar.
"Really now... How long do you think those mountains of his will stand in my way?"
notes: accurate depiction of characters because archon war morax was genuinely terrifying; zhongli trying to deny his obsessive tendencies; rivalry with osial; reader is essentially sanctified as a symbol of innocent purity; imagine having two spiritual gods pine after you while you are helplessly stuck in the middle of their tug-of-war and simultaneously trying to mourn; that is basically the entire premise of this fic
迪卢克: diluc ragnvindr
the parent trap by @falconcoast
twelve years ago, you got married to a man who had swept you off your feet in a little under two years. diluc was like a prince out a of storybook; effortlessly charming, strikingly handsome, and a kind man. you were supposed to live happily ever after at that winery, running a wedding planning empire, having a family, and growing old together.
until it all goes off script with a divorce.
flash forward, and the only remnant of diluc that is with you is your daughter, dawn. the only piece of you that remains with diluc is your other daughter and dawn’s twin sister, phoenix.
it isn’t until both of your children get you and your ex-husband in a bit of mess that you realize that maybe, just maybe, you still harbor feelings for diluc.
or maybe it’s the wine talking.
notes: one of my favorite comfort fics; i am a sucker for second-chance romance; diluc and reader now older but still being the same bumbling idiots they were when young; at this point the children have more situational awareness than them; based on the original movie; treat yourself to a cup of tea and a friday night with this work and trust me life will be good
博士: il dottore
deus in absentia by @bound-in-parchment
The first time was a coincidence.
The second time was a fluke.
But the third time? You were starting to think it was fate.
Or, more likely, a calculated trap.
notes: at this point we can just scrap whatever mihoyo puts out and use this work as canon instead; the world building is so originally creative; this author must possess such a giant sexy brain; reader is basically adopted by dottore and forced to be his apprentice/assistant; idea of losing yourself to your own ambitions; slow-burn to the max; reader is oblivious to full extent of feelings until it is too late; tragic to the point i need a time machine to resurrect them
dream a little of me by @bound-in-parchment
Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student.
But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky?
He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use.
People were nothing but disappointments.
He had no use for you.
Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance.
notes: soulmate trope but with the two most aromantic fools to ever exist; zandik drowns himself in the river of denial; comic dynamic between segments; music and failed dreams; reader actually has a backstory dark enough to match dottore's character; does not shy away from the uncomfortable and gritty aspects of trauma, abuse, and literal mental insanity
chemistry / magnum opus by @jessamine-rose
In the realm of science, love and insanity are closely intertwined mysteries. Disillusioned with the world, you had long forgotten its beauty until the wise doctor gives you a change of perspective.
notes: by far the most accurate characterization of akademiya zandik; he hates you then hates himself then hates the world for allowing your paths to cross; treats you as an objective experiment but then wonders why he's suddenly humanizing you; slow-burn; zandik is selfish and machiavellian and somehow you fit into that equation
the only hope i had was the freedom of death by your hands that held me together by @tiens-letters
It was a burden. The weight of the power you hold in all the land. Any human who has enough ambition would dare to covet it and any god even given divine powers would lust after it. You were powerful, able to end civilizations and make a new world altogether. Many would think that you are a sovereign being but you too are limited to mortality than what most would believe. You were human with a blessing of a god and you felt cursed and dirty.
notes: honestly the ending made me so mad but take it as a good sign; basically entails the circumstances that would drive dottore to become somewhat capable of love; what is done cannot be undone; zandik finally meeting someone who is wiser and more depressed than him; deluding himself into thinking he could ever be domestically normal; somewhat idolizes/idealizes reader; themes of betrayal and misunderstanding
富��: pantalone
house cat / alea iacta est by @jessamine-rose
Your entire life has been a gilded cage. The gods refuse to grant your greatest wish, and so you have resigned yourself to the will of destiny. But what happens when the red string of fate is severed and replaced with the silver chains of the Regrator?
notes: liyue nobility; dishonest business and financial deals; reader is a cat hybrid but i didn't notice until part two because the plot was so good; pantalone is the mastermind behind all his interactions with reader; heavy manipulation and orchestrations; wolf in sheep's clothing; alternate ending found here
隊長: il capitano
herbarium / fairytale / forget-me-not / astilbe by @jessamine-rose
You had long given up on wishes and happy endings. After what you believed to be the end of your tragic story, you resigned yourself to a shadow of a life with only your books and flowers to keep you company…until the vestiges of Windblume brought forth a mysterious stranger and a new ending for your dark fairytale.
notes: capitano being the strong stoic protector of a delicately fragile reader; manipulation is so subtle and that is what makes it alarming; somewhat stirred my daddy issues because he is so parental; reader struggles between accepting his love versus hating him for taking away her personal agency; flower motifs
#fic recs#genshin impact#genshin x reader#xiao#adeptus xiao#alatus#xiao x reader#rex lapis#zhongli#zhongli x reader#morax x reader#childe#tartaglia#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#scaramouche#the balladeer#wanderer x reader#kunikuzushi#scaramouche x reader#diluc ragnvindr#diluc x reader#zandik#dottore#il dottore#dottore x reader#zandik x reader#capitano#capitano x reader#capitano x fem!reader
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Give You Blue
Chapter 3: Umbrella
🎶 I can't stop the rain, but I will keep you dry 🎶
Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)
Rating: Explicit (this chapter does not contain any explicit material, but the series as a whole will remain Explicit)
cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Eren is in 3rd), angst, a little bit of fluff
Word Count: ~2.9k
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Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist
Summary: With your classes as a distraction, you manage to survive a month into your breakup. However, you hit a snag when you run into your ex for the first time since the start of the semester. And, as if it couldn't get any worse, you forget to bring an umbrella on a day with heavy rainfall. Luckily, someone comes to your aid. Author’s Notes: Introducing Eren’s point of view! Hope you enjoy this one! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated. Thank you so much for the support! If you want to be tagged in any future chapters, please let me know in the comments or interact with the Give You Blue Taglist post. Appreciate y’all! Divider created by @/mikeykuns.
