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vanilladove · 6 months

Text

~ get free (1/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: v suggestive w/ plot (yasssss); read at your own discretion

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: unhealthy relationships, infidelity, slightly yandere(?) nikolai, dubious consent, nikolai himself is a warning lol, also sorry if the asylum! au is inaccurate

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: reader is an asylum attendant and is assigned to their newest admit nikolai gogol. ALSO this fic is heavily inspired by @/cherikolya's fic she's the one i'm running with- pls check it out and support her! also i'm splitting this up into 2 parts bc watching the aot anime has been breaking me and consuming all my thoughts, but i still want to post:( ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 2 & pt 3 here ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 5.7k (oops...what can i say nikolai makes me delulu)

"Nikolai Gogol. Age 26. Male. Charged with terrorism, first-degree murder, and treason among other things, but he got off with an insanity plea. Look over his file before he comes in later." The man behind the desk tossed the neat file carelessly onto the acrylic surface, exhaling boredly after giving his monotone rundown.

"I'm being assigned to him? But I already have other patients to take care of!" You inquired, fists forming at your sides as you already imagined the overtime and exhaustion you were going to rack up.

"Attendants don't grow on trees, do they? Don't assume I'll give you special treatment. Besides, I'm handing your other patients off to the new girls, so you'll be able to focus on Gogol. He's high priority." The man butted back.

Tch. You sighed and grabbed the file, mumbling a "fine" and turning to leave his office.

"Goodbye, dear." He spat it out like venom with a forced smile. You glanced back once more at the man: your boss--or rather husband--before heading out the door. You two were simply a marriage of convenience--a business transaction. In exchange for funding to build a new asylum on par with Mersault to rehabilitate criminals, your father had offered your hand in marriage to his business partner's son, who had become entranced by your beauty after seeing you once in your father's office. He wasn't too bad of a man at first, and you both related over your occupation together, but your marriage started to go sour after he realized you weren't just a pretty face or obedient wife, and it worsened after his narcissism and egocentricity started to show. He was too traditional and trapped you in his cage of rules and regulations. Even sharing the same bed and having dinner together couldn't reignite the nonexistent spark between you.

You walked back to your office and closed the door behind you before making yourself some herbal tea to calm your nerves. Laying down on the plush couch in the middle of your room, you looked through your new patient's file, trying to memorize all the details.

Nikolai Gogol, huh? What kind of person are you? You shivered reading the list of his crimes, which seemed endless and cruel.

An hour or so had passed before you heard a soft knock at your door. "Miss?" Another attendant had come to fetch you. "Your patient is waiting for you in the white ward." The white ward was where "high priority" or more dangerous patients were kept.

"I'll be out in a moment!" You called out, getting up from the couch and tidying up the space before fixing your hair and pulling down your uniform. It was a black flowy dress with puffy bell sleeves and a white rounded collar. The dress itself was a bit too short, being designed and chosen by your gross and perverted lovely husband. You walked out the comfort of your office and followed the attendant to the white ward.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Miss, this is your patient Nikolai Gogol". The attendant gestured to the tall man standing in the hallway outside of his room. He was strapped and held by two guards, with several others surrounding him holding special guns. He had a neutral smile on his face that turned upwards upon seeing you. You couldn't help but be momentarily mesmerized by the man in front of you. He wore a loose white button up and white linen pants--the standard male patient uniform--and his white hair was messily layered with a long, neat braid on his shoulder. His eyes were the most captivating to you, one emerald and full of life and the other a dull blue with a scar. Without the jester attire donned in his file pictures, he actually looked quite...handsome and prince-like?

You snapped yourself back to reality after remembering who you were dealing with and bowed slightly, just enough to stop your dress from riding up.

Observing the situation, you could sense the belligerence seething from everyone else. Not that you could blame them, the new patient was a dangerous anarchist. Your personal philosophy was always to treat the patient as humanely as possible in order to build trust and security, so you tried to not think about your new patient's file information. Just focus on diffusing the energy of the space and getting the jester to somewhat like you.

"Hello, Nikolai. I'm your attendant and will be taking care of you for the duration of your stay here," You looked back up and smiled gently at him, starkly contrasting the hostile glares from the other attendant and guards. "Let's get along, okay?"

Nikolai's eyes widened immediately and he tried to move closer to you. "Whaaaa! Nice to meet you, pretty miss! I can't believe such a beautiful girl is taking care of me!" The two guards forcibly stopped him from taking another step and the others pointed their guns at him.

Nikolai frowned and stopped squirming. "Hey! All I did was talk! Put those scary things away!" He giggled as the guards retracted their guns slowly and stuck his tongue out at the other attendant, who looked disgusted yet scared. He wasn't intimidated or scared at all. The guards then opened the door to Nikolai's room and placed him sitting down on his bed. Before you could follow to begin debriefing, the other attendant tugged on your arm lightly.

You turned back at looked at her. She had a fluffy blonde bob, light green eyes, and freckles. Lacey, one of the young new hires your husband mentioned earlier. "Um Miss, aren't we supposed to follow the script when interacting with patients? I thought smiling at them and speaking casually promoted unwanted feelings and was unprofessional?" You cringed, loathing that she sounded just like your husband when he was lecturing.

You shot her a fake sugary smile, "Oh, yes, I usually just take a softer approach with more unstable patients. Don't want them to stab you in the back immediately, do you?" You tried to answer lightheartedly, but your efforts clearly failed by the way Lacey had a horrified look on her face from your little joke, like it was the worst answer you could've said. You awkwardly coughed and put your hand on her shoulder.

"Right, thanks for reminding me, Lacey. It's great that you remembered the boss's words." Rolling your eyes once your back was turned to her, you stepped into Nikolai's room. You already dreaded Lacey telling your husband about you deviating from protocol and the long talk he would have with you at home.

"Four of us will be staying here to observe the debrief, Miss. This man is dangerous." You nodded as each of the four the guards stood in a corner of the room and the rest filed out of the room. You pulled up a stool and sat down, giving your new patient a run down of his daily schedule and how the asylum operated. The whole time, his eyes watched you excitedly like a puppy and he giggled and nodded frequently in between your sentences. It was strange and unsettling, but you were slightly relieved you didn't have to deal with an aggressive patient.

Scooting closer to Nikolai, you pulled out a small water bottle and a case of different pills. "These are your daily meds, Nikolai. I'll come to give these to you every morning at six before breakfast. I'll monitor your progress and adjust your dosage as time goes on." He nodded as you stood up and placed the water bottle on the stool, putting on a white latex glove and pouring the pills out into your hand. "I'm going to be administering them to you just for today. Open your mouth and don't close it until I'm done, okay?"

"Okay, missy! I'll be a good boy and try not to bite your pretty fingers off!" Nikolai perked up and giggled like a child getting candy. You mentally cringed and prepared yourself for the worst as you stepped towards him. What could you expect? This man was dangerous and had no reason to listen to you. The guards tensed up as you moved closer and pointed their guns at the jester's face. You swallowed as Nikolai opened his mouth, obnoxiously saying "ahhhhhhhh" and bouncing in his spot lightly.

Heartbeat increasing, you placed your free hand under Nikolai's jaw, thumb supporting his chin and lifted his face up slightly to you as you dropped the pills into his mouth. Mind racing and anxiousness clouding your vision, you missed the way he gaze softened. He closed his mouth and leaned into your touch more, nuzzling your delicate fingers. You swiftly pulled away, turning your head back to grab the water bottle behind you, attempting to hide the light rose that dusted your cheeks, unsure of whether it was from fear or embarrassment. Nikolai's eyes were still intently on you, so you secretly hoped he had missed that.

As you opened up the water bottle and stepped back towards Nikolai again, he shook his head. "I already swallowed them, I don't need any water, miss attendant." He opened his mouth again to show you proof before you sighed out an "okay" and tightened the cap back on. You grabbed the empty pill case before gesturing to the guards to put their guns down. They complied and two came over to slowly undo the restraints on his upper body, making sure to hold him back immediately after.

"Well, Nikolai, that's all for today. Thank you, and I--"

"Whoa, missy, you have a ring! Too bad you're already married!" Nikolai interrupted, his head poking up but quickly being pushed down by one of the guards. You cursed yourself silently as you froze in place. Since you had to move around a lot and constantly clean, you wore your wedding ring on a simple gold chain as a necklace instead. It was usually tucked under your uniform, but it must have slipped out when you were laying on your couch earlier. You cleared your throat awkwardly, tucking your necklace back into your uniform and trying to get rid of the instinctive frown on your face that appeared anytime your partner was mentioned.

"Yes, I'm married. Anyways--"

“But you held my face so lovingly just now. Won't your husband get mad? You're supposed to do that to him, not your new captive, right?"

You tightened your fists at that.

"That man…does he treat you well, pryntsesa?" Even though his head was held down, his dark gaze still cut into you, now not as innocent as it was before. You were sure the cheeky man was smirking too, taunting you with an otherwise harmless question.

You let out a fake laugh and an even faker wide smile in response, just eager to leave and go home now. Whatever charm you had your patient initially under had clearly faded away. "I'll see you tomorrow at six, Mr. Gogol." Nikolai's smirk turned down after hearing the name change, but quickly turned back up again followed by loud hysterical laughs--unbeknownst to you, who had already left his room.

"So the little ptashka wants to play games, does she?"

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Thanks for dinner, dear." Your husband said, wiping his mouth with a neatly folded handkerchief.

Shocking. Is he being...nice?

"Of course, I've already packed your lunch for tomorrow, too." You replied, occupied washing dishes and organizing the kitchen again.

"So, how was your first encounter with Gogol?" He inquired, walking over to you to put his dishes into the sink and lean against the counter beside you. You stopped for a moment, surprised he was making conversation with you today, as he usually retreated back to your shared bedroom or went to the living room to watch the news.

You were about to start until you noticed his brows furrowed and his arms crossed. You took your rubber gloves off and placed them next to you.

Oh boy, he's about to lecture me, isn't he?

"What are you really trying to say?"

He exhaled. "Well, Lacey--"

That snitch. You couldn't believe her.

"Ahhh, Lacey. The sweet young new girl you hired as extra help. What about her?" Your spouse's eyes narrowed.

"Respect your coworkers, dear. Lacey told me about your unprofessional interaction with Gogol. Smiling at a murderer and treating patients as friends doesn't exactly align with the asylum's values, now does it?" He said sternly.

"I was just trying to immobilize him. You can't exactly make a patient trust you when everyone's just shooting daggers at them, y'know?" He didn't look convinced. "Besides, this has always been my approach since I started in this field, and it's never failed me. You more than anyone should know I have the most successful recoveries among all the staff."

"Fine. Just make sure your unorthodox tendencies don't rub off on the other staff." He looked down at your neck. "And don't tuck your necklace under your uniform anymore. Don't want all the delinquents getting the wrong idea. You're off the market now" He lifted the chain of your necklace and traced the outline of the ring before letting go and walking to grab his coat and a pack of cigarettes.

"Going outside for a smoke break. You should get to bed and get some sleep for the long day tomorrow" He replied before walking out the door, your eyes following him.

You didn't miss the way he swiftly grabbed the keys and fixed his hair before leaving.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Good morning, dove!" Nikolai chirped upon you entering his room.

"Good morning, Nikolai. Did you sleep well?" You asked softly, taking his medication out and handing it to him, along with some Ukrainian candy.

"Mmhmm, yes I did! I had a sweet dream, too, doll, but I can't tell you what it was about!" He said excitedly. Used to his antics, you only laughed in response and watched as he took his pills--still without water for whatever reason and unwrapped the minky binky candy, popping it into his mouth.

Five weeks. That was how long it'd been since Nikolai was admitted to the asylum.

Despite your initial worries of dealing with a monster, you and Nikolai had gotten along quite well. He seemed to only listen to you, though, much to the dismay of the other attendants. It was beneficial for you though, since it meant you didn't have to work overtime seeing to other patients.

Nikolai had developed a habit of calling you by anything but your name, bestowing several different pet names on you--a new upgrade from "miss" and "missy".

He also became increasingly touchy with you as well: constantly holding your hand--intertwining his fingers with yours, braiding your hair, and hugging you when he felt "cold". Perhaps you were desensitized to it or just touch starved, but you rarely complained about it. You would rather keep him happy and easy to deal with, anyways.

"Look, pretty girl, I finished all my meds!" Nikolai exclaimed as he opened his mouth to show you proof that he swallowed them all.

You gave him a friendly smile. "You aren't having any bad side effects from your meds, are you?" You found it a bit odd that Nikolai's dosage never changed, since no one could pinpoint his exact condition. It made your job easy, though, so you tried not to think much about it.

"No ma'am. I had some trouble sleeping at first, but it's all gone now!" He stood up from his bed and watched as you straightened it up--simultaneously checking for anything suspicious. There never was anything somehow.

His hands loosely wrapped around your waist as he pressed himself against your bent back and rested his chin on your shoulder, causing you to push your hands into the sheets and wrinkle the thin blanket. You let out a surprised squeal when you felt his warm breath on your ear.

"Love, can we eat breakfast in the courtyard today?" He whispered softly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself blushing as you turned around and pushed him away, his hands still remaining on your waist.

"Y-Yes, N-Nikolai, we can go to the courtyard today." You said, finally stepping away to be free of his touch just for him to hold your hand. He flashed a happy smile at you while skipping out the door, tugging you along with him.

"Yayyyy! Me and ptashka are going on a date~"

"...It's not a date, silly." You replied back, blush still faintly across your cheeks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You inhaled the fresh courtyard air, still holding hands with Nikolai as you walked on the cobblestone path. His breakfast to-go box and your lunchbox were on the nearby bench; you both already ate, but Nikolai basically ate most of your food, claiming the dining hall food was "stale and dry" compared to the pillowy cream puffs you'd brought.

"Wahhhh! Look at the fishies, dove!" Nikolai exclaimed, waving his finger at the koi fish swimming in the fountain. They eagerly swam towards him, probably thinking he was going to feed them. He giggled, eyes focusing in on two of the fish.

"Don't those two look like us, love?" You were snapped out of your previous trance and looked down to see a black koi fish and a larger white koi fish together cuddling into each other.

"Oh, I guess they do. Because of our uniforms, right?" You looked back up to Nikolai to see him frowning and still staring at the fish.

"No, dove, because they're in love..." He said lowly, to the point where you almost couldn't hear him. His gaze softened as he looked back down at you and cupped your face gently.

In love? Us?

Eyes widened, you felt confused as you looked away, not sure how to respond or think. The sudden action caused Nikolai's hands to drop away from your face. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see his disappointed face as you stammered, "We're not in lo--"

Your eyes flew open again as you felt something hard in your hand.

A bouquet of lavender roses was in your hand, with Nikolai giving you a big grin with his hands behind his back. "Pretty flowers for my pretty girl." You blushed, forgetting about what had just happened. You had always loved roses and their romantic charm.

When was the last time your husband brought you flowers?

"Lavender roses symbolize delight and love at first sight. They remind me of you." Your eyes widened again as you looked up, Nikolai turning serious and gazing at you affectionately, like you were really lovers.

You found yourself getting lost in his heterochromatic eyes. Somehow, you felt peaceful like this. Even though he was a dangerous criminal. Even though your heart was already sworn to another man.

"Thank you, Nikolai. They're beautiful." You said smiling at him, this time being genuine and not passive. You were falling into a serene state, only able to focus on him. His action had somehow touched your conflicted heart and put you in a good mood.

He laughed happily in response, pleased by your reaction. "You look lovely when you smile like that, sweetheart." He pulled your other hand back to the bench so you could sit.

"Also, you should give me a nickname, too. I have so many, but you only call me Nikolai~" He pouted, scooting next to you on the bench.

"Hmmmm...What should I call you then? Niko? 'Lai? Nikolas...?" You pondered, both of you slightly cringing at all of the options, each one sounding worse than the previous one.

"I know!" Nikolai exclaimed, grabbing your hands--still holding the flower bouquet--and clasping them together, "Kolya. Call me Kolya. That's what my close friends and family would call me!"

Family? You mean the ones you murdered? You tried to shake the thought.

"Kol--Ahh!" You cried out as you felt a deep prick on your left ring finger. You pulled your hand away from Nikolai's and dropped the bouquet, watching the blood drip down your finger and down to your thigh.

Nikolai's eyes filled with concern, "Love! You're hurt!" He rushedly rummaged through his breakfast box and his pockets, trying to find a napkin to stop the bleeding. You tried to calm him down, telling him you were fine, but he wouldn't listen.

Suddenly, he seized your left hand and brought it to his mouth, closing his lips around your ring finger. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt him running his tongue over your finger, getting every last drop of blood and kissing the spot slowly when he finished.

Heat rushed into your cheeks as the air felt thick, no longer serene and peaceful. Nikolai's eyes darkened, and an unreadable expression fell on his face.

"There's still some there, dove." He gazed down at the blood that had dripped onto your thigh. Your stomach churned at the thought of what he would do next as he pushed you down onto the bench and brought his lips to your inner thigh, leaving soft kitten licks all over the spot and lightly groaning.

"Niko--Kolya, s-stop--" You tried suppressing the moan threatening to spill out from the contact on your sensitive skin. You tried to push him away softly, but he wouldn't stop, now pressing light kisses that travelled up your thigh to your sweet spot. He was getting close. Too close.

You pushed his head away, not trying to be soft anymore, and sat up again, moving to the far side of the bench. You pulled down your dress again to cover your now reddened thigh.

"W-We can't do this. It's wrong. You're my patient, and I'm your attendant. And..." You hesitated, regaining your composure, "...And I'm married." You said, biting your tongue. The gold necklace suddenly felt heavy around your neck, like it was pulling you down.

Nikolai laughed bitterly, "You don't love him though, myla. He's kept you trapped in a cage. Is that what you want, dove? Do you want to be trapped in his cage?"

"I--"

"Miss! Mr. Gogol! There you two are! We've been looking everywhere for you both. There's a group wellness activity starting for all the patients, and they're waiting on you." You turned around to hear a familiar high-pitched voice.

Lacey. The snitch new girl.

You put on a fake smile. "My apologies, I completely lost track of time. Lacey, you can escort Nikolai to the group's meeting spot. I'll be retiring to my office for the rest of the day." She nodded as you grabbed the bouquet and your lunchbox and took one last look at Nikolai before standing up from the bench and turning away, "I'll see you tomorrow, Nikolai." You didn't wait for a response back.

It felt too awkward. Everything felt confusing; you knew your place but you also wanted to be free. You liked Nikolai but you didn't know if those feelings could be considered love. You surely didn't love your husband...

All you could do was hold onto the roses and gaze up at a dove flying across the sky. For a moment, you wished to be like that dove. To be elegant, at peace, and loved.

You wished to be free.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to scan your access card and enter Nikolai's room. Today was a special day, after all.

"Good morn--"

"Love! You're finally here! I was waiting for you~" Nikolai exclaimed as he lunged towards you, burying his face into your neck. He wasn't wrong; The extra time you spent collecting your thoughts and debating going in or not made you two minutes late.

You lightly pushed Nikolai away--not before he caught your hands and intertwined them with his again--and tried to put a neutral smile on your face. "Nikolai, I have good news for you."

His face lit up as he clasped your hands and brought them towards his chest, "What is it, dove? Are you divorcing your husband and leaving him for me?" He shook your hands excitedly as you eyed him disappointingly. He really wasn't going to drop this lovesick act, was he?

You shook your head and cleared your throat, "No, as a reward for good behavior, you can choose a special place to visit and an item to keep in your room. Your options are the courtyard, the gy--"

"The library. I want a book to read." Nikolai stated, suddenly turning serious, taking you slightly aback; you didn't take him as the type to be able to sit still and read for a long time.

"Alright, the library it is then. Take your meds first, and then we can go, 'kay?" He nodded excitedly as you turned away from him to make his bed and do the usual check. Nothing suspicious, as usual.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The guard greeted you both as you approached the grand library doors. It was an old wooden room with tall glass windows that contrasted the relatively short bookshelves. It wasn't exactly a popular destination for patients, so the books were mostly dated and collecting dust. The natural light inside made it one of your favorite break spots during your trainee days, so it was a bit nostalgic for you.

"There are security cameras around the library, but radio in if anything happens." The guard explained sternly, looking over at Nikolai and then you, "Do you need assistance with your patient, or will you two be fine alone?"

You shifted your gaze over to Nikolai, who had a slightly mischievous smile on his face but maintained a serious expression. "We'll be fine alone. He'll behave." The guard nodded at you before opening the door and letting you two in. The door shut firmly and you tried to grab Nikolai's hand, but he dashed away from you towards the large stained glass window before turning to face you.

"It's so big in here, ptashka. I haven't been in a library in sooooooo long. I actually love to read, y'know?" He said, smiling and motioning for you to join him. The colorful stained glass reflected on his face, casting multicolored kaleidoscopes on his face.

You joined him, admiring his beauty momentarily before leaning against the window and crossing your arms. "I didn't know that, no. To be honest, I didn't think you were much of a reader.." You said lightly with a giggle.

Nikolai grinned back, "Heh. There's a lot you don't know about me, dove." He looked away, lowering his voice a bit, "But that's fine. You'll have plenty of time to learn everything later~" You looked at him confusedly, not quite catching what he said, but you remembered the reason you came and grabbed his hand again.

"Anyways, was there a particular book you were looking for? I know this place pretty well." He laughed in response.

"Ah, is that so? Well, I'm looking for The Overcoat. It's my favorite book." Nikolai said proudly, like he was trying to impress you with his literature selection.

"The books are sorted by last name. Do you know the author?" You asked, leading him towards the bookshelves. Nikolai just squeezed your hand and started skipping forward at a fast pace, practically dragging you behind him as he started giggling hysterically.

"Nope! Not a clue, hehe~" You paused and frowned at him. Who didn't even know the author of their "favorite" book? "The genre's fiction, though, if it helps~" Nikolai said giddily, turning towards you and swinging your arms from side to side. You sighed and slowly headed over to the fiction section. There were about 1,000 books to go through, so you weren't exactly too excited. Not that it bummed you out too much, though, since your husband had asked you to help the new girls clean if you finished early with patient duties. You supposed you'd rather spend your time with Nikolai finding his book.

You both agreed to search the shelves simultaneously, Nikolai looking on the higher shelves and you on the shorter ones. The space between shelves was quite narrow, making his chest rub against your back several times. He wasn't shy either, grabbing your hips to maneuver past you, causing you to jolt when he pressed himself behind you.

Starting to lose count of how many books and shelves you'd checked, you were falling into a tired daze until Nikolai's sudden shout woke you up. "I found it, dove! I'm the winner! Me, me, me!" You looked over to Nikolai, who now had his book in his hands, and shot him a relieved smile.

He hurriedly headed towards you as you gave him some congratulatory praise. "Guess our work's done here, then. Let's get some lunch and call it a da--"

He hugged you suddenly, making you yelp as he giggled and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against him. He leaned in by your ear, squeezing you tighter, inhaling your scent, "Say, dove, do you still have the roses I gave you from the courtyard?" You perked up toward him as he smiled, awaiting your response.

You did. You'd placed them in a small glass vase--trimming the thorns off--and put it on your dresser. Somehow, the sickly sweet smell was stronger in your room than it was in the courtyard. "Yeah," you smiled, "They're in a vase by my dresser. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them because of how beautiful they were." Nikolai snickered at that, delighted that you'd cherished his little gift.

He slowly smirked, "Your husband doesn't give you flowers, does he?" You tensed up a bit under his arms but relaxed again, frowning and looking down.

"No, he doesn't. I think the last time was during our honeymoon." Nikolai cuddled into your neck after that, rubbing your sides like he was trying to comfort you.

"What a shame, love. You should leave him for me. He doesn't deserve you." Nikolai said, his teeth barely grazing your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Was the space always this narrow?

"I can't. It doesn't work like tha--"

"Why not, though? Leave him for me. I'm actually perfectly sane, y'know? I know how to make you happy, how to free you from his cage..." He paused, "How to touch you..." His hands on your waist trailed down, pushing your skirt up higher.

"H-hey!" You stammered, stopping his hands from going further with your own, "We can't do this. There are cameras here." You anxiously looked around, trying to find them, but Nikolai's hand grabbed your face and pulled it back down to him.

"Shhhhhh. Stop worrying, myla. This is a blind spot. It's covered by the light, see?" He tilted your face up slowly again toward the camera, which was in fact covered by a big, dusty lantern. How convenient.

He pushed your skirt up again and grinded himself on you, and you swore you could feel his bulge pressing up against you. "You've been driving me crazy, dove, since yesterday I've only been able to think about you," he grunted, slipping his hands into your loosened dress and under your lacy bra to palm and squeeze your breasts. "The sounds you made...I wanna hear them again."

Your head was screaming at you to run away and get the guard, but you couldn't ignore the wet spots on your matching lace panties from your arousal. To be honest, you didn't remember the last time you'd been this intimate with anyone, and your body was clearly craving touch. Your breath hitched as Nikolai kissed below your ear, working his way down to the crook of your neck. You were starting to feel lightheaded.

Becoming more desperate for a reaction, Nikolai suddenly pinched your sensitive nipples and bit down on your neck, causing you to yelp in pleasure. "A-ahh K-Kolya--" The sudden impact caused you to push back against his clothed member and grip onto the sturdy shelf in front of you for support. You could feel him grinning in satisfaction, letting out a low groan.

"Mmm there's the pretty noise I wanted to hear~" Nikolai replaced his lips with his tongue, trailing slowly up and down your neck as you kept bucking against him, needing more friction. "Dove," he heaved as you mewled upon feeling his tip brush against your clit through eachother's clothes. He couldn't handle seeing you start to lose yourself. "F-fuck, kiss me".

Nikolai grabbed your hips suddenly and turned you around, so your back was against the wooden shelf. You looked up at his face; he was panting heavily, eyes filled with lust, and a few strands loose from his usual kept braid. The sight of him made your cheeks flush and your panties even wetter. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, bringing one hand to his lips and tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. You gazed intently at his lips. Just one kiss will be fine, right?

Both of your noses were practically rubbing against each other as Nikolai started to dip down. "Kolya, I--"

BAM!

You instinctively pulled away as you recognized the sound of the old library door being kicked down. As the stomping of the guards' boots grew closer, you pushed Nikolai off your body and fixed your dress. Nikolai shot you a surprised glance as the guards knocked down the heavy bookshelves to open up the space around the two of you, eliminating the narrow confines. You couldn't process what was happening as five guards circled around Nikolai, drawing their guns and pointing them at him as he put his hands up. Another guard was slowly approaching you, lifting the walkie talkie up to his mouth.

"06, copy. Patient Gogol has been surrounded and apprehended successfully. We're on our way to the interrogation room," He glanced over to you, still sitting down in shock, "His attendant's here, too. We'll bring her to you, Boss."

Boss? Your husband? Shit, had you been caught?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice Nikolai being handcuffed and pushed out the door--or the way he looked back at you--until the guard put his hand on your shoulder and called out your name. "Miss, we need to get going. We'll explain everything once we're with the boss again." He helped you up as you trailed slowly behind him with a churning stomach and The Overcoat clutched tightly in your arms.

˚₊‧꒰ა part 2 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧꒰ა part 3 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#vanilladove #vanilladovebsd #bungo stray dogs #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai smut #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs #bsd #nikolai gogol x reader smut #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol smut #nikolai x reader smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #not me having to rewrite this twice bc tumblr didnt save properly #way too many words lol #splitting this up into 3 parts bc aot has been breaking me

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writa-anon · 18 days

Text

"is that.. supposed to be me?"

francis mosses (the milkman) x artist!reader

a / n ~ boom! first fanfic :3 i was a little inspired by uh.. myself LOL when i started playing tnmn i realized i was horrible at memorizing faces so i started drawing the characters to help me remember and it works sooo much. but anyway, super cute oneshot where they first meet, hope u enjoy :D

content included ~ isaack mauss, francis mosses, reader is an artist and doorman, no pronouns mentioned for reader, use of (y/n), shy n wholesome first encounter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 4.10.24 | 1.6k words

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Another slow day at work, huh?”