Eren hates his major.
It’s not that he dislikes biology. In fact, he adores it. He has fond childhood memories of Armin sneaking encyclopedias from his grandpa’s library so that the two of them can flip through each page, eyes wide open in awe at the information displayed. Eren has always been particularly fascinated with science.
No, it’s not biology; he hates being pre-med. He’s only doing it because his father, the renowned Dr. Grisha Jaeger, gave him an ultimatum. It was either pre-med or no tuition, without any room for compromise. Eren’s fate is to become a physician, whether he likes it or not, all because it’s what the Jaeger patriarch wants. To be fair, he’s never stood up for himself. Zeke, his older brother, is in med school at Marley. He can’t be the sole disappointing son; he just can’t.
So, instead, he suffers. One month into the semester, and he’s already struggling with organic chemistry. Freshman year, he aced biology, no problem. But chemistry? It’s a totally different language that he can’t comprehend.
Inside the lecture hall, he stares at his graded quiz, a big 53% scribbled in bold red ink. He glances at the other students, sneaking a peek at what they got. His concerns lessen slightly, spotting a few other 50s. Luckily, because the exam was so difficult, the professor informs them that it will be weighted. Still, this isn’t good enough. He’ll have a hard time explaining this one to the doctor.
When class is dismissed, Eren remains in his seat, head in his hands, re-evaluating his life choices. Is it going to be this way the rest of the semester? The remainder of the schoolyear? For the next decade? He’s only a sophomore; it’s only going to get harder from here. There’s so much pressure to do well right off the bat. After all, a high GPA is required for him to get into the prestigious Marley School of Medicine, the same university Zeke is currently attending. The standard has already been set high, and Eren needs to reach it if he doesn’t want to be considered a failure.
There’s a heavy burden weighing him down, sometimes he finds it difficult to breath. The first semester of freshman year was a breeze; he had a good handle on his classes, snuck into a few frat parties with Mikasa and Armin, made fond memories with his friends. It was fun. Now, it’s anything but. He signed up to be an RA to have his own personal space so he could study. Basically coop himself in his room without having to resort to the library across campus. He tries to see his friends, but rarely goes out to a party. Armin, of all people, joined a frat last semester and has invited Eren out several times, always resulting in him declining.
College is no longer enjoyable. And maybe for him, it was never meant to be. Is this what his life is going to be in the future? All work, no play? Is he destined to become like his workaholic father, who is hardly home? His brother, who’s aged twenty years despite being under thirty? He’s constantly debating in his mind if this is the route he wants to take. It keeps him awake at night, stressing about it.
Eventually, he gets up out of his seat, slinging his backpack across his shoulders, his other hand grasping a large umbrella. The forecast predicted rain all afternoon. Fitting for how he’s feeling at the moment.
Walking out of the lecture hall and towards the exit, he notices someone standing near the door, leaning against the wall, face buried in their hands. He approaches closer, realizing it’s one of his residents. And she’s crying.
~~~
It’s been a month since Reiner broke up with you. Your classes have been a well-needed distraction, keeping yourself focused on assignments rather than memories of your past relationship. Still, when you’re in bed every night, desperate to fall asleep, the flashbacks play on a continuous loop, keeping you awake. It’s been difficult to get a proper amount of sleep because of this. It’s a vicious cycle, one you haven’t quite figured out how to get out of. But like Annie said, baby steps.
With your midday class over, you walk to the nearest vending machine, purchasing a canned coffee beverage to fuel your perpetual exhaustion. Caffeine has been one of your saving graces during this trying time, aside from the support from your friends. It also helps that you haven’t seen Reiner since the drastic breakup. You’ve been actively avoiding all of the usual spots you used to frequent with him, going out to the cafeteria, library, or the mini mart at odd times of the day. He hasn’t reached out to you, most likely giving you space until you decide to initiate. What do you even say? You’re trying to move on, and keeping in contact with him would only make it harder. But there’s no denying it; you miss him.
As you step towards the exit, you notice all the other students clad in their waterproof coats or holding umbrellas. It’s pouring now, and you’re not prepared at all. Annie’s reminder last night resurfaces in your brain a little too late. She mentioned how it was supposed to rain today, and you probably brushed it off. Or maybe in your rush to get to class this morning, running on only two hours of sleep, it slipped your mind.
Directly across is the next building. Thinking quickly, you hunch underneath your backpack, making some sort of makeshift shelter, and hurry over, doing your best to avoid getting soaked. There’s a large crowd of students leaving one of the lecture halls. You push past them, pausing near the exit, trying to decide what your next move should be. And that’s when you her him.
“Coco?”
Your heart drops when you hear his voice, uttering that all too familiar nickname. Slowly, you turn around, seeing Reiner standing before you with a pretty, blonde woman beside him.
“Oh. Hi.” You do your best to sound nonchalant, actually stunned by his presence.
He swallows hard, clearly nervous. “I didn’t know you had a class in here.”
“No, I don’t. I was just passing through. I, uh, forgot my umbrella, so I’m trying my best to avoid the rain.” You glance down at your shirt, spotted with droplets. “Obviously, it’s not working,” you add, with a small chuckle. You’re surprised that you can laugh when there’s dread suffocating your lungs. Seeing him in the flesh, after weeks of miraculously avoiding him, is hitting you harder than you imagined.
Reiner stares at you, concern in his eyes. The same expression he’s given you throughout your life whenever he was worried about you. “It’s pouring the rest of the day. You’re going to get soaked.” It’s genuine the way he says it; like he still cares about you. It makes you regret coming here in the first place.
“We can walk you to your dorm, if you want.” Her voice startles you for a second, forgetting she’s here as you fixate on your ex. She gives you a small smile when she continues. “I’m Christa, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
You shake her hand, introducing yourself. Glancing at her sweatshirt, two deltas stitched across with a floral pattern, you comment, “I like your letters. They’re very cute.”
Her smile widens. “Thank you! My big gave it to me last semester. Are you also in a sorority?”
“No, I’m not,” you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
She wiggles her finger at you and Reiner. “How do you two know each other, then?”
“We’ve known each other since we were kids. We grew up together,” Reiner answers, a hint of pride in his voice. “We’re best friends.” He glances at you, checking your reaction. You look down at your sneakers, wet at the soles, trying not to show the emotions rattling inside.
“That is so sweet! Well, if you’re ever interested in joining a sorority, we do informal recruitment in the fall, formal recruitment in the spring. You should stop by the house some time for dinner, maybe during the nights Reiner is hashing.”
“Hashing…?”
“Sorry! So used to speaking in sorority language! Reiner is one of our hashers. He helps serve food and wash dishes, in exchange for a paycheck, of course. His shifts are usually at dinner.”
You finally meet his eyes. “Oh. I didn’t know.”
He opens his mouth, wanting to respond. Then Christa nudges him with her elbow, giggling. “How can you not tell your best friend that you have a job?!”
He avoids your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I forgot.” The truth is more complicated to explain; you don’t blame him for that. Still, it hurts. You’re so used to knowing everything about each other. Now, he’s practically a stranger.
Christa, blissfully unaware, repeats her earlier offer. “We can walk you to your dorm! And we can talk more about Delta Delta if you’d like.” Her offer is kind, even with the ulterior motive, trying to recruit you. It’s not the sales-pitch that’s deterring you, though. It’s the idea of sharing an umbrella with them, forcing yourself to act like it’s all fine and dandy. That he didn’t break your heart a few weeks ago so that he can hang out with sorority girls like Christa, gorgeous, sweet, and sociable. It’s not her that bothers you, not at all. She has no idea the pain you’re going through. Reiner does, and it makes you angry knowing he wants to play pretend for the sake of his image.
“It’s okay, I can walk on my own from here. Greek Row is on the opposite side of campus, it doesn’t make sense for you to walk me.” You’re not going to accept the offer, no matter what. It’s better this way. You’d rather get drenched than subject yourself to this.
“C’mon, Coco. We really don’t mind,” Reiner urges.
We. It’s a simple word, no significant meaning behind it. To you, it’s devastating. It used to be you and him. Now, it’s him with somebody else. You’re the third party here. And sure, they’re probably just friends, but the insecure part of you is going insane, wondering if he’s already moved on.
More adamant, you say, “I’ll be fine. Seriously.” You give Reiner a stern look, one he recognizes instantly. He’s seen it many times before, and he knows that he should just drop it. Christa’s eyes dart between you two, picking up on the tension. “Okay, well, I hope you take up my offer for dinner. I’ll let Reiner contact you to schedule a time.” She smiles at you, waving. “It was really nice to meet you, Coco.”
Reiner makes a strangled noise in his throat, caught off guard by his special nickname for you being used by somebody other than him. You’re surprised at yourself when you let out a genuine chuckle, grinning. “It was nice meeting you too.” You’re not annoyed at her for calling you that. In fact, you’re relieved. In a way, you feel liberated from it. It no longer belongs to him.
You’re overwhelmed with emotions as soon as they leave side-by-side under his umbrella. You wait until they’re out of sight, leaning against the wall, hiding your face as the tears stream down your cheeks. Suddenly, and at the worst timing, you hear a familiar voice call out to you. Peering up, you see Eren, your RA, standing in front of you.
You meet him in passing every now and then, walking out or into his room while you’re going the opposite direction, exchanging a friendly wave or pleasant greeting. There’s always a pleasant smile on his face, as if life Is great and everything is going to be fine. This is the second time he’s witnessed you crying, two times too many at this point. You’re hot with embarrassment, being caught a blubbery mess once again.
“Hi,” you sniffle, drying your cheek with your sleeve.
“Are you okay?” He’s concerned, of course. Similar to the first time you burst into tears upon meeting him.
You take a deep, shaky breath before responding, “Yeah. I’m fine. I just…I didn’t know it was going to rain.”
It’s silent between you for a moment, Eren processing the situation before speaking. “If you’re heading back to the dorms, we can walk together.” He holds the curved handle in up, smiling. You’re grateful he doesn’t question it further, understanding there’s more behind your outburst than just a little bit of unforeseen weather.
Once outside, he opens the umbrella, revealing a blue-sky pattern over your heads. You laugh at the irony of it.
“Pretty cool, right?” he beams, holding the handle between you. “I always like to carry a bit of blue with me whenever it’s a gloomy day.”
“I love it,” you reply, returning his bright smile. “Almost makes it feel like it isn’t raining at all.” You huddle next to him, trying your best not to bump your shoulder against his. “Thank you. I would have been stranded if you didn’t come along.”