A enthusiatic-ridden voice boomed, instinctively making me look up to meet the gaze of a strong-jawlined man. I cleared my throat and placed my pencil on the scratchy sheet of paper, sitting up in my chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gauss.” I greeted, grinning that customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, (y/n). I assume work is treating you well?” He said before sliding both his ID and request form through the letter hole. “Only your third day and you’re occupying yourself with side hobbies!” He exclaimed, squinting a little to see my doodle through the glass screen. I chuckled a little as I examined his ID.

“Eh, yeah..” I sighed. “But this actually helps with my job, believe it or not!” I said proudly, pulling out the floor 2 folder to compare his ID number. “I’ve been drawing neighbors in order to remember their features better. It’s especially helpful because of my terrible memory.” I said, shaking my head. Isaack simply chuckled as I placed the folder to the side as I went through his request form.

“That’s pretty smart.” He commented. “Who have you drawn so far?” He asked, curiously tilting his head. As I went through the checklist as I idly thought to myself.

“Umm..” I hummed. “The Schmitts and the Mikaelys are definitely in here.” I finished up the last check before rolling back to my sketchbook, using my finger to thumb through the pages.

“Unfortunate. I haven’t been drawn yet.” He faked pouted. I rolled my eyes before flipping one or two pages before presenting the portrait to him.

“I’m not necessarily finish. Your face is pretty hard to encapture.” I sighed, looking at the smears of led blended together. Isaack was something of a character: a big prominent smile that is not hard to catch a glimpse of in a room full of people. His hair perfectly styled each morning that still manages to maintain its shape by the end of the day. His voice had depth to it, almost like he was born to be the daily news reporter for radios and TVs of all kind. He stared at the drawing in satisfied awe before leaning back.

“Wow, it surely is accurate!” He beamed. I smiled proudly before placing my sketchbook down.

“Thank you,” I politely nodded. I slid his ID back through the letter box. “Everything seems to be good to go. You’re allowed in, Mr. Gauss.” He nodded in his head in gratitude, but however, did not my window just yet. He took a minute to ponder, as if contemplating his next move, before beaming his teeth once again.

“Ah, before I go,” he quickly inputed. “is there by chance Francis Mosses is on today’s list? He’s the local milkman around here.”

I raised my eyebrow a little, not exactly sure as to why Isaack chose to bring up this person’s name. I shook my head gently before folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gauss, but I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information for you.”

“—Ah, of course.” Isaack quickly fixed himself, putting his hands up a little in defense. “I understand. I was just curious is all. I’m sure you know him though, no?” Thinking for a minute, I’ve realized that this is a neighbor I have not encountered yet.

“No, actually..” I pondered out loud. “Huh, that’s interesting. I guess he works a morning or night shift because the name doesn’t really ring a bell.” I noted out loud.

“Interesting.” He muttered. “Well, keep the name in mind. He’s a rather interesting person, and I think you would find him just as interesting.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured a quick wink before walking through the unlocked door. I quickly snapped out my thoughts before locking the door back up again.

Isaack never really mentioned other names— it wasn’t necessarily out of character, but it felt a little outlandish. I looked down to see my pencil in hand again and blank surface of paper. My eyes trailed over to the paper taped on to the wall next to my window, realizing that Frances was in fact on today’s check-in list. Out of curiousity, I located his room number before surfing through the folders. After locating folder 3 and apartment 02, I was able to find more about him.

He was a slim, tall man with a crooked nose and ruffled brown hair. His eye bags were prominent from what I assume to be lack of sleep. As I stared at his picture, my hand moved by itself across my sketchbook, forming a circle to start defining out the headshape. I squinted slightly, trying to feel for each detail in his face. From the way his eyebrows were rotated a little outward, defining more of his tired expression, to the bump in his nose bridge, making it a bit more interesting to draw. It was mesmerizing, almost wishing I could sit here and draw his face in perso—

tap, tap!

I nearly jumped out of my seat. The pencil flung out of my hand, rolling off of the desk. My eyes flickered up—

and there he was.

My breath near caught in my throat as I stared up in shock. The man behind the glass was barely shocked to see my reaction. His white “milkman” hat rested perfectly on top of his brown hair with small curls slightly peaking out. I was swift to regain my composure in my head as I folded my hands in front of me with my legs crossed under the desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I smiled. “I haven’t seen you before. ID and entry request?”

He let out a small hum, barricaded by his pink lips, as he took out his paper and ID. He politely slid them through the letter slot before I took the items to examine.

“Mr. Francis Mosses.. Lives on floor 03.. Room 02.. Coming from work as a milkman.” I glanced up to look at him, comparing the photo ID to his face. His expression was exactly alike: tired eyes, slight frown on the lips, crooked nose, and a clean shaven face. I double checked with his file already on my desk, making sure that the ID numbers and the description aligned with his ID. “Everything looks good.” I confirmed as I slid his ID back to him.

“Mmm.. Thank you.” He hummed. I turned around to place his request form in a folder, but once I sat back up, I realized he was still standing at the window, curiously staring through the glass. I raised my eyebrow a little, confused as to why he was still lingering.

“I’m sorry, did I forget something?” I asked. Francis shook his head before pointing down at my desk.

“Is that.. Supposed to be me?” He asked. A tiny bit of emotion seeped into his voice, dripping in interest and curiousity.

“I— oh—” I looked down to see the rough drawing of Francis sitting at my desk, drawn with sketch lines still lightly defining his features, while the harder drawn areas sculpted his prominent details. “Yeah..” I mumbled. “I-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a way to help me remember faces and I was going through the files and I realized I haven’t met you before so I—”

“You make me look so pretty.” He mumbled, almost breathlessly. A faint pink color brushed his cheeks as he was unable to take his gaze away from the paper.

“W-Well.. I do aim for accuracy.” I chuckled, complimenting the man right back. My nerves had calmed down after noticing his calm demeanor. “You could keep it, if you’d like that is.” I offered. It would be awkward if I kept the drawing rather than give it to him— I mean— this is his first time ever seeing me and it was an awkward first interaction right off the bat. It was the least I could do for him. Francis nodded his head and in response, I tore the piece of paper out of the scrapbook before sliding it through the letter slot.

“There you go.” I smiled.

“Thank you..” He replied, graciously taking the piece of paper and admiring it once again. “Oh— um,” He quickly looked up to me. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m not really good with.. Introductions.” He trailed off, but something about his shyness and reluctant voice made me grin even harder.

“My name is (y/n). I’m the doorman in training for this building.” I greeted.

“Ah, of course. I’m Francis— Mmm..Though you already know that.” He said, shaking his head a little by the end of his sentence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Francis. I’ll be seeing you around, I assume?” I said, sitting at the edge of my chair as I looked up at him.

“More often than before.” He smiled. It was the widest he’d grin throughout our whole conversation. Something inside me told me that he doesn’t pass around smiles like that easily. It made me feel accomplished in some sort of way. But with that, he departed from my window. I made sure to unlock the door and listen for the door closing behind him before locking it again.

Francis Mosses.

I think I have someone to look forward to on tomorrow’s entry list.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

really hoped you enjoyed! replies, reblogs, and even likes are super appreciated! thank you so much for reading :]

#thats not my neighbour milkman #thats not my neighbor #milkman #tnmn #tnmn milkman #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses #isaack gauss #oneshot #fanfiction #milkman x reader

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ssahotchnerr · 5 months

Note

just saw this (https://www.tumblr.com/ssahotchnerr/732194441050374144/the-person-talking-about-their-dream-scenario) and it inspired something in me KATIE listen imagine during a pinning era with aaron and you ask him to hold a small mirror that you carry everywhere in case you need to fix your make up/ redo your lipstick!! while applying your lipstick your lips went 😗 and aaron trying so damn hard to keep it together he's just blushing due to the close proximity between the two of you i want need to kiss him so bad

unreservedly

no i need to kiss him cw; bau!reader, gn! but reader wears makeup, small suggestiveness, mutual pining and fluff <3

"hey," you picked up speed in your pace, weaving past some officers and allowing you to catch up with aaron a bit more quickly. "do me a favor?"

"well, it depends on the favor."

you shot him a playful, exasperated expression. "ha ha. if you don't mind," you held up a small compact mirror in one hand, your usual lip liner and lipstick combination in the other. "someone's in the bathroom, so i gotta go with plan b. and it's an emergency."

your sentence finished in a near whine - by now, aaron understood your sense of humor, and frequently bounced it right back at you - in case he needed any convincing (he didn't).

"sure, of course." with a gentle chuckle, aaron retrieved the mirror from you, opening such and holding it aloft, steady with his index finger and thumb.

"my hero," you teased and released a dramatized breath of relief, a delighted glint in your eyes.

first, you adjusted his hand a smidge - the brief skin to skin contact causing your heart to skip - alternating the position of the mirror as he was much taller than you. once you could perfectly see your small reflection peering back at you, did you uncap the lip liner and fall into immediate, firm concentration, lining the top edge of your lip.

as aaron stood there patiently, a nervousness trickled into him. he internally questioned whether or not you wanted him to, or were expecting, him to look away. would his unwanted attention possibly break your engrossment? or was it just, awkward? you applying your makeup, with him silently standing there. though, it didn't feel awkward - it felt rather comfortable, actually - but he could almost laugh at himself. this felt similarly like high school, running his mind and second guessing his actions.

but regardless of your preference, he couldn't pull his gaze away from you even if he tried.

the close proximity allowed him to admire you, and all your features, to his heart's content unreservedly, with zero holdback. for example, he never noticed the faintest of freckles scattered across the bridge of your nose, completely unknown to the plain eye. it filled him with a silly giddiness, something he would be embarrassed to admit aloud; noticing yet a new part of you, one others probably didn't have the knowledge of.

you secured the cap onto the lip liner, and aaron immediately offered his continued assistance, obtaining it with his free hand. you flashed him a bashful smile, before puckering your lips and beginning to apply your nude-pink lipstick slowly.

your lips, dangerous territory. as his eyes dropped, heat immediately pooled in his face, his ears flushing as well. aaron bit down onto his bottom lip, hard, silently urging himself to snap out of it and pull it together.

but it didn't help he could feel your light breath occasionally fan onto his skin, reminding him of the proximity. it would be way too easy to lean in just a bit closer, to foremost and finally kiss you, just like he's been dreaming of.

aaron let out a not-so-silent exhale at the thought, and before his mind could wander, as if it hadn't already - your lipstick lightly tinting his lips, his neck, or scattered along numerous parts of his body. the sound gained your focus, and drew your attention to his profusely blushing face.

your eyebrows crinkled as you pulled the lipstick a few centimeters away from your lips. "are you alright?"

it took aaron a second to find his voice, speaking after a nervous swallow, small strain present and accompanied with a brisk, stiff nod. "fine."

"you don't seem 'fine'." you shrugged, resuming your task. only this time, your lips were parted lightly, forming a small 'o'.

fuck.

"jus' a bit... hot." aaron managed softly, blushing even more if it were possible and finding it difficult to hold the mirror perfectly still. his eyes involuntarily shot back to your lips, but he indulged himself - letting his gaze linger.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

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eiightysixbaby · 10 months

Text

afterglow

part 2 to cruel summer

tell me that i’m all you want, even when i break your heart

word count: 10.2k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you navigate the aftermath of your confession to eddie, but forgetting him is harder than you thought. it’s up to him to make things right.

cw: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. angst, use of y/n, eddie and reader being lovesick for each other, tooth rotting fluff, use of pet names, unprotected p in v, oral f receiving

author’s note: i am so, SO beyond excited to share this finally! thank y’all so much for the love on cruel summer, i hope you all enjoy part 2 just as much. this is inspired by afterglow by miss taylor swift, so go listen to that if you haven’t! okay smooches love u all hope u enjoy

part one

It had only been a few days since you confessed your love to Eddie and he left you without a word, but it felt like it had been years. Every minute crawling by, the hole in your heart seeming to grow rather than get any smaller. Your mind was ping-ponging back and forth between being furious with Eddie, and missing him and yearning for his touch. In all honesty, you mostly felt horrible for the way you yelled at him. Sure, he wasn’t being considerate of your feelings and he was being a bit of an asshole, but how was he supposed to know you loved him? You don’t even know if you knew you did until you were screaming it in his face. It’s not right what Eddie did, making you feel special and then turning around and flirting with other girls in front of you, but it’s not right for you to get mad at him for not being exclusive with you when the two of you were only supposed to be fuck buddies, and you weren’t supposed to have feelings for him. The guilt was eating away at you, and now that you’d gone and blindsided him with the confession of your feelings, you knew you couldn’t fix things. He clearly didn’t feel the same way, and he clearly didn’t want to rectify the situation at hand. But there were also moments where the guilt would subside and you were filled with pure rage, wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. To say you were conflicted was an understatement.

In actuality, Eddie was doing no better than you were. He’d barely slept since the night he left your place, the bags under his eyes growing increasingly dark and his mood constantly agitated. You loved him. How could that be? Had he really been that fucking blind? Admittedly, Eddie’s never been great with the whole “feelings” thing. Screwing around with a different girl every week was fun for him because no deeper feelings were involved. It allowed him to get those brief dopamine rushes without the room to get attached to someone, just for them to end up leaving him when they really got to know him. But it was always different with you, from the moment the first line was blurred and you crossed into uncharted territory with each other, it was different. This had unnerved Eddie initially, the way everything felt softer with you, more intimate. He couldn’t let himself fall for you, and so he kept you at arm’s length - or tried to, anyways. He’d continue to flirt with other girls, to sleep with other girls in hopes that it would keep his mind off of you. He needed to keep himself in the routine of bouncing around so that his brain wasn’t hyper fixated on you. Your mutual agreement to have a little friends-with-benefits situation surely meant that you didn’t feel anything more for him, right? He couldn’t be the one that fell head over heels for you, just for you to leave him in the dust.

He should have fucking known you’d never do that to him. And now here he was, the asshole that hurt you probably beyond repair. All because he couldn’t work out his feelings, couldn’t face you in the event that you rejected him. He scoffs at himself, because look at how he handled things, leaving your apartment without so much as a word after you confessed your fucking love to him. Eddie groans, flopping face first into his pillows, letting out a long exasperated sigh. The moment you said you loved him he’d wanted to say it back without an ounce of hesitation, and honestly, that terrified him to his core. He’s never loved someone like that, it’s different than the love he holds for his friends or Wayne, or that old trailer park cat he’d befriended as a child . The love he felt for you was all-consuming in a new way, and it made him sick to his stomach with unease. He’s startled by a knock rattling the trailer, and he heaves himself off his bed with a huff. A frown is etched onto his face, his hair a wild mess as he opens the rickety door to the trailer. There on his front step is Nancy and Jonathan. Oh fuck.

•

“-And so, we just kind of want to know a little bit about what happened, on your end? She didn’t really give us a whole lot to go off of other than you flirting with the bartender…” Nancy winces as she says the last part, noticing the way Eddie visibly twitches at her words.

“I wasn’t flirting with the bartender,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, trying to keep his cool. “I didn’t want to start anything so I just… let her flirt with me. But I wasn’t interested! I just wanted one more drink,” he mumbles, his head throbbing with stress and lack of sleep.

Nancy and Jonathan had come over to your place the day after the incident with Eddie, gently trying to coax some information out of you. You’d revealed that the two of you had had a few drinks and some bar food, danced a little bit, and then hooked up in the bathroom - sparing them the gory details of course. Then you told them you caught him flirting with a couple women at the bar after you’d left him to talk to Chrissy briefly. You intentionally left out the part where you, you know, professed your undying love for him in the middle of the night standing in the doorway to your apartment. You didn’t need anyone knowing that you said those three big words when he didn’t even reciprocate them, the thought of telling your friends far too embarrassing.

Nancy, being Nancy, felt like there was something you weren’t telling her, or at least wanted to hear the story from Eddie’s perspective, hoping to get some more info so that she could better understand how to be there for you. She gave it a few days, knowing Eddie wouldn’t like to be cornered right after the incident, and that’s how her and Jonathan found themselves on the couch in his small living room currently.

Eddie was also in no way planning on telling them about how you’d told him you loved him, and he’d walked away like a big fucking idiot. Although his friends meant well, and wanted to help, he didn’t need any extra inquiring minds knowing about this. He needed to focus on figuring out how to fix things with you before anyone else found out that the big ‘L’ word was involved.

“Eddie, please just be honest with us-”

“I am being fucking honest!” Eddie snaps, catching his friends off guard. “I swear, on my fucking life, I was not flirting with those women at the bar. I just didn’t have the energy to start an argument or something,” the expression on Eddie’s face is growing desperate as he talks. “I should’ve just walked away, I know, but I didn’t. But I swear I was not flirting with them. For once, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”

Jonathan gives Nancy a look, and she nods in understanding.

“We believe you, Eddie. Thank you for explaining,” she says softly, trying to meet his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t look at her, can’t bring himself to when he’s hiding the worst part of this whole thing from her.

“Is there… anything else that you need to tell us?” Jonathan asks, careful so as not to sound accusatory.

“No. After she thought she caught me flirting, that must’ve been when she called you guys. There’s nothing else to say that she didn’t already tell you.” Eddie sighs, his voice defeated.

They could tell their presence was no longer wanted in Eddie’s home, and so they made their exit.

“Thanks for talking to us, Eddie. We’re here if you need anything,” Nancy says as she closes the door behind her.

Nancy originally intended on ripping Eddie a new one when he admitted to flirting with the bartender a few days ago, but now she knows that’s clearly not the truth. It was all a misunderstanding, at least this time around. But the hurt behind Eddie’s eyes, the pain in his voice has her thoughts jumbled. Something deeper has to be going on, she just doesn’t know what.

“So, do you think we should tell Y/N that him flirting with the ladies at the bar was a misunderstanding?” Jonathan asks, breaking the silence in the car.

“I feel like she deserves to know. Not that it’ll change anything necessarily, it doesn’t have to, but she deserves to be free of that pain at least,” Nancy nods as if assuring herself, before taking the car in the direction of your place.

The rapping at your door breaks you out of your daze as you sit on your sofa watching Friends reruns. You debate even answering it, before deciding that you can’t wallow all alone 24/7. You open your door to reveal Nancy and Jonathan, inviting them in but grimacing at the disastrous state of your living room. They don’t even pay any mind to it, Jonathan sitting on the arm of the couch as Nancy stands in front of you.

“So, we just talked to Eddie,” she says, her eyes searching yours.

You swallow, hard. Did he tell them what you said? Do they know you love him?

“Oh? W-what did he say?” you ask, your voice coming out more shaky than you would’ve liked.

“He told us that he was never flirting with the bartender and the other girl. Insisted on it, actually. He said he just wanted one more drink while he waited for you, and didn’t feel like starting anything by turning them down,” she says gently. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad for him or anything, I just figured you deserve to have that weight off of your shoulders.”

You stay silent for a moment, taking in what she’s saying. Clearly Eddie was convincing when he told her all of this, because Nancy wouldn’t believe just anything. He wasn’t flirting with them, it was all a misunderstanding. You flipped out on him for nothing.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say finally. “Did he say anything else?”

“No, his story was no different than yours otherwise.”

You nod, standing in silence because you can’t think of a damn thing to say.

“We’re gonna get going, but I just wanted to give you that update,” Nancy says, sensing the awkwardness.

You thank them again and hug them both before shutting the door behind them. You sink back into the soft cushions of your couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. The whole reason you’d even admitted to Eddie that you loved him was because you blew up on him, you couldn’t take it anymore, the image of the bartender all over him bringing you to your breaking point. It was all a misunderstanding, and you spilled your guts to him because of it. Things could still be the way they were if you’d never opened your damn mouth. Clearly, Eddie doesn’t love you back. He hasn’t reached out to you in three days. There’s no way you can go back on your words now, and you’re confident you ruined everything with the only guy you want. It should make you sick, still, the fact that he left you and couldn’t even give you a response. You should be furious with him, you should be cursing his name at the sky, but all you can do is feel guilty for putting him in jail for something he never did. You lay down, letting out a scream into one of your fluffy throw pillows. If you had any tears left to cry, they’d surely be flowing now, but instead you just lie there, zoning out completely. The only thing left to do was try and get over Eddie Munson.

•

Almost two whole weeks since he last saw you and Eddie had been wallowing pathetically the whole time, making little to no improvements since Nancy and Jonathan’s visit to his home. He shouldn’t have gotten so defensive with you when you accused him of flirting with the ladies at the bar - how could he blame you for thinking that? It’s not like he was particularly loyal to you or considerate of your feelings any other time. Basically, he was throwing himself a gigantic pity party, and Steve had decided he’d had enough of his friend’s antics.

He found out a little about what had happened through Robin, who found out through Nancy. Word travels fast in the friend group, needless to say. Steve came to Eddie’s trailer, for the third time that week, still finding him withering away in bed and looking like a kicked puppy. Steve, from what he understood of the situation, couldn’t figure out why Eddie was so distraught. You’d finally gotten tired of his sleeping around, and you’d kicked him to the curb. If anything, you deserved to be upset because you clearly had some deeper feelings for Eddie. Eddie on the other hand? He was the asshole, always, what right did he have to be upset now?

“Ed, seriously man, you’ve gotta cut this out. What good is it gonna do for you if you let yourself shrivel up and die in your bed?” Steve had tried to be gentle the first time he came to see Eddie, but by now he was frustrated.

Eddie just groans, grabbing his pillow and covering his face with it. Steve rolls his eyes, marching over to the bed and snatching the pillow from him, like a parent snatching an item from a child.

“You’ve gotta talk to me, dude. What is going on here? You acted like an ass to Y/N half the time, no offense, and now you’re upset? I just don’t buy it, man.”

Eddie scoffs and gets up, pushing past Steve and heading into the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. Steve follows directly behind him, hands on his hips as he corners Eddie in the kitchen. The older man glances over at his friend, acting completely disinterested as he fills his Garfield mug with the black liquid.

“You’re being impossible. I want to help you, and you won’t even talk to me. If you want to be depressed as shit forever, then fine! Be my guest,” Steve says, like it’s final, like he’s done trying.

Eddie knows him better than that. He pushes past Steve yet again, plopping himself down on the couch and taking an obnoxiously loud sip of his coffee. Steve’s fuming, watching in disbelief as Eddie goes along like he isn’t even there.

“You know, I can see why Y/N got sick of you.”

This gets a rise out of Eddie. He brings the mug away from his lips slowly, his breath catching in his throat.

“Yeah, I mean seriously, if you’re this stubborn all the time then it’s no wonder she got tired of you…” Steve goes on, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Eddie grips his mug tightly, certain it’d shatter if he held it any harder. He grits his teeth, breathing hard out his nose.

“You just couldn’t keep it in your pants, had to flirt with that damn bartender…”

“I DIDNT. FLIRT. with the FUCKING. BARTENDER.” Eddie is seething now, about ready to jump across the room and grab Steve by the collar of his shirt. He’s at his breaking point now, letting everything spill out of him. “You wanna know what’s going on? You really have to know? She fucking loves me, man. She told me she loves me, okay? And - and - and… that fucking terrified me, okay? So I left her apartment. I didn’t say a word and I fucking left,” Eddie’s trembling now, the brunt of his anger giving way to sheer anguish.

Steve goes quiet, his eyes widening. He opens and closes his mouth, scrambling to find words.

“Eddie, you just left her?” Steve asks, really not trying to rub salt in the wound, but what the fuck.

“I really don’t need you to lecture me on how wrong that was-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That’s not what I’m trying to do. I just-” Steve pauses, looking at his disheveled friend where he sits on the couch. “Do you love her?”

Eddie is silent for a minute, his hands clasped together and brought up to his mouth, elbows resting on his knees.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do,” his voice is noticeably shaky, and for the first time since Steve got here, Eddie’s sad brown eyes meet his.

Steve comes to sit down next to Eddie, the couch cushions dipping with his weight.

“I think you need to tell her, man.”

“How? How do I even start? She thinks I ditched her at The Hideaway to flirt with other women, she probably thinks I fucking hate her considering I left without a word after she-”

Steve puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, calming him down from the way his body has started to shake. Eddie looks at him, eyes glassy and confused.

“This is Y/N we’re talking about. I don’t think she could ever hate you. You need to tell her how you feel, Eddie.”

Eddie knows he’s right. Deep down, he knows. But facing you and admitting his feelings is the scariest part. He doesn’t like to be vulnerable, doesn’t like the way it feels to put himself so fully out there, and he honestly envies you for being able to spit the words at him so easily. Eddie has to tell you, he just needs to figure out how.

•

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom, holding up different outfits as you debated which you liked the best. Robin and Nancy scrunched their noses at one particular dress you held up.

“Too many ruffles,” Nancy blurts.

“You’d look kind of like a babydoll…” Robin muses, tilting her head as she looks at the short blue garment.

You groan, throwing all the hangers of clothes onto your floor.

“Guys, I have to wear something tonight and we’ve gone through, like, half of my wardrobe!” you hold your hands out at your sides, your voice incredibly whiny as you plead with your friends.

“Okay, okay, let me take a look,” Nancy says, getting up and searching through your ransacked closet.

You were going on a date tonight. Nancy had eventually squeezed the confession out of you that you loved Eddie, but you still hadn’t informed her that you actually told him that and that he left. It had now been two weeks since you’d spoken to Eddie and she kept telling you you needed to actively try and forget him. Because, big surprise, sitting alone in your apartment all day eating pints of ice cream clearly wasn’t helping - much to your dismay. So she took it upon herself to help and set you up on a date with a friend of Jonathan’s.

According to his Instagram profile, he was cute, and he seemed like a nice guy based on everything Nancy told you. He went by Argyle, which, a little weird, but hey - you just told your fuck buddy you loved him and he walked out so… you’re not really in a position to judge anyone for anything.

“Ooh! What about this?” Nancy holds up a hanger with a tight black faux-leather skirt and another with a shimmery silver top.

“Nance - they’re going to get ice cream, not to a strip club,” Robin chides, laying on your bed and flipping through a magazine.

“Okay, fine, but I’m borrowing this skirt,” she says, meeting your eyes to get your approval.

You roll your eyes, scrutinizing one strand of hair that won’t do what you want it to do as Nancy continues looking through your clothes.

“Okay! I’ve got it. This is casual, but not so casual that it says you don’t care,” she eyes her selections as she waits for you and Robin to weigh in.

She’s holding a pair of light wash denim shorts, embroidered with little daisies, and a baby pink top with ruched sleeves.

Robin bites her lip excitedly, nodding eagerly at you.

“Not my taste, but totally, absolutely, one hundred perfect for you. Put it on, put it on!” she urges.

You laugh, obliging and changing into the clothes Nancy picked. She has a good eye, you had to admit. The outfit was perfect, cute and expressed that you’d put effort into your appearance, but not overdoing it. As you look at yourself in your mirror, you can’t help but picture Eddie’s face if he saw you in that outfit. His arm snaking around your waist to pull you close. Your fingers trail down to the hem of the shorts, toying with a loose string.

“Hey, earth to Y/N?” Robin waves her hand, snagging your attention. “You still with us? Argyle’s definitely gonna need you alive for the date tonight,” she says lightheartedly, giving you a lopsided smile.

Your lips had fallen into an involuntary frown, and of course the girls catch it immediately.

“Don’t think about him, hun,” Nancy places a hand on your arm, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Argyle’s a great guy, and you’re gonna have fun tonight!”

“Yeah, no you’re right. I’m sorry. I want to give him a chance, I’m excited,” you smile, trying your best to shove the curly brunette metal head out of your mind.

It’s not that you weren’t excited for the date, you really were. Maybe a change of scenery and a new person were exactly the things you needed. But you still felt horrible about setting everything on fire with Eddie, leaving you to sift through the ashes now that the damage was done. And you still love him. The thought wafts through your mind like a bad stench through your nose, and you shake your head as if to rid your brain of it. Screw Eddie, you try and tell yourself. Who needs him anyway?