“No problem at all. Just consider this one of my responsibilities, as your RA.”
“To show off your super cool umbrella to your residents?” you joke, smirking.
He turns his head to face you, gazing at you kindly. “No. To keep you safe and protect you.”
You focus your attention on the ground, avoiding any puddles and ignoring the slight flutter in your belly. “You might be the best RA ever with that kind of mindset.”
He chuckles. “Well, I haven’t forgiven myself for making you cry the first night I met you. So I’m doing my best to make up for it.”
You cover you face with your hand, remembering that humiliating moment. “Oh god, don’t remind me. It really wasn’t you. I was in a fragile state and apparently, red velvet cupcakes were triggering at the time.”
The rain lets up a bit, reduced to a drizzle now. Eren stares in front of him, relaxing the grip on the handle. “Are you feeling better now?”
You choose your words carefully before replying, “Yeah. I think so.” It’s not a confident answer, though it’s the best you can do, without going into detail about it.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
The two of you walk in silence for the next few minutes, listening to the soft trickle of raindrops against the pavement. There’s something peaceful about the rain when you’re not getting absolutely drowned by it. You look up, admiring the blue-sky pattern, feeling the tiniest boost of serotonin on an otherwise dreary situation. “You’re doing a great job, by the way.”
“Huh?”
A little louder, you repeat, “I said you’re doing a great job. Being an RA and everything.” You’re unsure yourself what you mean by “everything”. He’s basically a stranger to you. However, for some reason, you’re comfortable around him.
“Oh. Thanks.” You can tell he’s surprised by your comment, which makes you smile to yourself.
Another moment of silence passes as you approach the dorms. “I’ll have to find a way to thank you for this,” you say.
“You really don’t have to.”
“If it weren’t for you, I’d either be stuck there, crying. Or back at the dorms, drenched from head to toe.” You remove the keycard from your pocket, swiping your ID at the door.
He holds it open for you, beckoning you to enter first, folding and tying his umbrella closed. “Well, if you must know, I love Pocky.”
“Pocky?” You raise your brow at him, amused.
“You know, those little stick treats, covered in chocolate.”
“Yeah, I’m familiar. I’m just surprised by your answer,” you grin, stopping in front of his room.
“Hey, I told you I have a sweet tooth, right? Just get me a box of that, and we’ll call this even.”
“Okay,” you reply. “I can do that.”
He watches you walk the rest of the way down the hall to your room. You face him, giving him one last wave before you enter, retreating inside. You set your bag down and sit at the edge of your bed, surprised at how okay you’re doing, despite running into Reiner. Maybe you really are doing better.
Soon after, your phone vibrates, notifying you of a text. When you check it, you find yourself staring at the screen, frozen in place.
Reiner: Hope you made it back to your dorm okay.
~~~
You’re doing a great job. On a shitty day like today, those five simple words give Eren the validation he needs. If he can’t be great at chemistry, it’s nice knowing he is succeeding in another way. It makes him feel good, as if he’s finally doing something right. Being appreciated for it isn’t expected, but it sure is nice.
He doesn’t see or hear from her until a few days later, when he comes back from one of his classes. Outside his room, he spots a plastic bag hanging on the doorknob, a note attached to the outside of it:
Eren, thank you for keeping me dry from the rain the other day. Consider us even now.
He smiles reading her name signed at the end of it. Peeking into the bag, he sees at least a dozen Pocky boxes scattered inside.
Taglist: @batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @mrs-wolfwood @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman
#eren jaeger#reiner braun#eren x you#eren x y/n#eren x reader#eren x f!reader#reiner x you#reiner x y/n#reiner x reader#reiner x f!reader#aot fanfiction#aot fanfic#aot x reader#give you blue#eren smut#reiner smut#attack on titan smut#eren fluff#attack on titan fluff#give you blue series
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I want to request for Buddy to be a Shatter glass Megatron long lost twin but has the original Megatron personality, i understand if you don't want to tho.
Ooooh! Haven't done one of these before! My knowledge of the Shattered Glass universe is a bit rusty, but I think this ended up pretty good for the knowledge. I did only 3 mechs this time around since these were the best I knew. Let me know if this isn't what you wanted.
Hope you enjoy!
Con’s reaction to Megatron’s twin with OG Megatron’s personality
SFW, familial, platonic, Cybertronian/ Bot reader
SG!
Megatron
He loves Twin really.
But sometimes he worries about his more… physical side. It’s a bit rougher than what he’d like it, but its perfect for the battle ahead.
“We need a plan!”--Starscream
“Anyone have any ideas?”--Megatron
Twin raising his servo.
“One that doesn’t involve with a frontal attack.”--Megatron
Twin lowers his servo.
Without a doubt Twin is one of the best fighters in his army. An excellent strategist on most days. But sometimes when things get a little too heated, the lines tend to blur.
Twin raising their mace over Sideswipe helm.
“Wait! Stop! He’s on our side!”--Megatron
“And how do you know that?”--Twin
“I was left for dead by the Autobots. I gave you the attack plans yesterday?!”--Sideswipe
“Oh… Now I remember. Sorry Sideswipe, please let me help you back to the medbay.”--Twin
“… Spinister and Bombshell aren’t going to like this.”--Sideswipe
“… I know…” –Twin
Which leads to a question many Decepticons had asked.
Why wasn’t Twin second in Command?
It was a simple answer. He didn’t want to be second in Command. He was a soldier and would follow Megatron and his superiors into battle without hesitation.
Megatron misses the days when they would just listen to Twins poetry and manifestos about the corrupt government. A part of him which was now buried under years of pain and suffering from this blasted war.