Just as Nancy finishes applying a healthy amount of makeup to your face, there’s a knock at your door. Like an absolute gentleman, Argyle arrives right on time. You feel wings erupt in your stomach, birds taking flight as your nerves kick in.

Robin notices you go rigid in her gaze.

“You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna have a great time, you got this, kid,” she beams at you, giving you an affirming nod.

You try your best to give a confident smile back, nodding once in confirmation that you do, in fact, have this. The girls shuffle you out of your room and towards the door, practically shoving you to go answer it. Your straighten yourself, taking one last deep breath before swinging the door open.

“Well, good evening, ladies,” Argyle says, flashing his shiny white teeth as he smiles at you and your friends who stand modestly behind you.

“You must be Y/N. I’m Argyle, it’s so nice to meet you,” he keeps the smile on his face, reaching a hand out to shake yours.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” you smile back, taking his hand firmly as you shake it.

“Mind if I steal her away, girls?” he jokes, directing the question at Robin and Nancy.

“Nope! Not at allllllll,” Robin draws out the last syllable, giving you a flirtatious wave.

“She’s all yours! Have fun you two,” Nancy smiles.

They give you a thumbs up when you take one last glance over your shoulder, Argyle leading the way out the door. And so it begins.

•

Tonight is the night. Tonight is the night Eddie is going to fix shit with you, or at least give an honest attempt. The thought of going through with his plan made him want to genuinely hurl, but he swallowed the bile that rose to his throat and was determined to right this wrong. After letting the truth spill to Steve, the only thing consuming his thoughts has been telling you about how he feels. The entirety of the past night was spent tossing and turning in his bed, fleeting dreams of you rejecting him flashing through his subconscious. His plan, as it currently stands, is as follows: he’s going to swing by the flower shop to get you a beautiful bouquet, and then head over to the local ice cream place to get you your favorite milkshake. Then he plans to show up at your door with his offerings, and apologize profusely. Like, he’s talking begging-on-his-knees, praying to the gods above, apologize. He stomach lurches as he mentally walks through the plan again, getting himself looking presentable for the evening ahead. He knows very, very well that there’s a huge chance this doesn’t go well for him. He knows you might just go ahead and rip the damn milkshake out of his clammy palms and throw it right back in his face, or maybe even throw a punch or two - hell, he deserves it. He’s not asking for forgiveness, he’s not asking for you to welcome him back in with open arms. He just knows that he won’t be able to rest well until he’s told you the truth, he has to apologize and be honest with you, whether you accept him back in or not.

Eddie gives himself a once, twice, three times over in the mirror, although his current attire isn’t much different from his usual. He’s still in his ripped black jeans, his surprisingly white Reeboks, and all of his chains and rings. Instead, though, he’s traded his usual band tee or denim vest with a black button-down shirt. He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. He’d already smoked, hoping the high would ease his worries, to no avail. He’s not used to being nervous like this, not used to second-guessing his appearance or feeling his palms grow sweaty. He’s used to women throwing themselves at him, he’s used to one-night stands with no big feelings attached, he’s used to being balls deep inside someone and then never speaking a word to them again. He loves you. The thought plays over and over in his mind. He grabs his phone and his wallet and his keys before heading out the door, shuffling into his car and heading out on his mission.

•

The drive to the ice cream place wasn’t nearly as awkward as you thought it’d be, finding a lot to talk about with Argyle. He’s friendly and outgoing, never forcing a conversation but also never leaving room for the silences to be awkward. You don’t feel like you have to act a certain way to impress him, he’s just happy to be with you. It’s refreshing, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find your mind wandering elsewhere. It was already proving hard to keep Eddie out of your thoughts - Argyle would make a reference to something Eddie liked, the air freshener in Argyle’s car is the same one as in Eddie’s, so on and so forth. It’s like your brain was purposely torturing you, distracting you from having a good time. Eddie probably wasn’t thinking about you, so why did you have to be plagued with near constant thoughts of him?

“Hey, are you okay?” Argyle’s smooth voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to zone out. I’m fine,” you give him a reassuring smile, and he looks at you for only a moment before seeming to accept your response.

“Well, anyway, I’ve never had the ice cream here but Jonathan said it’s the best. You’ll have to give me some recommendations,” he grins as he pulls his car into the parking lot, one hand on the wheel as the other taps on the crevice of the open window.

“Will do,” you smile. “Though I have to warn you, I always get the same damn thing,” you laugh, and he laughs along with you.

You both step out of the car, the sweet scent of waffle cones and vanilla milkshakes filling your nose. Argyle opens the door and a bell chimes, signaling your entrance as he holds the door for you. The air conditioning is on full blast, hitting your skin and making goosebumps prick up. You cross your arms instinctively, rubbing the skin for some warmth as you eye the menu, even though you never stray from your tried and true favorite. Argyle notices your slight shivering, immediately slipping his hoodie off and holding it out to you.

You start to decline politely before he waves you off.

“You’re only gonna get colder once you start eating your ice cream. I insist, take it,” you blush a little as you take the jacket, slipping it over your shoulders and leaving the zipper undone.

It’s big on you, Argyle having a height advantage, so you bunch up the sleeves. Instantly, your brain goes to a memory of you at an ice skating rink with Eddie and the rest of the group. You’d forgotten your jacket at home, and Eddie had offered you his within milliseconds of you starting to shiver. It was one of few times where Eddie made any sort of affection towards you known to others, rather than keeping it a raunchy secret, and you’d felt on top of the world parading around in his sweatshirt. Of course, that night had ended no differently than the others, Eddie fucking you into his mattress and taking you home afterwards, leaving you feeling empty.

You try to replace the thoughts of Eddie with thoughts of your current date, try to convince yourself that wearing Argyle’s hoodie feels just as good as wearing Eddie’s, but it doesn’t, and you can’t. You put as much focus as you can onto what Argyle’s saying, put on a happy face as you give him your flavor recommendations, but a man that’s not here is tugging at your heart strings all the while. You order at the counter, your usual birthday cake milkshake, letting Argyle decide a moment longer. You actually wince when he orders two scoops of butterscotch ice cream, the exact same thing Eddie would order the few times you’d come here with all of your friends. You feel like the world is playing a sick joke on you, refusing to let you let go of Eddie. You feel like you’re not even in your body when you grab a hold of the cold cup that your frozen dessert is in, only coming back to reality when Argyle asks where you want to sit.

You choose a booth by the window, the electric glow of the ‘Open’ sign flickering onto the table through the glass pane. Argyle takes a bite of his ice cream, and you give him your best effort in conversation.

“Well, what do you think?” you smile at him, forcing it a little too much maybe.

“I think I could drop dead right now this is so good,” he smiles right back, licking his spoon clean of another mouthful. “How’s yours?”

“Even better considering I didn’t have to pay for it,” you take a sip of your shake to punctuate your sentence. “Thank you, again.”

“Don’t have to thank me, I’m more than happy to pay for a girl as pretty as you,” he gives you another little grin, nothing but kindness behind his eyes.

You smile back, but you’re cursing inside your head. You have a sweet guy sitting in front of you, genuinely trying to get to know you and have a nice date, and you can’t stop thinking about someone else. There’s nothing wrong with Argyle, and you’re trying your very best to will yourself to fall in love with him or something when the door chime breaks you from your thoughts.

You look up at the door instinctively, and you almost choke on your ice cream at what you see. Eddie walks in through the door, looking gorgeous as ever, because of fucking course this would happen right now. You go rigid when he looks your direction and meets your eyes, and your face is instantly flushed with heat. You suddenly feel suffocated in Argyle’s hoodie, your stomach churning as you stare into those all-too-familiar brown eyes. You manage to tear your gaze away before he does, not wanting Argyle to get suspicious and try to discover what you’re staring at. You give yourself a mental kick, refusing to allow yourself to crumble in Eddie’s presence. Don’t let him see you sad, show him you’re fine without him. You reach across the table and brush your fingers on Argyle’s arm, laughing maybe a little too loud at something he says. You feel bad using him as revenge in this moment, but lucky for you, you don’t have to do it for very long. Eddie doesn’t order a thing, just turns on his heel and leaves.

Eddie feels like he can’t breathe when he gets back into his car, sitting in the parking lot with his heart threatening to shatter beneath his ribcage. You’re on a date. He was going to try and fix things, going to tell you he loves you, and you’re on a date. Of course he noticed the garment keeping you warm, far too big to be your jacket. You’re wearing this other guy’s jacket, so the date must be going well. He feels the bile rise in his throat at the thought of you in another guy’s clothes, the thought of another guy taking you home and kissing you and holding you and treating you the way you deserved - the way he never treated you. The worst part of it all is that Eddie knows he deserves this. He doesn’t deserve to get the happy ending, he burned this whole thing to the ground and he’s left searching for remnants of life in the wake of the fire. He pulls out of the parking lot, no destination in mind anymore. The flowers he got for you sit mockingly in his passenger seat, their sweet scent filling his nose as if to laugh at him. What the fuck does he do now?

•

After seeing Eddie at the ice cream place, you couldn’t get your head back on straight. You ended up telling Argyle you had a killer of a headache, and without hesitation he brought you home. Guilt tugged at your feet as you trudged up your stairs with him, tugged at your heart when he asked if there was anything he could do for you before he left. The poor, sweet guy didn’t even question it, showed no indication of him doubting your excuse. You knew you’d get an earful from Robin and Nance if they got wind of this. You’d promised Argyle you’d be okay and told him he was fine to leave, thanking him for the lovely date. You hated yourself for the way you couldn’t like him, the way every inch of your body and mind was stuck on Eddie. Nothing about Argyle was bad, and you lay cursing yourself on your mattress in your room. You eventually decide to change into something more comfortable, shed any tangible reminders of the date you ended too soon. You crawl under your covers in sweatpants and your coziest sweatshirt, pulling the blankets up to your face as frustrated tears burn your cheeks. Anger bubbles up inside of you, and takes over any other emotion you’d been feeling.

You’re angry that you can’t stop thinking about Eddie. Angry that you had to see Eddie tonight. Angry that you went on a date with a very nice guy and couldn’t get into it because of Eddie. Angry that Eddie left without a word when you told him you loved him. Angry that you let him treat you so poorly because you just can’t get enough of him. Cotton sweater sleeves are soaked with tears as you let the feeling flow from you, balling your hands up into fists and releasing them. Entirely unsure of what to do next, or how to get over this.

•

Eddie went home for all of an hour before realizing he couldn’t just sit around in silence and do nothing. Not now that he’d already had his plan literally in motion, he couldn’t stop. Even if you didn’t love him anymore, even if you wanted nothing to do with him, even if you wanted to throw the flowers back in his face and throw a punch or two, he had to open up to you. He gets in his car, hands shaking and stomach in knots as he prepares himself. For all he knows, your date could be back at your place with you. Or maybe you aren’t even home yet. But he has to try, has to get his feelings out in the open, at least so you know - even if you don’t want to be with him. It feels like every stoplight on his drive is mocking him, glowing red for seemingly agonizing amounts of time. The more time he has to think, the more sick to his stomach he feels. When he finally arrives in the parking lot of your place, he just sits for a moment. Taking shaky breaths, his stomach somersaults in anxious anticipation. One ringed hand reaches out for the beautiful bouquet of flowers beside him, picking them up by the crinkly paper they’re encased in before he opens his car door and shuts off the engine. Every stomp of his shoes on the stairs makes his heart pound faster, coming closer and closer to a confession bigger than any he’s ever given before. He stands in front of your door, begging silently for you to simply answer, and finally, he raises a fist to the wood to alert you.

The knocking startles you out of your slew of emotions, and you groan as you heave yourself out of bed. You’re fully expecting it to be Nancy or Robin at the door, or both of them, ready to interrogate you on why you cut your date short. You swing the door wide, mouth open and fully ready to defend yourself to the girls. Instead, you’re met with that curly frizzy hair and those round brown eyes that you know too well. Eddie stands like a deer in headlights, as if he wasn’t the one who knocked on your door, holding a massive bouquet of flowers in one hand. You let out an incredulous laugh, a no-fucking-way-are-you-here-right-now laugh. You go to slam the door right in his stupid beautiful face when he holds an arm out, wrenching it open.

“Wait. Please,” his voice chokes up as he says it.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Eddie? Saw me on a date with someone else and had to come assert your dominance or something?” you scoff, crossing your arms as if to protect yourself from more emotional hurt.

“No, I…. is your date still here?”

“What if he is, Eddie? Can’t wrap your head around the fact that another guy wanted to go out with me?” you snap.

“No no, I just… I don’t wanna do this if he’s here,” his voice is desperate, rushing to get the words out.

“He’s not here. And do what, exactly? String me along again just to leave me stranded in the end?” the words hurt you as you say them, a part of your heart wanting to just run to him and never let him go, and the other part wanting to run from him.

“I need to tell you how sorry I am. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I was an asshole, a horrible person to you, and you never deserved it,” his eyes flicker down to his feet before tentatively meeting yours again.

“Oh, my knight in shining armor, arriving at my door to apologize and I’m supposed to just fall at your feet, huh?” you shift your weight, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No! No, I don’t expect anything from you. But I can’t run from my feelings anymore.”

“Feelings?” you furrow your brows, your chest tightening.

Eddie is silent for a moment, fingers nervously fidgeting with the paper surrounding the bright green stems and vibrant petals. You roll your eyes, about to shut the door once again when he speaks up.

“I love you!” he blurts, his eyes frantic as they search yours.

“What?”

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Y/N. I’ve known you were special since I met you, you’re different than anyone else I’ve ever met. I was too much of a fucking coward to tell you how much I liked you earlier because… because I was scared of getting hurt. And all I did was hurt you in the process, and I’m so sorry.”

You’re dumbfounded, your mouth hanging open slightly as you struggle for words.

“You didn’t say a word to me, Eddie,” your voice comes out quiet, pained. “You left without a single fucking word,” you hiss.

“I know I did. And it was the worst mistake of my entire life. I panicked, I didn’t know what to do - and that’s not an excuse - but I’m so, so sorry.”

You can see the hurt in his eyes, the fear encompassing espresso brown. He’s not joking around, he’s not playing with you this time.

“And you don’t have to say anything else. If you don’t love me anymore, if you don’t want to be with me or see me ever again, I get it. Say the word and I will walk away and never show my face to you again. I was a jerk, and I don’t deserve you. But I swear to you, I will never - never - hurt you again if you let me stay. I’m sorry it took me so long to say how I feel,” Eddie’s voice is breaking, and you can tell how much effort it’s taking him to keep himself together.

You snap, then. Your love for Eddie that you’ve been trying to shove down for weeks, finally claws it’s way out. No more forcing it back. No more hiding. Your feet are moving before you can process it. You throw yourself at him, taking the flowers and tossing them to the floor, wrapping your arms around him and feeling him hold you.

“I hate you so fucking much, Eddie Munson,” you smile through your wobbly voice, a new kind of tears springing in your eyes.

And Eddie laughs, his eyes also watery, because he knows you don’t mean it.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

“Be mine forever, please,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips ghost over yours.

“It would be the honor of a lifetime,” you say.

He presses his forehead to yours, letting you lead when you lean in to kiss him. It feels like fireworks go off above your heads, your lips colliding in a way that finally won’t lead to a quick fuck on someone else’s mattress. No, this time you kiss him and it feels real. You feel secure, no longer worrying that the floor will fall out beneath your feet. His hands hold your face, thumbs brushing soft strokes along the apples of your cheeks. You cling to him like he’s your lifeline, kissing him like you never have before. Pouring your love into him, filling his cup because he’s finally allowing you to.

“Wait,” you say suddenly, pulling back. Eddie’s stomach drops, worried you’ve changed your mind. “I owe you an apology too,” you say.

He gives you a questioning look.

“I know you weren’t flirting with those women at The Hideaway the night we went out… Nancy told me it was a misunderstanding… and it was wrong of me to accuse you.”

“Sweetheart… you had every right to assume. I wasn’t exactly the kindest to you…” Eddie frowns.

“Even so, you weren’t flirting and you still deserve some grace. I’m sorry, Eddie. I blew this whole thing up in your face over something you didn’t actually do,” your voice is remorseful, and Eddie tilts your chin up with his index finger.

“I forgive you, always. I was never upset with you for that,” he promises, and his heart aches. The sweetest thing standing before him, apologizing when there was no need to.

You kiss him again, pulling him with you as you shuffle backwards into your apartment. He kicks the door shut, holding you to his chest as he stands against it. Your fingers clutch the collar of his shirt, mouth moving against his with fervor, like this is your last chance to kiss him. Eddie gasps in surprise when you tug him even closer to you, his large palms spanning across your back and holding you snug to his body. Tongues find their way into each other’s mouths, soft like velvet as they lick and explore. You find yourself grinding your hips into his, your body desperate to have him in a way like never before.

“Sweetheart, sweets,” Eddie pushes out between kisses, finally holding you back from attacking his mouth once more. “This doesn’t have to go any further… if you don’t want it to. I don’t want you to think that’s the reason I’m here,” Eddie says, and his tone is suddenly sad. You know the guilt is still eating at him, and will probably continue to eat at him no matter how much you reassure him going forward.

“I don’t think that’s why you’re here,” you reply, cupping a hand to the side of his face and looking intensely into his eyes, reassuring him. “But I’d be a dirty fucking liar if I said I haven’t missed your cock lately,” your voice drops lower, leaning up to his ear to murmur the words into it.

Your breath tickles his neck and he shudders, his cock stiffening in his jeans.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes, diving back down to your mouth for another heated kiss.

You lead him to your bedroom, somehow managing to make it safely despite the fact that your lips might as well be velcro’d to each other. Your hands roam his body like it’s the first time, butterflies fluttering madly in your stomach. Eddie’s hands are gentle on you, touching you in a new way. Nothing is rushed or hasty, instead Eddie takes his time as his hands find their way up your sweatshirt. You shiver when his fingertips graze your hips and start to glide up your back, his mouth devouring yours all the while. He groans into your mouth when you reach a hand down to palm him through the denim of his pants, making you pull back to smirk at him.

“Getting worked up for me, Munson?” you tease, silently reveling in the way he’s letting himself be more receptive to you.

“You have no idea, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, his hands steady as he holds you.

You smile, leaning back in to kiss him with a clash of teeth. Eddie pushes you backwards gently, taking slight control as he encourages you down onto your bed. You lie back on your mattress, spreading your legs open for him to slot himself between. He climbs on top of you, hovering over you, dark curls falling in your face and tickling your skin. Your phone rings then, breaking you both out of the moment. The screen lights up with Nancy’s name, and you can’t help but laugh. Texts from Robin pop up right after, and Eddie raises a brow at you.

“I’ll debrief them later,” you smirk at him, shoving your phone away and holding his face in your hands.

“I’m so incredibly in love with you,” he says, his eyes pools of melted chocolate, sickeningly sweet with adoration as he gazes at you.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” you breathe out a little laugh, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone… never thought I’d let myself,” Eddie frowns slightly, relaxing when you grip his face in your hands.

“Thank you for letting me be the first,” you give him a soft smile, eyes lighting up when he blushes.

You pull his mouth back to yours, needy hands grabbing at the buttons on his shirt in a hint for him to remove it. He obliges instantly, unbuttoning it and sipping it off before being discarded onto your floor. You take a moment just to look at him, your eyes raking over his shirtless form. During your past hookups you never felt like you had the time to admire him, half the time you were too embarrassed to even try, for fear that he’d mock you for it. Now it’s different. You let your eyes and hands wander up and down pale skin, tracing the ink lines etched into various places. You can feel him growing harder in his pants when your fingers ghost over his crotch, smiling into the kiss when Eddie lets out a heavy breath.

“Need to get some of these clothes off you, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your mouth, pawing at the hem of your thick sweatshirt.

You help him pull it off of you, exposing your tits which lay perfectly on your chest, nipples perking up from the chill of your air conditioning. It’s his turn to admire you now, his hands cupping the soft skin of your breasts as he looks at you like you’re the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re s’fuckin perfect,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your neck. “‘M so lucky,” a kiss to your collarbone, “the luckiest guy in the world,” his lips trail down to your tits before he wraps them around one of your peaked nipples.

His tongue kitten licks the sensitive little bundle, getting you breathless as his mouth switches over to the other one. One hand finds its way beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers curling over your mound still concealed by the thin fabric of your panties. There’s a wet patch already forming there, and you know he can feel it. Your cheeks flush when his fingers circle the wetness and he gasps a little, giving you a devilish smirk.

“Oh? What’s this?” he teases, leaning down to kiss your lips and then trailing his mouth to your jawline.

“Need you,” you whine, too desperate for him to retaliate against his taunting.

“You have me, sweet girl. For as long as you want me,” he brushes a strand of hair out of your face, leaning down once more to kiss you all over.

His lips move over the swell of your breasts, down to your bellybutton, finally stopping right above the fabric of your sweatpants. Big brown doe eyes look up at you, waiting for permission. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding at him as you feel yourself tremble slightly with anticipation. He hooks his fingers into the cozy fabric, tugging the pants down your legs before tossing them to the floor. His mouth kisses over your underwear, tongue pressing flat against your folds, causing you to moan at the heat you feel at your core.

“Ed-dieeeeee,” you choke out between a gasp, reaching a hand down in an attempt to take your panties off.

“So impatient, aren’t we?” he purrs, admiring the wet spot he contributed to on your underwear before pulling them off and letting them mingle with the rest of your discarded garments.

He buries his face in your cunt almost instantly, his plush lips so soft against your folds as he presses kisses to them. He tongue is gentle when it first licks a stripe up through your wetness, and you hiss at the contact. You missed his mouth on you, missed his hands roaming your body. It feels so good to know he’s not going anywhere this time. Eddie wastes no time getting to work, his tongue dipping inside of you before playing with your clit, shaggy curls tickling your inner thighs as his head moves. His name falls from your lips like a mantra as he devours you, licking and sucking on you like you’re his last meal. He ruts his hips down into your mattress, erection straining in his jeans. You notice the movement and halt him immediately, almost losing your breath when he looks up at you with sparkling eyes, chin glistening with your slick.

“Why don’t you take those jeans off, handsome?” you encourage, reaching down to run a hand through his wild hair.

His fingers undo his belt buckle with ease, it’s the handcuff one that you always struggled to maneuver. Black denim joins the pile on your floor, and you notice the tented fabric of his boxers instantly.

“Poor baby,” you coo, “look how worked up you are for me,” your gentle fingers stroke his shaft through the fabric, earning a deep groan from him.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he rasps, and you can tell how desperate he is for more contact.

“Why don’t you fuck me, then?” you ask, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

Eddie doesn’t need to be asked twice, shoving his boxers down his legs and off entirely. His cock springs free, and he’s harder than you think you’ve ever seen him. You can see the veins protruding from the shaft, the head a flustered red with pearlescent pre-cum just starting to drip out. A patch of dark curls rests at the base of his cock, enticing you, his heavy balls hanging low beneath. You nearly whimper at the sight, and he watches you as you take in every inch of him. He’s always loved the way you love his cock, though it’s never felt quite like it does now. He knows he’s presenting himself to you in a new way, and you’re admiring him in a new way. All he wants now is to bury himself inside you, feeling every single inch of your tight pussy as it swallows him whole.

“You ready for me, baby?” he questions, leaning down and hovering mere centimeters from your lips.

“Mhm, please,” you whine, keening up to press your lips to his in quick kisses, a tiny string of saliva connecting the two of you.

One of Eddie’s hands grabs the base of his cock, rubbing it up and down through your wet folds. You arch your back instinctively, gasping at the sensation. Eddie chuckles, low and deep, pressing kisses to your jawline and traveling down to your neck. Without much warning he slips his cock into you, the head stretching you as it paves the way for the rest of him. You let out a pornographic moan, holding nothing back from him this time around. You want him to know how good he makes you feel, how he sets every inch of you on fire in the most remarkable way. He continues to stretch you open for him, groaning at how easily you’re taking him.

“Shit, sweet girl, you’re just suckin’ me right in,” Eddie praises, his forehead dropping to rest on top of yours.

You can’t form words in response, the air being punched from your lungs when he sinks the last inch of him in. You’re so incredibly full of him, you swear you can feel him in every inch of your body. Your hands wrap around his back, clinging to the backs of his shoulders, hooking yourself to him. You want him closer than ever, need him all to yourself, and the way he brushes his nose against yours lets you know that he’s not going anywhere. He starts to slowly move, hips rocking as he thrusts gently. Even with his subtle movements, the sounds coming from your cunt are obscene, and all he can do is curse under his breath. You whimper beneath him, clinging ever tighter to his soft skin.

“What is it, baby?” he asks, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“A little harder, Eddie, please?” you ask, round eyes looking up at him.

“Okay, sweetheart. But I don’t wanna just fuck you tonight,” he says, pausing to kiss you. “I wanna make love to you, the way I should’ve been for months now,” he admits, his cheeks flushing pink at his vulnerability.

“I love you so fucking much,” you whisper against his lips, “make love to me then, Eddie.”

And that he does. He gives it to you a little harder, knowing it’ll drive you crazy if he keeps his movements too slow. But his strokes aren’t rushed, he’s not in a race to cum, he’s just taking his time with you. He rolls his hips into you, dragging out each thrust and letting you feel every vein and ridge in his cock as he stretches you. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, hair sprawled across your pillow, eyes glassy as you grow dumb on his thick length. Your lips brush, oftentimes frozen slack-jawed as you moan into each others’ mouths. Eddie devours every sweet sound you make for him, pinching his eyes shut as he picks up his pace a little. His balls slap against you as he delivers each thrust, filling you to the brim before pulling back out. His movements are sensual, his hands kneading your breasts or gripping your hips as he fucks into you. He kisses all over your face, unspoken ‘I love yous’ communicated by the affection.

You’re filled with so many emotions as you let him unravel you, your eyes welling up with tears. Having Eddie to yourself feels better than you could’ve imagined, every single snap of his hips into yours reminding you that this time, everything is different. He’s soaking you in like you’re uncharted territory waiting to be discovered, caressing every curve and dip of your body. You babble nonsense beneath him, his name falling from your lips over and over. Your lips are wobbly, eyes watery as you’re overwhelmed with adoration for him. Eddie’s quick to kiss your tears away, whispering his affections for you between each press of his soft lips.

“My favorite girl,” he mumbles into your skin.

The sentiment he’d given you so many times before, the one you always hoped he meant, always pining to be his most important girl. It sounds sweeter coming out of his mouth now, no doubt in your mind that he’s speaking the truth.

“‘M so close, Eddie,” you pant. “Gonna cum. Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop,” your eyes roll back in your head as Eddie keeps a steady pace.

The tip of his cock hits just where you need it to, setting your insides ablaze. Eddie’s close, too, you can tell in the way his breathing has grown staggered.

“I’m gonna cum too, baby. Want it inside?”

“Yes,” you cry out, “please.”

Eddie rocks into you a few more times before you’re cumming around him, walls gripping him so tight, fluttering against his cock and giving him the friction he so desperately needs. You’ve got a death grip on him as he spills his load inside of you, his hips slowing as every drop fills you. He finally stills once every drop has left him, taking heavy breaths as he grounds himself. Your tits are pressed against his chest, feeling him so impossibly close to you, sweat coating your skin as well as his.

Chocolate brown eyes meet yours as you come out of your euphoric haze, Eddie giving you a lovesick grin. You giggle as you smile back at him, still catching your breath.

“That was amazing. You’re amazing,” Eddie says, letting out an airy little laugh.

“Feels so good to love you,” you reply, making him blush yet again.

He pulls out of you slowly, making you wince slightly. He goes into your bathroom without a word, grabbing a clean towel and getting it slightly damp with warm water. He returns to clean you up, wiping your sensitive skin oh so gently, leaving kisses on your inner thighs in the towel’s wake. You sigh contentedly, curling up under your blankets while Eddie goes to clean himself up. He makes himself comfortable in bed beside you once he returns, silently staring at you once more with those gorgeous eyes, saying so much without even opening his mouth. He pulls you closer to him, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For everything.”

You don’t say anything in response, words aren’t necessary to convey how you feel. The way you curl closer into him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing, says everything Eddie needs to hear. You fall asleep not long after, the sound of Eddie’s breathing and the feeling of his strong arms around you soothing you into a slumber.

The next morning you wake to sunlight peeking through your curtains, casting a soft orange glow on your entire room. You rub your eyes, letting them focus as you look around your room. Your gaze lands on the discarded clothes on your floor before trailing upwards, over the sleeping form beside you concealed by your comforter, until it finally lands on Eddie’s face snuggled into your pillow. Frizzy curls sprawled over the pillowcase, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he continues to sleep peacefully. You smile to yourself, your heart thumping in your chest as you hear him snoring softly. After the mess of the last couple of months, your aching heart and puffy eyes over the last couple weeks, the dust is finally settling. Everything was set on fire, and you’re realizing now that flames don’t always leave decay and destruction in their wake. Sometimes, they pave the way for new growth, blossoming beginnings. You and Eddie lie here together now, as the smoke leaves the air and the sun rises, bathed in the afterglow.

taglist: @paleidiot @ali-r3n @edsmunsonsgirl @edsforehead @bambi-horror @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @figmentofquinn @girlwiththerubyslippers @myblindthirdeye-blog @aysheashea @suppeople @peaches-roses-sins @hideoutside @nope-thanks @squidscottjeans @hellfire--cult @chrissymjstan @hargrovesswifee @alissabckr @munsonzgf @a1ex-ba1ex @parmawiolets @zaddyskye69 @siriuslysmoking

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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argentisbeloved · 2 months

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Diluc, Dainsleif & Dan Heng as vampires

pairings: diluc, dainsleif & dan heng x gender neutral reader

cws: biting and blood drinking, some swearing, them burning in the sunlight, slight suggestiveness in dain’s part (not rlly it’s barely even one moan)

tags: them as vampires, hurt/comfort, modern au (dan heng), kissing, dan heng’s part is dialogue heavy

notes: diluc’s part is also inspired by an art the lovely @/mmmairon as well as a drabble by @/hiraya_rawr. also also i wanna say that dan heng has more of a modern au type of thing going for him, so just keep that in mind!

word count: 3911

DILUC RAGNVINDR: (1340 words)

•Diluc was turned during a near death experience in Snezhnaya. A passing vampire spotted his body bleeding out on the ground and decided the only way to save him was by turning him.

•Though, Diluc would've rather died on that night.

•After he was turned, and he experienced his first craving for blood, he went on a rampage that he'd quickly come to regret afterwards.

•Out of guilt of realising what he's done, he exiled himself into solitude. Opting to not go back home ever again in case he'd hurt someone in Mondstadt if he did go back. He resided in an abandoned manor that he'd fixed up over a century or two.

•Instead of drinking human blood, he drank animal blood instead. Though he'd never drink enough from them to fatally wound the animal.

•Meaning for a very long time, he'd been suppressing his cravings for human blood.

•And when you came into the picture, it wasn't pretty for him.

•You'd knocked on his door one late night seeking for shelter from a storm that was starting to form. While the logical side of his brain screamed at him to not let you stay, he inevitably let you inside for the night.

•He brewed you a cup of tea, and let you stay in one of the spare rooms. By morning, and after you left, he expected that to be the last time he'd ever see a human for another century or so.

•He was proved wrong when you showed up at his doorstep again late into the afternoon with some food to thank him for letting you stay the night.

•After this, you ended up visiting him more and more. You quickly noticed how he wouldn't answer a lot during the day, but you just assumed he was busy working (in reality, he refused to open the door to not get burned by the sunlight).

•Because of your frequent visits, you ended up befriending Diluc.

•And before he knew it, Diluc was falling completely head over heels for you, to his dismay.

•The thought of loving you terrified him greatly. He was a vampire and you were a human for goodness' sake! It could never work between you two! The thought of losing himself because of you, your scent, and your blood made him so scared. He didn't want to harm you, or worse, he didn't want to accidentally lose control and kill you.

•So, in hopes to drive you away; he decides to reveal himself to you. To reveal the monster he is to you.

A letter from Diluc had you walking to his manor in the middle of a warm spring day, something you wouldn't usually do. You figured that he had a day off from work today and that he wanted to spend it with you. The last part of that thought making your heart throb in your chest.

You soon approached the door to his manor, knocking gently on the door three times. It didn't take long before the dark oak doors opened to let you inside. You entered casually as Diluc held open the door for you, closing and locking it once you had fully entered his estate.

He led you over to the sitting room, placing a pre-made cup of tea in front of you, to which you quickly accepted and drank out of. The two of you conversed together for a little while, with everything being light hearted and fine, as it usually was.

That was until Diluc suddenly questioned you;

"How do you feel about me?"

His question caught you by surprise, your eyes widening and a small blush starting to coat your cheeks. You laugh awkwardly, trying to calm yourself down from how his question startled you.

You open your mouth, planning to say "You're a good friend of mine!" And while that isn't a lie, a friend isn't something only you want to be to him, you want to be something more.

"Please, tell me the truth."

His words catch you off guard for the second time in such a small period. You choke down your words and take a deep breath, before reluctantly saying your true feelings to him.

"I... I'm in love with you, Diluc."

In that moment, the light hearted air in the room had quickly dissipated. With the way Diluc's eyes widened with what looked like disbelief, shock and also fear?

"N-No... no... you can't love me, you shouldn't love me...!"

He says, his voice breaking midway through his declaration.

"Why not?"

You respond. You're nothing but confused right now, you've never seen him like this before. Diluc was a calm and rational man to you, so you'd never seen him like this before.

"Because!”

He shouts, standing up from the couch forcefully. He turns away from you, walking towards the tightly covered window.

"I'm nothing but a monster! You should love someone better than me!"

"Diluc, why are you talking about..!?"

Almost as if to answer your question, he pulls the curtains apart, the tight bindings on them tearing from his abnormal strength. The sun pours into the already dimly lit room.

Diluc winces, resisting the urge to cover his face. He groans in pain and turns around to face you.

Your heart drops at the sight of him. The way his pale skin now glows and crackles from the sunlight, burning his skin.

"He's burning, he's in pain!"

You quickly leap from your seat, pulling the blanket that was draped onto the couch with you. You throw the blanket over his head, shielding him from the sun's piercing light.

Diluc's eyes widen with shock as you pull him away from the window and pull the curtains back to block the sunlight.

You look afraid and worried, as you frantically pace around the room looking for something that's unknown to him. After a few minutes of you tearing through his cabinets, you finally find what you're looking for

A roll of bandages.

You desperately cover the skin that's been burnt with the bandages. Diluc takes note of how heavy you're breathing, how you're almost hyperventilating.

Once you've covered the burns on his face, you search the other uncovered parts of his body for any more injuries. And Diluc finally hears your voice breaking the uncomfortable silence that had formed.

"Why the fuck would you do that...!?"

You try to sound angry, but your voice immediately shakes and falters, turning your tone of voice into a more desperate one.

Diluc begins to feel guilty, hearing the pain in your voice hurts him more than those burns did.

You raise your head to look at him in the eyes, opening your mouth to spit more words at him.

"Why would you hurt yourself like this...!?!?"

You choke on those words, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks at a rapid pace. The sight of you so distraught makes Diluc's barely beating heart ache immensely.

"I..."

Diluc struggles to get what he wants to say out.

"I didn't want to love you, in case I'd hurt you..."

He looks away from you, too ashamed to keep eye contact.

"Do you not see how much this hurts me though!?"

You reply, gritting your teeth.

"I don't care that you're not a human like me! I still love you, and nothing is going to change that!!"

More tears fall down your cheeks, some even hitting and sliding down his own face.

Diluc hesitantly reaches a hand up, pressing his gloved hand against the back of your head and pushing it forward so that your forehead rests against his.

"I'm sorry."

He apologises, being finally able to look you in the eyes again. He's sincere in his words.

You sniffle, closing your eyes and placing your hands on his shoulders. You don't respond to his apology, but he can tell that you've already forgiven him.

Diluc smiles and closes his eyes too, not deciding to start any more conversations, and leaving the two of you to calm in silence.

DAINSLEIF: (1424 words)

•When Khaenri'ah fell, Dainsleif was cursed with both immortality and vampirism. The immortality came with becoming a vampire.

•So he decided to travel Teyvat alone, so as to not let anyone know about his inhumanity.

•At first, Dainsleif struggled with being a vampire. He could only be on the move when the sun was down, but it wasn't like he could get very far with how sluggish he was from repressing his blood cravings.

•Eventually, he managed to figure things out. Every once in a while he'd feed on some poor drunkard walking home in the middle of the night. And he managed to construct a ring that made him immune to the sunlight, meaning he could now travel by day as well.

•The 500 years he's spent travelling alone were incredibly lonely for him. Because he didn't want anyone to know that he was a vampire, he isolated himself from civilisation, only occasionally stepping into the cities to get a drink at a tavern or to buy something he needed.

•He lived completely alone for five centuries, until you came along.

•Dainsleif had spotted you, another traveller, trying your best to fight some slimes that had been attacking you, but you weren't really doing a good job. So, he stepped in to help you out. He planned to just slay the slimes, make sure you were okay, and be on his merry way once again.

•But you had completely ruined his plans, chasing after him as he tried to walk away from you, saying that you'd pay him back with a meal at a nearby restaurant or a drink from one of the taverns he'd been to a few times.

•No matter how many times he'd try to let you down gently, you just kept going, insisting that because he saved your life that you should repay him.

•Once Dainsleif finally came to terms with the fact that you weren't going to let up, he sighed and agreed to your offer (demand)

•So you took him to a tavern for a meal and a few drinks. By the end of it, you were completely drunk and he was still completely sober.

•Regular human food and alcohol don't do much to his system. It wasn't like his body rejected them, but he would never become drunk even if he drank a sea of booze, and he would never become full off of just meats and vegetables.

•Much to Dainsleif's annoyance, he ended up carrying you back to his campsite to let you sleep there. He made sure to keep watch the entire night just in case.

•When you woke up, the first thing you saw through a bleary gaze was a pint of water being held out to you by Dainsleif. He scolded you for drinking too much last night and forced you to drink the water to lessen your hangover.

•And since then, you've somehow become a pest in his side. You both travelled around Teyvat together, soothing Dainsleif's centuries-long loneliness.

•Though, having a human companion by his side wasn't easy for Dainsleif. Especially if he was due for another feeding.

The crackling fire illuminated the campsite that had been darkened by the evening sky. The entrancing flames distracted you as Dainsleif tried his best to calm himself down in your shared tent.

He was due for another feeding, and the smell of your blood was driving him crazy. He was trying his best to hold back on his desperate cravings until you slept, so he could drink from another bumbling drunkard roaming the paths.

But it was getting increasingly harder and harder to hold himself back as the minutes passed by.

Dainsleif refused to drink from you. He didn't want to harm or scare you away. Overtime, he'd come to actually enjoy your company. Driving you away with his monstrous tendencies is the last thing he wants, especially after being alone for far too long.

"Dainsleif?"

Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see you, placing a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even realised you'd moved away from the fire to come to his side.

"Are you alright? You look awfully pale..."

Awfully pale was just how he always looked, though he was probably as white as a ghost by now from how badly he needed to feed.

"I-It's nothing..."

Dainsleif utters with a surprisingly weak voice. He averts his eyes away from you, feeling embarrassed that you have to see him so weak.

"Are you sure? I think you may be ill..."

You respond, holding his chin to keep his head in place while you studied his features for any signs of illness.

Dainsleif's breath became ragged at how close you were to him. He was using all of his self control to not just pounce on you and drink straight from your neck.

In your eyes, you had just thought that he was refusing help because he didn't want to seem weak around you. Though the issue was much bigger than that.

"P-Please, I'm fine..."

He breathes out. He does not look fine in the slightest.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, starting to become annoyed at how he's pushing you away.

"You don't have to pretend, Dain. I can tell something's wrong, you can tell me y’know."

Dainsleif swallows. He wants to resist, to run away and return to you while you're asleep and he's finally been fed. But he cannot.

"H-How much do you know about... inhuman creatures...?"

He finally asks with his voice and breath shaking.

"Hmm... like slimes? Have you been poisoned by one or something?—"

"No, no, it's nothing like that..." He cuts you off, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "I-I meant creatures who appear to be human... but they aren't..."

You think for a few moments, thinking back to all the books you read before you decided to set off on your journey across all of Teyvat. After a few minutes of thinking, you manage to come to a conclusion.

"Like a vampire or something?"

"Yes... a vampire..."

"What about them?"

Dainsleif doesn't even find the energy to tell you. He simply just opens his mouth a little to show off his sharp fangs in his teeth that replaced his canines.

Your eyes widen. You're surprised, and even a little bit scared, but you know Dainsleif won't hurt you.

Not hurting you is what got him to this state in the first place, isn't it?

"Are you hungry?"

You ask him, and he weakly nods in response.

You take a deep breath before undoing the top button on your shirt, pulling your collar down enough to fully expose your neck. You hold his chin against and force him to look up at you.

"Drink from me." You say, and Dainsleif's eyes widen.

"B-But—"

"I don't want to hear it. I know you won't hurt me, so just drink already.”

A bit of anxiety goes through your mind, wanting to back out. But you'd rather be in pain than have your closest companion die of starvation when you could've prevented it.

Dainsleif hesitantly pulls you close to him, pressing his mouth against the side of your neck. He places small kisses on the warm skin, whispering out a bunch of "Thank you's" as he prepares himself to drink from you for the first time.

Right before he drinks from you, he whispers a small "I'm sorry," before taking a bite.

At first, it hurts. Your nails dig into Dainsleif's shoulders as he feeds from you. His thumbs draw comforting circles on your back to try and soothe you.

When the pain finally subsides, it actually starts to feel a little good. You let out a mix between a sigh and a moan as your nails stop digging into his shoulders and instead grip at his shirt.

Once he finishes drinking from you, he licks and kisses the spot he bit into, lapping up any blood that's spilled out from your neck.

The experience left you completely exhausted. You rested your head on Dainsleif's shoulder as he grabbed the first aid kit from your bag, pulling out a small bandaid to put over the bite.

When he's done patching you up, he lays you down gently onto your mat, pulling up the small blanket you had. His gloved hand brushes the hair sticking to your forehead away, and he plants his lips there in a gentle kiss.

"Sleep well..."

He whispers, before your vision fades to black.

DAN HENG: (1137 words)

•Unlike the other two, Dan Heng was actually born as a vampire. Though he's never met his parents before.

•Vampires like him age super slowly. So he's got another few centuries on his belt until he becomes weak enough to die or be killed easily.

•Instead of hiding himself away though, he works as a librarian in a public library.

•While he's very quiet and hard to communicate with, he is actually a very good worker (he plans to go down with the library if that ever happens)

•Nobody actually knows he's a vampire, not even his boss or his coworkers. While his previous bosses had noticed that he barely seemed to age as the years went by, they always felt too intimidated by his quiet and stoic nature to ask him about it.

•Dan Heng, like Dainsleif, also has a daylight ring. Though this is just something he's had with him for as long as he can remember.

•You show up for the first time in his life when you're hired to work in the library with him.

•Unfortunately for him, you just happened to want to strike up a conversation every time you saw him. His boss must've noticed this, because suddenly, majority of your shifts aligned right with his.

•Dan Heng is a bit annoyed that his nice peace and quiet is now being interrupted by you. But he's not a bad guy, so he's not going to get mad at you and push you away or make you feel horrible because of it.

•So, after a bit of trying to get him to talk to you, he caves and replies to you.

•And that started your friendship with him.

•You two remained as good friends for a while. It was until Dan Heng realised that he had started to fall for you that he started to push you away without even realising it.

•He felt bad for falling for you. He felt bad that he'd live on for centuries, while you only had a few decades. It made him feel guilty thinking of how you'd grow old and he'd technically not even be 30 yet.

•So, he started slipping informative books about vampires into your piles of books that you were going to borrow. He didn't know how to tell you outright the truth, so he hoped that this would get his message across.

•It did not.

Dan Heng notices you sigh while you're looking through your stack of books that you had left to the side unattended for only a few minutes. He watches you walk over to him and place the book he had slipped into your pile in front of him on the desk.

"Can you put this back in its original spot?" You sigh again, tapping on the hardcover with your nails.

Dan Heng picks up the book. "Are you not a fan of vampire books?" He asks bluntly, slightly raising an eyebrow.

"It's not that." You reply "They just keep showing up with the books I want to borrow even though. I don't put them there... do you think we're being haunted by a vampire or something?"

Dan Heng shakes his head. "Don't be absurd. Ghosts are the ones that haunt, not vampires."

"Oh? Sounds like you know a lot about vampires. Perhaps you're the one slipping these into my pile behind my back?"

You notice the way Dan Heng's eyes practically pop out of his head with how surprised he looks. It was an odd expression for him.

"Hey, you don't have to look so surprised, I was joking—"

"You're right."

Now you're the one who's surprised, though not to the same extent as he was just merely a few seconds ago.

Dan Heng sighs. "Can we go somewhere private? I have something to tell you."

You nod your head and follow him. The both of you are silent as you walk to a secluded spot in a corner of the library. When you both stop walking, Dan Heng turns to face you with a guilty expression on his face.

"I have two things to tell you..."

He begins, taking a deep breath before looking straight into your curious eyes.

"I have... fallen for you."

A cute red blush appears on his cheeks, and with the way yours had started to burn, you probably looked the exact same as him.

"But... I cannot be with you."

That immediately makes you confused. Your heart starts to pound harder.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

You stutter, your voice raising in a pitch a little too high when you emphasise your question.

Dan Heng sighs again, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly.

"The reason I've been slipping books about vampires into your pile is... well... because I am a vampire."

You cannot tell if you're being played right now.

"...Are you serious?"

"Yes."

With the way Dan Heng continues to look straight into your eyes without faltering makes you believe him more. But you have no reason to not believe him anyway, after all, Dan Heng was a serious person, so what would he get out of lying to you like this?

"So... how does that play into you loving me?"

Dan Heng bites his lip, fiddling with the ring he always wore to calm his anxieties down.

"I'm practically immortal. If we ever end up together in the future, you'll die way before I even reach the age you died at..."

It seems his anxieties only worsened as he explained the reason to you. That thought hadn't crossed your mind, but you understand why he looked so guilty and distressed over it.

You exhale, taking a step closer to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you, wondering what you're planning to do.

"I'm sure we can work something out when that inevitably comes around. For now, why don't we just enjoy ourselves without worrying about the future?"

You smile warmly, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip.

Dan Heng doesn't respond for a second, but he finally nods to your statement.

"Alright, let's do that."

He grabs the wrist of your hand that's touching his face, moving it away and intertwining his fingers with you, giving you a small reassuring squeeze.

Dan Heng looks at you and smiles for the first time during your whole conversation. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, and you can't help but lean in and kiss it.

Dan Heng's eyes widen again when you pull away, and you immediately regret doing that.

"I-I'm sorry! I should've asked for permission first!"

"N-No... it's fine."

Dan Heng touches his lips, the blush on his face growing.

"...Can I kiss you again then?"

You ask shyly, playing with his fingers in your linked hands.

"Yes, you may."

And that's exactly what you do.

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picturejasper20 · 6 months

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Steven Universe as a character is someone who has been mischaracterized and flanderized over the years, to the point people who aren't into the fandom or haven't watched the show believe that mischaracterization to be a fact rather that a product that comes from memes and jokes

The truth is that Steven often fights in the series when it is needed, usually by fusing with someone else like Connie or Amethyst since he is still developing his powers in the original series. He doesn't cry when he has to fight back or defend himself, with exception if the person attacking is someone he considers a friend. Because, yes, for a 14-15 old teenager it isn't fun having to do something like that and it can be traumatic.

He also doesn't start to cry the moment someone refuses to change their mind or is being mean. He often isn't afraid to be sarcastic or call that person out. He didn't cry when Aquamarine mocked him in ¨Stuck Together¨ nor when Jasper didn't apologize for poofing Amethyst in ¨Crack the Whip¨

However, what we see is sometimes him blaming himself for not being able to help people that, more often than not, have been hurt by Rose Quartz, his mother, in some way. After Season 3, Steven fears a lot that he is going to become like Rose and he is going to hurt people the way like she did.

In general Steven deals with an Atlas complex in the show. He feels like he has to fix his mother mistakes and deal with ¨what she left behind¨ even when Rose wanted for him to be his own person as seen in the tape she left for him as it was revealed in the episode ¨Lion 4: The Alternate Ending¨.

Steven also defines his identity a lot for being to help other people and fix their problems. He believes that he has to be ¨useful¨ for others. So when he believes that he failed to help someone, that may lead him to think that he isn't living up to his ¨purpose¨ or that he is a failure as a person.

In reality, he isn't that much different from other hero protagonists from other animated shows. Those who are kind and emphatic and willing to listen to other people and give them a second chance if the person changes their ways. You probably like an animated show that has a protagonist like this. (Who was probably taken inspiration from Steven if the series came out after SU).

The main difference, i think, is that Steven goes a bit more than those protagonists do when it comes to listening to other people, understand their motivations and give them another chance if they regret their actions. A lot has to do with how he is aware that his enemies (usually gems) act the way the do because of the system they were born into rather ¨they are evil just because¨. He gets that their motivations come from the system that hurt them or lead them to believe that their actions are justified.

Another common mischaracterization is that Steven becomes super buddies with every person he helps...when this isn't always the case. There are some occasions that Steven shows discomfort around people who he has given a second chance. Just because he gives them a second chance doesn't mean that he immediately considers them close friends, maybe allies at best.

A good example of this is the gif above of Steven's interactions with White Diamond in ¨Homeworld Bound¨. White Diamond touches Steven very close to where his gem is- which makes Steven distressed since in his battle again White, she ripped his gem out to prove that Pink was still ¨alive¨. In most of the episode Steven shows to be very uncomfortable around the Diamonds and Spinel, to some extent. They bring him bad memories, which is the main reason he has been doing everything to avoid going to them to ask for their help until this point in Steven Universe Future. He even almost accidentally hurts White's gem by smashing her head against a pillar when she lets him control her to talk to himself. This being result of a intrusive ¨vengeful¨ thought.

I wouldn't say that Steven hates the Diamonds,but- he doesn't want to be their friend neither and wants to avoid in general because he feels nervous and bad around them. It's something like ¨I'm glad that you are changing but i don't want to be associated with you. Please, i would appreciate if you kept your distance from me.¨ dynamic.

On last point, Steven is someone who usually pushes his feelings down in certain situations and buries them down, which has led him to have strong emotional outbursts in bad moments. He usually prefers to ignore his own problems and take priority on others. Again, this comes a lot from his desire to be useful and be needed, making him trying to ignore how he feels about certain people and pretend that he is doing fine.

This explains why we don't see him lash out that much to others in the original series, and, why he feels so frustrated and angry in Future, since all that anger and negative feelings can't no longer be ignored as they used to and they are having a negative impact in Steven's mental health. This, of course, isn't meant to be seen is a healthy coping mechanism. It is in fact potrayed as something pretty self-destructive for Steven, as a huge flaw of his, that over time he comes to learn that it isn't the best way for him to deal with his problems.

These are some of the most common misconceptions i have seen about Steven's character online. I could go in more depth with some of them but i think the points should be clear enough. This could be considered a general analysis of how Steven is as a character and how he operates, leaving aside more specific things that can be covered in other posts.

#steven universe #steven quartz universe #steven universe future #rose quartz #su analysis

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klaunee · 5 months

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Edit 2/12/2024: I wanted to add a disclaimer to my redesigns! I really appreciate all of the likes and comments that these have garnered, but I just want to add that these aren't intended to be "improvements" or "fixes" of the original designs in any way and were done as a character design exercise for my own entertainment. Looking back on them there's a lot I'd like to change about them and I'd never claim to be anything more than an amateur/hobbyist character designer messing around with these character concepts. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Redesign of most of the main cast of Hazbin Hotel + Lucifer for fun and all that. I enjoy seeing other people's interpretations of these characters and wanted to try my hand at it. Elaboration below the cut.

(warning for some potential spoilers for Season 1 below)

Charlie

As you can see, the gist of my redesigns is exaggerating the qualities of whatever the character is supposed to be. In this case, I thought Charlie lacked qualities that identified her as a demon, and so I gave her permanent horns and a more goat-like appearance. I also gave her angel wings for a unique look and to identify her as Lucifer's daughter. Realistically these could be bat wings instead, since Lucifer was historically depicted as having said wings, but I thought the angel wings combined with demonic features would give her a unique appearance. Her outfit is inspired by bellhops and magicians. I wanted her to be based on a type of performer in the same vein as her parents, with Lucifer's supposed ringmaster theme and Lilith being a diva. This is also why I gave her red nose paint, because to me, her red cheeks and white face make her look clown-like. I gave her round shapes to represent her sweet personality while her overall body type is lanky in a somewhat awkward way, trying to depict her as a bit dorky. I made her hair a bit more prominent for a princess-y look.

Vaggie

Vaggie's moth qualities have been exaggerated here. I'm aware of the theories that she's actually not a moth demon but rather a fallen angel, but I wanted to disregard that because I really like bugs. She has four arms, black eyes, antennae, and her hair is actually a pair of functional wings. Her hair-wings have four "eye spots" on them that are actually functional eyes similar to Sir Pentious. Shape-wise I wanted to show her as a more combative, assertive character, with blocky arms and a shorter and wider physique compared to Charlie. I gave her a modern outfit with a fluffy jacket reminiscent of a moth's neck fluff.

Alastor

I gave Alastor a complete overhaul. My biggest gripe with his design is that he's not intimidating in the slightest and yet we're meant to interpret him as fearsome. Although I enjoy the idea of a character who is not physically intimidating while still being a powerful force, I wanted to depict Alastor as outwardly frightening while retaining the idea that he's underestimatable because... his entire body is shadow! Rather than having that Dr. Facilier expy (/j) shadow companion he has, I decided to make it so Alastor is actually the shadow himself. This grants him a plethora of abilities like a greater range of movement, intangibility, etc. I imagine he was disoriented when he first spawned in hell as nothing but a shadow, but slowly found that this could be exploited and became extremely powerful. His staff is based on a vintage style of microphone with the center modified to look like an inverted pentagram. No Voodoo iconography here. The skull itself does not move, rather the red light in his eye flickers in time with his voice. Outfit-wise, he's wearing a basic vintage suit with a boater hat to identify him as being from the 1920's. Of course, the most significant part of his design is his antlers, which are greatly underwhelming in his canon design (disregarding his "true form" which is still weak in my opinion). In addition to giving him a dramatic silhouette, these antlers can be manipulated by him as a pair of appendages similar to hands.

Angel Dust

I didn't change much about Angel Dust. I think he has a nice design. I just tried to make him a bit more spider-like, with pedipalps, extra eyes, and an abdomen. I tried to make the abdomen small so it's essentially like a cottontail. I modified his legs a bit like I did Vaggie's so they're bent in a way similar to bug legs. His suit has a bit more dimension to it as well. I initially wanted to make the stripes vertical for a true pinstripe suit, but the horizontal ones ultimately won out. The most notable part of his physique is his legs like it is in his canon version, but I tried to make all of his limbs longer as well.

Lucifer

This one was very self-indulgent. I wanted to make Lucifer more father-like in appearance to try and diversify the shapes of male characters in this show, similar to how I gave Alastor a stocky build. With a stouter appearance he is simultaneously less and more imposing depending on how he's depicted. I think it'd be nice if his wings were a permanent element of his design. I gave him a broken halo, which he obscures with his top hat. I modified his outfit while still retaining the ringmaster appearance, giving him a long, flowing cape for a dramatic look. He has a cane in the shape of a golden snake which can actually move freely if he wills it. I based his hair a bit on famous carnie P.T. Barnum, and I think he'd have a similar characterization as Barnum too, being an outwardly magnanimous and lovable leader while in reality wanting nothing more than to encourage hedonism, chaos and sin in his subjects. His pointy beard and moustache come from depictions of Mephistopheles. Like Charlie, I gave him red nose paint because like I said, they've got clown vibes. Charlie inherits her goat features from Lilith, who I did not draw (yet).