He is glad that his twin remained loyal to the Decepticon cause and did not move to the power hungry Autobot side.
Megatron has had multiple spark attacks as Twin will fight any of his greatest enemies on sight. No joke.
“It’s over Megatron. Time to meet your—”—Optimus Prime
“OPTIMUS!”--Twin
“Stay back!”--Megatron
“STAY THE PIT AWAY FROM MY BROTHER, YOU SPAWN OF A—”--Twin
“Finally, a real fight.”--Optimus
Starscream
They both met when the war was starting. Megatron himself gave him the introduction, which was interesting.
“Starscream, this is Twin, he is my brother.”--Megatron
“Hello.”--Twin
“Well hello to you too. I look forward in working with you and the others.”—Starscream
“Likewise, Starscream.”--Twin
Despite some clash in morals and personality, the two worked well. Starscream had told him many tales of him and Skyfire before the war had happened. Twin is protective of Starscream after hearing how Starscream was nearly captured. It is on sight if Twin ever sees Skyfire.
“Skyfire, please reconsider!”--Starscream
“Enough traitor!”--Skyfire
“You’re the traitor!”--Starscream
“AND I’M YOU’RE EXECUTIONER!”--Twin
“AHHH!”--Skyfire
“BUDDY STOP! WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS!”--Starscream
Yes, they do argue, but it never escalates too much. Twin protects his friend.
Soundwave
They met through Megatron on a tour of their new base.
“Soundwave, this is my brother.”--Megatron
“Oh, Hi there! It’s nice to meet you! Wow you too look a like but I’m getting a different vibe from you than Megatron. How was the say? Looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you? No, looks like they can kill you but is a cinnamon roll. Oh—I’m rambling again. Sorry about that, sometimes I do—”--Soundwave
Inside Twin’s helm
‘I’m going to befriend this mech so hard.’
He still doesn’t know if this was a good idea or not. Twin knows things just as quickly as Megatron because they are so close.
Twin sometimes looks after the cassettes if Soundwave needs to be somewhere else.
It’s rare but it happens.
“Hey, I’m bac—What happened here?”--Soundwave
Twin laying down with the mini’s napping all over his frame.
“This is how I die… leave me here.”--Twin
Like Starscream, soundwave has told twin about Blaster. And like Skyfire, it is on sight for Blaster.
Twin is fiercely protectively over his friends.
“Its current time you second class scum!”--Blaster
“That’s what you think!”--Soundwave
“That’s what I know. You ain’t got no cassettes and you’re weapons jammed. What else do—”--Blaster
SMASH!
“BLASTER!”--Twin
“I’m outta here!”--Blaster
“GET BACK HERE YOU, SORRY EXCUSE OF A BOOMBOX!”--Twin
“Hey now, we’ve talked about the deep breathing exercises. Come on 1,2,3..”--Soundwave
“… 4,5,6…”--Twin
He does agree too much with the levels of violence Twin can get to, and there have been arguments about this. It usually gets resolved quickly though.
Faster than the others fight.
Has accidentally read his thoughts on the inner poet inside. Soundwave actively tries to get Twin to pick back the hobby. They sometimes share their hobbies on slower days.
#transformers#transformers x reader#transformers shattered glass#maccadam#bot buddy#transformers shattered glass x platonic reader
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The Brothers and their Nightmares
I was going to post this for Halloween, but things came up as they always do and I couldn't get to finishing it until now. Enjoy the late angst and spoops!
These are just dream scenarios I imagined the Brothers would suffer with, connected to both their Sin and the personal things they struggle with. Most of it is symbolic but could still be triggering for some.
TW: Hurt/No Comfort, Violent Images, Death, Blood, Angst, Nightmare Scenarios, Burning, Broken Bones, Disturbing Scenes that may upset readers. As Always, Read Safely.
Lucifer:
Displayed in a box. Preserved. Hung on a shelf for all to see. Trapped in a clear case with giant pins puncturing his wings and limbs in place. A perfect specimen.
The pain is immense. The torture almost unbearable, but this is where he belongs, right? To be shown off with Pride? To weather any struggles and pain to shine ever brighter in the light? A diamond only need be pressurized, cut, and polished before it's valuable.
Blurry faces of demons and angels and humans alike all pass him by, pointing at him and observing him with awe, sometimes fear, but nothing more. A living piece of art. He's searching for any familiarity amongst the crowd. The people he loves the most, the people he wants to shine for above all, the people he's suffering for!
Please! Give him a reason to endure this crucifixion! Prove to him that this is worth it! Let him know that he's enough! This prison must mean something! Don't say it was all for nothing! Everything he's worked for! Everything he's lamented over, toiled for! Look at him! Appreciate him!
But no one ever comes.
In the end he's left alone. The pins push deeper. The blood dripping from his eyes.
Just a caged butterfly.
--
Mammon:
Glistening palms. Shimmering faces. Gold as far as the eye can see. A perfect shining kingdom. Frozen lifeless subjects. This isn't what he wanted.
Come on, Belphie. Beel? What about you Asmo?... Satan?... No... Levi, please... Hells no... Lucifer!
Unmoving metal lips match each stiff jeweled eye. His hands... He- he had only touched them. That was all he did. Right? All he had done was love them. The Greed had become too much. In his ambition for glory, his corrupted embrace had tainted his family past the flesh. Motionless mannequins, that's all they were now. Cursed to shine till the end of time. His treasures that he had always craved.
Was this what he had wanted all along? No! He had created this all for his family! His friends! His loved ones! They were to all to gimmer with him! Not leave him alone! He did this. He always took things too far. Steal and cheat and lie until nothing remained! Rotten scum! Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he just be better?! Give him a second chance... please. He can be better... Someone say something...
A destiny written in stone. Take. Even the lives of his brothers.
No matter how hard he tries, he only makes things worse.
Surrounded by the Fool's gold.
--
Levi:
Clanging, burning chains. There's a constant deafening buzzing in the air, the chatter of thousands of people. The voices rise and fall in rhythm, like the beating of war drums, or the increasing pace of his heart. He can't think, he can hardly see, and he can't breathe.
Millions of shining eyes stare down at his restrained body in the middle of a stadium. The blinding gazes singe his body, his skin melting off his bones. He's not the only one at the center of attention. Other people, other contestants are here to play the same game. Win, and get everything you ever dreamed. Lose, and be forced to burn with Envy and shame.
Every failed attempt of his makes the arena hotter. The infernal heat spills from the breaths of the crowd sharing his weaknesses to the world. They give his competitors the advantage, kicking him while he's down. The thrumming gets faster. It's not fair! He's trying so hard! Was he just doomed from the start? Was he born a failure? Hated by the universe since the moment of conception?! Is that why he's never good enough? Is that why all his brothers get to move on without him?!
His dreams always just out of reach. He's not good enough to be loved.
The bitterness eats him up from the inside.
Till he's melted into a pile of nothing.
--
Satan:
A mess of strings. The curtain is drawn. The show begins! It's the same routine day after day after day after day-- He can't take this any more!
He doesn't even understand this masquerade! The story he's forced to play out is gibberish, some fickle plot he can't even begin to fathom. Everything is foreign to him. The audience, the dance, his body, his Wrath. None of it is recognizable. And they chuckle like they know, like they enjoy his ignorance. Limbs are pulled in any direction the strings choose. Bones broken, lips sealed shut, he's pushed to the brink of oblivion once again.
But he worked so hard! Everything he's read, everything he learned, so he could stop feeling like this! He's not just a hollow doll, controlled by someone else's ambitions! He has thoughts, he has feelings! He might... not fully understand them yet, but he's trying! Tell him he's smart, that he's strong, that he's his own person! Let him stand on his own!
But only his mind is allowed to scream as the congregation watches.
A wicked dance until the strings are snipped. His opportunity to be independent. But instead, he falls into a lifeless heap on the floor.
Nothing without someone else.
The poor wooden plaything will never be real.
--
Asmo:
An endless winding labyrinth of mirrors. He runs, panting and crying as he tries to find his way through the illusions. Make it stop! Let him have peace!
The creatures are invisible to his normal eyes, only showing up in the reflections of the mirrors surrounding him. There's hundreds of them at least, crawling over each other to get to him. They don't even make a sound, silently scrambling towards him. An amalgamation of Lust. Each time they grab him, they take something precious from him. His fingernails, strands of his hair, his beautiful lips, the blush from his cheeks. They rip off of him as easily as tearing away a puzzle piece.
They're stripping him of his beauty bit by bit! How is he supposed to be loved like this?! If he's not gorgeous, than what is he? He has nothing left! This is all he has! He's not strong, or smart, or powerful! His physical charm is all he has! Please, leave him alone! He's supposed to be a jewel! That's all anyone ever sees him as!
He can't bear to look at himself. Every time he glances he's slightly different. Until he no longer recognizes the humanoid shell in the mirror. But he has no choice to keep looking if he wants to keep an eye on the monsters pursuing him.
A single fumble.
It's rather quick and painless as the souls each take what they want from him.
And leave him broken in shards on the floor.
--
Beel:
Screams echo from every direction. Buildings crumble as the earth shakes and the air hums. A moving living black cloud sweeps through the town. Where's his family? He has to help.
The sky a vast pool of crimson as the Celestial Sun and Demonic Moon cross paths and cast a torrent of blood down onto the merging realms. The ground beneath them all trembles, growling. It's Gluttonous. Every person he tries to save is always just too far away. They either get consumed from the plague of insects or fall into the gaping maws of the starving earth. And he still can't find his family.
Why? Why is this happening? Why isn't he strong enough to save anyone?! All the workouts, all the training, pushing his muscles stronger than any demon ever has, all so he can quit feeling so useless! He told himself he would be ready to take on anything! Even an entire army if he had to, just so he could save somebody for once! Lilith... Belphie… everyone... he's sorry... Sorry he's so weak. This is his fault.
The foundation beneath his feet begins to crumble.
His wings feel far too fragile to fly.
It makes sense that in the End of Days, no one would be there to save him.
He didn't deserve it.
--
Belphie:
There's something rotten in his chest. It feels like a pit in his soul, growing larger with every passing second. The sensation is agonizing.
It's something no one can see, but something he feels with every breath. It's very slowly stripping him of everything he is. His love, his memories, his desires... He needs to go find help. The House is laid out all wrong. Doors lead to where they shouldn't, hallways bend in the wrong directions. His house doesn't even feel like home anymore. Every step feels harder than it should. The supposedly easy task of getting help seeming more like an impossible feat. This rot is more than just Sloth. It takes what seems like hours to finally find his family. That's when he reaches out to them, trying to tell them what's wrong. But he can't speak for some reason.
Gestures and panicked grasping means nothing to his brothers. The desperation in his eyes goes ignored as most simply rub his head or push him off to the side, not taking him seriously in the least. But this hurts! He can't take the pain anymore! Someone help him! Don't push him away, don't treat it like a joke! Listen to him! Take what he has to say into consideration! He can't possibly speak over six other voices!