Thank you for reading!

I'm not 100% on these redesigns but I enjoyed the exercise. I may redo them eventually.

I'd also like to do more of these, especially Adam.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #hellaverse #alastor #charlie morningstar #charlie magne #vaggie #angel dust #hazbin hotel au

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bloodybreakupscene · 11 months

Text

-> 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊

miles morales x reader

-> miles having a crush on a bakery worker!! r y'all soulmates or what? (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

-> idea was cute and also i just [re]watched both movies so plz send requests pretty please >__< !! totally not inspired by the song she lives on my block by chicano batman

"miles! can you pick up the—" rio, miles' mother, called from the kitchen, she was currently on the phone with someone as she was cooking.

"the cake? yeah i got it!" he unintentionally interrupted his mom while he walked downstairs putting his jacket on. his footsteps on the stairs making a squeaking sound as he traveled down.

"aye, this boy. be quick, your father will be home soon!" she ushered miles out the door, father's day was today and they wanted to do something special for him.

just before he exits his apartment he grabs his bag, waving 'bye' to his mom. he runs as quickly as he can down the stairs so he can reach the bakery faster. he contemplates putting his suit on and swinging to the location instead but he didn't feel like changing.

miles puts his headphones on and saunters hurriedly through the crowds of people that seemed to come out of nowhere. he sees some people he knows and waves to them, making small conversations with some. just as he reaches the bakery door, he checks himself out in one of the windows.

'i got this,' he thinks as he fixes his outfit and hair in the mirror. his thoughts stop as one of the workers sprays cleaner on the window, wiping the area where his face was. they looked at him confused with an eyebrow raised and all he could respond with was an awkward smile, before walking in.

he shoves his hands in his pocket and walks towards the register where you were working, you looked up from the cash you were counting and instead, at him. he looks at you with lidded eyes as he leaned on the counter, smiling at you. not sure what the hell he was doing you asked,

"uh miles, do you need something?"

his expression changes and his normal happy expression was back, "oh, yeah! i'm here to pick up a cake for rio morales?"

"alright!" you proceeded into the back to look for a cake with the label rio morales, who you recognized to be miles' mom, who came in every once in while

as he saw you walk away he face palmed. 'what am i doing!? i can't do this.' he was sweating so bad, he just really liked you, if that wasn't obvious already. the other worker saw how nervous he was and walked up to him.

"miles."

"huh—? how do you know my name?" he questioned.

"same physics class? i sit next to you. . . ?" the worker said, slightly annoyed.

"oh yeah, yeah, i remember."

"you're trying too hard."

"excuse me?"

"you like (name) right?" worker dude, miles' forgotten classmate, states in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "they like you too, trust, just be you, man."

"okay, i got the cake, sorry it took kinda long, we have a ton of other orders." you laughed a bit at the end of your sentence as miles turned away from worker dude, who went back to cleaning.

"nah it's good, uh, totally random question…but are you free next sunday?" he says, taking the dessert from your hands.

"yeah," you said rather quietly before clearing your throat, "yeah, yeah i am, uh, why?"

"there's this movie i've been wanting to see for awhile, i got two tickets but ganke couldn't go, said something about working on a final." he smiles, holding the cake with one arm and fiddling with the zipper of his jacket with his other.

"oh! yeah i'd like to go." you responded, big smile plastered across your face.

"great, that's good, i'll text you the time, i could go over to your place! and we can walk there together." miles exclaims, an even bigger smile on his face.

"that sounds nice, can't wait." you giggled.

miles smiles, "well i got to go now, my mom's probably waiting for me." he begins to walk backwards confidently, before bumping into a table, almost knocking a napkin holder over, however he quickly grabbed it before it fell. he shoots you an awkward smile as he runs out the door.

"y'all are so corny." the worker rolls their eyes, putting the cleaning supplies away.

"you're just mad no one's asked you out yet." you shot back.

miles finally got back to his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

"miles?"

he sighed, looking up at the ceiling before turning around and facing both his parents.

"hi mamí, dad." he proceeds towards the table they sat at and put the cake down. "happy father's day!"

"why were you home so late? the bakery's what? ten minutes away? it's been an hour." rio asked, concerned.

"what's going on with you miles?" his father, jeff, said, backing up his wife.

"nothing! i was just, you know, talking with people!"

his mother gasped, both miles and jeff looked at her nervously.

"you were talking to that bakery worker, weren't you!"

"what–? miles, what's she talking about?" his father asks, confused.

"no i wasn—"

"our little boy's got a crush on that nice worker at the bakery! i always see his eyes turn into hearts when they walk by."

they both laugh aside from miles, who frowns and takes a seat, arms crossed.

#into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spiderman x you #beyond the spiderverse #sony spiderverse

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zreamy · 1 year

Text

nothing to lose

pairing: jay park x fem!reader

summary: after a hockey party, a football game, and a near perfect first kiss, jay is humbled by his (practically silent) friend sunghoon, who reminds him that he has nothing to lose.

genres: university / college au, friends (uni crushes) to lovers, smut, fluff

warnings: minors dni, vaguely (very?) british undertones..

word count: 24,064 .. sorry.

playlist: awkward sza, do you like me? daniel caesar

author's note: please just be nice to me and let me know your thoughts (positive / negative / anything as long as ur not mean abt it) .. thank u @asahicore my rock, my bestie, my beta reader .. <333 hope u enjoy !!!

When you pair his kind eyes and charming smile with his ever-positive outlook on life, it’s easy to see why Park Jongseong is heavily popular amongst the student body; even described by your flatmates (and the rest of his fan club) as the stuff of dreams. And in your dreams, you know exactly why he’s staring in your direction with a sweet smile on his face. In real life, however, you have absolutely no idea and it’s kind of weird. Not his smile itself, no, his smile is.. really pretty, but it’s kind of weird in the sense that it’s directed at you.

You think.

Most of the library’s population sits across the room in the computer lab and based on your seat, at an empty table, in the (also empty) far corner, he’s either smiling at you or at the wall that your head is resting on. It’s not until the two of you lock eyes that you feel you should smile back, though your brows knit together at the way he whips his head around in the other direction when you do – a move that seems out of character for the Park Jongseong that you know. Or rather, the Park Jongseong Jay that you knew.

The Jay you knew was a (more than) pleasant enough guy who grinned in a way that pushed a dimple into his cheek every time he got to class and sidled his way through the aisle to sit in the seat next to you. The very first time he did it he’d mistaken you for someone else, his smile faltering slightly as he sat down anyway, a large hand extended to you.

“Jay,” he introduced himself, nodding thoughtfully when you told him your name and holding on to your hand for a split second longer than what was comfortable. And even though it was clear that he’d been sitting in the wrong seat, at Na Jaemin’s end-of-year party months later, you acted shocked when he told you about how he’d forgotten to put his contacts in that morning. Nonetheless, he continued sitting next to you in that class for the rest of the semester.

From your current seat in the library, you watch him curiously, wondering if he might look over again. For two minutes, he leans against a shelf in the reference section, completely unaware of his audience (you) as he types on his phone. You can’t take your eyes off him until the sudden vibration of your phone startles you, your hand reaching for it immediately thinking (hoping?) it might be a text from him.

yj: hockey mixer tn

yj: what are you guys wearing

You feel relieved to see that it’s just Yunjin in the group chat, though, as you read the messages, you struggle not to roll your eyes seeing that she (captain of the hockey team) is still trying to convince you (non-member of the hockey team) to go to the hockey mixer. By the looks of things, the field hockey team is the last to take advantage of the space that the student union building has to offer. Functioning as a nightclub over the weekend (and on select weeknights), The U is the place to be if you’re looking for a good time for a good price.

Unlike the other club parties, tonight’s hockey mixer is Yunjin’s answer to concerns raised by members of the students’ union about binge drinking on campus. According to her: “A mixer is an informal gathering where people mingle, interact, and get to know each other. And a party is,” she paused, fixing her eyes on the ceiling as if waiting for divine inspiration to strike. “Fun.” She didn’t seem pleased when you asked if this meant that the mixer would be boring and eventually confessed that the hockey party would be a mixer in name only.

You lock your phone without responding and lift your gaze back to references only to find that Jay is gone; stuck to the part of the bookshelf he was leaning on, you notice a lopsided poster featuring two crossed field hockey sticks and a ball over a green gradient, and a chill runs down your spine. If Yunjin is one thing, she’s bad at graphic design persistent.

Unfortunately, in all your time spent not working, you find that your laptop hasn’t begun doing your research paper for you, and the Google Doc looks exactly the same as it did when you last edited it one hour ago, with only the intro from the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals website pasted into it. In the bottom left corner of your screen, a white box tells you that it’s 467 words long, and, feeling a rare bout of motivation, you get to work paraphrasing and attempting to condense the text.

As morning turns into afternoon, the library starts to get busier and busier, and despite the low hum of several different conversations creeping in through your earphones, you’ve gotten into a flow with your work and don’t let anything distract you. That is until Jay himself lets his backpack thud onto the table across from you, brows raising a little at the sudden noise, before pulling out the chair and sitting down.

“Need a study buddy?” he asks, a tentative hand on the zipper of his jacket.

You take a moment to observe him; the way he asked to join you after having already joined you, settling into the seat before you’d had a chance to say anything. A part of you wants to say “no,” just to see how he reacts, but, with a smile on your face, you take out your earphones and say, “Sure.”

A grin spreads over his lips as he mumbles the word sweet, shrugging off the oversized coat and letting it drape over the back of his chair, revealing a chunky pair of headphones sitting around his neck and a thin gold chain with a hook pendant on it. His dark hair sits flat on his forehead and he rakes a hand through it twice before taking a textbook out of his bag. He doesn’t touch it, though. Instead, he lets his elbows rest on the table in front of him, biceps flexing slightly under his sleeves as he crosses his forearms. “What are you working on?” he asks.

“A report on the integration of renewable technology in buildings, for my sustainable development class.”

Jay hums, brows raising slightly. “Renewable tech like solar panels and shit, right?”

“Right.”

Another grin, pretty, sincere. “It’s cool you’re getting to learn about the stuff you care about,” he tells you, and even if you hadn’t been looking at him, you’d have been able to hear the smile in his voice, light, sweet. Jay is sweet. The statement trickled out of his mouth so simply, so casually, a small detail that you have to rack your brain to recall sharing with him; still just as attentive as you remember. “Really.”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling too. “Exactly.”

There’s a distinct comfort that rolls off of Jay in waves as the two of you chat, and the scene feels familiar. It’s reminiscent of the nights you’d spend together last term, at a table like this one with the notes from your shared Property Law lecture sprawled out in front of you while pretending to study. The two of you would find anything else to talk about, and constantly received dirty looks from the laughter you’d struggle to stifle.

It’s not until Jay reaches for his textbook that you properly check it out, and as a non-fashion student, you’re not expecting to know what subject he’s studying but you’re pretty sure that Nutrition, Energy, and Human Performance are not part of his curriculum. “Excercise Physiology?” you ask, reading its title.

“I picked it up earlier for Sunghoon. He’s at the rink all morning,” he nods.

“So why are you studying it?”

Jay laughs, shifting in his seat. “It’s, like, the only thing I have in my backpack. I just came over here ‘cause I wanted to say hey.”

It takes everything in you not to say “aww” out loud; his sweetness palpable, his smile contagious, and his eyes so bright and warm that your heart soars in your chest when you look at them. “Hey,” you say after a beat.

“Hey,” he chuckles. “How was your break?”

“It was good! I went home for a week, or so, and then I got bored and came back to hang out with Chaewon,” you tell him, grinning despite yourself at the memory of poorly mixed cocktails and days spent lounging by the pool at her family’s holiday home. “85% of the summer was just us running around being stupid.”

“And the other 15?”

You feel more than a little awkward about telling him that you spent the other 15% fooling around with Jaemin, so with a forced smile you tell him, “Just more running around being stupid.” Hopefully, he can’t sense your mild discomfort and thinks you’re scratching your neck because it’s itchy and not because of the slight guilt you feel. “How was yours?”

“Minus Chaewon, I had, like, the exact same break.” He pauses, breaking out into the widest grin you’ve ever seen. “Oh, and I went to the Yuuri show! It was crazy.” He runs a hand through his hair, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. “I was gonna text you but I didn’t wanna bother you during break or anything.”

“Oh,” you say, dragging the vowel. “Right. So you’re bothering me during term time instead?” You tease, though with the way Jay’s eyes widen and his brows knit together, it doesn’t seem like he’s caught on to your joking tone. “I’m kidding, tell me all about it,” you add as quickly as you can manage, a huge smile on your face.

Relief washes over you as Jay laughs, his shoulders shaking, and his nose crinkling, showing off the scar across its bridge that you’ve come to like so much. After calming down, he watches you carefully, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Right,” he finally says, taking a breath before talking with excitement and at great length about the concert.

But it isn’t without slight interruption: Jay’s phone vibrates against the table a few times, and he ignores it, eventually turning it on do not disturb before squinting at you. “You’re not allowed to laugh. Pinky promise me you won’t laugh.” He holds his hand out to you, wagging his pinky finger in your face. There’s a smile on his lips when you link your finger with his, his skin rough against your own when he squeezes your pinky. As much as his tight grip is starting to hurt, you (unsuccessfully) fight off a smile when you realise that the two of you are effectively holding hands.

“I’m not gonna laugh,” you promise.

A beat passes before Jay lets out a chuckle. “That’s my girl,” he says, voice low as if he didn’t want you to hear him. You wish you didn’t hear him.

When you try to let go, he doesn’t budge, only easing up a little so he’s not cutting off your circulation anymore; just holding it lightly with his. Across the table from you, struggling to meet your eyes, Jay wears a sheepish look. “He threw his pick out into the crowd at the end of the show, and I caught it!” he tells you, looking away. “And I cried..” His voice thins out into practically nothing though you think you hear the words “home,” and “Heeseung,” before he stops talking completely.

Jay’s sentimental side has tugged at your heart for as long as you’ve known him, and given the way he’d sobbed quietly in his seat at the cinemas when you’d gone out to watch a late showing of Spider-Man 2 together, you find it easy to imagine him welling up over catching Yuuri’s guitar pick.

For some reason, much like the tears he’d shed over Peter Parker, you find the thought quite cute, and a smile teases at the corners of your mouth as you make a mental note to finally listen to some Yuuri songs later on. Jay looks at you expectantly, and before you have the chance to speak his phone starts to ring, vibrating incessantly against the table, though Jay doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Do you need to get that?” you ask, unable to suppress the snort that makes its way out.

Jay shakes his head. “You promised me. You’re still promising me,” he says, lips curving into a frown as he makes a show of waving your still-linked hands.

“No, it’s cute that you cried.”

He seems shocked by this. “Really?”

“A little.”

His mouth falls open in a silent gasp as he furrows his brows at you. “A li—” He’s cut off by his phone vibrating once again, and he releases your pinky to check it. Jay sighs lightly, reading the messages from his screen and picking up the textbook. “Sorry, Hoon’s on my ass about this thing. I gotta go.”

Disappointment weighs lightly on your shoulders at his words, though you do feel better when you see the little pout on his lips, hoping that it means he doesn’t want your conversation to end either. “I get it,” you say, shooting him a smile that you hope is convincing as he puts the book in his bag before pulling his jacket back on, and standing up from his seat.

“I’ll text you,” he says cheerfully, waving at you before leaving. He looks over his shoulder a few moments later, waving again with the same smile from earlier on his face.

You can’t help but watch as he retreats, captivated by the air of confidence he somehow exudes even without showing his face, until he disappears into the mix of students by the entrance, becoming just another bag and shoulders in the crowd.

Without Jay to chat to, the idea of sitting in the library becomes jarring, and suddenly it’s time for you to leave too. You don’t hesitate to grab your phone when it vibrates twice next to you, an odd combination of the relief from earlier and slight disappointment hitting you when you see that it’s Yunjin — texting you directly this time.

yj: if you wanna ignore me turn off read receipts

yj: open bar for girls on the team

you: sounds like the hockey girls are gonna have a good night

yj: i’ll get you a jacket

you: don’t bother i’m not going.

SWANG rattles through tinny speakers in the student union and with every free drink you knock back, it gets harder and harder to pretend to Yunjin that you’re not having a good time. The team jacket she snagged for you and Chaewon to share fits a little big over your shoulders as you conclude that Number 20 is a lot more popular than you thought if the vaguely disappointed look on many faces when they see your face is anything to go by.

Sitting in a booth towards the back of The U, you and Yunjin mumble along to the song with a shot in each hand as she starts a countdown from 3! and you wonder whether or not you’ll be able to make it to class in the morn—2!—ing given how much you’ve had to drink and how much of the night is still left to happen 1! The formerly rancid tequila goes down like water the first time around, and gets caught in your throat the second time.

“I’m so happy you came tonight!” she yells in your ear, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, choosing to gush while you cough into the crook of your elbow. “I always have the most fun with you but you never come out.” Her drunkenness is evident in the slightly higher pitch that her words take on and the way most of the consonants come out almost the same way the vowels do.

As sweet as she’s being, you can’t ignore the alarms blaring in your head hearing that your best friend would describe going out (at least) two nights a week as “never” going out, but you chuckle along anyway, locking your hand with hers.

With a smile on his face, Lee Jeno brings Chaewon back to the booth in one piece, ruffling her hair a little before raising a hand to salute you and Yunjin, and disappearing back into the crowd.

“The period at the end of that last text almost convinced us,” she says as she takes her seat beside you. “But I new your little crush on Jay wouldn’t let you miss a chance to see him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes, backing a shot before leaning over you to get closer to Yunjin. “She’s pretending again.”

With a scoff, Yunjin unlocks her phone and pulls up her camera roll to an album titled with an unfortunately cute ship name. “I can’t stop thinki–” You cut her off, snatching the phone from her hands and placing it under your thigh.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, letting your head fall back as you groan. “I may have had a.. thing for him last semester but I’m over it now.”

“Do you think he’ll swipe up if I post a song he likes?” Chaewon reads between laughs.

Flustered, you sink into your seat after hearing the text that you sent two nights ago, hoping with all your might that the booth will open up to swallow you whole.

To your utter devastation, it does not.

The universe chooses to soothe you in a different way by sending an angel Kazuha to drag you all out onto the dance floor. With intertwined hands, the four of you “excuse me” and “sorry” your way over to where Sakura and her friend Mark are dancing a little closer than usual with one another.

His hands are on her hips as he holds her back to his front, the two of them grinding to the music, but she’s quick to smack his hands off of her and break away from him when she sees you guys approaching. Using a hand to push hair out of her face, Sakura laughs at nothing, smacking Mark’s chest playfully while he glues his eyes to the floor.

“We missed you at pres,” you say, wrapping her in a hug.

“Right, sorry, Mark had a thing at his place!”

Despite understanding why she does, you ignore Chaewon when she nudges you at the mention of Mark and his place before hugging him too, agreeing when he says that you guys should come next time.

The six of you form a circle after greeting one another, jumping around while yelling obnoxiously to the music blaring into your ears. Over Mark’s shoulder, you see Jay nodding at a friend before leaving the clu—“I’m actually gonna go get some air,” you blurt out. “Alone!” you add before Yunjin can offer to come with.

Despite the way the breeze nips at your legs, the fresh air is a welcome slap in the face when it hits you; the previously ear-splitting music reduced to a pathetic mumble now that you’re outside. A few girls that you recognise from some of your classes stand opposite the, now short, entry queue, waving you towards them and blowing cigarette smoke over their shoulders. You shake your head when they offer you a draw, though (against your better judgement) you do accept a few hits of a polar menthol flavoured juul while chatting distractedly about your “new spot” on the hockey team and trying to find Jay — which doesn’t take you very long.

Not too far from where you’re standing, he leans against the building’s grey brick while looking at his phone. Its OLED display casts a slight glow over his features, showing off the crease of his brow, the slope of his nose, and the tiny little pout set on his lips as he types.

You can’t help but stare as Jimin and Minjeong plan the rest of their night, which includes afters at Yizhuo’s if she doesn’t pass out, and extend an invitation to you and your friends — “I mean, we’re still gonna go. She’ll probably need us more if she does,” Minjeong says, stubbing out a cigarette under her shoe before both girls head inside.

Waving goodbye, you let yourself find Jay again and take a deep breath. For a moment, you attempt to strategise in the way you and the girls always do together. A few possibilities play out in your head and right when you think you’ve found a good opener—“Hello!” You find yourself saying as you stumble walk over to him.

As you’ve come to expect, his mouth curves into a smile when he looks up at you. “Hello,” he says, laughing through the word. In the short time it takes you to reach him, and lean about an arm’s length away on the same wall, he slips his phone into his jacket pocket. “Since when are you a hockey girl?”

With a smile of your own, you roll up your left sleeve to refer to a watch that you’re not wearing. “It’s been a few hours.”

Jay’s teeth press down on his bottom lip as he chuckles, before mumbling an apology and pulling his phone back out. You don’t mean to peek at his screen when he opens the messages app, but you do anyway. And can’t help but feel bad at the sight of your name at the top of the second message thread — the memory of Yunjin taking your phone so you couldn’t text back forcing your stomach to turn a little.

Lifting your gaze back up to him, you sort of hate how pretty he looks as he ruffles his hair before putting his phone back in his pock—You turn your head immediately, finding sudden interest in the lamp post that irregularly flickers a pale yellow over his shoulder. For a split second, it seems like you managed to stare at him without being caught, but if the little laugh he lets out is anything to go by, your neck jerk wasn’t as subtle as you’d hoped.

“You’re cute,” he grins, stepping a little closer. “It suits you.”

It’s a struggle to backtrack and remember what the two of you were even talking about as the faint scent of his cologne hits your nostrils. “F-field hockey?” you offer.

“The jacket,” he clarifies, a sweet laugh slipping past his lips as he speaks.

“Ohh, you too.”

He cocks his head to the side. “You think this suits me?”

His hand comes to one side of his denim jacket, holding it out slightly and allowing you to catch a proper whiff of his cologne and a glimpse of his bare shoulder. You worry a little about what might come out of your mouth if you open it, deciding for everyone’s sake just to nod and pray that he’ll leave the damn jacket alone.

“It’d probably look better on you.”

An audible smile tugs at your lips. “No way.” You shake your head, trying and failing to keep your giggles to yourself.

“You wanna prove me wrong?”

With a tilt of your head, you turn the offer around in your mind; a pros and cons list starting to take shape.

Pros: getting to wear Jay’s jacket, having an almost permanent reason to keep chatting with him throughout the night, and getting to see Jay in a vest — arguably the biggest pro of them all, given the amount of IG stories he’s posted in the gym recently.

Con: losing free drinks privileges; which doesn’t really seem like a huge deal because Chaewon can just wear the hockey jacket and get drinks for you like she’s been doing for half of the night so far.

Under the weight of Jay’s stare, you shift on your feet, realising that he’s clearing his throat for the second time since he stopped speaking and you still haven't said anything. “But then I’d have to pay for my drinks,” you say in an attempt not to seem too eager. The words slur a bit on their way out, though you’re too caught up in the way Jay’s lips tug into a grin to fuss over it.

“Not if you stick wi—” He stops short, cut off by a voice from a few metres away. “Jongsaaaaaaeeeeeeng!” it yells. And if not for his silver head of hair, you’d never have believed it was Park Sunghoon screaming like that.

“Poor guy kept icing himself,” Lee Heeseung calmly explains, walking ahead of Sunghoon and, what looks like, Sim Jake who’ve been giggling with one another since the cry left the younger’s mouth.

Despite not knowing Sunghoon very well, from what you’ve heard about him, it’s easy to imagine him hiding bottles of Smirnoff Ice to ice one of his friends, only to lose track of where he’d put them and find them himself later on, thinking one of his friends was icing him. The thought makes you stifle your laughter; you like the fact that Jay laughs too.

Before dapping Jay up, Heeseung offers him the confiscated Smirnoff Ice that Sunghoon had made quite a dent in, only shrugging when he declines. Jay watches as his friend wraps an arm around your shoulder in a polite side hug while asking if you want to finish the “smice”. You let a beat pass before telling him that you’ll think about it.

For a while, you listen as he fills Jay in on what he missed at pres, smiling at Jake and Sunghoon as they get closer, and wondering when it would be appropriate if at all, to introduce yourself to the three boys that you’ve only ever walked by at parties or on campus. You find a window when the two arrive, waving a little when you tell them your name.

Jake’s lips curve into what looks like a smirk as he looks over at you. “We know,” he says, eyes darting quickly over to Jay before looking back at you.

Sunghoon says nothing.

The boys are quick to get back to their conversation, and Heeseung glances in Jay’s direction, nodding his head before making a show of unscrewing the cap on the smice and skying it. After an impressive chug, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, holding up the empty bottle like a trophy before putting it in the bin.

With a slight frown, you realise that you didn’t even get to tell him that you didn’t want it.

There’s a grin on his face as he wraps his arms around Jake and Sunghoon’s shoulders. “See you guys in there!” he says before guiding the two boys away and into the club.

With the two of you on your own again, you become hyperaware of your proximity, of the fact that if you moved your hand even a centimetre it would brush his. The heat from his body is dizzying, and with his body leaning down towards you, Jay is already watching you when you look up at him. His lips rest in a small smile that only widens at the sight of your face, seeming unbothered that you’d caught him staring. That it wouldn’t take much to bridge the gap between your faces. Between your lips.

“The offer still stands,” he says. “To wear my jacket and drink for free.”

A somewhat familiar 808 beat rattles through tinny speakers in the student union.Jay’s jacket fits pretty big over your shoulders as you try not to say anything ridiculous while he holds your hand, leading you through the crowd. Now that your hands are actually clasped, the butterflies you’d felt over having linked fingers for a pinky promise seem silly, completely eclipsed by the feeling of your heart clattering against your ribs. After every few steps, he looks over his shoulder at you, your cheeks burning hotter and hotter with each smile he throws your way.

Upon your return to the booth, you drop the team jacket in Chaewon’s lap, praying that your friends won’t say anything about Jay or the fact that you’re wearing his jacket — or the fact that despite having reached your friends safely the two of you are still holding hands. By the looks of things it seems as though telling her to move up isn’t enough of a signal to her that you’d like to sit down; though maybe she’s just too busy trying to shrug the jacket back on to move up. You tell yourself that she’s just too busy trying to shrug the jacket back on to move up.

Chaewon wears a wicked grin on her face, making no effort to be discreet about staring at your intertwined fingers. “YN? Why aren’t you dancing? You love this song!” she says, opening her mouth to wink obnoxiously at you and nudging Yunjin.

“I don’t know this song,” you say, liking the way Jay laughs beside you, squeezing your hand a little.

For reasons unbeknownst to you, Yunjin sees this as the best opportunity to chime in, tilting her head before saying, “Whaaaaaaat? This is your favourite song! Trust me, Jay, she loves this song!”

“And she’s such a good dancer,” Chaewon adds. “Have you seen her dance, Jay?”

You stand around dumbly, mouthing the word “stop,” at your friends and leaning up towards Jay when he leans down to you. “How about a drink?” he asks with a voice as smooth as velvet, soft lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“Please.”

After telling the girls that you’ll be back, and flipping them off with your free hand, you let Jay lead you back through the dance floor to the bar, letting an elbow rest on its surface. When you look at him, he’s watching you, his lips quirked up ever so slightly while he does so.

Letting your nails drum against the bar, you smile back. “Sorry about my friends,” you say, unsure as to why you’re apologising but feeling like it’s the right thing to say.

“Sorry about your friends?” Jay asks. He grins. “Sorry about mine.”

You want to tell him that you liked his friends, that they seemed nice. Even though Sunghoon didn’t speak, and Heeseung finished the drink he offered you before you even had a chance to let him know that you wanted it. But he’s already distracted.

His eyes scan the bottles that line the shelves behind the bar, and you busy yourself doing the same thing, the sight of almost every rum brand bringing up memories of past nights out with your friends. Two palm trees on a white bottle of “MarkLeebu” leave you suppressing your laughter as you think about Sakura’s friend falling asleep - standing up - against the wall of a club after drinking two bottles of Malibu to himself on a dare.