His efforts wasted, his energy depleted.
The rot ate away at his heart and left him numb.
And everyone walked away, leaving the boy who cried to cry alone.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me belphie#obey me nightbringer#hurt/no comfort#tw: violence#tw: death#tw: blood#tw disturbing imagery#tw burning#tw broken bones
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—968 words, angst, death, deep talks about life, cemeteries. yea ig that's it. yea also wrote this at 3 am guys i am mighty sleep deprived
a/n; atp I'm doing everything BUT studying or writing my gojo fic :D (gojo fic someday you'll see the light till then this megumi angst has to compensate for it) REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!
megumi can never truly forget that memory.
he remembers clear blue skies and the occasional chirping of birds along with the flapping of their wings. white clouds slowly drifting in the air and dragonflies hovering over the grass. the trees were green and lush, the leaves gently rustling due to the cool breeze which could mean one thing alone—the advent of spring. there was a silence that washed his body with a strange type of peace, a peace he had never quite known, that he had just allowed himself to feel. and there was a presence—you—standing beside him, looking at the unknown grave, head tilted slightly and hands deep in your pockets.
he couldn't help but think—there was so much life bursting amidst a place that housed the dead.
megumi never liked cemeteries. they made him sad, unhappy, gloomy in a way. but you found a certain peace in them. to walk in silence, looking at the many graves—you had said it calmed one's soul. made one think. made one feel grateful for their life.
"it's almost amusing, don't you think?" you had asked, breaking your silence.
"dead people amuse you now?" megumi looked over at you to find you still looking at the grave. how could it ever be amusing to look at a stranger's grave? he swore that sometimes even you didn't understand what you were saying.
"no idiot," you shook your head, a little chuckle bursting out of your throat as your eyes locked with his.
"what i mean is," you sighed "that these people, they were people, like you and me. they had dreams and hopes and aspirations. they worked hard for their passions and hoped to achieve so much through their efforts. isn't it awful how many of these people might never have reached their dreams? their lives cut short as they were snatched away from their own loved ones?"
you ruffled your hair before crossing your arms, "i find it unfair. isn't it unfair? how you never know what will happen? how you, me—all of us—will just become another memory to be forgotten? how we'll just become dust, become one with the earth? our names, just some carvings on some stones and even then—everything will just go on as it is. life will go on. we're just lone stars burning out in the massive universe."
megumi could only look at you. you had that effect on him, rendering him speechless through your words alone. a few seconds passed before he finally found his voice again.
"well," he began, tone laced with a certain gentleness that only showed itself in your presence. "i see it more like the beauty of life. we're here and then we're not. we live and we love and we thrive and we falter. it's the way of life, or the rule of life, whatever you call it. i think that's why we have to make sure we make the most of it. life is unpredictable and that's what makes it so thrilling."
"i think you're right—well—in a way at least. i've learnt to cherish my life. i think with you by my side, i can stand strong and proud and i can live. i'm glad you found me and i found you and i'm glad that we're always by each other's side," you smiled up at him, nudging his shoulder.
"always?"
"always."
wasn't that the promise you made?
it was like looking through a glass window, so vividly was that day's image imprinted on his mind. he wanted to break that glass and take a hold of that memory and relive it again and again and again if it meant he could have you by his side. he definitely would do that if he could.
life is not really beautiful he learnt after he started visiting the cemetery more often. it was cruel, it was ruthless, it filled one with agony and suffering and pain. oh, so much pain.
he never looked at random graves anymore like he did before with you. no, he looked at just one. the name etched on the stone with a few leaves scattered at the base—l/n y/n.
it hurt, it truly did. through you, megumi learnt love and loss, he learnt heartbreak and grief and what it felt like to cry in the middle of the night wishing for you to hold him close and whisper i'm here. you never were though, you wouldn't be there anymore, you wouldn't cradle him and card your fingers softly through his hair or wipe his tears or kiss his worries away. you wouldn't and that was reality and he had to live with that reality.
megumi learnt through you how promises were only made to be broken—knowingly or unknowingly.
but you taught him how to love and to be loved, how to find beauty and peace in the mundane, how to dream big and how to care, to be kind.
he loved you but he had to let you go. alas, you wouldn't want him to be stuck, frozen in a place where darkness loomed and nothing but sheer heartache reigned supreme. maybe it was true that a part of him was gone. maybe it was true that he would never feel truly and completely whole again. but he could swear your ghost would curse at him if he didn't at least try to move forward.
so he laid a bouquet of white carnation at the base of your grave, uttering a silent prayer.
"always." he brought his index and middle finger to his lips and then placed it on the top of the headstone before standing up, burying his hands deep in his coat pockets.
"always." he whispered, letting his words get carried by the air before turning around to walk away.
#—storytelling🌙#fushiguro megumi#megumi fushiguro#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jjk angst#jujustu kaisen angst#megumi angst#megumi x reader#jjk x reader#jujustu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#megumi x you#megumi fushiguro angst#fushiguro megumi angst
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An Option
Stelle stumbles in with cuts and bruises all over her arms and face.
Caelus:Woah…what happened to you?
Stelle: Automatons and their mechanical koi contraptions. Ugh, I’m over those things. There has to be a better way to get materials.
Caelus:You’re bleeding.
Stelle:It’s fine.
Caelus: That’s the Destruction in you talking.
Stelle:Pfft, as you’re Mr. Preservation? My risks are just a little flashier than yours.
Caelus: Butt. Seat. Right now.