Jay’s breath fans your ear when he speaks, “What are you having?”

“A jäger bomb.”

With a nod, he orders your drink and a whiskey for himself, and as per his suggestion, the two of you toast “to third year” before drinking.

Jay makes good on his promise. One shot becomes two becomes three, and a cocktail in a comically large pitcher before you wake up the next morning to Sakura hogging the duvet, and no memory of anything beyond sitting down at the bar.

While lying on your back you curse two versions of yourself: the first for leaving the window open before you left, and the second for having so much to drink. Staring up at the ceiling, you attempt to go over your interactions with Jay using a fine-tooth comb to figure out just how badly you humiliated yourself last night. Given the fact that you don’t remember what happened after 1 a.m. (or so), this doesn’t take too long, and the corners of your lips quirk up into a smile as you think about the way his hand felt in yours.

Your memory tells you that he smiled a lot, but this seems like an insignificant detail because Jay always smiles a lot. There was a pitcher. A big one. Inside it was a vibrant, sweet, too cheap to be true cocktail that you sipped, blinked, and opened your eyes to find yourself in bed. The unaccounted-for period fills you with a visceral sense of dread, leaving you unsure if you shiver because of the temperature in your room or out of sheer embarrassment.

The notifications you find on your phone only make you feel more nervous, so you cover your eyes with your hand before checking them. You were mentioned in Chaewon’s Instagram story (which means you behaved catastrophically), and you have a text from Jay (which .. well you’re not quite sure what to make of this). Through the gap in your fingers, you start by looking at the story, uncontrollable butterflies in your stomach from what you see. A picture (on close friends) of you sitting in Jay’s lap with his arms wrapped around your wairs, and his chin resting on your shoulder; the two of you donning wide grins with THESE TWOOOOOOO 😍😍😍 written over it.

Jay’s text is simple yet sweet: hope u got home okay, was realy nice getting to chill w u again <3. You don’t even realise that you’re giggling until Sakura stirs next to you.

you: i did thank uuuuuuu

you: sorry if i was weird though haha

You say. Although all things considered, you can’t really think of anything to be haha-ing about but Jay’s reply comes so quickly that you barely have the time to dwell on this fact. “Nahhhh you were so cute dw,” he texts back.

With your stomach doing somersaults, you turn over in the bed, burying your head in the pillow to muffle a squeal.

Sakura wakes up.

While in the shower, you let the water hit you directly in the face for a bit with your eyes screwed tightly shut under the stream. And not a single thought occurs to you other than how cute Jay seems to think you are.

jay: do you have class today

you: slept in

jay: L

jay: for me.. i wanted to see you again

Your jaw falls open as you read the message, and over your shoulder, Yunjin lets out the gasp that you hadn’t been able to. “Oh, my God!” she says, watching as a cheek-aching smile creeps up on your lips. A small celebration ensues while the two of you squeal and kick your feet like children. And then your phone vibrates again.

jay: could still link if ur down?

jay: hold up

Yunjin pulls air through her teeth. “Could still link if you’re down,” she reads before taking the phone from your hand. “Fuckboy text, ignore.”

Knowing you’re not likely to win the argument that Jay’s not a fuckboy — even though he’s not one, you think — you roll your eyes. “So what if he’s a fuckboy?” you frown, pulling your knees to your chest.

“If a fuckboy was supposed to be liked he’d be called a like boy,” Yunjin says as if reciting scripture. “Text Jaemin back if you want a fuckboy.”

You don’t mean to groan out loud at her tone. “Jaemin’s not a fuckboy, he’s just.. a guy. Who.. likes to fuck.”

The sound of the front door opening prompts you to pause the TV, and the two of you crane your necks towards the open doorway to hear what’s going on. It’s Chaewon giggling loudly before speaking.

“Thanks for bringing me home.”

A deep chuckle sounds through the hall. Jeno. Of course. “You’re my girl,” he says and his smile is audible through his words. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Chaewon giggles at this too, and, pressing play on the remote, you share a look with Yunjin as you hear the beginning of a wet kiss. Brooklyn Nine-Nine gets through an entire cold open and the theme song before she – looking fresher than ever in her boyfriend’s sweatpants – joins you both on the couch.

“What’d I miss?” she asks.

“Yunjin thinks Jay’s a fuckboy.”

Chaewon lets out a snort. “Well, yeah, anyone could’ve told you that, dude’s best friend is Lee Heeseung,” she says, though quickly changes her tune as if remembering her audience. “It’s all just rumours though, people see a good-looking guy who’s overly friendly and flirts with everybody, and posts obvious thirst traps to his Snapchat story, and just assume he’s a fuck boy..” she trails off, sinking a little in her seat.

Somewhat disheartened, you nod your head. “Right.”

“So what did I miss?” Chaewon asks again, pointing at the TV this time.

Still in Yunjin’s custody, your phone vibrates in her lap and she gasps as she reads the screen. “A reformed fuck boy?” she says, holding the phone up for you and Chaewon to read.

jay: would you like to hang out with me later?

You grin despite yourself, reading the message and reading it again before telling him “yes”, and later can’t come soon enough. The time slips by like molasses and you finally meet up with Jay -four decades- two hours later, with no set plan, at the library where he approaches you with Jake and a smile on his face.

Friendly as ever, Jake chats with you and keeps a pretty smile on his lips the whole time. “If you ever have a hard time with physics or math based classes, I’ve got you,” he offers, clearly happy to hear that you’re in STEM too.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tell him, grateful as you remember the tears you’d shed over a Construction Mathematics lecture last year.

With a wave, Jake leaves the two of you alone, saying “See you later” before walking away. He excitedly glances over his shoulder to where you stand with Jay a few times.

After telling you that he “knows a spot,” Jay takes you on a bit of a walk, successfully distracting you from the distance by keeping you talking. He listens enthusiastically while you ramble about a show you started, and you like the feeling in your chest when he says he’ll check it out.

With a “ta-da,” Jay extends an arm to the gate in front of you. A play park. “We’re here!” he says, struggling to mask the excitement in his voice as he walks towards the empty play area. “It’s no fun when there’s kids here so I brought us the long way.”

As you follow him through the gate, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous. The last time you’d been sober at a play park you were probably 15 or so, cutting through the park on your walk home from school with your friends. You’d spin the roundabout at lightspeed cackling at the screams of terror coming from those sitting on it, and talk about your crushes while calming down on the swings.

Jay sits on one of the swings and watches you, and even though you’re not too sure what to talk about, you’re pretty sure confessing your crush on him as you sit next to him might send him running in the opposite direction. Instead, you clear your throat and look over at him. “So your “spot” is a play park?” you ask, using your feet to rock you back and forth.

He pulls air through his teeth, scrunching his nose and tilting his head. “Would you prefer it if I took you to CP in the Sky?”

If Jay had his car with him, you might have hoped for that. Most of the boys in your city who drive, including Jaemin, have been known to take girls to a spot they know. Super quiet, private, and almost as pretty as you, they’ll say, and take you up to ‘Car Park in the Sky’; the city’s most notorious hook-up spot. Though, Jaemin hadn’t exactly been secretive about wanting to hook up and actually only drove there after you’d told him about it.

You shake your head. “The park is good, it’s great.”

Conversation ebbs and flows between the two of you, the sounds of nature and the swings creaking keeping you company. It’s nice spending time with Jay like this. Sober. And not holed up in the library or a cafe with assignments and deadlines on your mind.

You don’t mean to gain momentum but you do, swinging about as high as you can, gasping when you see a car over the top of a climbing frame.

“What is it?” he asks, laughing to himself when you jump off the swing.

“I wanna take a drive!” you call out over your shoulder, jogging over to the wooden stationary car you saw.

Jay’s footsteps sound after yours, and he grabs you by the wrist before you climb into the driver’s side. “Did you get your licence yet?”

You shake your head, watching as his mouth falls open, bracing yourself for a lecture on how a girl of your age should be driving already.

He looks aghast, in genuine distress before he speaks. “What makes you think I’m gonna let you drive?” Jay nods his head to the other side of the car. “Go.”

Letting out the most exaggerated sigh you can manage, you comply, dragging your feet to the passenger side and climbing in. Jay follows suit, sitting down next to you on the small connected seat built with kids in mind, and his thigh presses up against yours.

“Don’t be upset, everyone knows passenger princess is way more fun than actually driving.”

And rationally, you know he’s not specifically calling you a princess but your tummy turns nonetheless.

“Whatever,” you mumble, faking a sigh and struggling to suppress your laughter when he buckles a fake seat belt. Jay gives you a disapproving look when you don’t move to do the same. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he says solemnly, though you can see the smile teasing at his lips. “Better safe than sorry, that’s what I always say.”

There’s nothing behind his words, no hidden meaning but you read into them anyway, hoping he can’t hear the way you gulp at the thought that plagues you. For some reason, you’ve chosen this hill to die on, shrugging at him and turning to look straight ahead.

Jay sighs dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose before leaning over you to grab your ‘seat belt’ and buckle in by himself. He takes his time though, and the way he looks you dead in the eye makes you wish you’d just done it yourself. His face is close to yours, his breath warm against your skin, creating a welcome contrast to the cold air around you. He lingers for a beat before sitting up straight and clicking the belt into place.

“Finally,” he whispers, putting an imaginary gear stick into reverse and draping his arm over the back of your connected seat. You can’t help but watch as he looks over your shoulders before moving the car, liking the way his side profile looks under the rapidly setting sun. Something stops him, he looks at you. “I can’t focus with you staring at me like that,” he says, taking his hand from the wheel to touch your cheek.

Your breath catches in your throat. Jay grins, gently turning your face away from him. You stare over at the roundabout and feel just as dizzy as you would have if you’d taken him up on his offer to spin you on it.

Jay gets on with all the necessary checks before ‘starting’ the car and ‘driving’ off. “What are you thinking about?”

It probably wouldn’t be appropriate to tell him that you’re thinking about the way it felt when he put his fingers to your cheek. Or how gentle he was with you, only pushing you a little bit and then guiding you the rest of the way. So you keep that to yourself. “The movies.”

You hear Jay chuckling next to you. “All of them?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “The drive-in kind. Have you been?”

“I went once.”

You gasp, excited. “Really? What did you see?”

Jay thinks about it for a while. He thinks about it really hard before shaking his head, “You know, I don’t think I was paying much attention.”

“You spent all that money on a ticket and didn’t even pay attention? What were you doing?” The words rush out before you can stop them and you cringe a little thinking about the possible answers.

He turns his gaze back out on the road. “Sleeping,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly.

You wish you could go back in time to stop yourself from asking, finding an answer to the question: “Is it better to speak or to die?”

“Hey, we can go to the drive-in right now! I just need to put this thing in park and we can watch any movie you want!” he says, stopping the car and turning as much as he can in his seat to face you. “Any movie that’s available with a Netflix subscription!” he adds, smiling when you do.

Cramped together in the front seat of the stationary car, the two of you watch The Devil Wears Prada and get about halfway through before Jay’s phone hits 10% — and it’s probably the best movie watching experience you’ve ever had.

You take Jay up on his offer to walk you home, and he chats with you about the movie, telling you how much he thinks it totally blows that Miranda Priestly isn’t a real person that he can work for after graduation, but he seems happy enough when you suggest that he could become Miranda Priestly.

Reaching the familiar crossing by the student union, you look up at him. “If it’s easier, you can just head your way from here. I can literally see my building,” you offer, feeling bad about him walking so far out of his way.

Jay scoffs like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I’m not gonna make you walk by yourself.”

“It’s barely five minutes,” you tell him, shaking your head. “You don’t have to.”

“YN?”

“Hm?”

A pretty smile spreads across his lips. “I want to, let’s go.” And Jay hardly gets to start telling you about his upcoming mock trial before you reach your flat.

“This is me,” you say, pointing at the door to your building.

He lets out a dry chuckle. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head. He frowns, looking terribly cute with his lips turned down like that. Though it doesn’t last for long and he raises his brows when you gasp. “You know, we came from a place I’ve never been before, and I’m starting to think this might be the wrong street,” you say, struck by the sudden realisation. “We should probably walk around the block a couple more times, just to really be sure.”

Listening to your words, Jay beams at you and it’s heavenly. “I heard it can actually take, like, 4 or 5 walks around the block if you want 100% certainty.”

“Oh yeah,” you giggle. “I think I’ve heard that too. Should we make it 6?”

“Perfect.”

To your surprise, you’d both been wrong. As it would turn out, the required number of, very slow, walks around a student housing complex to be 100% sure, completely beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re at the right place is ten.

“Hey, uh, how about we do one more lap? Just to make sure? For the absolute best measure,” Jay suggests, eyes twinkling under the streetlamp. He almost looks a little nervous, burying his hands in his pockets as he watches you.

“Sounds good.”

Just like your last few walks around the student housing block, fallen leaves rustle under your footsteps, and the back of Jay’s hand still brushes against yours, but this time feels different. Maybe because there’s a finality to this; the last lap. You couldn’t possibly ask him to spend any more time walking around here. Could you?

“This neighbourhood is so cute, all the student apartments clustered together like this, I love it,” he says, looking over at you.

“It’s nice knowing that some of my friends, and the people I like partying with, live so close, but it’s always so noisy around here,” you tell him, continuing when he doesn’t speak. “‘Cause it’s all just a bunch of 18–20–somethings that live here, and The U’s just down the street. The noise is fun when I’m part of it, but when I’m studying or just trying to sleep it’s annoying.”

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cool though? There’s always something happening. So even if the girls aren’t down to go out, you’re not exactly short on plans.”

You’d never really thought of it like that. Probably because Yunjin is always down to go out. But you like the way he puts it. You nod, reminded of your classmates who live in the building right next to where you’re walking. “Yeah, I should probably text Minjeong more.”

“And if not you can always hit me and see what I’m doing,” he says at the same time.

You stop walking, and your heart — feels like it — stops beating.

Jay, noticing this, stands in front of you, hands help up defensively as he shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that, obviously. I just thought it’d be cool if you weren’t doing anything and I wasn’t doing anything, maybe we could link and do nothing together,” he explains. “I’m stupid, sorry.”

This might be the first time you’ve ever heard Jay ramble like this, and your heart does a twirl just seeing his worried expression. “I think if I’m not doing anything, and you’re not doing anything, then it’d be cool for us to link and do nothing together, Jay,” you smile, liking the way he visibly relaxes, his shoulders falling slightly and an exhale curling out of his mouth and into the air.

“Cool.”

When, for the 11th time, you reach your building, you turn to Jay and hesitate a little, unsure of what to say. Glancing at him, it looks as though he’s feeling the same way. A silence falls over the two of you.

Finally, Jay speaks. “Goodnight,” he says, pulling you into a hug.

Despite your surprise, you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him close. You hope he can’t feel the way your heart is racing. Or the way it starts to pick up when you catch a whiff of his scent. Warm and cosy, tempting in a strange way that you can’t quite put your finger on but you like all the same.

When Jay lets go of you, you look up at him almost instinctively. You don’t mean to stare at his lips but you do, gulping at how close they are. You want to kiss him. Not any more than usual, but the urge is there. “Goodnight,” you say, taking a step back and walking up the path to the door.

Using your key fob, you unlock the door, turning to look over your shoulder and thankfully finding Jay still standing there, watching you with a stomach-turning smile on his face. “I had a really nice time tonight,” you say, smiling back.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “We should hang out more.”

“I think so too.”

“Cool,” you smile, biting your lip. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Goodnight, YN.”

“Could you, text me? When you get home, so I know you’re, like, safe.”

Jay beams at you, nodding his head. “Of course.”

After a week (eleven days) of texting and hanging out with Jay when you can, you find yourself spending 3 hours of your Friday afternoon taking notes in your Sustainable Development lecture, and coming to the realisation that none of the course content is relevant to the report you’re trying to get through.

Seeing Jay leaning on the wall outside your class when you leave is a welcome surprise; he wears a thin pair of glasses and a smile that makes your heart stutter a bit as he stands up straighter, greeting you when he sees you and quickly falling into your step. “I meant to ask you earlier, are you going to the game on Saturday?” A beat passes. “Football,” he clarifies. “First home game of the season.”

“Maybe if my friends are going.”

Jay seems to think about this for a moment as you round the corner at the end of the corridor and he holds the door to the stairwell open. “After you.”

You mumble a thank you and count six steps before he speaks again.

“I’m going,” Jay informs you, his hand meeting the back of his neck to scratch awkwardly at it. “I mean, I’m gonna be on the pitch but.. I’ll be there.”

A breathy laugh slips from your lips at this added information; how sweet of the football team’s captain to let you know that he’ll be at his team’s football game on Saturday. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I just think it’d be cool to see a friendly face in the crowd when I score the winning goal.”

Given Jay’s unending kindness, you imagine that most of the faces in the crowd — or at least the ones from your uni — will be friendly, especially if he scores the winning goal. The thought causes a smile to itch at your lips as you consider that maybe he means that it’d be cool to see your friendly face in the crowd. And who could say no to that?

The rest of the conversation goes smoothly and Jay slows down when you reach the second floor. “I have some admin shit to work out, but I’ll see you at the game?” he asks, watching you with hopeful eyes and chewing on his bottom lip.

Knowing full well that you’ll be there, you pretend to think about it for a moment. “Maybe.”

Jay chuckles at this, tilting his head. “Please?”

“Maybe,” you repeat, despite already planning your outfit. Did you wash your white shirt or will you be doing laundry tonight? You wave at Jay when he waves and make your way down the rest of the stairs while clicking mindlessly through Instagram stories.

Nothing interests you until you reach IG user onyourm__ark's story; a picture of IG user 39saku_chan in his football jersey. You hit the like button and pretend to believe that the song choice (Infrunami by Steve Lacy) was made purely out of sheer enjoyment of the artist’s early work.

With a smile on your face, you text the group chat to solidify your weekend plans.

you: are u going to the football game tmrw

cw: not even if u paid me

yj: hard no

yj: i’m going to the party AFTER the game though

yj: why?

you: it’s nothing dw

cw: ???

you: jay invited me..

The chill of October’s first evening is unkind on your face as you sit amongst the rowdiness of drunk uni kids, cheering and groaning in unison as the game trudges on, and somehow Kazuha manages to sleep through it all with her head on your shoulder.

“Fuuuuck,” Yunjin groans, shivering in the seat next to you. “I hate sports.”

“Says the captain of the hockey team,” you say, voice coming out muffled behind the top of your jacket.

“Playing and watching are, like, completely different.”

You’re sure Yunjin’s right, she has to be, but you have to admit that there’s something more than slightly entertaining about watching a group of boys chasing a ball around and yelling expletives at one another, all while number 99 keeps a huge grin on his face, laughing at his teammate’s temper. Or lack thereof.

However, the novelty wears off at around 8:45 when the ref calls for half-time; a chill runs down your spine as you’re struck with the realisation that university football games are full-length. But other than Yunjin’s teasing, there’s no use pretending that you hate the sight of Jay lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

As the players retreat from the pitch and some students start to clear the stands, Yunjin gets up to stretch. She hums along to the song playing while you watch from your seat with aching knees, slightly envious and trying not to move too much and wake up Kazuha who sleeps soundly on your shoulder.

With her arms above her head, Yunjin lets out a yawn. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’d really rather be doing a reading for marketing than be here any longer.”

“And I’d rather be helping you out,” you say, frowning a little when Kazuha stirs. “Hey, what do you think they do during half-time?” you ask distractedly.

She thinks about it for a beat, eyes flicking to the pitch before looking back to you. “We usually strategise, use the bathroom, get water — quick things like that,” she says, raking a hand through her hair, watching as you shift a little in your seat to get your phone from your pocket when it vibrates. “They have a lot longer than we do though.”

jay: are you having fun?

you: yeah you guys are great, good game so far :)

Yunjin scrunches up her nose as she reads the exchange. “God, you’re so boring,” she sighs, taking the phone from your hands, and typing something before showing the screen to you.

“We should link at the party later,” you read, scoffing as you take it back and delete the message. “I’d never say that.” In those words.

jay: hahaha i think you might be my good luck charm

A dramatic gasp comes from a now-awake Kazuha. “Don’t reply!”

You heed this advice, joining her as she stands up to stretch as well.

“Look how much fun they’re having,” Kazuha sighs, pointing over at Sakura and Chaewon in their seats close to the pitch. They dance along to the music blaring through the speakers and laugh so loudly you can hear them despite their distance. “Why didn’t we join them?”

You think about it for a bit, filled with regret. “At the time, pregaming before the game and then pregaming again before the party seemed intense but..” you trail off, watching your friends clutch their stomachs in laughter. “Next time.”

“Next time,” Kazuha repeats, slouching in her seat. “I’m clearing your drink supply when we get back.” There’s a frown on her face when she speaks but she’s quick to perk up at the sound of your text tone, grabbing the phone for herself.

jay: are you coming tn? got a feeling that congrats will be in order

you (technically kazuha): wouldn’t miss it !!!

“Three exclamation points? I’m not that desperate,” you say defensively, nudging her in the ribs.

As if on cue, Yunjin reads another text. “I saw his notes again, his handwriting is so cute and ugly, agh I’m literally clutching my chest, he’s perfect,” she says, her voice high-pitched and mocking.

Hearing your typed words out loud from someone else’s mouth is troubling, especially because “It never seems that bad when I’m typing,” you frown, immediately checking your phone when it goes off.

jay: awesome :) see u there

jay: !!!

The game’s second half goes by much quicker and in the end, they lose 5-3, leaving you and Yunjin struggling to keep your laughter to yourselves at the sight of the FIRST W OF THE SEASON banner hanging up in the living room of the house that most of the footballers share. With linked arms, the two of you make your way to the kitchen to get something to drink. Already feeling the buzz from pregaming, you settle on a cup of lemonade which Yunjin rolls her eyes at.

“Shut up,” you say, eyeing her over the rim of your cup.

Yunjin holds her hands up defensively, spilling a few drops of her tequila-vodka concoction. “I didn’t even say anything.” For a couple of minutes, you pretend to listen as Yunjin tries to come up with a game plan for the night, nodding and humming along when she pauses, and trying to decipher the animal code names she’s using. A gasp. “I see him! Black cat and penguin sitting out on the half wall.”

You watch as she leans over the sink to get a closer look out of the window. “I feel like saying exactly where they are makes the code names redundant.”

“I feel like you’re redundant.” A beat passes. “Just be yourself, and if he says something funny, laugh and put your hand on his bicep while you do.”

“Noted.”

Yunjin doesn’t let you go outside without taking a sip (or three) of the poison in her cup, and after you gag over the sink, the two of you make your way into the garden, sights set on the half wall where “black cat” now sits alone. A potent mixture of the scent of tobacco and weed hits you the second you open the back door, and the two of you leave the house to make a beeline to Jay, apparently to Yunjin’s displeasure, given the way she asks you three times to play beer pong with her when some of the basketball boys start setting up cups for the next round.

“No,” you say. Three times.

As if sensing your presence, Jay whips his head around right before the two of you reach him, a bright smile gracing his face as he waves at you with his whole arm. He seems to glow against the darkness of the night, bright, dreamy, an unreal quality that leaves you feeling fuzzy around the edges. Jay, you think, over and over and it starts to sound made up. Jay. Jay. Jay. Until you reach him. He stands up when you guys are close enough. “You’re here,” Jay says with a smile, pulling you into a hug. With his arms around your waist, his hold is somehow both tight and gentle. Secure. Safe.

“Hey,” you say, voice muffled by the fabric of his hoodie. A whiff of his scent hits you, flooding your senses. Fresh, citrusy, and undeniably Jay. A dizzying combination, so light, and distinctly him in a way that makes your heart beat a bit faster.

When Jay lets go of you to hug Yunjin, you take the last sip of your drink and almost wish you’d taken her cup instead; your lemonade is sweet to the tongue but does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence. You watch as they greet each other while Jay sits back down. Standing in front of him with your arm against Yunjin’s, you feel as though you've missed the window to sit down too and opt to continue standing next to her.

“We like your banner,” you say, pointing in the direction of the house behind him.

Following your finger, Jay lets his head whip around towards the back of the house. Yunjin uses the time he spends looking over his shoulder to nudge you, nod her head in his direction, and mouth the word “sit” at you. So you do.

If he’s surprised to turn back around barely a second later and find you right beside him, Jay doesn’t show it. He gives you a warm smile and knocks his knee against yours before speaking. “What, first w of the season?” He tilts his head. “And here I thought you were a good luck charm, twenty,” he says with a chuckle when you nod.

Yunjin’s brows raise, and you feel yours rise too. “Twenty?” she asks.

“The hockey jacket,” he answers without missing a beat. “Speaking of, when’s your next game?”

“Oh, we’re playing the Foxes next week,” Yunjin rakes a hand through her hair. “TDU, you know?”

Jay nods, turning his attention back to you. “Can I look forward to seeing you on the field, twenty?”

Tilting your head, you pull air through your teeth. “You know what, I actually just got benched, like, right now,” you say, liking the way Jay laughs. “I’m out for the rest of the season.”

After clapping a hand to his mouth, Jay points at you. “Did they get you on a drunk and disorderly after the mixer?” he asks through a laugh.

In horror, you watch while Yunjin’s head falls back with laughter as she lets out cackles that only unsettle you. “That’s exactly what happened!”

“I was not.. disorderly,” you say meekly, finding sudden interest in the hem of your skirt.

It sounds as though Jay says: “You didn’t tell her how she got back home?” though you’re finding it difficult to focus on much other than trying to recover your missed hours after the hockey mixer.

You’ve gone on countless nights out, spent many mornings after vowing never to drink again, and, on multiple occasions, have gotten too drunk to enter the club. But even then, in the past, your memory has only ever been.. spotty, nonlinear. Never completely void for hours at a time, and it’s concerning. After tonight, you really won’t drink again.

Except on birthdays.

And when you go to the club. Or to parties. Or when you’re bored with the girls. But again, apart from that? Never.

“How did I g—” you start, though Yunjin cuts you off.

“I think Zuha’s lifting her leg again, hold on,” she groans, looking over Jay’s shoulder at the glass doors leading to the kitchen. Yunjin disappears back into the house and it’s not until you watch her slide the back door shut behind her that you remember Kazuha having too much to drink at pres and having to stay in with Chaewon.

When you look at Jay, he watches you with knitted brows. “Kazuha’s doing what?” he asks.

“Ballet,” you explain. He nods.

Neither of you speak for a moment. While you chew on the inside of your cheek, you can’t help but wonder if you should’ve followed Yunjin, or if you should’ve had less to drink at the mixer. You reckon the fact that Jay’s still talking to you must mean you didn’t do anything that you can’t recover from, but you can’t shake the feeling that your trip home that night was less than pleasant.

“Hey,” Jay says quietly, catching your attention with concern lacing his features. “What do you look so down for?” he asks.

Though terrified of the answer, you repeat your earlier question. “How did I get home?” you ask, wondering if the Earth usually opened up to swallow people whole or if you’d have to put in a special request.

Jay licks his lips, using his hand to push your shoulder playfully. “I have no idea,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I was talking to Yunjin at the library on Tuesday, I think, and she told me you can’t remember anything. I just wanted to freak you out.”

You feel heat under his touch and relief from his words, though something about him talking with Yunjin seems to jostle you slightly. “Yunjin was at the library?”

Briefly, what looks like disappointment flashes across Jay’s face, replaced quickly with a pretty smile, light, playful. “You care more about Yunjin being at the library than me asking your friend about you?” he asks.

“You were asking my friend about me?”

“Yeah, I think you’re cute,” Jay says sweetly, smiling at you in a way that makes your cheeks burn even when you look down at your lap.

There’s something about the way he says it, so casually as if telling you the time or today’s date, that throws you off. It doesn’t make any sense to you that some of the most vivid sensations that Jay makes you feel are just that: sensations. You know that your stomach doesn’t actually have butterflies in it and that your heart isn’t really twirling in your chest, but it sure feels like it. You wonder if he also feels like that sometimes. You earnestly hope that if he does, it’s because of you.