The girl groaned as she walked over to a chair while Caelus got up to get the first aid kit. Everyone bone felt like the abandoned door on a haunted house as Stelle tried to relax her body. Caelus came back quickly, brushing her tangled hair out of her face and gently putting a cotton ball doused with rubbing alcohol on a cheek cut that made her wince.
Steele: Hiss! That stings!
Caelus:I bet it does! Probably not as much as it was to get in the first place. Man, you really at shit.
Stelle:Thank you. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear after helping people all evening. Immaculate bed side manner.
Caelus:You’re extra feisty today. Credits for your troubles?
Stelle:I’m tired is all. I don’t know…maybe feeling the stress of everything?
Caelus:It pays to relax. You don’t have to face everything. I can swap jobs with you more often.
Stelle:I like my responsibilities. Plus not being active all the time doesn’t feel good.
Caelus:I’m active! I just don’t feel the need to go into the Simulated Universe every day! You need meaningful ways to spend hours.
Stelle:We don’t all have people inviting us for “personal encounters”
Caelus:…Ah, so that’s what the problem is about? You need to get laid.
The man witnessed the slowest head turn in history as Stelle’s jaw dropped from his audacity. Caelus didn’t even blink while putting another bandage on her arm.
Stelle:Do you think I’m not trying!? We all can’t be suffering from success like you!
Caelus:Like me!?
Stelle:Yes, you! You and Dan Heng in March’s room!
Caelus:I didn’t know what was happening!? She called us in there saying she needed help. I thought another spider entered her room. I wasn’t expecting her to the “I offer you a proposal” stance.
Stelle:She’s so dorky. It’s great.
Caelus:Surprisingly good negotiator. Regardless, not my fault and not a common occurrence.
Stelle:Siver Wolf.
Caelus: Barely here and a shot in the dark. I’m not saying I wasn’t interested but I didn’t expect things to be so…casual.
Stelle:Still counts. Topaz.
Caelus:I’ve never done anything with Topaz. I just think she’s beautiful.
Stelle:What? But you hangout sometimes.
Caelus:Yeah, and? We just like hanging around cute pets. That’s it. I don’t even think she likes me.
Stelle:Eh, her mind is a mystery. I’m sure she wouldn’t hate it.
Caelus:I don’t think that’s the point at all. Anyways, it’s not like you can’t get a date or a potential “buddy” to spend time with. You’re way more attractive than me.
Stelle:That’s not hard.
Caelus:You can do your own stitches.
Stelle:I’m sorry. Please don’t stop. It was a bitter joke!
Caelus:Stop crying. My hands are still moving aren’t they? So, pick someone you fancy.
Stelle:You’re forgetting my luck is atrocious. Bronya is taken.
Caelus:Correct.
Stelle:I don’t think Welt could bring himself to see me in that light.
Caelus:A trait that maybe you should consider with him.
Stelle:He’s handsome! I don’t have to look at him like a parent! He’s just an older guy! It would be no different than liking Jing Yuan or Blade!
Caelus:Those two have enough baggage to fill the train. Asta thinks you’re cute.
Stelle:The last thing Asta needs is more rumors and drama.
Caelus: Ruan Mei?
Stelle:Why would I like her? We’ve barely met…I think?
Caelus:Wait, I’m an idiot. Don’t you like Argenti? You seemed like a fan.
Stelle:Did you forget the part where that man told us goodbye to find the Aeon on Beauty as he jumped off the train!? I would love to have dinner with him but he’s a bit busy! I hope he crashes into us again.
Caelus:Or you know, dock normally? That’s an option. Didn’t you go to dinner with Gepard.
Stelle:He’s definitely a sweetie. However… *red* No, there’s no way I could feel comfortable sharing my needs with him without dying of embarrassment. Especially when I’m friends with Serval!
Caelus:I don’t think he’d judge you, but I could definitely see how awkward that could be.
Stelle:And let’s not forget the one person I wholeheartedly swooned over may not have been the person around for most of my conversations and got their neck snapped. My luck is probably why Nanook likes me. *deflates* Maybe I should phone it in and become a Celestial Jade enthusiast.
Caelus:…Am I an option?
That question hung in the air for a moment, slowly registering to Stelle’s brain. Her eyes then gradually widened as she turned her head to see him focusing in a leg injury. That did nothing to hide the growing red on his ears.
Stelle:…What?
Caelus:It’s a pretty straightforward question. If this situation is about being stressed, opportunity, and comfortability then…. it’s not that crazy.
Stelle:Are you saying you would say yes?
Caelus:No! I’m saying if I was an option for you that o could see it and it would make sense! It’s not like any good would come from you not at hundred percent.
Stelle: Caelus, so you would say yes?
Caelus:…I mean who would put up with you effortlessly?
Stelle:You’re in kicking distance.
Caelus:You’d pull your stitches. Anyways, it was just a random thought. Forget I said anything.
Stelle:….You’re not, not an option; I guess?
………..
Caelus:Neat…
He finally fishes the last of her main injuries. Caelus rises to his feet and closes the first aid kit with a satisfying case click that filled the awkward silence.
Stelle:Thanks for the pick-me-up.
Caelus:No biggie. Just doing what I can and all. Welp…time to put this back! See ya. *walks away*
Stelle looked down at his careful needle and gently bandaged wraps. Not even Welt or Himeko could do a better job. If anything, Caelus was good with his han-
Stelle:Fuuuuuuuk. Noooooo don’t think thaaaaat. *covers face* Damnit all. Why’d you have to ask that?
xxxxx
Caelus:(Why did I say that!?)
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