He seems nearer than before when you look at him, and for fear that you might kiss him if he gets any closer, you bring your empty cup to your lips, lean back a little, and pretend to sip. Its emptiness isn’t lost on Jay, however, who chuckles, asking if you want a refill. While walking towards the house, you listen as he tells you what the team normally get up to during half-time (mostly strategising and pretending not to hear Heeseung’s snores), and silently beg your cheeks to cool down. His hand is heavy on the small of your back as he ushers you inside first, sliding the door shut behind him, and gently pushing you towards the kitchen island.

You let yourself lean against the counter, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach as you watch him reach for a visibly sticky bottle of your favourite drink without asking what you’d like. Though before actually touching it, his eyes widen. “Wait, I have something for you,” he says, holding out a hand for you to take. “Come on.”

Jay weaves his fingers with yours, leading you through the house and up the stairs into a bedroom. He closes the door gently behind you, stepping over a couple of backpacks before sitting on the end of the bed, and tugging at the zipper on one of them.

For a moment you watch as veins appear on his hands and have to physically tell yourself to drag your eyes to anything else, eventually settling on the walls. Walls that are covered in countless glossy 4x6 prints, some shots of landscapes, groups of people, out-of-focus beer bottles and.. “You have a lot of photos of Mark Lee in here,” you comment, scanning the room around you. “And it doesn’t look like you’re.. in any of them,” you continue as you notice a grainy polaroid stuck to the wall next to the light switch — a picture of Mark making out with his best friend, Sakura “give me a break, a boy and a girl can be just friends” Miyawaki, and make a mental note to bring it up later.

Jay glances at you as if you’re the one sleeping in a Markkura shrine. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s his room,” he chuckles. “You can sit down, you know,” he adds after a beat, moving over a bit on the bed.

With a nod, you look at some more of the pictures as you make your way over to the spot next to him, a photo of Mark and Jake with their middle fingers to the camera catching your eye. And holding it for so long that you trip a little over one of the backpacks before sitting down and pretending nothing happened. Thankfully, Jay doesn’t seem to notice.

“It’s not much by the way, don’t get your hopes up,” he warns, his hand still hidden by the fabric of his bag.

“Got it.”

Despite his earlier disclaimer, he makes a show of the whole thing. “Ta-da!” His voice is a little singsong as he brings the obje—bottle of Smirnoff Ice into view.

“Thank you?” The bottle is cold in your hands when you take it from him, reading the ABV 4% on its label and wondering how many of these Sunghoon must have had to drink to have been stumbling the way he was that night. You also can’t help but wonder what reason Jay has for buying you a bottle and then taking you into the privacy of Mark’s bedroom to give it to you.

“Yeah,” he trails off a little, letting his hand come up to scratch the back of his neck. “You looked pretty crushed the other night when Heeseung finished that one bottle.”

You can’t help the scoff that comes out. “Crushed? I mean, I might’ve frowned.”

“Frowned? You were near tears, I was worried about you.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious, every time I looked at you, you had this.. upset look on your face.”

“Well, maybe you should stop looking at me so much.”

Jay’s eyes sparkle under the light, flicking back and forth from your eyes to your lips as he brings a hand up to your face, tucking some hair behind your ear, his fingers hot on your skin, unmoving. His eyes lock with yours. “Come on,” he says in a low voice. “You know there’s no stopping that.”

A smile tugs at your lips. Jay bites his. His gaze drops back down to your mouth. Lingers. And in what almost seems like an alcohol-induced hallucination, he leans in. Slightly. As if testing the waters. As if waiting for a sign that you want him to stop. A sign that you want him to continue. Anything. His hand is heavy on your cheek when he cups it in his palm, skin rough against yours.

Mere inches away, Jay’s lips seem more tempting than ever. Separated only by the distance of a breath and your nerves, you try to settle yourself. To put your heart at ease. But how could you relax when he looks at you like that; his gaze soft, tender, all of his attention on y—The bottle slips from your hands, cool against your thighs, reminding you of its existence. Jay flinches when you do.

“Let’s have a drink!” you suggest, though the absence you feel when he takes his hand from your face makes you wish you hadn’t.

“Sure.”

The cap screws off the bottle with a few satisfying clicks, and Jay, amused, shakes his head when you offer him the first sip. “After you,” he says.

Without a second thought, the bottle touches your lips and the sweet, sweet taste of Smirnoff Ice touches your tongue, coating your mouth and leaving you wishing the alcohol content was higher.

“Do you mind if I put my lips on it?” he asks while you pass the drink to him.

You shake your head, determined not to think of a double meaning, and watch as his lips connect with the bottle’s opening, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat while he drinks. When Jay pulls it from his mouth, he lets his tongue dart out to wet his lips. You wonder if it will taste different in his mouth, if his lips, wet from the drink, taste as sweet as they look.

Now that you realise you’ve shared an indirect kiss, you kick yourself for passing up the chance at a direct one, deciding that if you want him to kiss you, you’ll need to get closer. Step up your game a little. Maybe you’ll say something about his necklace, ask to get a better look.. And hopefully, he’ll take the hint and kiss you because you’re not really sure what else you could say.

Of course, you could opt to skip words altogether, taking his face in your hands, and pressing your lips to his. You’re sure that’s what Yunjin would do. And you’re sure that would be her advice to you if you asked her.

Jay hands the bottle back to you and you close it, determined to feel his lips on yours if it’s the last thing you do. And you quickly open the bottle again, one last sip for good luck. The soft laugh he lets out is breathy, and it’s hard to tell if the heat in your stomach is coming from the drink, or from the way you see him looking at you in your peripheral.

His straight teeth bite at his bottom lip, and he shakes his head when you offer him another sip. This time when you close the bottle, you do it for good, setting the glass on the floor so it doesn’t interrupt you again.

“I really like your necklace,” you say, off to a good start, following the plan.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw.. thanks,” he says, choosing now, of all times, to stop being a conversationalist.

In the quiet of the room, you realise that you hadn’t planned anything beyond the compliment. You let your eyes focus back on the charm hanging from his neck, trying to picture him with a fishing rod in his hand, and wellington boots on his feet. It doesn’t really work. “I didn’t realise you were so into fishing,” you blurt out, and the way he knits his brows together makes you wish you’d just grabbed him and planted a kiss on the lips he purses to the side while watching you.

“Me?”

“Yeah you, with your cute little hook on a chain.”

Jay squints at you. “Hook on a chain?” he repeats.

You let a hand reach up and press on the hook pendant on his necklace.

His shoulders rise and fall dramatically as he sighs, his hand coming up to wrap around yours, holding it to the base of his neck as the small (not) hook warms in your fist. “Why does everybody think it’s a hook?”

“It isn’t?”

“It’s the letter J.” He lets go of your hand to lift the charm. “See?”

You squint your eyes, leaning a little closer to him, gaze fixed on the little gold hook letter sitting near the base of his neck. “Ohhhh, right,” you say, but even from a few inches away, it still looks like a hook, and from this close, you can hear the way his breath hitches in his throat.

With an inhale, you find yourself lingering. Sticking around just long enough to make out the woodier notes of his cologne before moving back a little. Finally, you draw your eyes away from his neck, wanting to meet his gaze but finding yourself stuck on his lips instead. They sit slightly ajar, pink, pretty, sort of chapped in the way they always seem to be. His breath tickles your forehead. You sit straighter, noticing the way his eyes burn holes into you.

“Quit staring,” you mumble hypocritically.

Jay’s brows quirk up for a split second as he sits back on his hands. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Well, you’d have to be staring at me to know.”

“Do you want me to stop staring?”

He seems to consider this for a second before shaking his head. “No,” he tells you.

“What do you want then?” Your voice is soft when you ask.

“I wanna kiss you.”

Jay’s lips don’t move but you hear the word “really” being spoken out into the room like a question. Your voice doesn’t feel like your own and doesn’t fully register until Jay says: “Yeah,” so softly that it’s practically a whisper.

Jay wants.. to kiss you. You feel your breath catch in your throat and it seems even more ridiculous to think it than to have heard it from him. To see his lips move to form the words. I wanna kiss you, he’d said. You’d heard it. You’d seen it. It happened. He wants.. to kiss you.

“Do you want me to do that?” he asks, leaning in slightly, his hand rising to cup your cheek. Slower, gentler than last time.

You let your gaze meet his; regret flooding you immediately. Just as kind and soft as the rest of him, Jay’s eyes stare into yours, warm, and inviting, but, still, you can’t shake off your nerves. More than anything, you want to say yes; to say of course, can’t you tell? but you don’t trust yourself enough to open your mouth and speak to him. Instead, you nod, so slightly that for a moment you wonder if he even noticed. And then, there, in the dim privacy of Mark Lee’s bedroom, while your heart beats out of your chest, Jay kisses you for the first time.

His lips are warm against yours, the sweet taste of Smirnoff Ice only amplified as he holds you close. Soft, gentle, kissing Jay is everything you’d imagined it would be. You feel as though you might melt under his touch as his hand grabs your waist to pull you closer. So close that you’re nearly in his lap as he deepens the kiss, his tongue moving along yours.

It doesn’t feel real, it can’t be.

As if thrown by your thoughts, Jay pulls away. While attempting to form a coherent thought, you catch your breath, once again, regretting looking at him. He looks down the bridge of his nose at you with half-lidded eyes, and his pretty, pink lips sit parted, wet and plump from kissing. Jay leans in almost immediately, the moment cut short by his lips on yours once again.

It’s tangible this time; you couldn’t possibly make up the way his hand grips your ass or the way he groans softly when you whine into his mouth. He’s real, and he’s kissing you, and you only feel yourself growing dizzier, and dizzier the longer his lips move against yours. A gasp pulls you out of it and the two of you separate.

Looking in the direction of the now open door you see Sakura and Mark hand in hand. You can’t help the slight embarrassment that hits you at first, hating that, of all people, it had to be Mark to walk in and find you making out with someone on his bed.

Though you get a bit distracted seeing him and Sakura like this, they look cute together. His football hoodie covers her form completely, much longer than the dress she has on, as she leans into him, and a giggle slips from her lips when he lets go of her hand to wrap an arm around her waist instead.

Somewhat belatedly, and needlessly, Mark apologises, his eyes focused on you when he speaks but you can’t get the words out to respond to him. Jay chuckles at this, shaking his head and telling him not to worry about it as he stands up from the bed. You follow suit. Jay picks up your drink from the floor and takes you by the hand, telling Mark he’ll text him later while leading you out of the room. When you glance at Sakura, she’s grinning at you, mouthing: “Sorry,” before smacking your butt.

Jay hands you the bottle when the door closes, his hand slipping out of yours. A beat passes. And then another. He chews at his bottom lip. You clear your throat and the silence continues. It’s a shame to be standing around like idiots on the landing like this, you think.

“I..” he trails off, wiping his hands on his pants. He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “I should get back to the boys.”

Your heart sinks as you hesitate, unsure how to respond. Slowly, you nod. “Right, yeah,” you say.

“Later,” he mumbles, holding up his hand to wave stiffly at you before turning around to leave.

Deflated, you lean against Mark’s door while you search for your phone to ask Yunjin where she is. Maybe if you’d waited for a moment, you’d have seen the way Jay stopped at the top of the stairs to look over at you, seen the frown on his face when he saw that you weren’t looking at him. But instead, you read 2 texts from Yunjin.

yj: dude heso into u

yj: flirt more = hv fun upstairs

You spend the next three days pretending nothing happened at the party, avoiding Jay, and dreading going to uni. It’s just unfortunate that for you, pretending nothing happened looks like zoning out in the library while replaying the kiss in your head until your elbow slips off the desk. And avoiding Jay seems near impossible, given his tendency to show up everywhere. Or rather, your tendency to see Jay in everything.

Like the tiny little black cat you saw perched on the fence outside your apartment building, and the busker singing Harry Styles in the city centre. And the half-full bottle of Smirnoff Ice from that night that sits on your dresser with your perfume and jewellery, displayed with about as much sentiment as a trophy won at school for a random achievement.

Impulsively, you post a selfie to your Instagram story before hiding your phone under your pillow and leaving the room entirely, making yourself comfortable atop the kitchen counter and waiting for someone to come back home.

Chaewon gets home first, and quickly, arriving with a groan as she shrugs her jacket off and shuts the door behind her. “I hate uni,” she mutters. “I hate studying, I ha— Hey.” She jumps a little when she sees you in the kitchen. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, where’ve you been hiding?”

“My room.”

She nods, leaning comfortably against the doorframe. “You’re not going out tonight, right?”

You shake your head, amused by the look of relief that paints Chaewon’s features as she whispers thank God. “I’m gonna shower, and take a nap,” she informs you. “But when I wake up, it’s you, me, pizza, and whatever story Yunjin has from practice.”

“Can’t wait,” you say sincerely, stepping down from the counter.

With a wide smile on her face, she salutes you before dragging her feet to the bathroom. Completely endeared, you decide not to comment on the salute even though you think it’s sweet that she’s starting to copy her boyfriend.

The sounds of student housing on a Wednesday evening seep in through the open window as you pour yourself a glass of water, unable to stop wondering if Jay saw your story; and what he thought about it if he did. Wondering if he’d notice that the picture was from Saturday night.

Filling up your glass again, you take it to your room and pull your phone out of hiding. Along with a message from Yunjin telling you and Chaewon to order your food so it comes shortly after she gets home, you find that Jay hit like on your story. Then sent a reply ten minutes later saying: you’re sooo gorgeous.

With a smile on your face, you type out various forms of “thank you so much, you’re perfect,” before settling on a simple: thank uuu :D, and Jay’s response is immediate.

jay: i don’t think i’ve said that before

jay: how prettty i think you are

The heat that rises to your cheeks is troubling, yet despite your best efforts, you can’t get it to pass. Especially not when you read and reread Jay’s message. You press your eyes shut, willing the heat to pass, willing the grin on your face to fade. Neither works, in fact, they only worsen when you open your eyes to see the new messages waiting for you in the chat.

jay: it’s a lot bte

jay: *btw

You let out a romcom-worthy sigh, clutching the phone to your chest and laying down on the bed. A glow-in-the-dark sticker stares back at you from its spot on your ceiling, a single star that you’d won as a set of two at the arcade with Kazuha in December. The memory brings a smile to your face, even though you remember being a little annoyed after she turned down the other star when you tried giving it to her.

Another message from Jay makes your phone vibrate in your hands.

jay: sorrry

you: it’s okay

You tell him. Even though you’re not sure what he’s apologising for. Just like before, Jay reads the message immediately though this time his reply never comes.

With Yunjin now home from practice, and freshly showered, you sit on the couch with your flatmates, talking and laughing over the sound of the TV for hours until Netflix asks if you’re still watching, and Yunjin’s passed out with her cold, wet hair on your shoulder.

Pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, Chaewon retires to bed, whispering “Goodniiiiiiiiight,” in your ear before abandoning you. Tired as you are, a part of you feels bad about waking Yunjin so you decide to sit a while longer, moving the blanket from your lap to cover her up properly. But of course, this is the movement that wakes her up.

In a soft voice, you tell her goodnight, standing up from the couch to stretch your arms above your head.

“You never told me what happened on Saturday,” Yunjin says tiredly. “Kkura told me you and Jay were busy in Mark’s room.”

The mention of his name takes you back to that night. Back to Jay and the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hand held your waist, and the way he’d ditched you outside Mark’s room. A pit forms in your stomach; and as if reading your mind, Yunjin asks if you’re okay.

You sit down on the other end of the couch, bringing your knees up to your chest and telling the story from top to bottom. After recounting the night in detail from after she left you guys alone, you find yourself hyperaware of the differences between you and Yunjin. For you, the highlight of Saturday night was Jay kissing you and then running away after.

“Wait, Sakura and who?” she asks when you’re done.

For Yunjin, the highlight of the story seems to be Mark’s presence.

“Mark.”

“She told me she went on her own, what were they doing?”

Although you have some idea, you think it best to keep your knowledge to yourself. “They were looking for her phone,” you say, pleased to see that Yunjin accepts your answer and moves on.

“So then what?”

“He texted me hey on Sunday morning, which I ignored, and then a couple hours ago he replied to my story and told me how pretty he thinks I am,” you say, pausing to take a breath. “Then ignored my response.”

Yunjin sits silently, seeming to take in everything she’d just been told. Her eyes are focused on the TV screen ahead so you look over at it too. It had gone into standby mode, displaying nothing but an indistinct impression of the two of you.

And the silence continues.

In the TV’s cast, you can just about make out the way she tilts and then turns her head to look at you. “Maybe he’s just.. frazzled, or something, from being walked in on. How did you feel?”

The answer takes a while to come up with because for you, the night exists in two parts — Before kissing Jay, and everything else that happened when you left the room. This whole time, you’ve been so focused on him leaving, that you’ve barely given any thought to how you felt when Sakura opened the door. Frazzled, you think. Probably the best word to use. Embarrassed suits a bit better though.

“I was embarrassed about it, but only because it was Mark. If it had been you, or Chaewon, whoever, it would’ve been different because they’d walk in and go “oh sorry” or something and leave, but obviously, when it’s Mark going into his own room, he’s there for something, you know?” you explain, chewing at your bottom lip.

“Maybe that’s how he feels too.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t embarrassing enough to leave and never talk to him again.”

Yunjin exhales heavily. “I want to be on your side, really, I do, but isn’t that kinda what you did?” she asks, her voice hesitant as she tilts her head. “He texted you the next day and you didn’t reply, what do you think he’s thinking about right now?”

“He’s the one who said he should get back to the boys.”

“What if that’s just because he spoke first?” she suggests. “Obviously we don’t know what you would’ve said if you spoke first, because you didn’t, but I feel like you would’ve been like “I-I’m gonna get back to the girls” and ran away.”

Always correct, Yunjin is your worst enemy and your best friend rolled into one. Oh, how you hate her. Well, she’s correct about the fact that you would have said the same thing. You think. You press your lips together in a straight line and sink into your seat.

She sighs when you don’t speak. “Look, he talked to you today, and told you how pretty you are, which is a win, right?”

You nod reluctantly.

“So let’s celebrate that, celebrate the fact that you kissed Jay! Even better, the fact that he kissed you.” Yunjin pauses, for what you think is dramatic effect, before speaking again. “Just.. don’t sweat the small stuff, okay?” She stops again to yawn. “And text him back if he reaches out, or, text him first.”

Leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, you brush your teeth, watching as Yunjin does the same, sitting on the edge of the tub with her eyes shut. While gargling mouthwash, you think about the conversation you’ve just had and decide to take matters into your own hands. By pleading with God to put Jay in front of you and have him tell you that he likes you back.

Once again, the higher powers seem to be on your side. Kind of. Jay does end up in front of you to tell you that he likes you back. Kind of. But only after learning that you’ll have to start your report again; which, given that you’d only gotten through 800 of the required 4000 words, wasn't exactly criminal. It was an irritation that settled in you, mainly, as all of your research and the sources you’d found were now redundant in the face of such adversity.

Nonetheless, with heavy feet, you leave the lecture hall, trying to come up with a way to fake your graduation ceremony next year so you can secretly drop out. You draw a blank and find Jay waiting in line at the vending machine near the library’s entrance.

Even though you’d spoken with her on Tuesday night, here, today, on Friday afternoon, Yunjin’s words echo so clearly in your mind you almost want to peer over your shoulder to see if she’s there. You do. She isn’t.

Your formerly heavy feet lead you right over to Jay, who greets you with a smile. “How’s the report coming?” he asks, his tone light, easygoing, and clearly oblivious to the fact that his question strikes you like a knife to the gut.

The two of you shuffle forward slightly, now at the front of the queue. Waiting for your response, he punches E6 into the machine that rattles loudly, delivering his bottle of Lipton lemon.

“Not great,” you tell him, feigning nonchalance and watching as he presses E4 before squatting down to collect both drinks. “Are you heading to class?”

Standing up straight, Jay holds out the new(er) bottle of Lipton peach towards you. “What happened?”

Holding the drink in your hands, you fall into step with him and sigh despite yourself. “I have to start over.”

Jay’s eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly at your words. Dramatic. Cute. “Nooo,” he says sincerely. “How come?”

“I read the question wrong.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s okay, at least you found out now rather than later. And you still have until December to get it done, that’s almost two months! I’m sure most people haven’t even read the question,” he tells you in a gentle voice.

There’s a fuzziness in your chest, and Jay’s words make you feel like everything will be alright. Even though you weren’t exactly cut up about the report, something about talking with him about it leaves you feeling soothed when you look up to give him a warm smile.

“I don’t have classes today, I’m just here to study,” he says, answering your earlier question as he leads you to a table.

You watch as Jay sits down, and decide to take a seat across from him, dumping your bag on the floor at your feet. His brows quirk up when you put the drink down on his side of the table, confusion evident in his voice when he says: “You don’t like peach tea anymore?”

All of a sudden your heart is pounding, and you grin despite yourself. Oh, Jay, you think. “It’s my favourite.”

Matching your smile Jay slides the bottle over to you. “It’s yours,” he says.

You can’t explain the overwhelming sense of gratitude you feel over a barely cold, 500ml bottle of tea, but it beams brightly on the table between you; radiant, glowy, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “Thank you,” you say sincerely in a soft voice, lest you knock the bottle out of its haze.

The deepest part of your brain romanticises the scene around you even further, and the table you sit at, in the smallest library on campus, starts to seem like something from a kid’s storybook. From a mythical land where the iced tea is luminescent, and you get to study with an angel who wears Chrome Hearts pants and olive green 6s.

“Can I read it when you’re done?” His question cuts through your thoughts. Surprised by how genuine Jay sounds, you glance back over at him to find him already looking at you, his lips pushed up into a soft smile that spreads flutters around your chest.

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to realise what he’s talking about, but you tilt your head when you do. “You wanna read my paper on wind turbines and solar farms?” you ask.

Jay’s eyes widen briefly as if shocked that you’re even asking him that. “Of course I do,” he says, sounding almost offended, defensive maybe.

You eye him from across the table, sceptical. Jay seems to pick up on this. “Why wouldn’t I want to know about the UN’s advances towards net zero by 2030?” he asks, chuckling to himself when you raise a brow. He shrugs. “I got curious after you mentioned it.”

With burning cheeks, you watch him as he continues to talk, neither of you making any effort to start on the work you’re there to do. As much as you feel it’d be useful to get work done in the library — because it’ll allow you to go home and do nothing without guilt — you don’t see the point in half-assing your research and absentmindedly chatting with Jay, when you could ditch the research completely and fixate over the way his lips move to form his words.

“I lost my student card so I need to read while I’m in here. I think it’s better though; easier to stay focused, less distractions,” Jay tells you when you ask what brought him to uni just to study alone. “Usually,” he adds, gaze flicking up to meet yours with a teasing smile crossing his lips.

Jay’s words hold a flirtatious undertone that isn’t lost on you or the butterflies that take flight in your stomach. “I’m not a distraction,” you say, frowning slightly.

“I never said you were, but I had no problem getting my work done until you got here.”

Jay’s words remind you of your first test for Property Law in February. The two of you sat together at a table in the campus cafe, empty mugs and printed slides scattered across the space between you. For four hours, you highlighted sentences and rewrote notes to keep your hands busy until Jay walked you back to your flat, where you pulled an all-nighter so you could actually study. You got a 61 and slept for twelve hours afterwards.

“If it’s getting to you that much, I can go,” you offer, really, really, hoping he doesn’t take you up on it.

“No, please stay. I like spending time with you,” Jay admits with a slight downturn at the corners of his lips.

You try to work out how to echo his sentiment without sounding like a lovestruck fool, though you draw a blank, distracted by the way he– “Are you batting your lashes at me?” you ask through a chuckle.

Jay squints. “Is it working?”

You shake your head.

“Well, neither are you,” he points out, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that almost makes you feel scolded despite his light tone. You think you like it.

An overly dramatic sigh huffs its way out of your mouth as you roll your eyes at him, fighting a smile at the sound of his breathy laughter. “Whatever. Starting now, I’ll work on my paper. You focus on your reading, no distractions,” you suggest.

“Right, no distractions,” Jay repeats, his eyes falling to your lips.

Sticking to your word proves much easier than you’d initially thought and you manage to sit, mostly undistracted, for more than a little while, putting the paragraphs that can stay in italics, the bits that need to be amended in bold, and deleting the rest.

Your workflow is broken only when Jay speaks softly, “Is it cool if Heeseung works with us?” he asks, sending a text after you tell him that it’s okay.

And as if he’d been waiting around the corner, Heeseung shows up seconds later. “Jongseongieeeeee,” he coos when he sees Jay, extending a hand to pat his head and ruffle his hair.

Unable to hide his irritation, Jay’s face scrunches up at the interaction and in an attempt to stop the sudden attack, he grabs Heeseung by the wrist, seeming shocked when it works. You watch him fix his hair in his phone camera.

In the same playful tone, Heeseung says your name too, sitting down in the seat next to Jay. “I feel like I haven’t seen you since the hockey mixer.”

You can’t help the breathy laugh that comes out at the cute pout on his lips. “Because you haven’t seen me since the hockey mixer,” you say, smiling at Jay when you notice him looking at you.

“You weren’t at the football party, were you?” Heeseung asks, his eyes widening right when the words leave his mouth. “Riiiiiiiight, you were.” He mumbles to himself before covering his mouth with his hand. “I’m just..” he trails off, pointing at his laptop with his index finger before opening it and sinking in his seat.

There’s a nasty pit forming in your stomach while you watch Heeseung all but disappear behind his screen. And in the black screen of your laptop, you stare at yourself, pretending that: 1. The fingerprints and smudges don’t bother you, and 2. That you don’t notice the way Jay’s looking at you. Or rather, the fact that Jay’s looking at you. If you’d noticed the way he was looking at you, you might have picked up on the softness of his gaze. But you didn't, so you don’t.

Instead, the fact that Jay’s watching you only makes you feel worse. Though at least it looks like your hair is sitting nicely today, you think, glad to have at least one thing working for you rather than against you. Like the pit in your stomach, or the Lipton peach that tastes like nothing when you take the first sip.

In the presence of Heeseung - and the things he said - the three of you manage to get on with your work, free of conversation.

Reluctantly, you let the two boys walk you back to your place when you’re ready to go home. Heeseung leads the conversation, thankfully, with no more mention of the football party and even hugs you goodbye while Jay watches from a few feet away. Judging by the expression on his face, you’d think the person he’d liked for months kissed him and then ran away.

“Sorry,” Heeseung whispers, pressing his lips into a straight line.

With your key in the lock, you watch as they retreat, Heeseung nudging Jay when he reaches him and mumbling something that you can’t quite make out. Neither of the girls are home when you get inside and, sprawling out on the couch, you look for your phone to make plans.

you: we should go out tn

cw: tmrw ! i have a deadline

yj: broke friday or .. j*emins party

Too broke for broke Friday, the two of you find yourselves stepping over the legs of a sleeping Sunghoon to reach the open door to Jeno and Jaemin’s apartment. There are people everywhere, including the hall outside, but you suppose this is the benefit of student housing; none of your neighbours can complain about noise because they’re too busy being part of the commotion.

Jake almost spills his drink when he sees you both, saying “heyyyyy,” with a giggle and eyes that linger on Yunjin while he talks though he quickly excuses himself to take water to poor Sunghoonie.

The night is largely uneventful, much the same as every other night out you’ve had since starting college. Except for the part where Jay shows up,a massive grin on his face to greet your friends. Sakura, Yunjin, and Kazuha all get a “hey” and a brief hug. Jay regards you with a nod and a small smile. At least Kazuha seems to believe you when you tell her that you’re crying in Jaemin’s bathroom because you hate your outfit.

After a weekend of self-pity, you spend Monday at a coffee shop with Sakura, watching as she studi—“You could at least pretend to study, you know?” she sighs. “Every time I look up you’re either staring at me or using your phone, it’s distracting.”

With a frown on your face, you touch your mug to see if your coffee is cool enough to drink yet — it’s not — before flipping your notebook to a blank page and trying to write out some of the key points that you remember from Friday’s lecture. A part of you feels bad for neglecting your Architectural Practice class but it’s just not as interesting, and you tell yourself that you’ll dedicate all of your time to it after finishing your report. You definitely will not come to regret leaving three months worth of work to the very last minute.

You study with Sakura for a few hours until deciding that you simply cannot continue, and the two of you leave the cafe in favour of a Mcdonald’s drive-thru, eating your dinner in the dark parking lot before she drops you off.

On Tuesday night, you’re thankful that Yunjin and Kazuha don’t push you to go out with them when you say you’re tired, but when Netflix asks if you’re still watching Modern Family at almost 3 a.m., you wish they had.

You push yourself out of bed to do your skincare, and hear the two girls coming back home as you apply your last pimple patch. After Kazuha all but yells something about a huge pair of shoes by the door, it seems like they settle in the kitchen.

They’re sharing a bowl of cereal at the table when you get there. Feeling bad, you make instant noodles for them while Yunjin hugs you from behind. Both of you try your best to laugh quietly at Kazuha’s story about some box blond figure skater who completely blanked her when she tried flirting despite staring at her all night.

Once the food is ready, you sit up on the counter, watching them eat straight from the pot. Trying to talk to those two while they’re so invested in dinner is a waste of energy so you busy yourself on your phone instead, scrolling aimlessly until both girls kiss you on the cheek to thank you for looking after them. Kazuha gratefully drinks the glass of water you give her, and Yunjin, as you expect, is stubborn about it; taking three small sips before running away to her room.

The argument you can hear through the open window keeps you entertained as you wash the dishes, and you check your phone on the way to your room, finding two texts from Jay.

jay: i know it’s late but can we talk in person if you’re up

jay: it’ s important

They came in four minutes ago and you chew on your lip trying to figure out what he wants to talk about.

you: are you okay?

jay: can you come outside

With not even enough time to hit send on the three question marks you’d typed out, the distinct ring of a FaceTime call surprises you. Though what you find more surprising is the sight of your building’s door behind Jay’s face which just about fills the screen. Lit dramatically by an orange street light, he looks beautiful. Looks cute when his lips pout slightly around the words: come quickly and dress warm, as he successfully convinces you to leave the comfort of your bed.

Through the glass in the main door, you see him. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he looks up towards the sky and puffs visible breaths into the air above him. Jay turns around at the sound of the door opening. You feel your stomach lurch because he doesn’t smile when he sees you.

“Hey,” he says after a while, watching you intently, inspecting almost, as you shut the door softly behind you. His face softens, the smile he hadn’t given earlier coming through now. “Are you wearing my jacket?” His voice is soft too when he speaks, breathy enough for the smell of alcohol and vague peppermint to hit your nose.

“I thought I should probably give it back,” you nod. “Sorry I kept it so long.”

Jay shakes his head, hair shifting on his forehead from the motion. “No, I love it on you. Please keep it,” he pauses, taking a step towards you. “I want you to keep it.”

Thank God, you think. You hadn’t really been meaning to give it back, and you weren’t really sorry to have kept it so long, it just felt like the right thing to say.

The space between you is so small that you wonder if he can hear the way your heart rate starts to pick up. In the time you hadn’t talked, you’d seen him around campus, in the corners of story posts, but seeing him here in front of you is almost overwhelming. A gust of wind ruffles the jacket Jay has on and his scent unfurls right under your nose; warm, lived in, mixed with faint sweat and what you think might be tobacco. It creates a musk that leaves you weak at the knees.

“It was milk and cookies night,” Jay continues when you don’t respond, digging into his pocket and holding a plastic-wrapped cookie out towards you. “You like white chocolate chip, right?”

Hearing that it was milk and cookies night makes you wonder if you’d been too hasty when you turned down the girls’ invitation.

Despite the cold, Jay’s hand is warm when your fingers graze his. Letting your touch linger, you thank him sincerely, touched by the little things he seems to remember about you.

Even though you’re aware of the other students coming home from various nights out, and end up having to move out of the way so some of them can enter your building, it feels like the two of you are in your own world. You notice that his sights are locked on the cookie, on the spot where your fingers touch, allowing you to admire him freely.

Standing almost directly under the lamppost now, you notice that his cheeks and the tips of his ears are dusted with red. You feel a little bad, he must be freezing, you think. Your gaze falls to his lips that sit parted, chapped like you expect, and now you’re thinking of kissing him.

Clearing his throat, Jay moves his hand from yours to put it in his pocket. You do the same.

“I know I said I wanted to talk, but I just wanted to see you,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “I wasn’t sure you’d come if I said that.”

You frown, wondering if this whole time he’s been avoiding you because he thought you didn’t want to see him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Jay only shrugs in response.

From over your shoulder, you hear the door opening. Jay’s eyes flicker in its direction. You turn your head to look too. A boy with pink hair frowns when both of you tell him you don’t have the lighter he’d been looking to borrow.

“I’m sorry about leaving after we kissed. And for avoiding you. That was stupid,” Jay says as soon as the door closes. “It was childish of me to do that instead of just telling you how I feel. I wasn’t gonna say anything, because I know you only see me as a friend, but I have to let you know that I like you, a lot.”

You stand around limply for a beat, staring up at Jay and trying to take in every single detail about this moment before you inevitably wake up. But this ‘dream’ doesn’t cut off where you’d been expecting it to. Instead, you feel your heart thudding against your ribs, your stomach flipping. The only thing you can get yourself to do is blink at the boy in front of you. The boy who likes you.

A lot.

“It’s just that, after Heeseung said that shit in the library and you couldn’t even look at me, I knew I didn’t have a chance with you and I just.. am trying to figure out how to be near you and pretend like I don’t want to drop everything and kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?” you ask, surprised that your voice even comes out properly.

Jay’s gaze drops to your lips. Without noticing, the two of you had gotten so close that your chests are barely an inch apart; they’d probably touch if either of you took just one deep inhale. A beat passes. His gaze flicks up to meet yours and your breath hitches in your throat. You want to kiss him. You must. Right when you start to lean up towards him, to put your lips on his, he steps back.

“Fuck,” Jay mumbles, his brows knitting together as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

The ability to hold his liquor is something that Jay sees as both a blessing and a curse.

On the bright side, he can drink as much as he wants and won’t say or do anything he wouldn’t say or do when sober. His delivery might be a little off when he’s drunk but the point still stands.

On the not-so-bright, catastrophically dim side, however, Jay wakes up the morning after drinking with a vivid memory of everything that happened to him at whatever party he’d been to. Plus a killer migraine.

And so, since drunkenly showing up at your place with a cookie in his pocket and his heart on his sleeve two weeks ago, Jay’s been quietly pitying himself and gently encouraging Jake to work harder on physics so he can get some sort of time machine up and running.

Though it seems like you’ve been able to go on as normal. So normal, in fact, that Jay starts to believe the whole thing was just an elaborate dream. So elaborate that when he scrolls through your text thread, he finds the messages that you’d ‘exchanged’ that night. He finds the thought of having developed self-awareness in a two-week-long dream to be a greater comfort than the reality that you don’t like him back.

You would have said if you did. Right? Or at least brought up what he’d said. Asked if you could talk about it. You’d be so excited to see him again, sober, that you wouldn’t even be able to say anything except: “I like you too!” Right?

But you haven’t. So unless you’re going through trauma-inflicted amnesia, or someone has finally come up with the technology to invent The Neuralyzer, you really don’t like him back.

Jay had been so sure, certain that you liked him back. It just seemed so obvious; like the way you seemed to find him at every party, and how anytime you saw Jake in the engineering block you’d ask about him. Surely it wasn’t all in his head. The way that Chaewon and Yunjin had been teasing you at the hockey mixer, and how Yunjin made up that excuse to leave the two of you alone at the football party. It was all so.. like-y.

Even today, when you texted him asking to hang out. He was sure that you were finally (finally!) going to tell him you liked him too. So sure, he’d even told the boys that he’d be coming back home as someone’s boyfriend. As your boyfriend.

But instead, Jay finds himself climbing the stairs of his apartment complex wondering how the fuck he’d been so delusional. In his back pocket, his phone vibrates. Twice. Texts; both from you.

you: i forgot to say but lmk when u get home lol

you: and if u have time to hang out before ur game tmrw !

His heart twists in his chest as he reads your messages.

jay: okayyyyyyyyyyyyy, i can chill for a bit

jay: what did you have in mind?

After fishing his house key from his jacket, he twists it in the lock and crosses the threshold before texting you once more: home now :). You heart the message immediately. The laughter that Jay could hear in the hall quiets as soon as he closes the door, and heavy footsteps thud towards the living room’s open doorway. Sunghoon.

“It’s Mr YN YL—” he stops short. “Oh.” It’s not until Sunghoon looks over his shoulder and shakes his head that Jay even notices the stupid shutter shades he’s wearing. And when Jay joins his friends in the living room, he smiles despite himself seeing the way they’d decorated the space. Streamers dangle from the ceiling, hand-drawn A4 posters with both of your names written in lopsided hearts are stuck to the wall, and Jay ignores the thought of losing the security deposit to appreciate his friends; they’re good to him.

On the way to his usual seat, an armchair in the corner of the room, Jay stops to wrestle a bottle of Desperados from the open six back sitting atop the coffee table and kicks a balloon that was in his path before sinking into his chair.

Knowing there’s no use giving them a play-by-play, Jay recounts the last few hours as briefly as he can. He makes sure to leave out small details; like how he felt weak at the knees when you hugged him and told him you loved him after he won you a Hello Kitty plushie from the claw machine that you swore was rigged. Or how you’d worn his jacket out and his heart started racing when he noticed that your perfume had started to mix with his cologne. Unexpectedly, the guys seem hooked on the story right until its end. “So it’s not like it went badly or anything, I just.. didn’t tell her.”

Somehow, all three of them speak at the same time: “What do you mean you didn’t tell her?”

Jay stares at a spot on the floor, noticing a hole in the toe of Jake’s sock. He’ll make fun of that later. “I just couldn’t get the words out,” he mumbles, shoulders drooping as he slumps further and further into his seat before taking the first sip of his bitter drink a—“Fuck, why does anybody drink these?”

“Cheap,” Sunghoon mumbles, scowling after sipping from his own.

Clearly.

“Unless I’m missing something, this doesn’t seem like the end of the world. Just tell her tomorrow, tell her now, text her,” Heeseung sighs, letting his eyes fall shut.

The other two boys seem to agree, echoing the sentiment and adding their own ad libs to it. Jay watches as Sunghoon leans over to get another drink from the table, admiring his commitment to beer drinking even though he doesn’t like it. He waits for silence before speaking again: “I already know she doesn’t like me that way. And it’s only been two weeks so it doesn’t make sense to confess again so soon when I know the answer.”

“Again?” Sunghoon asks, raising a brow.

Ahhh, Jay knew there was something he’d forgotten to do. Though he's struggling to figure out how he’d withheld this information, considering it was the main thing on his mind at all hours. “Yeah, after milk and cookies I went to hers and told her I like her,” he says, attempting to feign nonchalance, shoulders rising and falling in a stiff shrug.

“And you kept that to yourself because..”

Jay scrunches up his nose, genuinely unsure. “I didn’t go there to confess, I just wanted to see her and give her the cookie I got for her,” he admits. “But then she came outside, and she had my jacket on, and she just looked so pretty. The only thing on my mind was oh, my God, I can’t go any longer without telling you I’m in love with you.” Jay pauses, taking a long sip of beer before telling them what happened outside your building.

As if he wasn’t feeling bad enough already, Heeseung bursts out laughing. Hard. It’s not long before Jake and Sunghoon join in and Jay wants to vanish into thin air. Feeling slightly left out, he also wants to ask what’s so funny, but the fear of being slated holds him back.

It’s the eldest who calms down first, sitting up straight in his seat. “So you go to YN’s door, tell her you like her, almost kiss her, then explicitly tell her not to say she likes you back, run away from her, again, and you’re wondering why she didn’t say she likes you back?”

With the story being laid out so simply, Jay starts to see the flaws in his logic. Though too stubborn to admit that he’s wrong in front of Jake, he nods his head. “Exactly.”

He presses his lips into a straight line when the boys call him chronically stupid.

“You need to call her, talk to her, figure your shit out before it’s too late,” Heeseung says with a firm tone.

Jay thinks about it, biting at his bottom lip before replying, asking in a small voice: “But what if she says she doesn’t like me?”

As much as not having confirmation is killing him, there’s a part of Jay that likes not knowing how you feel about him because it lets him play into his delusions. Lets him feed himself with thoughts of you being excited to see him because you like him and not because he makes great platonic company. The thought of you checking up on him through Jake because you’ve been thinking about him, but feel too shy to ask directly. And Jay knows when you properly reject him, he won’t be comforted by such thoughts anymore. They’ll only hurt him.

Though after hearing what may be the wisest thing he thinks Sunghoon has ever said, Jay starts to see the situation a little differently. It’s casual. Spoken through a yawn. “You already don’t have a girlfriend. Nothing to lose, right?”

The walk to your apartment building is longer than he remembers, but the cool air feels good on his neck as he tries to figure out what exactly he should say. Jay only starts to consider that this may not be the best idea when he stands face to face with your apartment building and feels a little too nervous to buzz your flat. What is he doing?

A grating screech comes from the heavy door when it opens, and Chaewon’s boyfriend steps outside with squinted eyes. “Jay?” he asks as the door thuds shut behind him. “YN didn’t say you were coming over.”

An awkward chuckle slips from Jay’s lips and (for the first time in his life) he does jazz hands. “Surprise?”

Jay feels better when Jeno’s lips spread into a grin. “Ohhhh,” he says, nodding and extending an almost empty deck of cigarettes in his direction.

“I’m good,” Jay declines, shaking his head.

Though if things go poorly up there he might have to take Jeno up on his offer.

Holding his cigarette between his lips, Jeno uses a fob to open the door for him, and Jay can’t help but feel comforted by the way Jeno pats him on the back and says: “I’m rooting for you.”

Standing at the door to your apartment only unleashes a new sense of nervousness. His hand rests on it, balled into a fist, waiting to be pulled back. But something stops him. Jay lets his hand slip down the door and takes a step away from it. He’d been standing too close. Now, he stands shifting his weight from foot to foot, and the toes of his shoes are just touching the doormat.

Reminding himself that knocking isn’t the hard part, Jay takes a deep breath and knocks three times.

A few minutes pass and it’s now that he remembers he doesn’t even know for sure that you’re home, or awake. He counts ten seconds before knocking again and the second his fist touches the door, he hears the sound of a lock clicking and the door creaks open.

Like something from a dream, you stand in the doorway, looking so beautiful with his hoodie on that Jay has to put in effort to keep his jaw from falling to the ground.

“Jay?” you say quietly, brows furrowed. “Is everything alright?”

“Do you like me?” Jay blurts out, pressing his eyes shut immediately as all plans of a proper conversation go to the wind. From his spot on your doormat, he can hear the sound of the TV quieting and a terrible silence settles over the two of you; lasting eight whole seconds before you speak.

“Do you wanna come in?”

Jay steps into the apartment, taking off his shoes at the door while mumbling a greeting to Yunjin and Chaewon who (definitely heard him) lay on the couch with wide grins on their faces, and follows you to your room where you close the door behind him.

“Sorry, I had, like, a speech ready and then I saw you and I just..” he trails off, standing awkwardly near the door and looking at everything in the room except for you; he struggles to tear his eyes away from a polaroid picture of the two of you with huge grins. It’s only when you talk that he manages to look over at you instead.

“You can sit down,” you say, patting a spot on the bed next to you. Without saying anything, Jay crosses the room to sit beside you — if sitting at arm’s length can be considered as beside you. “Tell me about the speech,” you say, and Jay shakes his head while trying to convince himself that your chuckle isn’t patronising.

“Do you like me?” he asks again, not wanting to waste any more time.

“I like you.”

Your words, simple and quiet, leave Jay winded.

“You look surprised,” you say, tilting your head. “You really didn’t know?”

Immediately, he relaxes his face. Clears his throat. Jay’s not entirely sure what he did and didn’t know, but he doesn’t think it matters. Nothing could possibly matter more than you do right now. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief. “I like you too.” The words sound regular when he says them, though he does like the lightness in his chest knowing for sure that the feeling is mutual. “Can you say it again?”

“Jay,” you start, resting your hand on his knee. Jay wonders if this is supposed to comfort him and clasps his hands over his lap as discreetly as he can manage. “I like you,” you tell him again.

Under the weight of your words, Jay feels his heart cinch a little in his chest. Why does everything sound so perfect coming from you? He can’t help but lean in, finally kissing you after what feels like an eternity. Jay didn’t think anything would feel better than your first kiss, but having your lips move softly against his, and knowing that you like him back, might just be the best thing ever. How did he go so long without this? Dazed and lovestruck, he lets his forehead rest against yours to calm down, to catch his breath. “Again?” he whispers, hopeful, one step away from begging.

You let out a chuckle, soft, breathy, fanning his lips. “I like you,” you say after a while, quietly, a whisper, just for him before kissing him again.

Jay’s not sure when it happened, he’s not even sure he notices that you’re sitting in his lap until you grind down on him; the feeling overwhelming despite all of the layers between you. A whine slips from your mouth into his when he rolls his hips up towards yours, and he can’t help but hate himself a bit for not just confessing sooner.

You pull away from him, a smile on your face as he chases your kiss. “Please touch me,” you whisper, hiding your face in his neck when he chuckles at your request, calling you cute under his breath.

He feels oddly thankful that you’re not grinding on him any longer because he was about two more movements away from cumming in his pants. His hand slips under your shorts, finding your clit and pressing on it through your underwear, liking the way your breath fans his skin when you sigh. The wet patch on the fabric only starts to spread when he starts rubbing you. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” you tell him on an exhale, letting your hips roll against his hand, whimpering at the friction.

Your mouth quickly finds his again, and you let your hand clutch at his shirt, balling it up in your first before tugging at it, parting to take it off of him. With wide eyes, you gape at his torso, the word “Shit,” falling from your mouth while you let a hand rest on his stomach.

When he tries pushing your panties to the side, the soaked material sticks to your slit slightly, and Jay groans despite himself. You’re absolutely drenched in slick, sopping wet to the core as you let out a broken whine from the feeling of his finger slipping into you. Curling his finger towards your belly button, his eyes fall shut, cock throbbing against his thigh when he thinks about how you’d feel around his shaft, how you’d look under him.

“You’re so good,” you whisper, awestruck and trembling in his lap.

The way you watch him makes him feel a little under pressure when he opens his eyes, but, determined to make you feel good, Jay attaches his thumb to your clit and everything is so slick that his finger slips around a bit before he can help it. You squirm in his lap, your head falling forward into the crook of his neck, forcing Jay to hiss when you bite on the skin of his shoulder. Your whimpers turn into cries and you mumble that you’re close, your walls tensing around him a moment later as if to prove your point.

Jay pulls his fingers out, holding back a moan at the way they glisten in the light, coated in you— “Nooo,” you whine, sounding audibly distraught.

Though he’s too busy tasting your cunt on his fingers to grace you with a response. In the quiet of the room, you sit up properly to look at him, watching with parted lips as Jay sucks on his fingers, humming at the way you taste. You barely give him a chance to put his hand back down before pressing your lips to his, moaning into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Getting a tight grip on your waist, he moves around a bit to lay you down on the bed. Resting on his forearm, Jay leans over you, kissing you again. He lets his hand trail down your body, liking the way you spread your legs when he dips his fingers into your waistband. You nod eagerly when he asks if he can take them off, and his cock throbs when you tell him to take your panties off too.

With no unnecessary fabric in his way, his finger drags up and down the length of your pussy. Already close, it doesn’t take long for you to start whimpering and squirming underneath him, your walls stuttering once again as you cum, hot and hard on his hand.

Ever the gentleman, Jay stands up to place himself between your legs, groaning at the sight of you, pulsing and wet. “Such a pretty pussy,” he says. Deciding not to waste another second, he uses his thumbs to spread your lips a little before burying his face in your cunt.

It doesn’t take much for you to writhe under his tongue, and as soon as he kisses your clit it’s a wrap. He feels his cock leaking a little when your clit starts to throb between his lips, and he can’t help but groan when you tug at his hair.

You stutter through the words: “Too much,” and Jay tears his mouth away from you, letting his forehead rest on your inner thigh while he catches his breath, savouring your taste on his tongue. It doesn’t last long though; your scent drives him crazy. When Jay leans back over your face, he presses kisses to your cheek, mumbling to you about how pretty you are, and how good you taste, all while playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie.

He likes the way it looks on you, way better than it does on him. Likes it so much, he almost objects when you sit up to pull it over your head. Jay’s glad he doesn’t. He gulps at the sight of your breasts, surprised to see that you weren’t wearing anything under his hoodie, his dick somehow growing harder just from looking at you.

Jay feels an intense desperation to suck on them, but your hands reach back up to his face, pulling him towards you to kiss him again. He settles (ecstatically) for holding one in his hand, pinching your nipple with his fingers. He’s relaxed, he’s happy; not torn up about it because he has all the time in the world to feel your tits in his mouth.

He thinks.

Jay pulls away from you. “Wait,” he says, feeling butterflies when you smile up at him. “Can I be your boyfriend?”

Your giggle sounds like music and he feels warm all over when you say, “Of course,” the words somewhat muffled by his lips on yours again, he could make out with you all day. But he stops for a moment, looking down at you, into your eyes and revelling in this moment. Revelling in you, his girlfriend, and the way you look at him. Like he put the stars in the sky or moved mountains; like you want him just as much as he’s wanted you all this time. And he wonders what he’s done to deserve it.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Jay kisses you, lets his tongue run along the seam of your lips as he considers just kissing you for the rest of the night. It almost seems like he’s trying to, and you speak once more against his mouth.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ask, moving your head to the side. “It’s okay if you’re not, but I’d like to know.”

Jay smirks at you — pretty cocky for a guy whose dick is throbbing against his thigh just from hearing you talk. “You want that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding. “Need it.” Your gaze burns into his as he tries to process your words. You look distractingly beautiful with a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, lidded eyes, and kiss-plumped lips that you press up against his once more. “There’s condoms in the second drawer.”

Leaning up off of you, Jay reaches into his back pocket to show off the two condoms he’d brought with him.

“Classy,” you tease, though there’s an excitement in your eyes that drives him mad.

“Responsible,” he corrects, standing up to pull his pants and underwear down. Slapping against his stomach, his cock throbs when he hears you gasp. Jay lifts his head in your direction, trying not to cum on the spot from the sight of you leaning up on your elbows, staring at his dick with an open mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Jay reminds himself that he has all the time in the world to find out what your pretty lips will feel like around him, choosing to busy himself with putting the condom on instead. “How do you want it?”

If the way you stop and stammer through the word “However” is anything to go by, the question seems to catch you off guard. Making his way back over to you, Jay racks his brain trying to figure out how he wants this to go, but seeing you on your back with your legs spread for him makes it clear. He hovers over you, lips drawn to yours like a magnet, using his hand to run the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, all while you whine against his mouth every time he pushes past your clit.

“Don’t want to wait any longer.”

Your words make his stomach turn. He pulls away, his brows knitted together. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Months, Jay,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, eyes screwed shut in a tortured expression. “Please.”

Satisfied with your answer, Jay guides his cock to your slit. Pushes just a little. “I won’t make you wait like that again,” he tells you, and he means it, pushing in as much as he can before you cry out.

Worried, Jay stops, leaning close to press a kiss to your cheek. “You okay?”

“I just need a sec,” you tell him breathlessly.

Jay nods. As good as he feels, quitting while he’s ahead seems like the better option at the minute — he needs a sec too, but with the way your walls clench around him, it doesn’t really feel like much has changed. He finds himself having to hold his hips back after a while, as you get used to the feeling of him inside, your pretty little cunt starts trying to suck him in and his breath hitches in his throat when you look him in the eye.

With a hand on the back of his neck, you pull his face back down to yours. “I’m good,” you mumble into his ear.

“Yeah?” he asks, grinning when you nod in response.

You stretch around him so easily that Jay whines as you take him in, deeper and deeper, inch by inch until he bottoms out. “Shit,” he mutters. How did he go so long without this? The sting of your nails digging into his bicep makes him hiss and he all but passes out when you moan. Falling from your mouth on a loop with every move he makes, his name is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard; you cut yourself off with a gasp, breath hitching in your throat.

“There?” Jay asks, even though he knows he’s hitting your spot.

You look up at him through fluttering eyelids, becoming more and more dazed each time his hips smack yours. “Mhm, I—close,” you mumble.

Jay takes this as a sign to hike your leg up around his waist, making sure to hit it each time he pumps into you. It seems like it’s working. “Cum for me, baby,” he whispers, using his free hand to push some of your hair out of your face.

Your whines turn into broken sobs and you hide your face in the pillow next to you, muffling your screams. Although he thinks your consideration for your flatmates is coming a bit late, he leaves you be, finding the sight sexier than he cares to admit.

Sexier still is the way your body tenses before squirming again, your walls pulsing uncontrollably around him while you cum. Jay’s stomach starts to tighten as he fucks you, spurred on by the look on your face as you orgasm, and the sound of his cock filling you up. With a few more thrusts and a jagged moan, he spills his load into the condom, just about collapsing on top of you.

Considering how fucked out and sleepy you’d been while Jay cleaned you up, he isn’t surprised to find you fast asleep when he gets back from cleaning himself. He does his best to join you in bed as softly as possible but it’s no use because you wake with a large yawn, making his heartache from a weird mixture of guilt and how cute you look.

He lays on his back, grinning to himself when you rest your head on his chest, making yourself comfy with an arm and leg slung over him. You talk drowsily about watching The Devil Wears Prada in full after his game tomorrow and nod eagerly when he asks if you want to wear one of his jerseys to come and watch him play. Jay keeps his eyes shut until he hears you snoring faintly, and looks forward to teasing you about it in the morning.

When he stares straight ahead at your ceiling, a fuzzy feeling rises in his chest. “I put my star on the ceiling too,” he whispers, knowing you can’t hear him, but feeling happy nonetheless.

Huddled up under Jay’s jacket, you sit on the half wall outside the football house with Chaewon, watching as Jeno blows smoke from his super king over his shoulder. Though given the way that the wind blows it back in your faces, the two of you may as well have taken him up on his offer to share.

Letting Chaewon rest her head on your shoulder, you take a sip of your drink and feel thankful to the version of you from five minutes ago who let Jay fill your cup with lemonade instead of vodka. The two of you laugh along with Jeno until you see Yunjin rushing out of the double doors and into the garden.

“Is there anything wrong with my outfit?” she asks, giving the three of you a twirl so you can check and mumbling a “thank you” to Jeno who reaches his arm out to stop her from falling over in the process.

Yunjin’s outfit looks fine. At first. Until you notice the massive hole in the left side of her skirt; the sight of which leaves you and Chaewon wiping tears of laughter. Through cackles and a slight stomach ache, you manage to ask what happened.

“I got caught on something, like, an hour ago, and I wasn’t hurt or anything so I forgot about it, and then I went out front and felt the craziest breeze on my thigh and I looked down and.. half of my skirt is just.. missing,” she explains, pausing only to take a draw from Jeno’s cigarette. “Does it look intentional at least?”

You almost choke on your drink when Chaewon suggests using her acrylics to make an identical hole on the side, telling her to market the holes as “cutouts” and try selling it on Depop.

“Vintage, Y2K, I.AM.GIA, Destiny’s Child, Britney Spears,” she says, although she’s had so much to drink that it all comes out as one word. “Don’t laugh at me, write it down! Babe, quick, take pictures!”

Yunjin poses dramatically while Jeno takes product photos on her phone, and in the space between them, through the double doors, you see your boyfriend standing next to the dining table, his friends laughing around him while he stares over in your direction with a sweet smile on his face.

And even though you can’t say for sure, you’re just glad that here, tonight, you have a pretty good idea of why Park Jongseong’s smiling at you.

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